An Extended Holiday

by Commander_Pensword

29 - The Colour of Noble Pony Blood

Extended Holiday
Chapter 29: The Colour of Noble Pony Blood

“Okay, so Heavy Set and Demolition Grenado, you're here mainly because it was unanimously voted that you two scare the living Tartarus out of everypony back at the fort,” Grif said, looking at the two Earth Ponies. The first stood at roughly Big Macintosh's height, and was very buff. His mane was almost fully shaved off, and his tail was short and cut jaggedly. It almost looked like it had been chopped by a machete. His coat was a gunmetal gray with red covering his legs, and the same red on his tail. A heavy crossbow most Ponies would call a ballista rested on his back. The name Sasha had been carved into the side of the weapon.

“Why do people find me scary?” Heavy Set asked in a thick Russian accent.

“Ah, don’t be taking it too seriously, lad. Some Ponies just have no good sense,” Demolition Grenado said before taking a swig from a glass bottle of … a liquid Grif couldn’t quite identify. This Pony’s fur coat was a deep brown with a black mane and tail. His left eye was covered by a black eyepatch, and he held a pair of saddlebags that were literally loaded with grenados. “We’re ready tae scare the pants off the blueblooded horse.” He smiled and barked a laugh as he took another swig.

“Anything else to declare?” Grif asked.

“I’m drunk,” Demolition Grando said proudly. The Pony then proceeded to pass out on the spot.

“Okay, … I’m going back over there now,” Grif said before rejoining Hammer Strike a short distance away to report his findings. “So, they have about as much sanity as you get sleep at night,” he conceded. “They still scare practically anyone into submission, though.”

“Good. I needed to keep nobles away anyways,” Hammer replied. “I’d prefer not to deal with some of them.”

“Agreed. And the one we least want to deal with is the one we’re going to meet,” Grif noted. “Irony is evil.”

“Why is irony evil?” Pensword asked as he descended dressed in the armor and wingblades Hammer Strike had forged for him, including the new modifications and sword. An  aquamarine cloak that was most definitely not Hammer Strike’s design but still seemed to match the garb perfectly settled behind his wingblades. The faint scent of perfume left little doubt about the designer, particularly since the three of them had only ever visited one seamstress’ shop in all of Equestria. He looked almost like a medieval hero had jumped out of a comic book, but the gleeful smile he now sported spoke louder than words that he didn’t mind.

Moonshade soon alighted next to him. At Pensword’s urging, she’d left Silver Spear as temporary commander of the forces back at camp to give him leadership experience. Now she stood decked in the full armor Hammer Strike had designed for her, ready for whatever enemies might come their way. True to military custom, the two saluted Hammer Strike before returning to a more casual posture.

Grif shrugged. “We’re putting up people to deter nobles from visiting or even getting near us to interfere while we’re in Canterlot. But we still have to go directly to one on their turf instead. Like I said, evil.” He turned to look inquiringly at his lord. “Hammer Strike, where’s Rarity? I thought she was supposed to be coming with us today. Did something come up?”

“I’ll go get her. I have a feeling I know why she’s late.” The stallion started down the street in the direction of the familiar building and called over his shoulder. “Meet us at the train station.”

“See you there,” Grif agreed, then turned his full attention on the two flyers. “So, are you two ready for this?” he asked as he laid Demolition Grenado across Heavy’s back, then began the trek to the station.

“I think so. I’m both dreading and anticipating it,” Pensword said. “This can give me valuable diplomatic experience, and it’ll give us insight into the inner workings of the courts and politics here that we weren’t privy to before.” He smirked. “Besides, I’m just the hired muscle. That means I can pick up gossip from the other servants if we’re not allowed to attend the festivities.”

Moonshade smirked. “Now you’re thinking like a tactician. Most Ponies don’t care much for the Bluebloods. And you already saw how the former staff were treated. Getting the new staff to talk shouldn’t be too hard as long as you’re careful.”

Pensword smiled. “Thank you. I couldn’t have asked for a better compliment.”

“I meant every word of it.” She hefted a thick tome from her saddlebag. The cover was embossed in gold with the symbol of a flying soldier holding its spear against the throat of a Gryphon. “I’ll make a commander of you yet.”

Pensword chuckled and shook his head. “I might have known we’d be doing more studying along the way.” Then he grinned. “You know me so well.”

Moonshade allowed herself a reserved smile, albeit one that was far more expressive than what she displayed in their first few encounters. Then she cleared her throat and opened to a particular bookmarked page “‘Pensword was a magnificent commander in House Strike’s employ. He embodied the pivotal Pegasus soldier, at one point leading the siege of one of the principal border forts during the Third Gryphon War.’”

“More combat.” He sighed. “Don’t get me wrong. I admire what he accomplished, but weren’t there at least a few situations recorded in history that showed his diplomatic side? A military commander who stands only below the princesses and certain nobles must have used those skills somewhere. And no matter how strong a person is, if they can’t win a war of words, then they’re going to lose a lot more than their pride in the end.”

Moonshade scanned through the book, flicking rapidly through the pages and stopping occasionally before resuming the search. Finally, she nodded and looked back at him and their surroundings. “Yes. According to the book here, Commander Pensword held his own on the political side of things as well. It wasn’t as glorious as his battle record, but he always noted how a field of battle was more than swords and spears in open terrain.” She raised a brow and smirked. “Curious, isn’t it, how you just said something so very similar?”

“I suppose great minds think alike.”

Grif smirked. “Yes, especially if they’re the same person.”

“Please don’t bring up time travel, Grif. I really don’t need the headache today,” Pensword pleaded. “We still don’t know for sure whether these books are really about us or not.”

Grif shrugged. “I don’t care whether it is or isn’t. It doesn’t matter what I believe. What matters is if I’m prepared to play the part. I’m glad to see that you’re thinking along the same lines.”

“We all appreciate the old adage. ‘Hope for the best, plan for the worst,’” Pensword agreed. “At the very least, if the Bluebloods do try anything to throw us off, we’ll be ready to respond.

“Prince Blueblood won’t be an obstacle,” Moonshade assured them. “He’s a pompous brat who screams at the very idea of getting so much as a smudge on his ‘royal personage.’” She rolled her eyes. “He knows how to give lip service to get what he wants, and that’s about it. His father, on the other hoof, is not one to be trifled with. That will be your true enemy to face. 

Pensword smirked. “As I am fairly certain Sir Grif would say, it will be fun to see him fail.”

They soon arrived at the familiar station platform, where Moonshade and Pensword continued their discussions, talking about some of the finer points of the war with Grif chiming in occasionally to add some perspective from his own research on the subject. After a while, two figures could be seen walking toward the platform. Rarity walked in the lead with Hammer Strike trailing only slightly behind. He carried six large trunks on his back, and the pair were engaged in animated conversation, despite the massive bags’ very sincere attempt to break the Pony’s back and flatten him like a pancake.

“Those look heavy,” Grif noted.

“I keep on forgetting how strong an Earth Pony can be.” Pensword shook his head in disbelief. “Reminds me of my aunt when she packs.”

Rarity smiled with practiced gentility and grace. “Good morning, everypony.”

“‘Sup?” Hammer Strike greeted more casually. His face retained the same blank mask for which he had become so famous, even as he continued to stand patiently without lowering the bags to the ground.

“Isn’t that a little much, Rarity?” Grif asked of the mare as he gestured toward the tower of luggage. “We’re only going to be there for a night.”

Rarity smiled coyly. “One never knows what one might need at Canterlot, darling. Besides, who else can you trust to make sure your clothes are properly fitted and tailored for the main event? And if you make a good impression, it’s entirely possible that we could be asked to extend our stay.”

“Which it seems I will be doing,” Hammer Strike said. “Apparently, news spreads fast in the kingdom, and I was sent a request to visit a couple of other members of the nobility, on top of the second invitation from the Bluebloods.” He sighed. “Of course, you don’t need to stay, as they are not Blueblood, and are more tame from what I remember.”

“I’ll keep my schedule open,” Pensword replied. “Who knows? I might be asked to be a guest of honor at some military ball or unit meeting or something. We’re all technically war heroes, after all..”

“Okay, so two nights. I stand corrected,” Grif said. “Still seems a bit much.”

Rarity beamed with her sweetest smile. “You sound just like Rainbow Dash. Not everypony can live out of one suitcase for a weekend, you know.” She chuckled as she turned around to see a familiar purple dragon with green scales. It didn’t take long for the air to be pierced by her squee of delight, followed by seizing Spike in a fierce embrace between her forelegs. “So Twilight did let you come along. Oh, my little Spikey Wikey.”

Such close contact and attention quickly reduced the young Dragon to the equivalent of goo as he replied. “Aw, shucks, Rarity.” A scroll clattered to the floor as his arms went limp with ecstasy. Grif quickly picked it up and opened the seal to scan the contents.

“Sun Butt’s coming with us?” he asked, raising a skeptical brow.

Spike smiled dazedly as Rarity placed him back on the ground. He swayed and raised a claw in acknowledgement of the question. “Yup. She wants to help us through some of the checkpoints that have been set up since the invasion.”

“No hero passes?” Grif asked. “I mean, Changelings can’t exceed their weight, and I weigh significantly more than one of them.”

“Now, Grif, what better pass could you have than a princess?” Celestia asked as she descended and alighted gracefully on the platform, followed shortly after by her usual escort of guards. “Besides, I want the nobles to know that you three are important to me. Better to set things straight from the start than risk any … messy misunderstandings. Luna’s return has helped me to reduce the shadow games the court plays, but it’s impossible to stop every scheme in the kingdom. And even if I wanted to, Luna has no intention of using her ability to enter the minds of Ponies in their sleep to steal their secrets.” As if by magic, the doors to the train practically slammed open, implying an eagerness to receive the honor of having the royal pass through. “There’s also the matter of my nephew’s scheming. I don’t do it often, but sometimes it’s necessary to remind him and the other nobles not to exceed their grasp.”

“‘Cause he doesn’t stand a chance in Everfree?” Grif guessed.

“That, and I’d rather not subject Ponyville to his unique brand of snobbery.” Celestia sighed. “He wasn’t always this way, but if you could have seen his behavior at the last Galla….” She shook her head. “Besides, there are other things to consider. This is a place where Twilight found her calling. Even now, she’s beginning to forge a path toward her own destiny. I don’t want interference from the nobles to turn her aside from that course. It’s why I put my hoof down when Prince Blueblood tried to come here.”

“Makes sense,” Hammer said. He was still standing with the trunks on his back. The only sign of any form of discomfort was the light shrug of his shoulders. Glancing back, he raised a questioning brow at Rarity. “Now where do these go?”

“Guards, take the trunks from Lord Hammer Strike and load them in the cargo section,” Grif ordered Heavy and Demo, who had finally managed to regain his consciousness, if not full sobriety. The two took the luggage and set off, grumbling under their breath.

“Thanks,” Hammer said. This time, he gave his shoulders a full roll on each side and cracked his neck.

Pensword smiled warmly. “It never gets old, getting to ride on a train someplace. The clickety clack of the rails, the swaying of the car, the jerking of acceleration and deceleration….” He sighed contentedly. “Or the smell of burning coal. I think trains are the best tech invented in my lifetime.”

“And to think, I purchased extra tickets as a just-in-case,” Hammer said, looking around at a surprisingly unoccupied platform.

“I’ll make sure Blueblood reimburses the cost,” Celestia promised, then smirked. “After all, he is your host. He should anticipate such things.”

Grif still didn’t like Celestia. But he had to admire artistry when it emerged. There was a reason why people on Earth had granted her the moniker Trollestia. He gave the barest nod toward the princess to express his approval.

Pensword was more open than his friend. “Are you sure you aren’t a tactician, Princess?” he asked, even as he strode onto the train car and settled on one of the cushioned seats. Moonshade sat down next to him, and the pair were soon engrossed, even as the others followed behind.

Celestia laughed. “Military tactics are Luna’s specialty. Mine lies in the field of politics. Each is a battlefield in its own right, but they require different methods to compete with the enemy faction.”

“Doesn’t Equestria rely primarily on the Commander for that responsibility?” Pensword asked, then let loose with a startled whinny. “No. You cannot be serious. What’s the deal with the Dragon and the pitchfork? Is this some kind of joke?”

“Few can fight with a dragon,” Celestia noted. “Fewer still while wielding a simple farm implement.” Then she laughed. “You know, I think that Dragon is still alive somewhere today.”

Pensword gaped at her. “How?”

Celestia shrugged. “Bravery, I assume. And probably a great deal of courage. The Pensword I knew was someone willing to do anything for his people’s sake. It’s one reason why the Thestrals came to respect him so much, despite not killing an ursa major. He was no High Chieftain, but he was instrumental in bringing those troops to our side when we needed them most.”

Pensword frowned as he stared at the page. The commander’s ear guards were spiked at the top, just like the tufts of a Thestral as he soared into battle. And as the train finally lurched forward, jerking him toward the picture, he couldn’t help but feel like he was being pulled ever closer toward an encounter he wasn’t sure he would have the strength to face. He swallowed heavily. “Into the belly of the beast,” he murmured.

“So yeah, it’s called Death by Chocolate. It’s a real cake,” Grif told the princess. “You’re telling me your chefs never thought of something like that before?”

“Not at all,” Celestia said. “I think I’m going to have to address the kitchen staff.” She barely managed to restrain herself from licking her lips. “Being an Alicorn, I doubt it would cause death, and I think I could eat two of those at the very least.” She beamed at Grif. “You’ll have to join me for a piece. Or maybe Taze could take your place.”

Grif chuckled. “One of us shall be there with bells on, Your Highness.”

Celestia frowned. “I wouldn’t recommend it. Some Unicorns view bells as a symbol of power and authority, thanks to Starswirl the Bearded’s unique choices in fashion. But, then again, I suppose I don’t have to tell you that. You three already had the chance to meet him yourselves.”

“It was a human expression, Princess,” Grif explained. “Taze has been teaching me a good many things.”

“Is that so?” Celestia smiled goodnaturedly. “And what does it mean?”

“There are apparently a number of theories as to its origin, but most humans believe it has to do with wagoneers. Apparently, it was a point of pride for them to have bells on each of the creatures they used to help pull their loads. In the event another wagoneer had to come to their rescue, the rescuer usually asked for their bells as payment. So to be there with bells on was to arrive with one’s pride intact and at one’s best.”

“I see. Speaking of bells, I hope you won’t be offended or startled with what happens next. Do try to stay calm.” Then her horn flashed gold, and the group was encased in a barrier of magic that hummed with a gentle bell-like tone. “Now we can converse without being overheard. There are some more serious things that I need to discuss with the three of you without listening ears to eavesdrop.”

“Joy.” Hammer Strike sighed. “So, what’s going on this time?”

“Nothing to be upset about, fortunately. It’s not another coup attempt, nor are we going to war. However, I feel it’s only right to inform you that after seeing your trainees in action, Luna has been convinced that it’s time for us to begin rebuilding our military forces again. As you’ve seen, the Solar Guard is primarily a ceremonial force. They function as peacekeepers and know how to break up other Ponies should fighting break out, but none of them, or at least very few, can be called true warriors in the military sense of the word. Chrysalis will attack again. Of that, we are both certain. And after what happened with Sombra’s return, it seems only right for us to be prepared for any other foes from our past that might emerge.”

“It most certainly does seem right. Right now, you’ve barely got a fighting force even with a technical ‘army.’”

“Precisely. However, the nobles will be loath to allow such a restoration of the old. Not only will it be a means to encourage the philosophy of talent over social rank, but it also stands as a direct threat to the control they’ve worked to build and maintain over the centuries. My sister and I could take over all of Equestria on our own if we wished. We could destroy every dissenting noble in a matter of seconds while all the rest of Equestria watches. But neither of us wishes to rule by fear and force. That is not the proper way to govern. Fear is a tool that should be used only against the enemies of Equestria. And misguided and puffed up though the nobles may be, none of them is foolish enough to seek to destroy the kingdom.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Grif warned. “If there’s one thing I know now, it’s that Gryphonia’s history is one filled with blood. Gryphons from older clans with strong bloodlines and histories have often allied themselves to murder the reigning monarchs if they deem them unfit to rule. And then they install the ones they want instead to follow their agenda. Sometimes, it’s been to the empire’s benefit. Other times, it’s pulled their progress back by generations. More often than not, it’s been the latter. Your nobles can’t kill you easily, but they will forge alliances with the intent to do the same thing to you and your sister politically. I saw enough of those selfish nobles during the Canterlot invasion. And if history is to be believed, ‘I’ saw many more during my time before and during the Third Gryphon War thanks to what that plague did to the Northern Isles. If you let a weed continue to grow, it will inevitably destroy the garden. You need to cut it off at its source and rip it out by the roots if you want to stop it for good.”

“I can’t do that, Grif.”

“I never said to do it in one blow,” Grif said. “Some weeds run deep. Shovel around them first. Loosen the earth and get in deep. Then, when they’re starting to notice, strike. If you do it right, you’ll have the whole thing out. And then you’ll have the leverage. And whether or not you re-plant them will be up to you.”

“You have a hard outlook on things, Grif.”

“It’s a hard world, Princess,” Grif returned. “And as someone who’s lived as long as you have, you should know that better than any of us.”

“I’ve dedicated myself to trying to make it softer. Your native Northern Isles are a perfect example. Not only were we able to send them aid, but after many centuries of positive relations following that relief, they agreed to become a part of Equestria two hundred years ago. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were given an even bigger hero’s welcome there than you received here if you chose to visit.”

“Perhaps,” Grif agreed. “But I would suggest you look to the Gryphon quarters in Canterlot before you speak of softening again. The Gryphons of the Northern Isles are free, but those who dwell in Canterlot are far from it, thanks to those weeds I mentioned earlier. Those roots will form a wall of iron that will not yield if you don’t act. I’ve said my piece. Do with it what you will.”

“I think we’ve reached a point where it’s time to change the subject,” Pensword said. “Was there any other urgent matter you needed to discuss with us, Princess?” He pointed toward the edge of the barrier. “If not, it appears that someone is here to see you.”

“Who—?” Celestia turned with some surprise to see an ash-coated unicorn with a dark mane and tail both tied in buns. A large pair of glasses framed her luminous brown eyes, and a red ascot completed her ensemble. A pen and inkwell cutie mark stood out on her flanks. “Oh, Raven.” She looked meaningfully at the trio, then canceled her spell.

“Apologies for the interruption, Your Highness, but I’ve been instructed to give you a warning. It seems House Cookie and House Pansy are at each other’s throats again.”

Celestia sighed and shook her head in disappointment. “What seems to be the problem this time?”

“Petty complaints, as usual. House Cookie is making preparations for their New Year’s celebration. House Pansy is convinced the noise is a deliberate attempt to, and I quote, ‘sabotage our respite after a long day’s work.’”

Grif snerked at the comment, which elicited a thankful smile from the mare.

“They’re concerned about just what the celebrations might lead to in the long run, and potential for damages, or so they say.”

After he got his mirth under control, Grif raised a brow in surprise as he processed the information. “Wait, did you just say House Cookie?”

“Yes,” Raven replied.

“Hard Cookie was actually real,” Grif pressed again.

“... Yes,” Raven said, a bit confused. “That’s common Equestrian history.”

Grif blinked in surprise as he sat down. “I see.” Then he murmured to himself. “Well, that’s a few hundred pounds of headcanon that needs to be rethought.”

Celestia looked curiously at Grif. While she hadn’t heard everything, she did at least recognize the word headcanon. If she recalled correctly, it was something Shining Armor used to discuss with certain of his subordinates on their days off. Perhaps she would ask him about its meaning later. For now, she had other matters to address. “And what is it that the Pansies would have of the crown?”

“For now, they request someone be sent to deal with the Cookies and ensure that the noise levels return to normal.”

Celestia nodded. “Send word to the Pansies.Tell them that I will address it if and when I have the time. Should I be unable to do so, another representative vested with my authority will go in my place to investigate.”

Raven nodded and turned to leave.

“Oh, and Raven?” Celestia called. “Please also remind House Pansy that I still haven’t forgotten the fuss the reconstruction of their estate’s east wing caused. If Cookie also tries to contact us, remind them of the fudge incident, then tell them that I would deem it as a personal courtesy if they were to invite House Pansy to the event. In all likelihood, this squabbling rose because Pansy wasn’t invited.” She sighed and smiled apologetically to the trio. “They’re so very much like children sometimes. To use your metaphor, Grif, sometimes a garden needs pruning. And sometimes, certain nobles need reminders that their egos aren’t more important than the needs and welfare of the Ponies they are meant to serve.”

Raven bowed. “I’ll send word ahead at once, Your Highness.”

Celestia frowned and rubbed her chin in thought. “And while you’re at it, please have a background check performed on one Pinkamena Dianne Pie. She’s no Cookie, but she reminds me very much of Puddinghead. I’d like to find out if there’s a connection in her family tree.”

“We’ll look into it, Your Highness,” Raven assured.

“No offense meant, Princess, but why the buck are you even listening to complaints that are so trivial?” Grif asked bluntly. “It’s not exactly a threat to the welfare of the kingdom.”

Celestia sighed. “True, it’s not, but before the founders passed away, I made them a promise to watch over their descendants and their legacy. So, whether it’s small or large, any concern regarding the six main branches is brought directly to me. They were dear friends and allies in a time that was … difficult, to say the least. In a way, they were almost like family.”

“Then why do you allow them to act so spoiled?”

“Because while I promised to keep an eye on them, they are each still their own person. I won’t force them to be something else. They have to be free to choose their path. If they break the law, then I will execute the punishment. Otherwise, they have to be able to move forward on their own.”

Grif nodded. “I understand. I may not like your current choices, but I will admit that decision, at least, is an admirable one. It’s the desire for freedom that led to the creation of the Northern Isles as a colony in the first place. And those who rule by force rarely live long. Though speaking of living, I’m curious. How do you find the time to balance all of your responsibilities?”

“I keep a very strict schedule. One might say that’s one reason why I eat so much cake. It brings me fond memories from a time long ago. And that memory helps to sustain me in turn. Now that my sister is back, the load has also grown lighter, giving us both more freedom to fulfill our other responsibilities and desires.”

“And does that still include weapons training?” Grif asked.

Celestia shook her head. “Not for me. My weapons are my words, mind, and magic. These, I hone regularly.”

“But not combat,” Grif guessed.

“That is Luna’s area of expertise.”

“Didn’t it used to be yours, too?”

“That was a long time ago in a war that I hope will never have to be repeated again.” She shuddered.

“It is an admirable trait to value life.” Grif nodded. “But at the same point to know that those of us who are gifted with strength should first and foremost use that strength in service to the weaker ones. If it be that our strength is words, then I salute the diplomat. But, dear princess, fate has decreed that war be my field of charge, and so I will fight for peace. Truth be told, a warrior’s path is to self extinction, as we fight to bring about a time when we will never be needed.”

Celestia nodded. “That reminds me of something the Grif I knew said to me long ago.” She chuckled. “Hence why those whose strength are words should never despise the warrior.” She sighed. “I admit I had hoped the second one would be the end.”

“Let us both pray that there is never a fourth.” Grif gave her a respectful nod. “Princess, could you tell me about these mercenary bands that I hear roam Equestria? They are Gryphons whose only allegiance lies with bits and the highest bidder, right?”

“Yes,” Celestia said gravely. “A few hundred years ago, there was a great social breakdown among the clans of the empire, and among many Gryphons in general. They became obsessed with accumulating wealth and power. Their pride became their greatest trait, and their greatest fault. In the chaos that followed the upheaval of war, strife, and petty revenge, whole bloodlines were either destroyed or scattered to the winds. Many a family lost their claims, their birthrights, and their homes. And as you are aware, Gryph, for a Gryphon to lose face in combat is a mortal insult to them and, in many cases, to the ruler they serve.”

“... They didn’t,” Grif said incredulously.

“The emperor did not approve of such bloodshed. The point of their empire was to raise the strong and make the weak stronger for the glories they sought as a culture. But the number of refugees were too many to compensate. And the families responsible for their downfall too influential to risk displeasing. You know what would have happened if the emperor did enforce the law properly.”

Grif’s expression became grim. “Yes.”

“To protect his bloodline and his rule, the emperor of the time cast out the remaining warriors. These homeless Gryphons went wherever they could find work and acceptance, and soon came to be scattered across Equis. Those who were too fractured to reconstitute their clans usually fell in with a charismatic leader from one of the better established remnants. Their superior training and background, as well as previous feats, gave them greater weight with which to rule. These knew all too well that the only way to satisfy their need for glory now would be to roam as mercenaries. Thus, they could accomplish great feats while earning the means to provide for themselves and the future generations that would be born to inherit their legacy.

“Much has changed in the generation that followed. Whether it be due to festering anger or some other factor, I cannot say. Perhaps it is a primal rage. Maybe it is something else. For whatever reason, things have devolved for many of them. Few, if any, of the old traditions are maintained by them. They raise their talons against the enemies of those willing to pay for their services. They are, for lack of a better term, adventurers. But … they are also effectively homeless, roaming from place to place in search of contracts and work. Only the older Gryphons and some few new arrivals to their parties remember what Gryphonia is like.”

“That’s not very fair,” Grif noted in a tone that was unusually level.

“No,” Celestia agreed. “It isn’t. I would offer them citizenship, but they don’t want it. So, I give them leave to ply their trades as they are able and set up offices to take on contracts. So long as they don’t break the laws of the land, they are free to live as they see fit.”

“Sounds like they need someone to knock some sense into them.”

Celestia smiled. “I get the feeling that someone will reveal themselves very soon.”

Pensword groaned as he pulled his face out of the book and gazed up at the ceiling. The clatter of the wheels along the track and the bumping sway of the carriage helped to ease his overburdened mind. So many military exploits. It was absolutely insane. The stallion had to have been possessed. But then again, in a time and society when Thestrals were so badly treated, it would take that kind of a soul to rise to that kind of position from what could easily be considered a backwater town.

“Okay, Moonshade, I think I’ve studied enough history for a while. I love it, but even I have my limits.”

“Especially if it’s potentially about you?”

“Exactly.” He laid the book to the side and looked at the mare. “I’ve been asking you a lot of questions about Thestral culture and about the history I’ve missed here in Equestria. It only seems fair to return the favor. Why don’t you ask me some questions you’re curious about?”

Moonshade pondered that offer for a time. “All right,” she finally agreed. “Then let’s start off with something simple. What was the Crystal Empire really like? Not the one today, but the one you saw in the past.”

Pensword smiled sadly. “It was beautiful. Everything in the kingdom shone and sparkled in all the colors of the rainbow. No two buildings were exactly alike, but that’s how crystals are, too. Each had its own shade or color, and they showed off the light in different ways. The whole empire was covered in ribbons of raw mana that surged from the crystal heart and the Ponies who empowered it. And when the aurora danced overhead at night, you could see little rainbow stars in its facets.

“Back then, there was a massive wall, too. The crystal seemed to have been specially grown with the purpose of defense in mind. It took everything Hammer Strike, Grif, and Star Swirl the Bearded could muster in order to break it down. Without fracture theory and harmonic resonance accounted for, it’s possible they still wouldn’t have been able to destroy it. There was one gate into the city, and unlike the smaller gate at today’s empire, it stood as high as the great wall that surrounded the empire. Three crystals hovered suspended between the two sides of the gate. I never witnessed it myself, but Twilight tells me that those crystals would activate a magical gate channeled through the crystal wall to seal the entrance in times of war. It fed on the power of the crystal heart, much like the rest of the city seemed to. Travel was primarily on hoof or by flight. Grif had to carry Hammer Strike into the city on his back. The gate had guard quarters on site to ensure that all the soldiers were treated well. The wall was heavily patrolled, most likely as a remnant from the Gryphon attacks during the war.

“The outer city and farmland were fairly minor locations in the grand scheme of the attack, but the amount of acreage was enough to produce for thousands. When they said an empire, they meant an empire. The landscape was easily the size of both the Everfree Forest and Ponyville combined, and probably more. It’s regrettable, but when the crystal heart was hidden away, winter came with it to freeze the outer lands. The crops didn’t survive. I honestly think the only reason the city didn’t suffer the same fate is because Sombra was using his magic to keep it at bay. Dark magic is powerful, I’ll give it that. The other explanation is the possibility of a lingering charge left behind after the main power source was removed. Either way, the city was on borrowed time without its rightful leader.”

Moonshade frowned. It was clear that discussing that part of the empire’s history brought more pain than it did comfort. A change in topic was clearly in order. “And what can you tell me of your home?” No sooner had the words left her lips than she knew the question was a mistake. Pensword’s whole body seemed to tense, as if he’d just endured a blow. The smile he offered her was understanding, but the pain still shone in his eyes.

“Now there’s a subject I can tell you a great deal about. Traveling by the speed of a walking Pony with proper stops and rests would take about six months from one side of the nation to the other. You know how Equestria is about one point seven one eight million trots?” 

Moonshade nodded.

“America is approximately nine point eight two seven million, and that’s not even the largest nation on Earth.”

Moonshade stared in open-mouthed astonishment, in part out of surprise and in part to try to pull Pensword’s thoughts away from the homesickness her question had doubtless raised in him.

“Our government functions differently from Equestria’s. We don’t have monarchs in our nation. Instead, we elect our leader as a nation. Instead of a monarch, we call it a president, one who presides over the nation. We also elect representatives for each of our local regions who come together at the nation’s capitol to discuss and vote on legislation. It then passes through a second legislative body, requires a signature from the president, who has the right to refuse to sign it once and send the proposed law back to be voted on a second time before it is voted past him. Then the legislation must face the final hurdle of scrutiny from a body of judges who are versed in our nation’s laws and precedents to ensure that the law in question doesn’t go against our nation’s founding document and first laws. We call that supreme document The Constitution and Bill of Rights.

“In some ways, the process is akin to the house of nobles you have here. In other ways, it is very different. It’s messy and time consuming, but it’s one of the more effective modes of government our world has seen. And it is what allowed our nation to be known as a land of promise where people can arrive with little money and work hard to earn a place, build a home, and contribute to the community and nation as a whole. This process is known as The American Dream.”

“Sounds a lot like Equestria.”

Pensword chuckled. “Not quite. We can be a little more … chaotic than Equestria is. And I doubt we even have so much as half the resources that can be found here, not to mention all the flora and fauna.”

“Then how does one survive?”

“We still have our farmers, our engineers, and our shops. We use paper as currency instead of gold or silver or jewels. And we earn our keep through our trades, the same way Ponies do here. There’s just a lot more competition because of how much larger the population is.”

“Why don’t you tell me about something that you really loved there? You mentioned a certain expertise on steam engines and steam power before. Maybe you can talk with me about that? Or maybe something else you don’t get to discuss often with your friends?”

“Are you sure you want to listen to that?” Pensword asked. “I can take a very long time, and I don’t know if Shawn would want me to go into detail from a technical standpoint.”

“Can you talk about other things without the technical side?”

Pensword frowned. “I might be able to, I suppose.”

Moonshade flew next to Pensword and settled on the cushion with the book between them. “Then let’s start there. And then, when we’re both ready, we can go back to the book again.”

A smile pulled at Pensword’s lips. “All right. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Rarity stared at the platinum band Hammer Strike had presented to her, once again contemplating the many facets of the striking sapphire set delicately on top in a four-prong setting. Its deep navy blue drew the eye into fathomless depths that flickered with the promise of a hidden treasure before darkening once again with the change of the light. A platinum chain curved through the engagement ring to turn it into a necklace, as well as the symbol that would protect Hammer Strike from the vultures that would try to seize on his title and fame.

“You never told me you worked in jewelry,” she said.

“That’s because I didn’t.” Hammer Strike shrugged.

“You mean this was your first attempt?”

“Second attempt. I … put too much strength into the first attempt and snapped a prong off.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“If this was only your second attempt, then you really are incredibly talented. You could make a fortune designing new rings.”

He gave a brief chuckle. “Not really a line of work I find entertainment with. Plus, considering who my main clientele would be, I think I’d rather not.”

“You could always work through proxies,” Rarity pointed out. “It’s quite common in the fashion world. But I do see your point all the same. Just because I said you could doesn’t mean you should. Particularly when you already have another mission you’re focused on.”

“Indeed. But to return to the previous topic, I won’t press you to accept this deception, as it would also change their perspective of you as well.”

“Nonsense,” Rarity said. “I’ll admit I was surprised, but this is to help a friend.” A hint of a smirk pulled at her lips. “And there is the matter of a certain noble I’d love to embarrass with our little deception.”

“Oh?”

“I have a certain history with Prince Blueblood. Nothing sordid, mind you, but the way he treats a mare leaves much to be desired. I … have this foalish dream of marrying into nobility, you see. And, well, … Prince Blueblood is one of the most desirable eligible bachelors in the kingdom.At the Grand Galloping Gala last year, it was one of the first real noble functions I had been invited to participate in, not as a designer or common help, but a proper guest invited by Princess Celestia herself. In that respect, at least, I would be as noble as any other she chose. I thought to get close to him, experience that galant charm for myself, and show him what a lady I could be as well. I admit that I sought him out first. I spent the rest of the function with him. It was … far from pleasant.”

“Given what I’ve heard of him, I could only suspect how badly it may have gone.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Especially given I have quite a number of their old staff.”

“He couldn’t take the slightest hint, used my one-of-a-kind shawl to ease his way over a puddle, insisted that I open every single door myself for him, and even had me pay for food to share.”

“Pay to-” Hammer Strike sputtered before placing his hoof against the bridge of his nose. “Wow, I expected it to be bad, but that’s something else. He’s loaded, and couldn’t even….” He sighed.

“Worse still, he spurned some of Applejack’s best cooking, the very food that I paid for in the first place. He called it common carnival fare. Even worse, he spat it out in front of Applejack. He didn’t even have the decency to dispose of it out of sight.” Her skin and coat had begun to flush with anger as the memories resurfaced. “What about the Apples’ recipes can possibly be considered common?”

“He certainly needs to be knocked down a notch or two.”

Then a wicked smirk dispelled the wrath. “At least I had consolation. After the gala ended, Princess Celestia came to find us. Not only did she thank us for practically destroying the event, but she even told me just how much of a tongue lashing Princess Luna gave him after the fact.” She chortled wickedly. “Tell me, are you familiar with the Royal Canterlot Voice?”

“That must have been quite the sight.” Hammer Strike chuckled.

“I honestly wish I could have seen it. It would have been worth it to lose my hearing for a few hours. At the very least, I’ll be able to put Prince Blueblood off his game. And while I am perfectly confident in your capabilities, if you have any questions, I’ll be more than happy to assist.”

“I think I’ll work off of the moment when it comes. While I may hold rank, I honestly don’t care for formalities. I’ve always preferred things to be straightforward.”

“Strange. You’ve always been formal when you enter my shop.”

“Respectful,” Hammer Strike corrected. “Not formal.”

“You know, we do still need to settle accounts for all those extra bits you left behind in my shop.”

“That can be settled later.” Hammer Strike smiled as he glanced off to the side, then gestured for her to look.

Moonshade’s head rested on Pensword’s shoulder while his head laid against her mane. The heavy history book straddled their hind legs with its top angled precariously over the edge of the seat. The calm of sleep erased the stern features the two normally wore when performing their military duties, leaving them to look almost as if they had been made to fit like this as warm comforting sunlight streamed through the window to light up both of their manes.

Hammer Strike and Rarity weren’t the only ones staring. Celestia smiled knowingly while Grif smirked.

“Perfect Kodak moment,” the Gryphon commented, even as the guards looked on. “Say, Hammer Strike, what do you think about performing a little matchmaking?”

“I think we don’t need to press this much at all,” he chuckled.

“Fine. But I call dibs on teasing them.”

Hammer Strike chuckled again. “Fair enough.”

Canterlot station was the same as always. The hustle and bustle of a busy city left most of its occupants ignoring the train’s arrival, and that suited the occupants of one particular train car just fine. Celestia smiled as she disembarked from the train with the others in tow. “I didn’t expect to be coming back to Canterlot so soon, but I suppose it can’t be helped. I’ll take advantage of the time to check how things are running back at the palace, and maybe visit a few places while I’m not on princess duty.” She winked at the others. “Are you sure you all don’t want me to come with you to the dinner?”

“I have a feeling that will be ever so slightly counterproductive to what I’m aiming for,” Hammer Strike noted.

“If you say so, then I’ll trust in your judgment.”

“Not a bad idea, all things considered,” Grif murmured.

“Yeah. Then we’re likely to get an additional request for a meeting in the future. He won’t speak his mind truthfully if Celestia herself is there as well,” Hammer Strike reasoned.

“He’ll probably try to be unpleasant and spoiled, make demands, that sort of thing,” Pensword mused. “But if his father is there, and as dangerous as I’ve heard, he’ll be the real threat to deal with.”

“Baron is a schemer to the core,” Celestia agreed. “But he does have one weakness. He doesn’t like to get his hooves dirty. He cares about his public image too much. A certain Pony I know, along with his friends, however, have no such qualms.” She smirked.

“Makes things simpler.” Hammer Strike shrugged.

“I’ll leave it to you, then. When you’re ready to go, you can send a messenger to the palace. Or if you prefer, I can have someone watch you all to let me know when you leave.”

“Yeah, being watched doesn’t exactly come across as a great feeling,” Hammer Strike replied flatly. “We’ll deal with messengers.”

Celestia nodded. “Then I’ll leave you to your appointment. I assume your escort should be arriving soon if the Bluebloods really want to go all out.” She nodded and strode off the platform, much to the amazement of many as she passed through the crowd and out of sight.

The four waited patiently at the station. They sat through three more train arrivals and multiple waves of incoming and outgoing passengers. Nobles and commons alike passed on their own errands and business. Finally, Pensword glanced up at the great clocktower by the station and sputtered in annoyance. “I understand he may want to send us a message, but at least he could have sent us a guide to welcome you,” he said to Hammer Strike.

“Hurts him more than me.” Hammer Strike shrugged.

“I assume we’ll have to walk there, then,” Grif said. “Should we ask directions or just follow the general stench of hypocrisy and corruption?”

“I think that smell runs a bit too rampant here,” Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle.

“Perhaps,” Grif agreed. “Oh, and just for the record, I’m calling it right now. This is going to go simply. Blueblood will make outrageous and stupidly transparent demands while speaking to you like a simpleton. You’ll counter. He’ll get forceful. Then I’ll put someone's face through a table, and we’ll leave.”

“Does it have to be violence, Grif?” Pensword asked. “Wouldn’t that just make them bolder?”

“If done right, it means they’ll understand we don’t care about our image, without harming our image amusingly enough,” Hammer Strike noted.

“I suppose, if anything, it could break up their composure so we get a better measure of their real intent and character,” Pensword conceded grudgingly.

Moonshade shrugged. “I’ll follow your lead. I am technically part of your escort, after all.”

“We’ll make a legendary death-defying hero of crazy out of you yet, Moonshade,” Grif chortled.

“I’ll leave the crazy to you. As for the rest, well, we’ll have to see how things develop.” She shrugged. “I am technically still loyal to Princess Luna first and foremost, after all.”

Hammer Strike hummed in thought. “Given how things typically go for us, I doubt you’ll get much choice in the matter, sadly.” 

“I’ll believe that when pigs learn to fly,” Moonshade replied.

Grif smiled mischievously. ““Well, the Royal Porcine Aeronautics Academy is making great breakthroughs, from what I read….”

Before Moonshad had time to make a rebuttal or anyone else could add their two cents, a stirring at the platform drew their attention. The rhythmic tromp of shod hooves landing in synch on the stone pushed against the hissing of steam and the murmur of citizens. Then came the flash of gold and high tufted manes sprouting from the tops of the helmets. The soldiers were practically identical in every detail, right down to their blue manes and pristine white fur coats. They looked carefully, and on spotting the familiar blue coat and the more imposing Gryphon, approached before stopping at a parade rest. The foremost of them strode forward and inclined his head respectfully. “Lord Hammer Strike?” he asked.

“That would be me,” Hammer Strike spoke up.

The guard offered a salute immediately. “Lieutenant Ballistic Shield at your service, Sir. We’re here to escort you to our lord’s manor.”

“All right. Though, we need to make a stop by the castle first, as there are things that need to be dropped off,” Hammer Strike replied, eyeing Rarity’s luggage, which a straining Earth Pony porter barely managed to finish hauling onto a cart before collapsing in a heap of exhaustion.

“Of course, Sir.” He pointed at a few of the guards and gestured toward the bags. Four Ponies approached. Two Unicorns and two stout Earth Ponies. Heavy couldn’t help but laugh uproariously when one of the two Earth Ponies’ eyes nearly popped out of his head as he braced under the sheer weight of one bag. Demolition Grenado was right with him, gasping as he pointed the derision that he could not presently utter. The Unicorns could hardly raise their heads as they struggled to lift their own burdens with magic.

Hammer Strike stared at the four for a moment longer before letting out a soft sigh. “It’s okay, you four. I’ve got it,” he spoke up, gesturing for them to allow him space, even as he seized each piece of luggage out of the air and from the Ponies’ backs.

“Now there is colt who eats his sandvich,” Heavy said admiringly.

“Ay,” Demolition Grenado agreed. “Reminds me of me da’” He sniffled once, but refused to cry.

“Now then,” Hammer Strike spoke up as he secured the luggage to his back. “While we walk, I actually had a question for you, Ballistic.”

“Of course, Sir,” Ballistic responded after a brief pause to take in the sheer strength the lord was showing off right now. “Whatever you like.” The remainder of the party fell in with Demolition Grenado and Heavy Set taking point while the guards took posts on either side of the party. Grif, Pensword, and Moonshade took up the rear.

“Do you happen to have relatives by the name of Blast and Tower?”

“Cousins, as a matter of fact. Why do you ask, Sir?”

“They’re under my employ, so I thought I’d ask.”

“Is that so? I heard they’d been stationed elsewhere, but I didn’t know where. Their father, Steel Shield, is the younger brother of my father, Iron Shield. There is also Bronze Shield and his family, all the sons of Buckler Shield, our grandfather,” Ballistic explained.

“Quite a line of defenders,” Grif commented.

“It’s what we do,” Ballistic said. “We serve to protect, whether it be a mighty noble or the humblest citizen. Obviously, for me, it is currently the former. But that won’t stop me from helping the latter when I’m able.”

“That’s very generous of you,” Rarity noted. “It’s difficult to find a Pony like that in the big cities these days.”

“There are more than you think, m’lady,” Ballistic returned. “But I’ll be the first to admit it could be better.”

“You never know, Lieutenant,” Pensword stated sagely. “A single ripple can make a mighty wave, given the right conditions.”

“True,” the guard agreed. “You and your wife certainly did.”

“We do what we can. That’s what makes the difference,” Pensword said.

“That’s what makes us shields.” Ballistic smiled, then turned his attention back to Hammer Strike. “Shall we pick up the pace, Milord? Your strength is legendary, but we would rather not test that legend too strenuously if we can help it.”

“This isn’t that bad,” Hammer Strike gave a dismissive wave. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

The trip to the palace was a bit of a climb, and many Ponies stared and whispered, but the stern faces of the guards flanking them and Heavy and Demo’s glowering appearances served as efficient deterrents. The party did eventually make it safely, however, and it didn’t take long for the chamberlain to guide them each to their rooms. The guards were given permission to mingle among their fellows while awaiting the summons to escort their guests to the Blueblood estate. Pensword and Moon Shade each had their own smaller rooms to keep their armor and other personal effects. As the equivalent of Hammer Strike’s servants, they did not require large and spacious rooms. Grif, on the other hand, was granted a bigger room to accommodate his larger frame. A balcony was also allowed so that he could easily take flight should he feel the need. Overall, the accommodations were just what the doctor ordered, without the wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey.

Hammer Strike was courteous and efficient as he removed each of the bags one at a time to lay down for Rarity to unpack as she saw fit. His own room was more spartan in its appearance, with a clean workspace, a worktable drawn up with fresh blueprint and design paper, and a small bed to use when he felt the need. There was no forge, but there would be plenty of room and time to compose more drafts of his designs. 

In due course, the party met again for their final checks before journeying to the Blueblood estate. Rarity was the epitome of style and beauty with a fantastic blue eyeshadow that complemented her eyes and the starry sparkles in her dress generated by the crushed gemstone powder she’d infused the fabric with. Her ring still hung from her neck for all to see while Hammer Strike remained in his blue coat, having only taken the necessary time to make the basic preparations for departure. Grif stood decked in leather armor and a long cloak marked with an intricate pattern shaped like a cardinal compass superimposed by Hammer Strike’s coat of arms. Pensword and Moonshade each wore their respective uniforms, complete with the new designs Hammer Strike had forged and incorporated. Each also had a sword at their sides to make use of. Demolition Grenado and Heavy Set both remained exactly the same, and Grenado unleashed a massive belch as the party reunited, then wiped his mouth.

Hammer Strike looked to Grenado briefly, then nodded. “Yep, still perfect for the task at hand,” he muttered before turning to face the others. “Prepared for what is ahead?”

“Thirty two throwing knives; fifteen rounds of shot, not including the preloaded one; two swords; one stiletto in my hidden pocket; and one at my side, and talons,” Grif said. “I am officially a walking pocket knife. I just hope the company doesn’t spoil the meal. Do you think they’ll have any good raspberry dishes?” He smirked at demolition Grenado and Heavy Set as his accent grew thicker and more playful. “You Ponies always seemed to prefer the sweet, never treasuring the bitterness in life.”

Grenado rolled his good eye while Heavy Set stared at the Gryphon. “Why does Gryphon suddenly sound like spies?”

“How’m I s’possed ta know? I just drink, chop, and blow things up.” He took another few heavy gulps of his bottle of alcohol.

“Dare I ask why the three of you are dressed like we’re about to go to war?” Rarity asked of Grif, Moonshade, and Pensword.

“You seem surprised,” Hammer Strike noted.

“I just didn’t realize you all would literally be dressed to kill,” Rarity noted.

“Wait, wait, wait. I thought we were dressing to maim,” Grif said. “Great. Now I’m going to look funny.”

Hammer Strike put a hoof to his forehead as he sighed. 

“We are technically a part of the escort, Rarity. And I’m supposed to be a military commander. It wouldn’t be right in either scenario for me to arrive in anything less, all things considered,” Pensword replied.

“And as Pensword said, I am a soldier first and foremost. I’m here to look after you and Hammer Strike, not socialize with the elites. Besides, I doubt they would want to so much as look at someone like me. Just having me walk in their house will probably be an insult.” She clenched her teeth afterward, but that was the only sign of anger that she showed.

“If anyone says something, they’re going to have to answer to me first,” Pensword said darkly.

“Why Pensword, what a galant thing to say! It’s practically something right out of a fairytale,” Rarity complimented.

Pensword blushed and cleared his throat awkwardly, even as Grif exchanged a sly smile and a wink with Hammer Strike. “I think we should probably get going now. If we’re going to beat Blueblood at whatever game he’s planning, we should probably at least try to look like we’re playing by the rules.”

“Not just yet, Pensword,” Hammer Strike said. “I have one last thing to give you before we go, Rarity. If you would, Grif?”

Grif produced a small bundle wrapped in black cloth and passed it to Rarity. “This is a gift from Hammer Strike. It’s priceless, so treat it well,” he warned.

Rarity unraveled the wrappings to reveal a custom sword belt complete with a sheath fashioned from sturdy black leather and secured by several silver fasteners. Within lay a sleek stiletto. Its edge had been finely honed, giving an image of refined lethality to it. A small simple silver-plated cross hilt and pommel granted the taste of elegance without sacrificing the function. Its grip was carefully wrapped in black leather. The weapon would serve its user well if the need arose to use it.

“You … want me to wear this?” the mare asked.

“If you wish to join in and stand out with us, then this can do more than just defend you,” Hammer Strike replied with a small smile.

“Well, they do say bold is the new black.” Rarity offered a weak smile. “Would … one of you mind helping me put it on?”

“Allow me.” Hammer Strike moved to assist, and the mare soon looked just like a swashbuckling princess.

Rarity bowed her head, and her horn tapped his shoulder as her mane brushed against his cheek. “You have my thanks, Lord Hammer Strike.” She offered a small, albeit very warm, smile.

“Not a problem at all. I had something else in mind, but I’d say this will work just fine.” His smile widened briefly.

“And with that, the stage is set, and our leads are ready to play their roles to perfection,” Pensword said.

“All the world’s a stage,” Grif began. “And all the tribes and races merely players.”

“Then shall we attend to our parts?” Pensword asked.

“Let’s make this a night to remember.” Hammer Strike smirked as he led the way toward their escort and the events to come.

The Blueblood estate was a mansion located in the lower area of Canterlot City. The grounds leading to the mansion were covered in gardens and statues. A large fountain stood out in the center path, spewing water from the horns of the six Unicorns rearing together as a great sun rose above them in delicately carved crystal. Doubtless, during the day it would make a grand display, scattering rainbows and light throughout the complex to dance in the water. 

The mansion itself was extravagantly large, and gave the impression that it could seemingly merge into the shadow of the mountain. Its columns and balustrades were carved from polished marble. White silk banners hung from every possible location, proudly displaying the Blueblood family crest, a blue helmet overlaid on a spear with a crown hanging from it. The gardens were planted with every exotic flower one could imagine. And everywhere the guests looked, even at this late hour, Ponies could be seen maintaining the house and grounds. The gate leading onto the grounds seemed to be made of gold-plated steel bars. Two armed Ponies who, surprisingly, didn’t actually look like the regular guards stood on either end of the gate doing their best to look imposing.

“Well, here’s where it begins.” Hammer Strike sighed and adjusted his stance, leaving his relaxed state.

True to their roles, Pensword, Moonshade, and Grif were careful to analyze each of the surroundings for potential threats without being too overt.

“Everything looks clear,” Grif said.

“We’re safe to proceed, M’lord,” Pensword agreed.

Hammer Strike sighed internally. “Then, here we go.”

A brief verification of Ballistic Shield’s identity soon led to entry, and the party were on their way. The guards were efficient and focused on their work, each returning to their respective posts after the gate had been closed again. As they drew closer to the manor, more features became noticeable. The overall design of the place was fancy to the point that it bordered on gaudy. Prince Blueblood stood at the top of the stairs, beaming like a child welcoming an old friend.

“Greetings, and well met. Welcome to Blueblood Manor,” the colt greeted. “It’s an honor to have the heroes of the Crystal Empire grace these halls with their presence tonight.”

“A lot more respectful when we’re in striking distance, isn’t he?” Pensword murmured.

Grif smiled. “Watch this,” he whispered, then cleared his throat. “My Lord Hammer Strike is the hero of Whinnysberg and Fillydelphia as well. It would do you well to remember all his accolades, and not simply his recent ones,” he said in a haughty tone, leaning heavily on his Phrench accent.

To his credit, Prince Blueblood managed to maintain his composure. “That is very true, Warrior Grafson, but as you were so keen to point out in your … creative reply to one of my missives, Lord Hammer Strike has many titles, and we would spend half the night here trying to list them all. History tells us that your lord is not one to stand on such ceremony. Quite the opposite, in fact. I thought it prudent to keep things semi-formal with that preference in mind.”

“Then at least you have that much sense,” Grif said gruffly. “Your oversight can be forgiven this once, then. As you have said, formalities are disagreeable to my lord. And as you have doubtless found in your research, I do not put stock in titles, but in deeds. I hope your family will be able to keep that in mind when hosting my lord tonight.” Demolition Grenado and Heavy Set both approached to flank the Gryphon on either side. “Respect is the foundation upon which true greatness is built. And I expect to see that respect shown, as is his right as your guest. Do we have an understanding?”

Prince Blueblood swallowed. “Of—” he cleared his throat after his voice cracked. “Of course, Sir Grif.”

Grif nodded and turned aside to allow a proper view of Hammer Strike. However, Blueblood’s eyes instead locked on the mare at his side as he gasped in shock.

“What are you doing here?”

Rarity gave a tight smile. “Hello, Prince Blueblood. It’s been a while.”

“Lady Rarity Belle of Ponyville is here at the request of her fiancé,” Grif explained.

“Her what?”

“Her betrothed? Her future husband? There are only so many ways to say it. And as one of the upper class, I’m more than surprised to find you can’t comprehend a civilized language. Although any can infer that you two have met before, I have heard some rather … interesting things about that encounter,” Grif said dryly. “It would be wise not to allow such things to repeat themselves again, lest my lord be forced to defend her honor out of love as well as duty.”

“Naturally not,” Prince Blueblood agreed, though his voice did crack. He cleared his throat and tried again. “This is, as they say, my party. While the gala is one of the social events of the year, it can be … unpredictable at times. There will be no unforeseen circumstances here, I assure you,” he promised.

Hammer Strike leveled a flat stare at him.

Prince Blueblood began to sweat. “In truth,” he pressed on somewhat remorsefully, “many of my actions were deliberate with the intent of driving your fiancé away. I deal with many … admirers on a regular basis. And many who would pose as them for a chance to try to get to me directly, whether for scandal, prestige, or some other motive. I had already dealt with many such mares on the night in question, but much though I wished to withdraw, certain … obligations prevented me from doing so. I shouldn’t have doubted your sincerity, Lady Rarity. And for that, I do apologize.”

“You poor thing,” Rarity answered with the most obvious show of forced sympathy she could muster, followed by an artfully posed gentle smile.

Hammer Strike raised a brow questioningly.

“As I said, it is not one of my finer moments, Lord Hammer Strike. Hopefully, tonight’s dinner will help to act in some small part as the beginning of making amends.Though I do feel obliged to warn you. As this is the Blueblood estate, my father will function as both host and architect behind the events of this evening, and ruler of all that reside here. I do hope you’ll keep that in mind.”

“Of course. Though I do hope he’ll understand my entourage’s presence.” Hammer Strike gave a brief gesture towards the others. “Though times are peaceful, I do prefer to keep my allies close at hoof.”

“Naturally. And since you’ve yet to have your own formal contingent of guards appointed to you, it’s only natural that you choose those who you know you can trust. Your allies from the war, and those who are appointed by your closest allies in this day and age.” He looked warily at Demo and Heavy. “And … certain others we have yet to have the pleasure of meeting….”

“There is no need for names,” Heavy said. “We are paid to guard. That is enough.”

“And scare the kilts off anyone as tries to hurt the boss,” Demolition Grenado added before taking a swig from a glass bottle filled with an amber liquid.

“You … drink on the job. How … interesting….” Prince Blueblood said halfheartedly.

“Surprisingly, he’s more efficient while drinking than sober.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Medically, his body doesn’t work as well without anything in him.”

“Give me water an’ I’ll die,” Demo slurred.

“Many think is joke, but it is true.” Heavy shrugged.

Prince Blueblood shuddered. “Anyway, the dining hall is this way. I had hoped for a more intimate gathering between us to better understand the relationship my ancestor shared with you during the war, but my father had … other plans. Nothing extravagant, mind, simply a few lesser nobles who are of my father’s acquaintance that were hoping to meet you. It’s not every day that such a legendary house is revived, particularly by the same person who founded it in the first place.”

“We live in interesting times.” Hammer Strike shrugged.

“Indeed,” Prince Blueblood agreed gravely.

“Demo, Heavy, keep an eye on the grounds,” Hammer Strike spoke up.

Demo grinned. “Ay, we’ll do that. Won’t we, Heavy?”

Heavy Set returned the grin. “Of course. We are very good at protecting. And we will make sure you are not disturbed. If anyone tries, Sasha and I will talk with them.”

“If by talk, you mean skewer them alive,” Demo added.

Heavy Set shrugged. “If they do not act rude, they do not have to worry.”

Blueblood stared aghast at them. “Just where did you find these two?”

“That’s a good question.” Hammer Strike nodded in response. “So, I believe you were going to lead us to the dining hall?”

Naturally, Prince Blueblood obliged.

The grand dining hall was a monument to extravagance. From the blue silk buntings to the golden trim and the massive table lined with Ponies dressed in their stuffiest and gaudiest outfits possible. Whether this was an attempt to draw attention, follow fashion, or merely cause their political opponents’ eyes to bleed was entirely uncertain. What was certain, however, was the sheer focus of each of those many, many more guests on Hammer Strike and his escort. One could hear much more than a pin drop as the gathering eyed Hammer Strike and his guard, taking particular note of the many weapons each wore.

Taking on the role of lord chamberlain, Prince Blueblood cleared his throat. “Father, honored guests.” He looked nervously at Hammer Strike. “It is my honor to introduce Lord Hammer Strike of Everfree, Defender of the Crown, Hero of the Crystal Empire, and Villain’s Bane, among many other titles of note. Along with his fiancé.” He said this last part somewhat less enthusiastically as he pulled back every so slightly from the brief hardening of his father’s gaze. “The lady Rarity Belle of Ponyville.”

Baron Blueblood was an older and more refined version of his son. True to the ideal of the stereotypical Unicorn bloodline, his mane and tail were a radiant gold that hovered on the edge of platinum. His white fur reflected the torchlight in the hall while a stylish suit radiated suavity and influence. However, while Prince Blueblood’s eyes were bright blue, his father’s were as dark as glaciers. The stallion rose from his seat and nodded his acknowledgement of the guest. “Lord Hammer Strike, welcome to my home. I must admit that while I expected the escort, you’ve quite taken me by surprise with your additional guest. It’s clear that congratulations are in order. We’ll have a seat placed for Lady Rarity immediately.”

He clapped his hooves together, and two maids approached to attend to the table. The first skillfully maneuvered plates and implements to set with magic from her horn while the other, a pale white-furred mare used her strength to place an extra chair. Moonshade’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as she peered at the rustling under the second mare’s skirt and bodice. As the two servants took their leave, the baron gestured toward the new chairs. “Please, join us. We have an exquisite meal planned for tonight.”

“You have our appreciation, Baron Blueblood.” He turned briefly to address the others and spoke softly in Draconic. “Act how you see fit.”

Grif grinned a cheshire grin. “No takebacksies,” he warned.

“Promise to keep me from making mistakes?” Pensword asked Moonshade.

“You’ll do fine. Just follow my lead,” Moonshade assured him.

And so it was that Hammer Strike was escorted to his place with Rarity by Grif while Moonshade and Pensword took up the rear, ever watchful until the two had been seated before Moonshade strode toward the wall nearby. It took less than a second for Pensword to fall in step with her before they took up their posts.

Grif smiled at each of the nobles, baring his teeth for all to see in an expression that was at once ingratiating and terrifying. “Have fun, you two,” he whispered before also pulling back.

“Your guards are welcome to partake of a meal as well, of course,” Baron Blueblood added. “Though as custom dictates, such a meal is traditionally prepared and held in the servants’ quarters. Rest assured, they will receive the treatment that they deserve as servants to one of your station,” he said to Hammer Strike.

“That choice lies with them,” Hammer Strike glanced towards the others briefly before turning back. “Though, I feel as though I know their answer.”

“There isn’t even a need to ask. I will remain with my lord,” Grif said pointedly. “Today’s guards are incompetent at best, with few exceptions. I won’t let them take responsibility for my lord’s life in the event of an attack.”

“And I will not leave either,” Pensword agreed. “The offer is thoughtful, but my duty is also to Lord Hammer Strike first and foremost.”

“I expected such responses, and you did not disappoint. The rigors of war make bedfellows of the rich and the poor alike. And lead to the most unlikely of alliances,”  Baron said as his gaze drifted to Moonshade before focusing again on Hammer Strike. “But, of course, I don’t need to tell you that.”

“It is true that war can change how everything works. It can even pull together something that should never have been broken in the first place,” Hammer Strike responded.

“Well spoken,” Baron congratulated. “Come, let’s enjoy the meal. I’m sure we have much to discuss, and many of us have questions. Doubtless, you do as well.” He clopped his hooves together again to signal the servants, and the meal began as all do with basins to wash their hooves, each borne by servants prior to delivery of the first course.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I’m an absolute sap for romances,” one of the ladies, a mare in a fine sapphire gown with iridescent green accents, commented to Rarity. “If you don’t mind, could you perhaps tell me how you two first met? Was it love at first sight?”

Rarity smiled demurely. “Oh, nothing so fanciful as that. The first time we met was during a fitting shortly after his return from the Crystal Empire. After spending over a thousand years imprisoned in stone, I thought he would prefer to have a new set of clothing to wear, just a small gesture of gratitude for his service in protecting the Crystal Empire and Princess Cadance in particular. Without her, Twilight Sparkle wouldn’t be the Twilight I know today, after all, and we may never have regained the Elements of Harmony.”

“It was quite a different welcome from my expectations, given everything I had recently been through. We ended up in more contact than anticipated, given my belongings were now gone, and I found myself enjoying those visits more and more,” Hammer Strike continued.

“And you two developed a relationship from there. How absolutely adorable!” She sighed dreamily as a small flush rose to her cheeks.

“Lady Peacock Feather is indeed a romanticist at heart,” Baron Blueblood said with an indulgent smile. “Naturally, it goes without saying that your closest friends must also have approved.”

Rarity took a dainty bite from her plate and swallowed. “Of course,” she agreed. “They found our little games particularly amusing.”

An older gentlecolt cleared his throat. “Is that really appropriate to raise for discussion at the dinner table?”

“Why, I haven’t the faintest idea of what you mean, m’lord,” Rarity returned innocently. “I was simply referring to the fact that both Hammer Strike and I share the philosophy of generosity. It’s a game we play to see who can be the most generous between the two of us.”

“She tries to make something a gift, and I continue to pay for her work at what I deem to be a worthy price.” Hammer Strike chuckled.

“That’s still open for negotiation, dear,” Rarity pointed out.

“You’re right. I think I’ve been underpaying,” he returned with a smile.

“If we weren’t with company right now, I might name a suitable price, but I think we’ll have to wait on that, darling.” She smiled at each of the guests. “I hope you’ll forgive our little deviation. We didn’t mean to detract from the meal.”

“Not at all, Miss Belle. It’s clear to see the feelings you two share. A dear friend of mine has quite the talent for matchmaking, and I’ve learned a trick or two from the trade. The two of you are most definitely well suited for one another,” an older mare with a reserved purple dress smiled fondly at the couple, pulling the wrinkles back to reveal the sparkles that hid in the depths of her emerald eyes. “Lady Rough is the name. Gemstones and deposits are my game, as the saying goes. I hear you have quite the gift for dowsing, yourself, if rumor is to be believed.”

“One has had a certain modest amount of success,” Rarity admitted. “Though my specialty lies with gems. I’ve never tried looking for other resources. There are few uses for such things in the fashion industry.”

“Of course. But you clearly have a very discerning eye, as doubtless must your fiancé to find a one such as you.”

“Now, now, Lady Rough, time enough for compliments and platitudes will come after the meal,” Prince Blueblood said.

“My dear Prince Blueblood, the time for such things is always in the now. How can one form relationships without first finding that which one finds most interesting or holds in common?” the old mare returned.

“Interesting though this conversation is, I admit I’m curious to ask more about your personal history, Lord Strike. That is, if you are willing to discuss certain events,” an older Pegasus stallion said. “My family are somewhat of historians for Equestria, more as a hobby than out of any professional or royal obligation. But the story of what happened to our allies in the Crystal Empire is not yet on the record. I would not force you to relive harsh memories, but if you are comfortable sharing, may I ask what it was like for you during those days?”

Hammer Strike frowned briefly as he thought over what to say. “The beginning of the downfall was quick, and brutal. Bloodrose was killed by her cousin, and he took control of the empire shortly after. Afterwards, he enforced his control with dark magics and corrupted the royal guard, turning them on themselves. I took as much action as I could, taking Grif and Star Swirl to the side to fight, and ordered Pensword to look after Bloodrose’s children and bring them to safety.”

“So it really was Princess Celestia who ultimately destroyed Sombra the first time. But one would assume after you worked to weaken his grip over the empire?”

“It was none of us.” Hammer Strike’s frown deepened. “Celestia and Luna fought alongside the soldiers and pushed forward, but after a week of constant fighting in wait of their arrival, Grif, Pensword, and myself were too worn down. Sombra chose to enact dangerous magic, and sent the Empire away in time to ensure his safety. We had Star Swirl petrify the three of us to stay with the Empire and await its return before sending him away before Sombra’s spell could pull him with us and the empire.”

“From what we understand of our allies in the north, their power springs from love and hope, two abstract concepts that can lead to exceptionally powerful spells when executed properly. Wouldn’t you say that your actions, and those of your friends, would have been enough to serve to preserve that feeling, rather than allowing it to be crushed entirely?”

“We preserved it as much as we could, yes.” Hammer Strike nodded.

“Then that is a feat to be commended.” Baron Blueblood nodded sagely. “And doubtless the gifts of Commander Pensword’s mixed heritage proved helpful when dealing with the harsh conditions that exist outside the empire’s protection. Loyalty to one’s master, and to his allies, is most certainly an admirable quality to have, and indispensable when dealing with the rigors of war.”

“There certainly aren’t many that can handle it.”

“In today’s era, there aren’t many that want it either,” Prince Blueblood added.

“Nobody wants war,” Hammer Strike said bleakly. “And those that crave it do not understand it. Equestria is in a dire stage, and should war come, I see a hefty price that will come with it.”

“But surely the return of one of Equestria’s greatest heroes should serve as a deterrent, not an accelerant, should it not?” a mare with a dark blue fur coat and a darker mane asked.

“Fools do not listen to reason.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “They believe themselves better.”

A few of the Ponies glanced toward Baron Blueblood before hastily averting their gazes.

“Very true,” Baron Blueblood agreed. “Pride is one of the greatest weaknesses any opponent can manifest. One need only know how to exploit it to defeat them. Whether that be an enemy from without or from within. If memory serves, it was pride and a thirst for glory, as well as supremacy, that caused the Third Gryphon War in the first place. Is that not so, Grif Grafson?”

The nobles looked askance at their host, for he had gone so far as to address a servant, rather than the guests, a deviation that was far from the norm of any such gathering.

“It is why my father lived on the Northern Isles,” Grif admitted, even as he thanked whatever gods would listen that he had studied up on his supposed history. “It is also a sin I noticed in many a noble before I found my lord. One would hope their sins would not be repeated by their descendants, lest history repeat itself in a far harsher manner than the royal wedding Princess Cadance told us about.”

An involuntary shudder passed through the guests as the memories of the horrors visited on them during that event struck with the surgical precision of a venomous sting.

“Speaking of that event, have you and the Humans managed to prepare for potential retaliation?” Prince Blueblood asked. “After all, you are currently residing in the same town as the hero who exposed the Changeling plot and the hero who charged into danger, willing to sacrifice everything to give the royal couple the time they needed to cast their spell. A town by the name of Ponyville, if I’m not mistaken?”

“We have been training a new selection of guard,” Hammer Strike affirmed. “Preparing them for the difficulties of true combat.”

“It must be difficult dealing with all the Ponies who try to have a moment alone with you. After all, you are a celebrity among colts and mares alike,” Prince Blueblood said.

“Interacting with the general populace brings joy to my heart, for I can see lives being lived. It’s those that try to piggyback or attach themselves to me in some way that become difficult.”

“Such is the curse that comes with a noble title,” Prince Blueblood agreed.

“Out of curiosity, Lord Strike, have you encountered such individuals in the recruits that are being trained as well?” an older stallion asked. His cutie mark was a polished helm, and his mane was a mixture of gold and silver. However, unlike many of the other nobles, his body still carried the physique of one who had been through military training. “One has noted that the division of noble rank often carries into the guard. It can be difficult for some to rise in the ranks without having the proper connections.”

“Noble rank holds no ground in our recruits. They all started from nothing, and their performance will dictate their rank,” Hammer Strike replied simply.

“And if I might ask, who performs their evaluations?”

“Beyond myself, Pensword and Grif, alongside Major Moonshade. There are also the three humans who have shown their capabilities in understanding war. Two new units have shown up as well who hold appropriate rank and knowledge to perform the evaluations. Princess Celestia sent them to me with the highest recommendation, a Blast and Tower Shield.”

Prince Blueblood spurted the wine he was drinking back into his goblet through his nostrils, followed by a coughing fit.

“Ah, yes. I remember those two well. Buckler’s colts, aren’t they?” the stallion with the helm cutie mark asked.

“I believe so.” Hammer Strike nodded.

“They have good potential. Treat them well and they won’t disappoint.”

“I’m sure they won’t,” Hammer Strike agreed.

“Out of curiosity, Lord Strike, were you also considering dabbling in trade? Your craftsmanship is legendary among the populace. Doubtless, you would be able to make a killing in the marketplace if you wished. Obviously, your task from Princess Celestia comes first, but I can’t help but ask.” The mare who spoke was garbed in a bubbly golden dress the color of champagne. A long-fluted champagne glass brooch complemented the look.

“My focus at this time is to arm the recruits under me, and those closest to me, for protection.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “My focus is not money, nor will it ever be.”

The second course soon followed the proclamation, a rich pumpkin soup filled with warm autumnal spices and diced onions. Freshly baked bread was passed in fancy baskets for the guests to butter and use as they saw fit when dealing with their meal.

“History also tells us that you were an extremely charitable Pony. And it seems your own accounts of your courtship with the lady Rarity confirm it. Since money is not your focus, does that mean you intend to practice philanthropy on the side?” the same mare asked.

“For an economy to function, money has to move.”

“Ah, an investor! Now there is something I can relate to!” a portly Pony replied. Curiously enough, his fur was an exceptionally pale pink with an even lighter hue of fluffy white whipped like marshmallow fluff for his mane. His muzzle seemed almost to sink back into jowls of fat around his neck, and his custom suit strained against the size of his considerable bulk. “I’d be happy to point out a few prospects for you if you’re interested. Doubtless, you haven’t had much time to look into the markets with your focus on the Everfree.”

“I have actually looked into some businesses. I have some sources that I trust quite well for this.” Hammer Strike smiled.

“Oh? An insider, eh? How intriguing. I wasn’t aware you already had a network.”

“My dear Lord Hockshire, every noble has a network. Doubtless, the princesses made sure to preserve Lord Hammer Strike’s for him in the event he should return. One can’t help but marvel at the foresight they share,” Baron Blueblood commented.

“If rumors are to be believed, Princess Celestia even planned for Twilight Sparkle to meet you and your friends in Ponyville, Lady Rarity. Were it not for that decision, it’s entirely possible that we would be meeting under entirely different circumstances. And not nearly so pleasant,” the mare with the champagne-glass brooch added.

“If that’s the case, then it’s one more reason for me to thank her,” Rarity said. “Twilight is a dear friend. And as you said, without our meeting, we wouldn’t have the elements of harmony with us today. One shudders to think what might have happened then when Discord escaped as well. If memory serves, it took both princesses to defeat him the first time, did it not?”

“... Indeed, it did,” the mare agreed.

“I find it’s important to look back on one’s total history, not just the most recent events, to make a fair judgment. It’s not only the generous thing to do, but the proper one as a leader, wouldn’t you say? After all, we common Ponies do look to the nobles and elected officials to lead by example.”

Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle. “You certainly aren’t one I’d consider to be ‘common.’”

“So long as you don’t call me a drama queen. Though a queen of fashion, that is a title I could certainly live with.” She smiled back at him in a mixture of playfulness and genuine gratitude.

“You two lovebirds certainly do have chemistry,” Lady Peacock praised.

The third course was an exceptionally prepared salad dressed with shredded parmesan cheese, dried berries, pecans, and a vinaigrette that was equal parts tangy and sweet to complement the berries. To add an extra layer of crunch, croutons had also been prepared and added at each guest’s request to suit their preferences.

“Out of curiosity, Hammer Strike,” Baron Blueblood finally said as he dabbed a napkin over his mouth, “since you are planning to develop the Everfree, have you devised a strategy to deal with the chaotic nature of the forest and its weather patterns?”

“Accept it and adapt as needed,” Hammer Strike replied simply.

“Won’t that prove rather costly up front?” the baron asked as he raised his wine glass and swirled gently before taking a sip.

“Not really. If you know what you’re doing, it’s easily manageable and doesn’t require much alteration to handle it. Even if it did, I wouldn’t withhold the bits to ensure the safety of the units under my command.”

“Then you are a stallion who prefers to trade in loyalty, rather than money,” Baron Blueblood mused. “An interesting trait to manifest in the court.”

“What use is money to something that does not care?”

“Then are you saying that you do not care?”

“As I said before, for an economy to function, money has to move. What use is gold if all you do is sit on it?”

“Well spoken. There are many places for gold to go. There are the common circles, of course. Caterers, servants, the occasional contractor or bodyguard. Education, business ventures. And, of course, the occasional bribe when needed. Few nobles will admit to it, but it’s a practice that many make use of to a greater or lesser degree.” He shrugged. “Some receive, and some buy. Some are blatant, others subtle. But it all happens, regardless.”

“Indeed, it does.” Hammer Strike’s voice was stern as he spoke. “And it comes with a price that, while it may not come in a lifetime, will be paid. Whether it is wanted or not.”

Rarity eyed Hammer Strike carefully as she took another sip from her glass. A hoof reached for her ring, and she held it to her chest in confusion. Why did it suddenly feel so … warm?

“And who will be the one to pay this mysterious price?” a portly Unicorn asked haughtily.

“Whoever it lands on down the line.” Hammer Strike looked at the Unicorn. “Whether it is wanted, or not.”

“I believe Lord Hammer Strike is referring to what is known as social credit or, as the Eastern Unicorns in Neighpon call it, karma. The idea that the consequences of one’s actions will inevitably manifest, and their burden will either fall on the one to commit the act or one who is affiliated with the individual,” Baron Blueblood said. “Good for good and bad for bad.”

“What a ridiculous sentiment,” a mare wearing a jade necklace shaped like a tama commented. Even as she said it, a crack that had once been nearly invisible spread along the stone’s surface. “What matters most is the now. As you yourself said, Hammer Strike, one adapts to one’s circumstances and acts accordingly.”

“As you can see, Lady Cracked Jade has very strong sentiments about ends and means,” Baron Blueblood noted evenly.

“Oh, I can see that well enough,” Hammer Strike replied as a small grin formed. “Do trust me. I find seeing the ends of things quite interesting as well.” As he reached for his glass, the beverage seemed to become more bubbly than before it was poured.

“A colt who is satisfied with a job well accomplished, then,” Baron noted.

“One who likes to get his hooves dirty, perhaps?” another mare asked. This one bore a golden necklace depicting a multi-spoked wheel.

“Lady Rumor Mill,” the baron said by way of introduction. “She specializes in intelligence and information gathering and dissemination. Her network and business contacts make it so she remains very well informed on the goings on in the world.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard quite some interesting stories,” Hammer Strike replied as he turned toward her. “Especially when the line between fact and fiction blur.”

“Information is information. How one uses it determines the outcome of the game. Naturally, I have my ways to ensure what I know is accurate. As for my enemies….” She shrugged. “As you say, sometimes the lines can blur. Between fact and fiction, right and wrong. I prefer to stay on the right side of history.”

“A good stance to take. Given your network, I’m sure you’ll make the correct choices.”

Rarity had begun to sweat now, and she took another sip of her beverage before looking with concern at her pretend fiancé. The leaves of his salad had become exceedingly wilted. “Darling, are you all right?

The edge that had crept into his voice vanished in an instant as he turned to Rarity. “I’m fine.” He frowned as he took note of her expression. “Are you okay?”

“Fine, fine. Perfectly fine. Just a little … warm.” She removed a dainty fan from a purse she’d brought to complement her ensemble and began to wave it with her magic.

A few of the nobles had begun to whisper among themselves, eying their bowls as the salad was replenished. Hammer Strike’s ears swiveled as bits of conversation sifted out of the air to knock at his eardrums.

“Where did those servants get these leaves, the compost bin?” a snippy mare pressed, even as a familiar servant with white tufted ears dutifully went about her task of restocking the bowls while her fellow servant poured more wine from a bottle that was practically swimming in the remnants of the ice cubes that had once kept it chilled. “These meat eaters don’t even know how to prepare a proper meal.”

“Shoddy runework,” the second noted with equal disgust. “The drink’s not even cold anymore. The baron should fire the incompetents….”

Both servants maintained flat expressions, though the slight droop of the white mare’s ears was noticeable. A subtle tightening of the Earth Pony garcon’s lips helped to indicate an equal displeasure, even as the warmth in the room rose to the point where it could be called stuffy.

“Hopefully, you won’t have to endure this for much longer,” Hammer Strike spoke to Rarity before whispering. “If it comes down to it, we’ll leave early.”

“And give them the chance to malign you at court?” Rarity gave a subtle shake of her head from behind her fan as she whispered to him. “I don’t think so. Not unless you can come up with a good lie, anyway.”

“I have no care for what they say.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Your health matters more than my care of their opinion.”

Rarity gave a wan smile. “You’re going to make a fine husband one day, Hammer Strike. That mare will be lucky to have you.”

Hammer Strike gave a small smile in return. “I can only hope I make a good one.”

The third course to arrive were lucious mini lava cakes capped with a healthy dollop of ice cream. However, as the servants delivered them to the guests, the dollops rapidly began to melt, even as the liquid chocolate burbled and spurted from the cakes to dribble down the sides.

Prince Blueblood fanned himself strenuously. His normally perfect coiffure had grown limp as sweat beaded his brow. “Father, perhaps we should open a window. It’s getting a tad uncomfortable.”

The noble looked over his guests and nodded. “Make it so,” he ordered the servants. The windows soon opened, but there was little relief to be had. A breeze would pass through occasionally, but the heat would smother its remains after the draft had gone, leaving the room in the same condition as before.

“Baron, much though we appreciate your hospitality, it seems to me that one of your servants must be having ‘fun’ at our expense,” one of the mares noted in an icy tone while dabbing away at a particularly gooey chunk of cake that had erupted after her fork broke through the surface of the cake. “I understand there’s been a change in staff, but this really is too much.”

“Such a thing is not easily done, especially not in one night, Lady Cordial,” Baron Blueblood noted.

“Then dismiss them all. You’ve done it before, and you know full well what it will mean if this behavior goes unpunished. We’ll only receive more of the same. I doubt that other lords and ladies would be so understanding if they were to face similar conditions tonight.”

“You expect me to leave my estate unattended, Lady Cordial?” The air may have been hot, but the coolness in Baron Blueblood’s voice was enough to send chills down the spines of lesser Ponies.

“Only if you don’t want this influence to spread and taint your reputation. One bad apple spoils the bunch, as I’m sure you know all too well.” As others had before, her gaze drifted toward the Thestral server, who was busily loading ice cubes into the guests’ glasses and goblets. “And one never knows where that influence may come from. Or spread.”

Hammer Strike turned towards the mare who spoke. While he was mostly able to contain himself, things were starting to get too blatantly open for him to ignore.

Makeup and mascara ran, and collars stained as the sweltering continued. “Sweet Celestia, won’t somepony do something about this heatwave?” a mare demanded. “Our second princess is supposed to be a ruler of the night. Can’t she cool things off? Or is that beyond her power?” she asked waspishly.

Hammer Strike gritted his teeth and braced himself against the table, ready to bite that self-entitlement to smithereens. Even as he did so, the faint smell of burning wafted through the air, and the color of the tablecloth beneath his hooves began to darken from white to tan, growing darker and darker with each passing moment. Eyes widened in astonishment, causing monocles to tumble and breaths to burn away in startled gasps that each observer rapidly tried to cover in their own ways, whether by use of a fan or some other means. Rarity stared with equal astonishment, even as Prince Blueblood’s eyes seemed ready to start from their sockets while his father’s expression remained eerily calm. All watched the golden flecks that fell from Hammer Strike’s trembling form to rise on a column of unseen air that had begun to waver like a mirage.

Before Hammer Strike had the chance to deliver his blistering denunciation on behalf of the mare who had done nothing but help them from the moment they arrived in Equestria, a radiantly glowing phoenix streaked through one of the windows like a comet. It let out a triumphant cry as a scroll dropped from its talons to land in front of Hammer Strike, 

Accepting the distraction, he took hold of the scroll and unfurled it, reading it quickly. He sighed and looked up to those present. “It appears we are done here, Blueblood. My presence has been requested by Celestia and Luna.” He spoke as evenly as he could, though the sharpness of his words remained present. 

Baron Blueblood nodded. “Of course. To receive a summons at this hour must mean it’s urgent. We can meet again later, when matters aren’t so pressing.”

“My schedule will be busy for quite some time from here on, so you may find that difficult.” Hammer Strike stood from his place. “Next, will be by chance. Coming, dear?”

Rarity looked at the stallion’s proffered hoof and took it tentatively. Much to her relief, it did not burn. “Where you go, I go.”

“Then let us not delay.” Hammer Strike nodded.

The two departed from the table together and approached their escort.

“My lord, may I say something to our hosts before we depart?” Grif asked.

“Granted.”

Grif looked at each of the nobles with a cool expression. “As you all know, honor and exploits are among some of the greatest possessions to my people. I was sickened by the lack of honor in your people when I came to Equestria for help. I am equally sickened now to see the same lack in your faces and actions tonight. Your games are childish, your strategies clear, and your barbs designed to gain a rise from my lord and test just how far you can push him safely. A word of advice to ‘your kind,’ as you so fondly put it. My lord rarely shows his displeasure openly. When he does, those who have earned that ire wish they could have Tartarus on their doorstep instead. And when he does not, those people tend to experience some very unpleasant … accidents. Honorable deeds do not always need to be done in the open. And it is very clear that we all have different ideas of what qualifies as honorable. I hope you will keep that in mind the next time you try to involve my lord in your petty squabbles. As for the rest of what I would like to say, there isn’t enough time in the day or the night to even begin to express the sheer loathing I have for you and your behavior. Let it suffice to say that your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberry. What other words I have for you, you can strain to hear as we depart. Rest assured, it will be in the most cultured of languages. I think you will find it most refreshing.” He turned to his fellow guards. “Pensword, Moonshade, did either of you have anything to add?”

“Only that I’m ashamed to see such prejudice still exists after all these years. If the legends are true, then it seems that our lord may have another lesson to teach. One can only hope you will learn faster and better than those in the past. Preferably before it’s too late,” Pensword added.

Moonshade fixed the nobles with an icy stare. “My sentiments are well known. I am proud of my heritage and of my people. I am proud of the contributions we have made to preserve this nation, despite the fact we have received scorn, abuse, and worse from, as many nobles are fond of saying, ‘your ilk.’ The sentiments expressed by many of you tonight are the reason many of my people left the cities, and ultimately led to the birth of Nightmare Moon. I urge you to set aside your prejudices before it is too late. Otherwise, you will be doomed to repeat history. And it will be your undoing. If you would be respected by your subjects, show them the respect they deserve in turn, even as Princess Celestia and Princess Luna have. Fear, violence, and blackmail will only foster dissent and disharmony. Do try to keep your souls as clean as your bodies. One never knows when Death will come to claim you.”

“How dare you?” one of the mares practically shrieked. “You presume to judge us? You? A lowly little—?”

“BITE YOUR TONGUE!” The roar came not from Hammer Strike, but from Pensword, and his eyes flashed as he glared with a protective snort at the suddenly recoiling mare. His pupils quivered with his fury, as if they longed to mimic Moonshade’s own when in battle. “She fought to save your miserable life when you cowered in fear at Queen Chrysalis. She knows what it is to see death, face it, and keep moving forward. She knows the horrors of the creatures and villains that would slaughter you in an instant, or worse, leave you to suffer a slow and painful death were it not for her constant watch and those like her. I have seen more honor and commitment in the Thestrals than I have ever seen among the nobles, save for only a few. And I assure you, madam, you are not among them. You are not worthy to even begin to question Major Moonshade’s qualifications, let alone her loyalty or her worthiness. If any of you try to belittle her or threaten her again, I don’t care what your rank is. I will personally make sure you know exactly why it’s important for Equestria to be able to defend itself. And this time, I assure you, there won’t be a single hoof, wing, or horn raised to help you. Not even the gods you hold so dear.”

Moonshade gaped at the stallion. “Pensword….”

“We’re leaving, Moonshade. Our lord requires an escort. We’ve said our pieces. Let’s not linger longer than we have to. The air in here has turned a trifle rancid.”

As the three flanked around Hammer Strike and Rarity, Grif whispered, “Bravo.”

Pensword blushed.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a bunch of stuck-up pricks to curse out.” He grinned. “In Phrench.”

As the great doors of the dining hall closed behind the escort, the remaining guests could still hear the vituperation of curses and insults Grif unleashed, even as Demolition Grenado’s raucous laughter and additional snipes added to the tumult. Finally, the portal closed in its entirety, leaving the assemblage to themselves.

“What was that?” one of the nobles finally asked. “I’ve never heard of an Earth Pony conjuring fire before.”

“I have,” the Pony with the helm for his cutie mark said gravely. “Every Pony who’s ever been a part of the guard knows about Celestia’s Ghost; the only other Pony known to partake in the same power as the princess and live to tell the tale. It’s a shade compared to the amount Princess Celestia can wield, but a shade is more than enough.” He looked grimly at the assemblage. “He is not a Pony you want to take on as an enemy, Baron Blueblood. I’m telling you this as a retired professional, as well as a student of history. Don’t toy with him, don’t play with him. Or you will get burned. We all will.”

“Your opinion is noted, Radiant Helm. However, the decision as to whether or not to make an enemy of him is not yours alone,” Baron Blueblood responded. “The first step to defeating an opponent is to know where he stands. After tonight, we have confirmed that beyond all doubt. Now, it is a matter of planning the most efficient method to assail his position and seize it from him. I believe we’ll need to step up our efforts to increase development in the old quarters of the city. If rumor is to be believed, Hammer Strike has a habit of finding riches at the drop of a hat. A war, even one waged in the manner of nobles, is extremely expensive. I expect we all will have to reach deep into our coffers, despite the gains to come from the developers’ bribes. I expect everypony to contribute equally. There will be no exceptions.”

A low groan of dismay filtered slowly through the air.

“It will be worth it in the end if we can stand above Hammer Strike. Such a coup will leave us solidly in control of the house of nobles as the dominant party. And more importantly, it will grant us dominion over the bounty of untapped resources that have been sitting and growing for centuries in the Everfree. It will be a dangerous game, but one whose rewards will make it more than worth your while, should we succeed. And I assure you, ladies and gentlecolts, we will succeed. Hammer Strike may be the genuine article, but that particular Pensword is most definitely a fake. And I should know. The best way to deal with an imposter is to show him the cost behind the charade.” He sneered. “Lord Velvet, I trust you still have contacts in Gryphonia?”

“Of course.”

“I wonder how our savage friends will react when they find out that three of their oldest and most hated enemies have returned from the grave.”

“You want to take on a contract?”

“Perish the thought. But it seems only fair that gossip should travel with your merchants, wouldn’t you say? After all, the return of the Crystal Empire is news enough to shake the world. The fact that an ancient champion has returned along with it would only be natural to report while you bargain. Particularly if you’re dealing with those who seek information over supplies.”

The portly Pony chortled as his mane wobbled like a pile of whipped cream. “I’m sure a deal can be arranged. And for a handsome profit. But one wonders, how do you intend to offer proof?”

“Look no further than what lies before you.” Blueblood gestured toward the seat where Hammer Strike had been. “The cost of a chair, a tablecloth, and some silverware is a small price to pay for verification of identity. Those flying featherbags have always been packrats. I am certain they will be able to compare his scent to something they kept from the war. And then….” He sneered.

“They’ll deal with our enemies for us. Brilliant!” Lord Velvet crowed.

“Well, they should at least be able to kill one. And after that, Hammer Strike will be much easier to manage. Provided the proper steps are taken.”

The round of applause that followed was uproarious. Radiant Helm sipped at his cup, even as his heart dropped to the floor. He owed the Bluebloods for helping him rise to his position. But this….

This was not honorable. More importantly, it was suicidal. There wouldn’t be a chance to act directly, but he had to act all the same. This bordered on the verge of treason. And if the old laws were invoked….

It was time to make a plan of his own.

The remnants of Hammer Strike’s displeasure carved a trail in every carpet, plank, and stone as he stomped deliberately toward the gates. He had no need of Blueblood’s escort, nor did he want it anymore. The guards at the gates eyed him warily as he approached, but a curt order to let him leave was more than enough for them to obey, particularly with the swarm of sparks that still floated around him like fireflies.

For the sake of her wellbeing, Rarity had to step outside the range of Hammer Strike’s fury. Enduring the rising temperatures had left her drained and thirsty. The cool night air was refreshing, but she would feel better after she’d had a chance to drink some water and bathe.

“So, you going to tell us what this is all about?” Grif asked, gesturing at the heatwaves and sparks still gathering around the stallion.

Hammer Strike glanced back towards Grif with a raised brow. “What are you…?” It was then that he finally noticed the sparks and embers in the air. “What is this?”

“Darling, it’s why the whole room was sweating. Did you really not notice? You were ready to burn a hole into the tablecloth,” Rarity pointed out.

“I… didn’t feel it,” he replied, studying the marks left behind by his hooves. “It’s truly coming from me?”

A familiar cry carried through the air as a red light descended from the skies above until Renati’s glowing form settled on Hammer Strike’s back and chirped his approval.

“Considering how Renati is getting a lot more comfortable than usual on you, yes,” Grif replied. Then he smirked wickedly. “You know, if it’s something that needs to be worked out, we could always go back and set fire to Blueblood’s estate.” 

“If it weren’t for the potential of accidental harm to the servants, guards, and innocents, I’d contemplate it,” Hammer Strike half joked. “But, currently, I’m now starting to feel more confused.”

“Well, on the plus side, you might be able to use whatever this is in your smithing,” Pensword pointed out. “But … I’m guessing we don’t need a King MIdas incident here, so we should probably ask Princess Celestia about it. Fire is supposed to be one of her specialties, right?” Pensword asked.

“Potentially. It depends on what the main part of this is.” Hammer Strike hummed in thought.

Grif shrugged. “Salamanders.”

“... Care to elaborate, Grif?” Pensword asked as he stared in utter confusion at his friend.

“Salamanders are supposed to be immune to fire, right? They sleep in it, practically live in it. I figure however it happened, Hammer Strike’s got something similar going on. Only way I can think that he hasn’t exploded or combusted by now, considering how hot the air around him was.”

“Regardless, we should go. Princess Celestia is waiting. And as Pensword already pointed out, she might be able to help resolve this problem.”

The journey to the castle was uneventful. Those who laid eyes on the group quickly went about minding their own business. The air was calm when they reached the castle itself, and much to their surprise, Princess Celestia was there at the doors to greet them herself. She raised a brow at the sight of the embers.

“It seems you needed to see me as much as I needed to see you.” She gestured toward the gates. “Come inside. I’m guessing you have quite a story to tell.” The heat from Hammer Strike’s hooves left no scorch marks in their wake by the time they entered the castle, but more than a few servants and guards eyed the sparks and embers warily, lest something potentially catch fire.

Celestia led them into a plain unadorned stone room and turned to face the group. “I assume you trust those two?” she asked, gesturing toward Heavy and Demo.

“They’ll keep quiet. They know the threat that hangs over them if they were to say or do something out of rationality,” Hammer Strike replied. “Additionally, Demolition Grenado won’t remember this by tomorrow.”

“Aye. Cause ah’m drunk!”

“You are always drunk,” Heavy said with a frown.

“Aye. But tonight, I’m dead drunk!”

“... Is this normal?” Celestia asked.

“His body quite literally needs alcohol to function,” Hammer Strike confirmed. “I’ve seen his medical reports on it, though their medic does have some interesting stories and concepts about it.”

“... You have a knack for finding the strangest people.”

“I look for talent and quality. Personality comes second.” Hammer Strike shrugged.

“I see.” She eyed them briefly, then returned her attention to Hammer Strike. “Then let’s begin.” Her horn ignited, and she lowered it as her magic surrounded both horn and Hammer Strike, as it had once before. This time, there was no resistance. First Celestia frowned, then continued to concentrate. Finally, she murmured, “So that’s how it happened.” When she opened her eyes and lifted her spell, Hammer Strike was staring at her intently. The sparks were no longer present. “It appears that an unlikely scenario has taken place. You remember when I had to force my magic on you before?”

“Hard to forget when it came with a similar sensation to burning alive. Why do you ask?”

“It appears that a statistical improbability of astronomical proportions has just been made manifest.”

“Without the Twilight Speak, please?” Grif asked.

“To put it simply, there are some cases of a magical field having to be broken by another’s magic for one reason or another. One of three outcomes can come of this. In the event the breaking was not consensual on the part of the one affected, their magic could be crippled. Secondly, their magic can repair itself afterward and potentially be stronger as a result. We have Clover the Clever to thank for that theory. The third and final possibility is that a sliver of the magic used to break the field is absorbed and integrated into the subject’s field as part of its healing process. It’s an uncommon phenomenon that hasn’t been documented in well over a thousand years. For an average Pony, this won’t generally do harm, and will often help to strengthen their resistance and capability if recovery is properly overseen. I didn’t break your field with the intent of crippling you, and I left the optimal conditions for recovery. It seems that as a result, your field took in a fragment of my solar power. Honestly, … it’s a miracle that you’re still alive right now. Most Ponies would have been immolated by now if they called the power subconsciously.”

Hammer Strike blinked a few times before muttering, “So, it’s tied to that then.” He sighed. “That all makes sense. Hopefully, I’ll manage control over it quickly enough.”

“I believe you will. Though you are one of the first Earth Ponies to manifest a power other than strength or nature that Equestria has ever seen. If you require assistance, I’ll do my best to provide it.”

Hammer Strike frowned. “Perhaps later, when I am prepared to learn forced manifestations of it. For now, I’m not in the best place for it mentally.”

“Then perhaps a change of discussion is in order. Have you been able to share the contents of the letter I wrote?”

“No. Honestly, I used it as an immediate out, and haven’t had the time to discuss it with the others.” He shook his head.

“I thought you might. That’s one reason why I had the summons sent. I hope Prince Blueblood didn’t go too far over the line.”

“Prince Blueblood, no. Baron Blueblood was mostly civil. Some of his guests, however….” Pensword let out a low growl.

“Let’s just say that your letter was timely, princess. We were probably about 5.3 seconds away from making that gathering into a massacre,” Grif added.

“Then it’s a good thing it reached you all in time.” She looked at the phoenix on Hammer Strike’s back. “By the way, who’s your new friend?”

“Renati.” Hammer Strike glanced back to the phoenix. “Seemed to take a liking to me.”

Celestia blinked. “An interesting name. It’s rare for a phoenix to choose to live with another, rather than in the wild.”

Renati looked gravely at the princess and nodded his head briefly.

“It seems he takes after you in decorum as well.”

“Probably the reason he accepts me.”

“Or he sees something else in you that may require him later. Phoenixes have a curious habit of appearing to certain people in times of need. To this day, scholars still haven’t been able to figure it out.”

Hammer Strike gave a shrug in response.

“As for the letter, it pertains more to you, Pensword.”

“How so?” Pensword asked.

“In order for you to properly make full use of your expertise and experience, we need a reason to let you do so. It’s our intent to practice a form of subterfuge with you to that end. Since Matthew can no longer be a part of the day to day events of your mission in the Everfree, we will ‘transfer’ his memories into your brain at his request, as a means to ensure that the mission can continue, and to ensure that should a means be found to return you to Earth, your family can be notified of your service to the crown.”

Pensword frowned. “That’s a little convoluted, but … I suppose if I thought there was no other option, I would want to make sure my family knew what happened from someone who knew me. You can’t get much closer than having my memories. There will have to be a caveat, though. All technology and other such secrets that Matthew may have would be required to be kept secret. They cannot be given to anyone here in Equestria by me as Pensword.”

“A reasonable request,” Celestia agreed. “And one that would doubtless frustrate any who would try to exploit those memories to no end.”

“Then consider it done,” Pensword agreed.

“Good. That’s one more way to protect you from the political wranglings any nobles might try as well. You’d make a desirable catch for many a mare in the modern day. And since you are not currently married, well, … many would consider you fair game. The implication behind this transference and the mission associated with it should help to deter any that might have undue designs toward you to raise their prestige.”

“Why would they do that?”

Celestia cocked her head in confusion. “I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?”

“Pensword was granted a noble title in honor of his services during the Third Gryphon War. By rights, that rank still technically belongs to you now, even after all these centuries have passed.”

“What?” Pensword practically shrieked.

Grif patted Pensword on the back. “Congratulations, my friend. You are officially a part of the monarchy.”

“But I … I’m not—” he spluttered. “I’m an American for crying out loud!”

“You’re a Pony, in Equestria, currently serving as a commander for a noble in Equestria. I think you’ve got your priorities already mixed up for that,” Hammer Strike noted with a raised brow.

“That’s an act, though. It’s not like I really have been given those titles!”

“Suck it up, buttercup,” Grif said. “You’re Pensword, so you’d better own up to the hype.”

Pensword groaned. “Bad day….”

“It’s not all bad,” Celestia promised as she opened the chamber’s door to enter back into the halls. “And you will find that there are also good Ponies who will be valuable friends and allies. Some might even say family by the time you get to meet them all. But that’s enough talk of meetings and formalities. I’m certain Hammer Strike was able to eat. What about the rest of you?”

“Celestia, I know you’re not the most clever Pony in the world, but even you should know guards don’t eat when they’re protecting their employer at an event,” Grif pointed out.

“It’s a thing we call courtesy, Grif. I’m sure you’ve heard of it? Most people prefer not to assume without reasonable surety, lest they make fools of themselves,” Celestia pointed out. “And as princess, I can’t allow myself to look like a fool unless there’s an important reason behind it.”

“So next time you do, we should expect some big plan is underway that you’ve laid out, probably involving Twilight and her friends. Got it.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to, Princess. I got a look at the record Twilight keeps for her friendship letters. She’s very eager to share what she learns. And it seems that the biggest ones always involve you in one way or another. Pair that with the fact they’re a military asset for the kingdom, and it’s fairly obvious you’re going to want to pull some strings to make them stronger.”

“We’re getting off topic,” Celestia said smoothly to divert the conversation. “Come, I’ll bring you to the kitchens for a proper meal. It won’t be the feast you received when you first arrived, but it will most definitely be filling.”

“So long as there’s meat.”

“Of course there will be. After all, we have to make sure my sister’s guards remain healthy and strong.” She smiled as they passed by a set of windows. The dim vale of twilight had begun to descend. “If you’ll excuse me a moment.” She charged her horn, and as she did, the last rays of day receded into night while the silvery light of the moon and stars spread like a soothing blanket over the night sky and through the rafters. Silvery sparkles drifted on the moonbeams to coalesce in front of Celestia, manifesting a scroll embossed in silver. The princess paused to read the contents, then nodded. “It seems that my sister would like to see you before her nightly rounds, Major Moonshade.”

Moonshade nodded. “I’ll go to her at once.”

“You can look for us in the kitchen or dining hall after you finish. If you don’t find us there, it’s likely that we’ll already have adjourned for the night.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Moonshade said with a bow, then looked at Pensword as she rose. “I’ll return soon.”

A light crack worked its way into Pensword’s voice. “We’ll be waiting.”

Moonshade turned and flew as quickly as her wings would take her. When she was certain she was out of sight, she allowed the smile to pull at her lips, even as the rhythm of her heart beat to a new drum and a faster tempo.

The journey to Princess Luna’s apartments was swift. The solar guards on duty were often more sluggish, and with the change to night only just completing, the lunar guards would yet have been able to take up their full patrols. A swift security check and a brief nod of approval soon ushered her through to face her chieftess. Princess Luna stood resolutely as she gazed over the city’s lights and the sights and sounds of Ponies and other creatures far below. Some were preparing for bed. Others were rousing for night shifts or otherwise preparing for various jobs, some legitimate, some very much not. It was a curious dance, one that Luna had not been able to observe in the past. Back then, Ponies still sought to live by the day alone. Yes, much had changed over the last thousand years and more.

Moonshade bowed to Luna. “You summoned me, High Chieftess?” she asked formally.

The Alicorn of the night turned to gaze at Moonshade with a neutral mask. “I thank you for answering my summons so quickly, Major,” she greeted. “Please, rise.”

Moonshade did so. “How may I be of service?”

Luna smiled fondly as she cradled Moonshade’s chin. “Oh, my dear child, you have done so much in service to me already. And you will yet do much more before your time is done.” She shook her head gently. “It is not an assignment that brings you here, Major, but rather a gift. And some valuable information. I believe you will need to know it. Some, you will thank me for. For the other, I fear I will not be so fortunate.” She gestured toward a small table and a pair of chairs. “Please, sit.”

As Moonshade took her chair, Luna levitated a pair of steins to the table, then poured from a small cask of rich cider. “Chieftess?” she asked as a worried frown overtook the sense of giddiness she had felt just a few short minutes ago.

“Drink, Major. Then we shall talk.” Luna took a long pull from her stein, then gave a lusty sigh as she returned the heavy vessel to the table’s surface. When Moonshade had taken a shorter sip, Luna nodded and began. “There are three orders of business that need to be conducted tonight. The first is one that will not require ceremony. We know each other too well to focus on flowery speeches and grand events. First, I wish to congratulate you. A flick of her horn summoned a flowing cape from a nearby chest. It was carefully embroidered with silver and black thread on the dark blue background.” With this mantle, I hereby promote you to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel in the Lunar Guard.”

Moonshade stared in utter bewilderment at the garment. “But, … you only recently promoted me to Major. I am honored, but isn’t this too sudden?”

Luna smiled. “You have earned it for your resilience and your immense discipline, even in the face of events that defy explanation.”

“But—”

“But me no buts, Lieutenant,” Luna said. “I do not give this promotion lightly. I made that mistake once a long time ago. And I paid for it when I fell to the nightmare. The tribes are still paying for that mistake to this day.”

“Forgive me, Chieftess, but … I don’t understand.”

Luna gave a sad smile. “You are aware of the crippling and corruptive effects of dark magic, I assume.”

Moonshade nodded.

“King Sombra is a terrible example of what happens when one allows that power to take root and grow. Everything he touched was corrupted and bent to his will or driven to the point where their very spirits were broken, and trauma and magic both bound their hearts and memories. These were all Ponies who had little loyalty or trust in this false king. And yet, he was able to control them utterly. How much greater an effect do you think might be had from one who bore the trust, love, and undying loyalty of her troops without any thought to question or push back?”

“Chieftess?”

“Tell me, Moonshade, what do you know of the terror guards?”

Fire and ice blossomed together, sending Moonshade’s heart into a swirl of confusion, alarm, and anxiety as the forces clashed, exploded, then pulled away to regroup. “I know there are some who would bear that title proudly today. They would see Equestria overthrown in favor of Thestral dominance. They would trample the ideals that protect our lands from the windigos.”

“They would do more than that if they could. They would, as I once did in my fallen state, seek to create an everlasting night, one in which Thestrals could thrive. And for some, where they could drink the blood of those they deemed lesser than themselves.”

“No!” Moonshade shook her head vehemently. “Nopony would wish for that today.”

“Hate and anger can do terrible things to a Pony when they’re allowed to fester, Moonshade,” Luna said quietly. “And they can and do lead to monstrous acts. Allow enough of that darkness into your heart, and it will eventually change you and your magic. Nightmare Moon did just that to my friends, the lifelines I clung to with all of my strength, and yet, who I could not protect from wrongful imprisonment and persecution. When Nightmare Moon came to them, they accepted her gifts gladly. And they wreaked a terrible vengeance. They murdered, mocked, and destroyed. They tortured and broke the spirits of so many Ponies. And they did it all with smiles on their faces. They spread that sickness to many more Thestrals before they were finally stopped and ultimately destroyed. Without the cleansing power of the Elements of Harmony, my sister had no means to save them. No way to redeem their corrupted souls.” Luna swiped the tears from her eyes and took another pull. “She had to burn every single one of them. And now we hunt the dregs that survived to this day so that we will never repeat those terrible events again.”

“We?”

“A select few, those I know won’t be swayed, and who have sufficient skill to fulfill the task. As I said, we cannot allow that sickness to thrive again.”

“But that’s insane!”

Again, Luna shook her head. “Ponies look to my sister and I as gods. We try to discourage that notion, but it still exists, and it prevails in the hearts and minds of many. Being so closely tied to the moon and the sun have given us lives well beyond the normal span, even for our species. My sister can travel wherever her sun’s light touches in an instant. And I, too, can travel by moonlight. Nightmare Moon traveled by shadow and darkness. These traits and powers combined with the manipulation of our elements and longevity are bound to give birth to extremists and zealots. And they long for even a taste of that kind of power. So they will do whatever it takes to ensure that their ‘god’ will succeed in the brainsickly plans they think are our will. For those who worship my sister, it is a world where she controls and governs all, and only her chosen can rule and reign above the rest with impunity. For those who worship me, it is a war of conquest to ensure the enduring freedom of Thestralkind, along with their superiority over the races that hunted them and persecuted them from generation to generation. Ponies are fickle. In groups, they can be quite shortsighted, simply following a leader they think knows what’s best without thinking for themselves. It must be discouraged at all costs. Fortunately, thus far, we are succeeding. And if memory serves, one of your qualifications for recommendation to the guard was apprehending a group of those who had taken on that accursed name.”

“I was performing a civic duty, nothing more.”

“You were righting a terrible wrong that I had a hand in committing, even if indirectly. You have an unerring sense of duty that cannot be swayed. That is your strength. And that is what impressed me most when I first met you. That, and your willingness to protect me and Ponykind, despite the risk it may pose to your life. As I said, you will go far, Lieutenant. And you will have a greater effect on Equestria’s future than you can even begin to imagine.”

“Is … this a prophecy, Chieftess?”

Luna shook her head. “No. It is my own surety. I know your potential. And I know what I say will come to pass. It will rely upon you and your choices. But if you choose right, as I know you will, then you will help to bring about a great change. And you will be remembered for it through the annals of history.”

“That … is a great expectation.”

“Perhaps, but it is one I know you will meet. As do your fellow guardsponies.”

“Won’t this be viewed as favoritism?”

“Perhaps, but we both know that no Thestral would sully another’s honor in such a way. And that is what is important right now.”

“And the other things you needed to discuss with me?”

Luna sighed. “Take another drink first. This … will possibly be unpleasant for you.”

Moonshade did as she was bidden, then looked at her high chieftess in confusion.

“I don’t have to enter your dreams to know the state of your mind, Moonshade. You have grown closer and closer to Pensword the longer you have spent time with him.”

“Is this a reprimand?” Moonshade asked.

Luna shook her head. “No. It is an observation. You have developed feelings for him.”

Moonshade felt a flush rise to her cheeks that had nothing to do with the alcohol she was drinking. “Naturally, we are friends. We fought together in the field of battle. It’s only natural that we should be comrades.”

“You are more than comrades, Lieutenant. Or rather, I believe that you would like to be. That is not a bad thing. However, there is something that I believe you need to know.” She poured herself another drink and took a long pull, draining the stein. When she opened her eyes again, her gaze was flat and serious. “Pensword is indeed the Pensword of the Third Gryphon War. Or, to be more precise, I believe he will be.”

“You … believe,” Moonshade repeated, landing heavily on that second word, even as she felt a constriction in her chest.

“My sister has been alive for a very long time. And unlike me, she did not have the benefit of being sealed away with her more recent memories intact. Time eventually takes its toll on all of us. And on our memories. Celestia remembers the horrors of the war. Such things are difficult, if not impossible to forget. But the faces and names of dear ones past can sometimes blur, as can their other defining features. Celestia could not be certain, but I am. Pensword’s cutie mark is the same. The only thing that gives even a remote piece of doubt for me as to his identity is the fact that he transformed into a Pegasus, not the half breed that the Pensword of history was. And such a thing is easily remedied if he but asks.”

“Why not a full Thestral, then?”

“Because that is not his true nature. And you should know that better than most. He will fight for those he loves. And he honors and respects those who walk the warrior’s path. But his heart lies closer to the nature of a Pegasus than it does a Thestral. And he has the mind of a scholar. I would not alter his nature to take those things from him. And neither will the magic that gives him his form now. Hearts can be changed, as can natures in time. But at this time and this place, it is such that he can only ever become part, not the whole.”

“And you expect him to make such a request?”

“You expect him to not?”

Moonshade averted her eyes as the memory of Pensword making that very suggestion returned with a terrible force of dread.

“As I said, you will not thank me for some of what I have to say this night.”

“You said there was a third thing you needed to tell me.” Moonshade didn’t look at her chieftess. Instead, she chugged what remained in her vessel and raised her hoof for another helping.

Luna nodded. “Yes.”

“What is it, then?”

“I want you to stay with Pensword.”

Moonshade tightened her grip on her tankard. “You want me to stay with him, knowing what you just told me?”

Luna nodded again. “I do. There is still a chance, albeit a small one, that he is not the Pensword I remember, and that he will never be that Pensword. However, that does not change the fact that word of the return of Hammer Strike, Grif Grafson, and Pensword has spread from the Crystal Empire. They had many enemies once, Moonshade. And those enemies will have passed that hatred on from generation to generation. There is no intelligence yet, but I suspect those who have inherited that hatred will take action against our friends.”

“So, you want me to guard them.”

“As you always have,” Luna agreed. “I want you to watch and protect them as best you know how. Arrange for silent surveillance and security details. And whatever you do, do not let yourself be separated from Pensword. Hammer Strike and Grif are both capable of protecting themselves, should the worst come to pass. Pensword, however, specializes mainly in long distance combat. If he is caught unawares, without his wing blades and sword, or even with them, it is possible that his enemies will succeed in killing him. And that is something that must not come to pass.”

“And you can’t entrust this to anyone else?”

Luna shook her head. “It has to be you, Moonshade. And if you take the time to think about it, I think you’ll know why.”

Moonshade was quiet for a time. “I can’t thank you for this assignment, Chieftess.”

“I know.” Luna sighed. “I know. For now, though, you must treat him as you always have. He has feelings for you, too, I believe. I never said you shouldn’t pursue those feelings. I only said that you should be aware of who he yet may become, and to be ready should that turn out to be the case.”

“Permission to speak bluntly?”

“Granted.”

“This bucks.”

Luna nodded her agreement and levitated the cask to refresh Moonshade’s tankard. “Here. Have another. You can start mapping your heart after we get drunk.”

Pensword looked down at his meal and ran his spoon passively through it with a wing, not really putting much thought into it as he took a bite, then returned to his playing. The taste didn’t even register to his senses. Something was missing. Something didn’t feel right. About him, about the dinner. He felt … strange. It took another few minutes before he finally realized what was wrong, and he didn’t know if he should feel better at finally identifying it, or worse because of what it implied. Moonshade wasn’t there. She’d practically become one of them by this point. She’d saved their lives, fought with them for the same goals, and even helped them to adapt to the aspects of this world that they couldn’t on their own. And then there was his reaction before they left the dinner…. He hadn’t felt that kind of fury in a long time, and yet the thought of the words that mare was about to utter set his blood to boiling. Even now, he could feel that same gall rising in his chest and throat. “Can we include Moonshade in our group officially?” he finally blurted out.

“And by officially you mean…?” Grif asked, biting into another piece of fish that the cooks had just finished brazing in the oven.

“Well, where we go, she goes. I feel like she was left out when we ended up in the Crystal Empire, but … at the same time, I worry that doing something like this could….” Even as he spoke, some of that heat gathered in his cheeks and across the bridge of his muzzle. “Doing something like this might jeopardize the past with this Lunar Fang that I may or may not have. I … Grif, … I didn’t realize it till tonight, but … I think I may have some feelings for Moonshade. And … I don’t know how to deal with that.”

Grif took another bite of his meal casually and rolled his eyes, then sighed as he looked at his friend. “Okay, let’s cover something right now, Pensword. You really need to stop worrying about this Lunar Fang thing. And believe me from the depths of my heart when I say that your thing with Moonshade will not endanger your future with Lunar Fang, nor will it be against any kind of divine law. She’s a Pony, you’re a Pony. You’re both consenting, sapient adults. It’s not a sin, it’s not a crime, and it certainly won’t cause you any trouble.” The Gryphon chuckled. “Trust me. You're just causing yourself undue stress.”

Pensword sighed. “I still don’t know, but … I suppose I have to trust in you for now. I don’t know if I can trust myself.”

Grif smiled. “What else are friends for, if not to smack some sense into other friends when they’re acting like idiots?”

“Grif!”

The Gryphon smirked. “They do say love makes fools of us all, Pensword.”

Pensword couldn’t help but chuckle, despite himself. “You’d better remember that when you finally fall head over heels for someone.”

Grif shrugged. “If I do fall in love, I’ll make sure that I treat her right. People call it a game, but it’s not. It’s a commitment. And I intend to make sure that it’s kept properly.”

“I want to as well,” Pensword agreed. “It’s just … overwhelming sometimes, you know? Especially with how important marriage is to my culture.” He sighed again. “Do you think you can tell me about the wedding? The one he had, I mean. The history book didn’t really go into detail over it. Since you read faster and remember better, I figured you might know.”

Grif nodded. “I do.”

“Can you tell me about it?”

Grif nodded. “I can.”

There was a long, awkward pause as the two stared at one another while Grif continued to eat.

“Will you tell me about it?”

Grif smiled. “Of course. You just had to ask.” He cleared his throat and cast his thought back over the records he had studied. “Let’s see. What can I tell you to avoid spoilers? Obviously, since we haven’t lived it yet, and don’t know for sure if we will, I can’t give you extreme details. But the books I read did give me a few things to go off of. Pensword and Lunar Fang were married during the Third Gryphon War. By Princess Luna herself, if you can believe it. Details of the wedding are sketchy. For some reason, historians of the time seemed to be unusually biased against Thestral culture and traditions. I wonder why?” he said sardonically. “Anyway, after the wedding, the two had to separate to their respective posts. There was a war going on, after all, and each of their talents were needed at different fronts. They spent many large battles apart from each other. It’s said that the two met again before the end of the war, and after that reunion, Lunar Fang was no longer allowed to fight directly.” Grif cleared his throat. “Now, I’m no expert, but given what I’ve seen of Moonshade and other Thestrals, they’re serious warriors. There are only a few things that can make them give up fighting without facing or feeling dishonor. Records indicate that Lunar Fang sat out the remainder of the war. She was unable to follow Lord Hammer Strike’s final charge in the north because of certain reasons that were not elaborated on. But I think enough is implied that you can guess her condition.”

“She was sick?” Pensword asked. “If Pensword loved her, I doubt he would have left her side.” He frowned. “I know that I wouldn’t.”

Grif stared flatly at Penword for a solid minute. “She was in the family way, Pensword. You know, expecting, pregnant?”

“Oh.” Pensword’s eyes widened as the weight of that casual statement descended with all the aplomb of a boulder off a cliff. “Oh!” He swallowed heavily. “He. You mean I … that we….”

“Remember what I said about undue stress, Pensword,” Grif reminded him.

“How would you react if you were told you were going to be a father and husband in an arranged marriage?”

“Who said it was arranged?”

“Grif….” Pensword growled.

“Time is what you make of it, Pensword,” Grif said grimly. “The Doctor exists here. That means that his rules of time apply, including that time can in fact be rewritten, and likely is on a regular basis. You have a choice. You will always have a choice. Now, do you want to keep complaining or do you want me to get back to quoting history?”

Pensword sighed in defeat. “I’m sorry. Please, go on.”

Grif nodded. “From what talks I’ve been able to have with Moonshade about it, most historians agree that the marriage was deemed a turning point in the fight for equal rights and representation for Thestrals in Equestrian society during that era. While the term Bat Bird and others like it are very harsh now, such insults were grounds to be expelled from where you lived back then. It even went so far as to include the potential to be stripped of one’s rank if the offense was repeated too many times by nobles. And that was with the approval of both Princess Luna and Princess Celestia. They were serious about making effective change for the better, at least for a time. It helped that Pensword had earned such immense prestige. Due to his Pegasus feathers, despite his mixed heritage, he was officially recognized as a Pegasus to give him a better chance and ensure greater respect from those who would serve under him. And when a Pegasus of such prestige married a Thestral, that set off the waves to start the change. You were the first rock that started the ripple effect, Pensword. You or your namesake, or both if you are him.”

“All that from a humble background.” He smiled. “Kind of like George Washington, huh?”

“Only instead of overthrowing his own monarchs, Pensword helped topple one that was far worse,” Grif agreed. “He gained eloquence from his father, or so the records say, as I’m sure you know. A poet can move the hearts of man and beast if he can but find the right words. And Pensword’s father made sure his son learned the skills necessary to apply those gifts he had honed over his lifetime for Pensword’s future, as did the members of his mother’s tribe through their oral tradition. Passion, eloquence, and a will of steel. Pensword’s pen was one that would not break. And his words were backed by action. Whether written or spoken, he honored his word, and he carried out the things he set forth to do. In that way, he’s a lot like the human Matthew.”

Pensword blushed. “That’s not really a fair comparison.”

“Fighting for one’s life and living through multiple surgeries on one of the most vital organs in any body is definitely a fair comparison. Matthew pushed on, despite opposition and setback. And he made a life for himself with friends and loved ones. That is a feat of will. And it takes that same will to succeed against that kind of bigotry and opposition, along with a nimble mind.”

Pensword sighed. “That makes Pensword the lynch pin of one of the biggest changes ever to take place in society, doesn’t it?”

“He’s not the only one, but he is a large factor, yes,” Grif agreed. “Hammer Strike and Grif were also key figures. As was Lunar Fang, and even Princess Luna and Celestia. Each played their roles. It’s not so much a lynch pin as it is a jenga piece or a cog in a complex mechanism. Pull out enough parts, and the rest of the device won’t function properly. Or the tower will collapse. Take your pick.” He shrugged. “The point is if we are to go to that time and fight in the war as our namesakes, then we will get to it when we do. It doesn’t pay to worry about it now. It already happened, which means it’s highly likely that we’ll have help to make sure we fulfill our roles properly. And if we aren’t to go back anymore, then we don’t have to deal with it, and we can continue to move forward with things as they are in the present.”

Pensword groaned and thumped his chin on the table. “I hate time travel,” he grumbled.

Grif smirked. “Most people do when it gets to paradox levels.”

“Won’t we risk altering the future with our knowledge of what’s going to happen after the war, though?”

“Maybe.” Grif shrugged. “But it already happened, which means we’ll probably muddle through it somehow. And if we mess up, The Doctor or somebody else can come help. As for your original question about a certain mare being official, you should know she already is, at least in spirit. She’s our guard. She goes with us, helps us, and trains the recruits alongside us. She has been with us through every stage, practically since the beginning. Hammer Strike and I have considered her one of us for a long time. I think what you’re really asking for is permission to let her be more than a friend to you. Farbeit for me to approve or forbid your potential relationship. That’s a sky you need to navigate on your own, my friend. I can be a wingman, but the rest is ultimately up to you and whoever you’re flying with. Let things develop naturally. Be yourself, ask her out if you feel it’s right, and just move forward from there.

“If you really want something to worry about, think about the fact that we’ll eventually have to face Discord ourselves. It’s inevitable, because chaos is a lynchpin of the universe, just like order is. That means he’s bound to escape again and regain his powers. When it happens, we’ll have steps ready. Chaos is as much a part of us as order or harmony. We just have to roll with it. After all, it was the chaos of the Third Gryphon War that led to the change in Thestral status, not harmony.”

“I suppose so.” Pensword sighed. “Is it really all right for us to go in there? The old castle, I mean.”

Grif nodded. “It’s fine. Old, a little worn from years of neglect, but fine. It’ll be a nice castle once we get the portcullis repaired. And maybe get a better bridge set up. A few coats of paint, some masons to tend to any integrity issues, and we’ll be set to go. The courtyard already has a barracks built into the east wall. And given the number of troops we have currently stationed here, there should be more than enough room once we get inside.”

“Then I suppose that will be our priority.”

“That and a name,” Grif said.

“What?”

“A name. Every city has to have a name, Pensword. We can’t just keep calling it The Palace of the Two Sisters. Especially when we’re supposed to restore it to its former glory. Heck, according to history, you named a Gryphon outpost you captured after Lunar Fang. And she, in turn, named her command post during the Siege of Phillydelphia Camp Pensword in honor of you.”

“And now you’re making me blush….”

Grif shrugged. “It was your gesture, not mine.”

“Grif, why is it that you always seem to want to tease people?”

“I’m part cat. Cats always love messing with people.” Grif shrugged again. “Why fight the nature when it’s more fun to embrace it?”

Pensword facehoofed.

Finally, Grif rose from his seat and stretched with a loud groan. “Anyway, I think I’m going to visit the library before I go to bed. I’m in the mood for a little reading. I’ll leave you to your thoughts. Try not to get sucked into all those what-ifs and maybes, okay? Trust me, it’s not worth it.”

“This coming from the man who approved the adage ‘hope for the best, plan for the worst.’”

Grif shrugged. “There are always exceptions.” Then he smirked. “See you later, Pensword.”

The Hall of Records was divided into a veritable maze of doorways and passages deliberately designed to divert and conceal while simultaneously providing modes of entrance and exit to preserve records in case of emergency or attack. Princess Celestia wished for her new capitol to be one of peace, not of war. But even she had conceded the necessity of safety measures for state secrets and mundane records alike. A multitude of scribes and shorthand stenographers worked regularly in the throne room and the Hall of Records in equal measure. Those with lesser clearance were able to handle the normal day-to-day tasks. Restoring parchment and scrolls, filling or replacing inkwells, providing spare quills, and other tasks as required. Others with higher clearance worked with documents ranging from trade deputations to treaties, requests for aid, and more. Some came from within the kingdom’s bounds. Others came from the lands beyond. It took a keen mind and towering intellect to transcribe, organize, and catalog each of these requests. And an even greater one to oversee each aspect of this bureaucratic structure that was so essential to the kingdom’s day-to-day operations.

Fine Cursive was one such mare. Her office was far from opulent. Such things were not practical in her line of work. But it was comfortable, neat, and properly organized. Sufficient lighting ensured that no mistakes would be made, and that older text could be easily scrutinized and copied or revitalized as needed. Magic had its purposes, but sometimes the mundane methods were better. It also allowed for more diversity in the palace staff, something that Princess Celestia had absolutely insisted on as the years went by. Merit by talent is an important asset to make use of in a kingdom if one wishes to keep it strong. The mare was just reviewing a copy of one of the princess’ latest missives for errors prior to archiving when the door to her office creaked open. The quill that was the symbol of her office, one of Philomena’s phoenix feathers, halted and nearly snapped when the mare gazed on her latest visitor.

Hammer Strike took a moment to look around the space before settling on the mare and advancing towards her desk. “Hello. Celestia recommended I come by to reaffirm something with my own records.”

It took the mare a moment to regain her composure. The pen was put down, and she peered at the stallion with some confusion, then wiped the expression from her face, resuming a cool and well-schooled one instead. “I was informed you might be coming, but I admit that I didn’t really expect it. Most nobles don’t care for this place. They know I can’t be bought for information they shouldn’t have. You can follow me, m’lord. As I’m sure you’ve seen, the halls can be somewhat confusing to the untrained Pony.”

“I’m certain they can be.” Hammer Strike nodded. “I presume you’ve spent quite some time memorizing the halls yourself.”

“It’s part of the job,” she agreed. “There are other safeguards, of course, but in my position, I know how to navigate them, and they’re not generally activated unless a serious attack is underway. Was there any particular section of the archives you were hoping to view? I was told you would come, but not specifically what you might be looking for.”

“As I said before, I’m here to see my own records in particular.”

Fine Cursive nodded and grabbed a leather-bound book from off the table, along with a spare pot of ink and the quill that was her badge of office. “Very well, then. Follow me. Your personal records are kept in one of the higher security areas of the archives.” They walked for what felt like an interminable distance before they finally drew near to a green light. “There we are. Apologies for any dizziness or headaches. There’s an enchantment on this particular wing designed to meddle with a person’s cognition and make the journey seem longer than it really is. Once you’ve been properly integrated into the system’s safety features as an authorized entity, you won’t have to deal with it again.” They turned around a corner to reveal a squad of soldiers flanking a large set of massive stone doors. Five were from the Solar Guard and five from the Lunar Guard. “This is the secondary and tertiary failsafe,” Cursive explained. “While you might think that the guards are the main deterrent, the real one lies in the doors themselves. As you can see, these doors are made from pure stone. Enchantments have been woven into them to ensure that magic can’t be used to teleport past them. And few, if any Unicorns can even muster the strength to so much as budge them. What is required is the strength of an Alicorn. Or, as records tell us in history, the strength of Lord Hammer Strike himself.”

“Sounds about right.” Hammer Strike nodded. “With how thick the doors seem to be, I would anticipate others would have a hard time moving it.”

“The tolerance was tested to ensure that even the strongest of Earth Ponies wouldn’t be able to buck it. And any weaknesses or flaws in the stonework have been magically reinforced by the princesses themselves. They wouldn’t trust anyone else to do the job.” She gestured toward the doors and the halo of green light. “After you, Sir.”

Hammer Strike raised a brow and shrugged internally before moving into the circle of light. The guards were each at the ready, their respective weapons drawn, their bodies tense. However, as the Earth Pony stepped fully into the light to face them, the squad relaxed immediately as he approached the door, then looked questioningly at Fine Cursive.

“It’s good to see you, Sir.” Each of the soldiers saluted in kind, and Fine Cursive entered the light’s range next with her quill safely tucked into a button hole.

“Lord Hammer Strike would like to access his records. As lead scribe, I authorize his access, per the orders of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna.”

The guards saluted again and made room for the pair. “The gate is yours, Sir,” a Unicorn said. “It will be an honor to see your strength in action.”

Hammer Strike nodded in return and moved toward the large stone doors. He prepared himself in hopes that he could live up to the expectations and pushed at the doors. While it took a bit of effort to open, he kept his expression firm. Slowly, steadily, even as his limbs threatened to shake with the effort, and he felt the blood flowing to his face, the doors began to grind and gradually bow inward as the slit between them became more prominent. Finally, he managed to open them wide enough to allow ponies passage in single file.

“Incredible,” one of the guards murmured in awe at the sight.

A frowning Fine Cursive approached the doors and nodded. “If you don’t mind, I’ll follow you inside. There’s a final formality that I need to address, and it needs to be done in private.”

“Sounds good to me.” Hammer Strike sighed internally and pressed on.

Fine Cursive followed behind, then gestured toward the doors again. A pair of large metal rings had been carefully inserted into the stone to grant leverage for pulling the doors open again. “If you would?”

Hammer Strike nodded and proceeded to close the door behind them.

Rather than torches, a series of silvery stones embedded in sconces lit up with a gentle silver light that pulsed off the pale stones of the chamber. Fine Cursive pulled the book out and opened it to reveal a list of names that filled up half the pages. It was a registry. “I need you to sign in here.” She pointed to the bottom of the list, then held out her quill to him, followed by opening the inkwell for use. Hammer Strike leaned in to sign, then stopped as he stared at the last signature on the column. “Why do you hesitate?” the mare asked.

Hammer Strike looked to the mare briefly before returning to sign his name. “It’s nothing, just thought I saw something.”

Fine Cursive closed the inkwell and returned it to her pocket, then looked closely at the signature, and finally at Hammer Strike. After a good long stare, she finally took back the quill itself and examined it carefully before returning her attention to Hammer Strike. “All right. It’s time to address the things I mentioned before we came in here. First of all, why did you come back after you already came here last night? Secondly, are you wearing a glamour?”

“Celestia simply wanted me to reaffirm something in my records. As for the glamour, technically yes? But, it’s a bit more complicated to explain. Why do you ask?”

“I neglected to mention certain defenses due to the possibility of you being a Changeling or some other form of imposter. The opening of the doors and signing the ledger with your name using my quill are meant to be the final tests, since this quill won’t allow lies to be written, and no normal Pony can open or close these doors. However, the green lamps outside are another safeguard that was installed more recently. They were designed after the Changeling invasion. Their purpose is to disrupt the wavelengths of a Changeling’s magic, thus forcing them to drop their disguise. Thus far, the tests have proved fruitful, or so I’ve been told. The princesses intend to distribute them gradually throughout the capital and the kingdom once enough are able to be produced. Once I verified you weren’t a changeling, the disparity in your appearance from last night and today were things that still needed to be addressed. A glamour explains it, though I can only assume you must have gotten it from Princess Celestia if she told you to come back here again.”

“I don’t look that different, do I?”

“To the untrained eye, perhaps. But I am the head archivist and lead scribe. Noticing disparity is my specialty. And you have more than a few. Though it was difficult for me to see all of them with your coat on, of course. The most notable feature that I could see was the fact you were missing a tip from your left ear. And though your fur did help to obscure them, there were some rather prominent scars.”

“I … suppose that’s fair.” Hammer Strike reined in his concern. “Well, not everyone is capable of tolerating such an appearance, and I did have a meeting to attend earlier today,” he reasoned, trying his best to not complicate things further.

“... I sense that you’re not telling me everything, but that is your decision. You’ve proven who you are. Your motivation for coming here, whether true or not, and any disparity in your appearance, are your affair. I’ll not pry further. Please, feel free to look over your records. I’ll wait by the door until you finish.”

Hammer Strike nodded as he moved onward to where his record was located. A number of placards glowed with golden script as he passed them. Some were coated in layers of dust from centuries of waiting. Others were better tended, most likely due to their more frequent reference. At last, he arrived at the one that bore his name and pulled back the drawer to reveal the massive number of files associated with his accounts and adventures. Each was watermarked with his personal house seal, one that he had only just finished drafting himself recently. Yet another evidence of the time travelling that awaited him.

As he leafed through each of the papers, a prominent envelope caught his eye. It was the only one of its kind, an object that definitely didn’t belong with such uniformity enforced. And yet, there it was. His surprise mounted even more when he noted the wax seal. Once again, his coat of arms was present. However, what really caught his eye was the familiar flowing script that bedecked the envelope. His script.

“Oh great,” Hammer Strike muttered, pocketing the letter, as this was definitely not the place to read it. Once he confirmed there was nothing else of note, he returned back to Fine Cursive.

“Finished already, Sir?”

“Yeah, I found what I needed to find.”

The mare nodded. “Then we can go. If you require any other guidance or direction, please, feel free to ask. It will be my pleasure to assist.”

“Thankfully, that should be everything.” Hammer Strike nodded as he gripped the rings of the doors, a single thought burning in his mind. He needed to get back to his room and read the message. What worried him most was the possibility of being left with more questions than answers.

Grif’s talons clacked along the castle floor in an ominous staccato as he strode through the halls with a book tucked under one arm. His studies had been interrupted by the shadowy summons of one of Luna’s guards emerging from outside the circle of candlelight. There was a strange sort of ambience that bordered on the mysterious and mythical when reading in a large library at night. Combined with the smell of ancient parchment and paper, it was a comforting sensation. While Grif and Taze both knew how to put up a front for the public, that didn’t mean he wasn’t shaken by what happened in the Crystal Empire with Sombra. That hatred, anger, and loss burbled beneath the surface. This helped to quiet it. Or at least put a lid on it.

The journey to Princess Luna’s chambers was a silent one. There was little need for speech in the dark hours. And most of the functionaries had gone home to their families or quarters to prepare for the following day. They finally arrived to see another guard and a familiar blue Pegasus approaching from the other way. Grif raised an inquiring eyebrow.

“You, too?” he asked.

“Did she also call for Hammer Strike?” Pensword asked.

The guards shook their heads. “She asked for the two of you specifically.” They gestured toward the doors, then opened them.

A snoring figure lay sprawled over a table next to a spilled tankard and a massive stein. While her helmet and cloak obscured most of her body, the unique make of her armor made it all too easy to identify their owner. Princess Luna stood behind her, looking down on the mare with a gentle smile tinged with pity and remorse. The scent of alcohol, while not pungent, was still present.

“I see someone had one drink too many,” Grif noted as he eyed the sleeping Thestral.

“I may have encouraged her a little too much,” Luna admitted. “The Lieutenant Colonel has had a busy night.”

“The what?” Pensword balked.

“She’s been promoted, Pensword,” Luna said. “She deserves it for what she’s been through, and for what she yet has to face. She’s well suited for her future, and I intend to ensure she meets it well.” She ran a hoof through the mare’s mane and gave a more familiar smile. “For now, however, it’s the more immediate future I’m concerned about. I have already delayed my duties to enter the world of dreams, and there are many colts and fillies who will need my help and guidance tonight to face the morning. I called you to ask a favor.”

“You want us to carry her to her room,” Grif said.

“I wanted Pensword to, actually. You’re here for backup.”

Grif raised a skeptical brow. “Backup, eh?”

“Um, … is there a way that maybe we could wake her up first? It’d be easier if I could support her instead of trying to carry her the whole way. I don’t want her to ruin the cloak when she only just got it,” Pensword said.

“There is one way,” Luna admitted. “Flick the tuft of her left ear with your wing, and make sure to let your feathers brush against her inner ear as you do so. Just be careful to mind—”

Pensword let out a squawk of surprise as he suddenly found himself pinned to the floor with his legs splayed under the full weight of an extremely muscular mare and her full set of armor.

“—That….” Luna sighed. “I was trying to say mind her reflexes. A Thestral startled awake, even drunk or addled with sleep, is still a force to be reckoned with.”

Moonshade stared unseeingly at Pensword, took a few sniffs through her nostrils, then buried her muzzle against his neck as her legs squeezed tighter around his body, and her wings reached around him as far as they could go. She nickered gently, then eased as her breathing grew long and steady.

“Um, … a little help?” Pensword asked.

Grif looked at Princess Luna with a raised brow.

Princess Luna returned the gesture, though a hint of a smile curved her lips. “I’m afraid I can’t afford to delay any longer. As I said, my duties call me. I shall leave this dilemma in your extremely capable hands, Grif Grafson.” With that, she took wing and flew out her balcony doors into the night.

“Grif?” Pensword called plaintively. “Help?”

Grif looked long and hard at the hesitant Pony and the mare who was currently using him as a plushie. “Hmmm….”

“Grif!” Pensword called plaintively, albeit quietly. “There’s got to be something you can do here.”

Grif pondered Luna’s words. He considered her actions and the expression she had given him before her hasty departure. Finally, he considered the conversation he and Pensword had just had earlier that evening, and the confession he dragged out of the Pegasus. Then he smiled and promptly turned toward the doors.

“Grif?”

“You did say to consider her one of the group now. Is it such a bad thing to help a friend sleep well?”

“You can’t be serious!”

“No, though I am at least partially black,” Grif admitted as he reached for the door handles.

“Grif, don’t you dare!”

Grif’s own beak curved in a smirk. “Goodnight, Pensword,” he sang.

“Grif!”

Grif chuckled as he closed the doors behind him, looking at the guards on either side of the door. “The princess has lent the room to Commander Pensword and the new Lieutenant Colonel for the night. I assume they’ll be in some very intimate and sensitive discussions. They are not to be disturbed under any circumstances. Do I make myself clear?” He was very proud of himself for keeping his voice steady through the order.

The guards were equally blank-faced. “Of course.”

“Excellent.” And with that said, the Gryphon took his leave, his tail swishing behind him in satisfaction. The feline in him was very well pleased.

Back in the chambers, Pensword squirmed and groaned internally. “When I get my hands on him….” he growled. Then he sighed. There was no use at this point. He was alone, and it was unlikely that guards would enter Princess Luna’s chambers unless ordered or summoned. There was little choice but to get as comfortable as possible and sleep. “Why do I suddenly feel like I’m in the middle of a soap opera or sitcom?” He groaned again. “Guess I should brace myself to get beaten in the morning.” He grunted as Moonshade’s embrace tightened slightly, forcing the air out of him briefly. “Assuming I live that long….” Then he sighed once more, curved his head into a comfortable position, and slowly drifted toward sleep with Moonshade’s familiar scent dancing through his nostrils.

Hammer Strike took a deep breath as he stared at the letter in his hooves. Having returned to his room half an hour ago, he had planted himself at the provided desk and spent the time debating if it was really worth it to open the letter.

He knew, however, that he was only delaying the inevitable.

“Okay,” he exhaled. “Let’s see what was written for me.” He turned the letter over to reveal his own script addressing the designated reader.

‘You, obviously.’

“By me,” he finished wryly before opening the letter. True to his nature, it was blunt and to the point.

To start things off, yes, future you took the important records. Important bits of note, you’re far away from where I am, so don’t stress too much over it. We’ll do fine with everything. There are ups and downs, but that’s expected. Yes, we’re missing an ear tip now. Yes, we’ve got more scars to deal with. It’ll be fine.

For the moment, you’re just going to have to go about things as you usually do. While I could write more, The Doctor’s currently breathing down my neck as I write this, so I can’t put much more down. For now, you have the info you need. And if anyone asks, just go with the flow as usual.

~Signed, Your later self.

“Joy.” Hammer Strike sighed, rubbing his forehead. A knock at his door soon pulled his attention away from his musings, however. He wasn’t sure what new complications might be rising, but he hoped it wouldn’t be the beginnings of the downs just yet. “Who is it?” he asked.

“Um, … Lord Hammer Strike? It’s me, Rarity. May I come in?”

Hammer Strike stood quickly and opened the door for her. “You’re welcome to,” he replied.

“Thank you.” The mare entered and gave a grateful smile. “I won’t take up too much of your time. I know you have enough to deal with as it is. I just wanted to return this to you. Now that the dinner is over, it would be selfish in the extreme for me to try to keep it. It’s not like I’ll need to use it on anypony in the castle, after all, even if I knew how.” Her talk died off as she peered at the stallion’s face, even as she levitated the stiletto in its sheath and belt.. “Something is bothering you.” It wasn’t a question. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“It’s… complicated.” He sighed before looking at the blade in her hold. “Is there something wrong with the stiletto?”

“No. But as I said before, the sword isn’t really mine. You lent it to me for the night. 

“Keep it.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “To be honest, the design fits in perfectly for you, as it was made to.”

The aura around the blade disappeared as Rarity stared in shock. She barely caught it again before it clattered to the floor. “I’m sorry. You … made this just for me?”

Hammer Strike gave a soft chuckle. “I’m sure you’ve noticed, I typically carry weapons of a much heavier kind.”

“I just … didn’t expect something like this,” she admitted. “It’s … a very precious gift, and I don’t mean just from a monetary sense.”

“It’s always best to be prepared. Or as I usually put it, better safe than sorry.” Hammer Strike smiled softly.

“I’m not normally one to resort to violence, but a girl doesn’t last this long in the fashion field without knowing she needs to know how to defend herself from time to time.” She nodded her acknowledgement. Then she smirked and gave a curtsey. “Thank you, my lord,” she said cheekily.

“Oh, of course, my lady,” Hammer Strike replied with an almost theatrical bow in return. “And once again, thank you for assisting. Though things didn’t go quite as planned tonight, your help was still greatly appreciated.”

“I would do anything for a friend,” Rarity said. “Well, provided it’s within reason, of course.”

Hammer Strike gave a small chuckle in return. “Of course.” He nodded. “Was there anything else on your mind?”

“Not particularly,” she admitted. “Though, and I do hope you don’t take offense at this, darling, I’ve dealt with enough customers to recognize someone who’s troubled. Is … everything all right? If it has to do with the dinner, I’ll be happy to be a listening ear. That is, assuming I’m correct and you want to talk about it, of course.”

“It’s not the dinner, it’s…” Hammer Strike frowned as he thought over how he would explain things before sighing. “It would take a while to properly explain.”

Rarity smiled consolingly. “Well, I am supposed to be your intended. Doesn’t that include being a listening ear, even if it’s a long story?”

“I’ve got a lot bothering me.” Hammer Strike’s frown deepened. “Honestly, more so than I should be handling.”

“Are you trying to handle it by yourself?”

“When don’t I?” Hammer Strike gave a half hearted chuckle. “Learning that I have to play out my history almost backwards alongside Matthew and Taze at least means that part isn’t alone. So far, everything written about their history has me mentioned on the side, but not all of my history lists them around, so there’s those interesting times to look forward to.” He sighed once more and rubbed at the back of his neck. “With every new thing I learn, I’ve about given up on going home.”

“Do you still want to go home?”

“I don’t even know anymore. I’m stuck at an impasse, whether to return home and abandon all the people I have met, made friends with, and found joy with. Or stay here, leave behind the people I knew, my family, my lifelong friends….” He closed his eyes briefly as he settled his mind. When he opened them, a look of exhaustion fell over his face. “I don’t like these kinds of conversations, so I avoid them as best I can.”

“You may not like them, but it seems they are necessary,” Rarity pointed out. “I’ve seen what bottling those anxieties can do through Twilight. You’re different from her, but everyone has a breaking point. As for me, I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re experiencing, but … isn’t it better to focus on what you can control right now, rather than what may or may not come in the future? If there’s one thing I trust, it’s that we can find the answer that works for everyone, including you and your friends.” Rarity smiled gently. “It’s what we do. Even if we do need some help from time to time to get it right. We do it together as friends. Can’t you also find a way with yours?”

“It becomes difficult to focus on what’s in your grasp when your future comes to leave you a message.” Hammer Strike gestures to the letter on his desk.

“Does it promise that you’ll be with your friends?”

“It was basically me trying to alleviate my most immediate concerns, which while helpful, makes me wary of why I needed to hide my own records from myself.”

“He probably wants to make sure you do things your way. Following a set pattern can give you a lovely design, but it’s not the same as when you create something original yourself.”

“Probably was also to keep the info on how I lose my ear tip out of reach.” Hammer Strike frowned.

Rarity shook her head. “You have too much faith in yourself for that to be the reason. If time travel is involved, does it perhaps have something to do with the rules around it? Twilight mentioned that it can be very dangerous. There is only one spell she was able to use, and it only allowed a limited span to go back.”

“I mean, the letter did mention how I had The Doctor breathing down my neck. To clarify before you ask, that’s his name. He travels time quite often.”

“So he has experience with time?”

“More than anyone should.”

“And is he a friend?”

“Definitely.”

“Then trust that he knows what he’s talking about. At least this once. I believe a close friend of yours once said, ‘Those who attempt to change the future only speed its approach.’ Grif may be a bit blunt at times, and completely lacking in manners, but he can be very wise when he chooses to be.”

“That sounds about right for him,” Hammer Strike chuckled softly.

“... Not to go against the word you gave yourself, but … if you’re really that interested to find out what happened to you, perhaps you can find it in a history book or other record. It’s not every day that a Pony from legend gets wounded like that. It would have to have been recorded somewhere, wouldn’t it? Especially if it happened in battle.”

“I suppose it’s quite likely, yeah.” He frowned in thought. “Or maybe I’ll just trust myself like you said. I don’t know.”

“I suppose we’ll just have to find out then.” This time, her smile was genuine, and it was radiant as the gemstones she used for her dresses. “So, what else did you need to talk about? Not to blow my own horn, but it sounds as if I’m on a roll, as the saying goes.”

Hammer Strike smiled in return. “Perhaps we save those for another night. I’d rather not talk your ear off until the morning.”

Rarity toyed with the ring on her necklace with one hoof. “I have time. And it is the least I can do after the gift you gave me tonight. Watching Prince Blueblood trying to save his reputation in your eyes was as entertaining as it was cathartic.”

“Easiest thing I could do tonight,” Hammer Strike chuckled. “Well, perhaps we could keep the conversation up for a bit longer….”