The middle of the mountains was the last place the purple-plumed griffon thought he would ever find himself, but here he was. Standing before a quaint cabin, Gordon Gouranis briefly thought about the events that brought him to this backwater. Two weeks ago, Bernard's letter found its way to Gordon's apartment in Nouveau Aquila, saying in no uncertain terms that he had fallen in with some of the worst creatures on the entire continent. Gordon had heard little about the newly formed state, or from Bernard, in the past couple of years, but from Bernard’s letter it was clear that they were trouble. Gordon stood up on both of his paws when the letter asked him to join Bernard in the remote northern mountains. Had this letter come only a few months earlier, Gordon would have readily declined his old friend’s offer, but things had changed drastically since then.
Gordon was primed to join the rapidly growing ranks of Talon Industries as a weapons designer, but the deal fell through at the last minute after Stalliongrad’s invasion from the south. Talon axed the position, citing ‘a need to focus on existing armaments', leaving Gordon jobless. The assassination of Governor Teafeather complicated things further, making jobs even scarcer as the market collapsed and the entire country seemed to go mad overnight. A simple vote by the provisional government to expand conscription would put him right on the frontlines, and it was a miracle that he wasn't already. The parallels of his own situation to Bernard’s were not lost on him. Seeing no other options, Gordon sought out Virgil’s men in Nova Griffonia.
The glorified gangsters weren't hard to find, as there was a volunteer force acting openly near the frontline with the Staliongradians, and their supply chain ran right through his city, practically passing by his front door. This was a surprise to Gordon, given the history between the two countries, but it made things easy for him. Gordon simply approached some of the mercenaries as they stopped to rest before heading back north from the front. This bold strategy paid off, and soon he was before a smooth talking front man trying to nickel and dime him for passage to Virgilia. Bernard accounted for this too, and simply told Gordon to mention a ‘Ms. Whitefeather’ should he come into any trouble. Sure enough, after that, the only thing that delayed his journey further was a snowstorm that grounded his airship. Now, after a week of touch and go in unfamiliar lands, he was at his friend’s doorstop. Gordon gave a firm knock at the door, and moments later it swung open.
“Is that the old crow I wrote for?” Bernard said, considering his friend for a moment, “I can hardly tell under all those fancy jackets and such!”
“Fancy? You’ve been larping as a frontiersman for way too long if you think these rags are fancy, Bernie!”
“Oof, you disappear for all these years, never write, then you go straight for my sense of style right when I'm about to welcome you into my humble abode?” Bernard cried, making an exaggerated staggering motion while gripping his chest. The diamond dog laughed heartily and embraced his friend.
“It is good to see you, now let's get inside and I’ll tell you all about the troubles I've made for myself.”
Gordon sat in the first available chair, placing his belongings next to him and starting to peel off layers of furs and jackets while Bernard pulled a chair next to him. “So what have you got so far?”
“Well, I've managed to get some much needed equipment for the factory, and our associates have quite the stockpile of magic knowledge that they’re eager to use. I couldn’t tell you about them in the letter but they’ve made rifles with the crystals that are abundant around here.”
“Really? Describe these crystal weapons to me.”
“Ah, they’re a trigger mechanism, attached to a crystal, which activates another crystal that shoots a spell that we imprint on it.”
“Is that all?”
“Not quite, they can also run double duty as hand grenades because they have the reliability of a matchstick in a rainstorm..”
Gordon laughed and reached over to his suitcase, “Hold on, if I’m gonna have to hear any more about these ‘wonder weapons’ of yours, I'm gonna need something strong.”
The griffon produced two plain looking bottles of amber liquid, handing one off to the dog sitting opposite to him. “Bought these during a trip to Weter. Premium, straight from a little farm deep in Equestria.”
Bernard looks at the label for a moment. ‘Apple Farms Famous Apple Cider’, it read. Bernard wasn’t a big drinker, but what better occasion was there to drink than a reunion between friends? Bernard uncorked the bottle and raised it towards Gordon, “To our partnership, and for good luck!”
Gordon gave a small cheer and clanked his bottle against Bernard’s, then they both took a long swig of the imported drink. Bernard grins as he brings the bottle down and away from his lips. This grin then slowly fades as the taste of the drink lingers on his tongue. He looks down at the bottle and turns it over, reading the small print on the label. His suspicions confirmed, Bernard narrowed his eyes and gave his friend a sideways look.
“Gordon?”
“Yeah?”
“This doesn't have any alcohol in it.”
The griffon groans and sits back in his chair, exclaiming “It was right there alongside the real stuff!”
Bernard puts the bottle in Gordon’s face and points at the label, “It's right there! You tell me you just take whatever they give you at those tourist traps?” Bernard sets the bottle aside and continues heckling his friend, “Just my luck, there's only one creature in all of Equus who can help me and it turns out he can’t read!”
“Hey, you gotta admit it tastes pretty good.”
Bernard calms down and considers the drink, “I guess so. We should probably have all our faculties for this anyways. What were you saying before you pulled out the apple juice?”
“Well I’m thinking that the magic rifles and such are on the right track, but they still lean too much on the ‘magic’ rather than the ‘rifle’ part.”
“What do you mean?”
“I'm saying that you’re not gonna get anywhere by focusing too much on the magic portion of these weapons. From what I can see, there's too much that can go wrong with them or their effects are too limited. Is there anything else you can do with the crystals?”
“Well,” Bernard thinks, “Quite a bit actually. We can imprint a wide variety of magics onto them, shield spells, telekinetic spells, basically anything a unicorn can cast, we can make a crystal cast it instead. Diamond’s even looking into dragonfire teleportation and enriched fuel experiments, but like you said, magic is not an exact science.”
“True,” Gordon remarked, pulling out a pen and a notepad, “and it sounds like you’re already thinking what I'm thinking. The magic might be unreliable, but there's too much potential lost by working with purely magic or purely mundane tech. I think the key to our success lies somewhere in the middle. Now, we’re going to have to make some design decisions that might be a bit, er, unorthodox, to make them actually feasible with what we’ve got. Things that might get us put in the crazy house if we were working for anyone else, but trust me, it’ll be fun, we’ll be like the mad scientists in those corner store comics!”
“Fun’s not exactly what I'm after when we’ve got hardened criminals breathing down our necks, waiting for a miracle, but I get your point, and I am intrigued as to what you have in mind.”
“Great, I hope you’ve got some coffee, cause if I get rolling we’re gonna need it.”
The pair certainly got rolling. Gordon was eager to get to the drawing board, playing with and considering every idea that came to mind, no matter how outrageous. Jokes and side comments became fully fledged ideas and basic schematics, leading to yet more witticisms that were also developed further. Gordon’s design experience was just what Bernard needed. The pair worked into the next morning, when the exhausted pair could formulate and tweak no more. Before collapsing from exhaustion they reviewed their handiwork. Plans for everything from special munitions to modifications for armored vehicles and aircraft to completely new weapons systems were strewn about the living room. Their evening had been more successful than he possibly could have imagined.
“Well, that should keep us busy for quite some time. If even half this stuff is worth looking into, we’ll be testing these designs at least till May!” Bernard, his voice tired and hoarse, began to make a move for the bedroom, “I've converted the office across the hall into a room for you, sleep in as long as you like, I have a lot to explain to Gear and the others tomorrow.”
“Can do, boss,” the griffon gave a tired, mocking salute, “Just let me know how many of them quit after taking a peek at these horrors.”
Bernard scoffed and bid Gordon good night. Just before falling asleep, Bernard thought for a moment that maybe things weren’t too bad after all, in fact, he couldn’t believe how easy that was.