//------------------------------//
// 2. No Rest for the Weary 
// Story: Faultlines 
// by FawkesThePhoney 
//------------------------------//

A thousand miles away, in a great city that stood on the top of a mountain, in a dingy tavern that clung to the edges of the slums like a barnacle on a ship, a very drunk stallion decided to pick a fight. 
“You looking at me?” he slurred trying to force his body into a fighting pose. The shadowy figure that had so encroached on his personal space did not respond. “I said,” the stallion said, “are you looking at me? Because it sure looks like you’re looking at me.”
“Go home, Rag,” the bartender said.
“Stay out of this, Turm,” Rag slurred. “This is between me and, and… what did you say your name was?”
The figure did not respond.
“I think you’ve spent a bit too much time here, Rag,” the bartender said, “because you’re talking to a coat stand.”
“Eh?” Rag surveyed his opponent again and realized that Turmeric was, in fact, correct. “Ah! My apologies, old friend! I was just leaving as well. Good day to you!” He turned and walked towards the exit, humming the Ridgeback anthem as he went. At the door, he bumped into another patron just entering the door. For a moment, Rag looked like he was going to pick a fight, but then he hugged the figure and stumbled out. Turmeric watched him go and shook his head.
“If I had even the slightest conscience…” he muttered. 
“We both know that’s a foregone conclusion,” the figure said, coming to stand by the bar. “Causten Turmeric, sticking his neck out? I’ll be dead before that happens.” She took of her hood and grinned at him.
She was a stout mare, her yellow-green coat brushed and wiry, flecks of hair sticking up and forming a halo around her ruby eyes. But it was her mane was what drew the most attention. It was dyed grey in four tones, light to dark. Turmeric looked at the newcomer with an expression of shock, a slow grin creeping over his face. “By Elu,” he said, “I haven’t seen you in years, Axel.”
“Yeah, well,” Axel said, “I’ve come up in the world from a shack like this.”
Turmeric grunted. “I’m sure helping the Loosies move goods is quite the step up.”
“It is, actually. But that’s not why I’ve come back.”
“If you’re looking for her, save yourself the trouble.”
“She’s not here, then?”
“Oh, she’s here alright. But she’s not…here, if you know what I mean.”
“She’ll come around. Spec never could resist an adventure.”
“Hey, now,” Turmeric said. “Don’t you break my star customer. If she never comes back, you’ll have cost me quite a penny.”
“Don’t worry, Turm,” Axel said, her eyes flicking to the chromatic mane in the corner, “when I’m through with her, she’ll have more money than you can shake a mug at.”

“What do you have, Umbra?” 
The dark Astral scowled at Spec and laid her cards out on the table. Spec whistled. “Ah, so close, too! Anyone up for another round?”
The other three ponies at the table glared at her. 
“No?” She said, reaching out a hoof to take the pile of sovereigns in the middle of the table. “Then it’s been nice playing with you. Turm! Let’s get some more drinks over here!” Her hoof was stopped as the largest pony at the table pushed it out of the way.
“You’re done here, Spectrum,” he said.
“Dang, Locke, what’s gotten into you?” Spec said, sliding her hoof back to the other side of the table. 
“You’ve been cheating,” Locke said. 
“What? Me? I’m insulted. How could you—“
Umbra pushed Spec, who slid off the table. A flurry of cards fell from various pockets in her jacket. The other three ponies’ expressions darkened.
“Ah, yes, well… would you look at that! I forgot to take these cards out from the other game that I was playing. Definitely didn’t cheat on this one, though.” Underneath her jacket, her wings shifted, locking into the metal blades that were hidden beneath. “That was really clumsy of me.”
“We want our money back,” the third pony, Cyclone, said. 
“Well that’s going to be a problem, seeing as I won it fair and square.” Spec’s wings flexed beneath her coat. The other ponies advanced—
“I’ll take it from here, ladies, stallions,” a new voice said. Spec turned and felt her stomach drop out from shock. A very familiar pony was standing there, older, greyer, but her expression no less fierce.
“Axel!” she sputtered.
“Give them their money, Spec.”
“But—“
“Just do it.”
Spec sighed. “You ponies are lucky I’m feeling generous,” she said, reaching into her jacket and tossing the money on the table. “Next time I won’t be so nice.” 
“All of it, Spectrum.”
“You’re not my mom.” But Spec pulled out a second bag and dropped it on the table. Locke picked the bags up and weighed them. Apparently satisfied, he, Umbra and Cyclone left the table, dropping a couple sovereigns on Turm’s counter as they walked out of the bar. Spec relaxed her wings.
“Never thought I’d see you like this,” Axel said after a few minutes.
Spec’s smile dropped off her face. “Well,” she said. “Not all of us have cushy connections in the upper rim. And who says I don’t like it? These ponies are so easy to trick!”
“The Spectrum I know was honest. Rough around the edges, sure, but honest all the same.”
“I haven’t seen you in seven years, Axel. You have no idea what I’ve been doing.”
“No, but I can guess.”
“Just cut to the chase. What do you want from me?”
“I need in a caravan."
“No.”
“Now hold on, you haven’t even heard the best part.”
“The answer’s no, Axel. And it’s going to stay no. I don’t lead caravans. That was what my dad did. I was only along for the ride. Look elsewhere if you want something like that. In fact, I suspect whoever’s hired you is pretty pissed to have you come down Cliffside and muck around in a shady bar for a mare no one’s heard about.”
“No, in fact. They trust me. And if I say Spectrum Tempest is the best mare for the job, she is.”
Spec rolled her eyes. “The answer is still no.”
“We can pay you. A lot.”
“You think I need money?”
“I think you need something," Axel said. She gestured around the bar. "This isn’t like you at all.”
“Don’t pretend to know me, Axel. You never did, and you never will.”
“But I know enough about you to know that this isn’t what you want in life. This?” She gestured around the dirty bar. “This is pathetic. You were made for so much more than this.”
"Well, I'm glad you think so, Axel. That makes one of us."	
Axel was quiet for a while. She cast her eyes around the old bar, trying to come up with something to say. The place was largely as she remembered it: the old gas lamps on the walls, the sagging ceiling, the sense of age and the smell of rust that permeated the air. She looked at the large, circular table currently occupied by a group of ponies playing cards. An old memory of the crew sprang into her mind: Cesar, his shaggy front drenched in beer, Lex and Capricorn arm wrestling, and Blitz Tempest surveying it all, a proud smile on his face as he watched his team. Axel shook her head.
"I know what you're thinking," she said. "And no. This is not about your father."
"Well, great," Spec said. "It's about the other thing we share in common. Oh wait, there isn't one. My dad's dead, Axel, and whatever you're trying to get out of me went with him. So cut the shit."
"Blitz Tempest was the best of us," Axel said. "But you're better, at least skillwise. You're a prodigy, for Elu's sake. And Blitz or no Blitz, I want that skill on my team."
Spec looked away, scowling. She didn’t need this. Didn’t need her father’s old lieutenant coming back for her. Didn’t need her help.
"You think you know me just because you knew him," she said. "You're wrong."
"This is all beside the point," Axel said. “Big things are coming. Very big things. And I am offering you the chance to be at the center of them.”
Spec fixed her with a long, low glare. “What sort of big things?” she said.
Axel leaned cupping the side of her mouth with a hoof. “Prospolis big,” she said.
Spec blinked, her surly attitude evaporating. “Prospolis?” she hissed. “Are you kidding me? You want—I’ve never been out of the twilight lands! Not, you know, that that means anything.”
“No, of course not,” Axel said. “I’ve been to Prospolis three times in my life, Spectrum. And each time the city changed me completely. The crystals, the broken spires… it’s like nothing else on earth. And I know Blitz would have wanted you to see it.”
“So this is a charity run.”
“No, dammit.” Axel sighed. “Look. I just need	an enforcer. I know you’ve still got the blades. In fact, I’d wager they’re on your back now.” Spec shifted, and a wicked grin lit up Axel’s face. “As I thought. Here’s the deal. The road from Ridgeback to Prospolis is dangerous, more dangerous than it has been any time since either of us has been alive. We need your skill. You won’t have to lead, you won’t even have to talk to anyone if you don’t want to. Just cut things that try to hurt us.”
Spec still didn’t talk, so Axel kept going. “I know you miss it,” she said. “The wild. The country. The trees and the fresh air that doesn’t smell like dung and the streams. I know you miss watching the sun rise.” 
Spec’s ear flicked. She looked out over the room for a long time. At last she raised a hoof. “Hey Turm,” she called out, “can I get a couple of Honeybrew Meads?”
A small grin found its way to Axel's mouth. "Atta girl."
Turmeric brought the glasses over and set them down. They were amber orange, the bubbles sparkling in the dim light. “This isn’t about you,” Spec said.
“Never."
“This isn’t about my father.”
“Of course not.”
“This is about me. And what I want to do.”
Axel raised her glass. “To be honest, Spectrum, you could have done it for your great Aunt Fanny, and I’d still toast.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Spec said, raising her own glass. “No rest for the weary, eh?”
“Or for the wicked.”
The mugs clanged together and they drank.



“Spec, hey, Spectrum. Wake up.”
No. 
“Get your ass up, Spec. I need to clean the table.”
No, she thought again, but this time her mouth moved with sound.
“Goddammit.”
There was a shove, and suddenly Spec’s world was turned on its end. She let out a cry and crashed to the ground, hooves moving frantically as she tried to right herself. This sudden locomotion had an adverse effect on her stomach, and for a moment Spec thought she would be sick. 
“Ah, hell. What happened last night?”
Turmeric chuckled at his wayward patron. “You don’t remember? You took a job,” he said, rubbing a cloth on the table. Spec wondered if he had bothered to actually clean the rag before he used it; the thing was mottled. Then what he said had hit her.
“A job? You don’t—oh, shit. Axel was here, wasn’t she?” Spec brought her hooves to her face. “Dammit, Turm. Don’t let me do that next time.”
“Hey, don’t look at me. I’m just the bartender. Besides, you’ve been patronizing my bar quite enough lately.”
Spec narrowed her eyes. “Careful if you want me to again.”
“Oh, come off it,” Turm said. Spec growled. He knew that there would be no other bar on the cliff that she would go to. “Besides,” he said, “you’d better get going. You’re supposed to meet with your new employer in an hour.”
For a moment, Spec considered panicking again, but instead the news brought her a strange calm. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Okay,” she said, “where?”
“Upper rim.”
Spec’s eyes flew open. “What? Turm goddammit, why didn’t you wake me up?”
“Well, you looked so comfortable there…”
But Spec was already running for the door. Turm watched her go, a slight smile on his face. “Go get ‘em,” he said.
Spec ran through the streets of the crowded lower cliff district. The side of the mountain meant that it was always in shadow, and she stumbled over and around other ponies, grateful that she wasn’t carrying anything valuable. 
She pushed her way onto the main street, where ponies pulled carts of wool and hay over cobblestones, their breath fogging in the cold air. Here, the buildings opened and she could see Ridgeback in all its glory. The buildings rose up and up, spiraling around the mountain. On the dark side, the city sparkled with a million orange torches, so that it looked like the whole mountain was burning from within. 
Spec ran down the street, cursing everyone she could: Axel, for her new job, Turm, for his failure to wake her up, herself, for getting too drunk and not being in as good a shape as she should have been. She bounded over and under carts and raced up the mountain, her eyes on the marble buildings near the top, sparkling in Cestel’s light. 
Axel was pacing in front of the building when Spec reached it, her face slick with sweat and her mane in tatters. She tried not to collapse, keeping her head down as Axel fixed her with a look.
“And here I was thinking you were going to be late.”
“Never… late…just…warmed…up.”
“You’re going to be a mess in there.”
“They’ll…likeit…shows…I’ve….got….better…things…todo.”
“Well, you might not actually be wrong on that one. But come on. They don’t like to be kept waiting.”
“After…you.”
Spec took a few more deep breaths and followed Axel up to the front door. Axel grabbed the knocker and rapped three times. Then she stood back next to the still gasping Spec. “Maybe you’re not cut out for this after all,” she said.
“Screw you…had to run all the…. Way from the bar in… half hour.”
Axel raised an eyebrow. “Okay,” she said, “that is pretty impressive.”
“You bet.”
“But try and keep yourself together a little bit. He’s very big on… presentation.”
Just as she said this, the door swung wide to reveal a rather snooty looking Andalusian unicorn with a pencil moustache. “Yes?” he said.
“Axel Cartwright and Spectrum Tempest, here to see the Lord Sterling.”
The Andalusian looked the two of them over, his nostrils flaring at the sound of Spec’s name. “I see,” he said, sucking on the word like it pained him. “And do you have an appointment?”
“Yes,” Axel said, “we’re here about transportation.”
There was another long pause. Spec decided she didn’t like him, especially after the looks the butler was giving her. His eyes fixed on her mane and his nostrils flared again. She was just about to give him a piece of her mind when he spoke again.
“Very well,” he said, “if you could wait in the guest room, this way, I will see if Lord Sterling is ready to receive you.” He opened the door wider, and Spec and Axel walked in. As Spec walked past, there was a lough cough from the butler. Spec looked back to see that Axel was very pointedly wiping her hooves on the mat, fixing her with a stare.
“Oh,” Spec said, trying not to blush. “Right.” She walked back and wiped her feet down. Apparently satisfied, the butler led them to a large, expensive looking room and told them to sit and wait. The moment he was out of the door, Spec stretched back on her chair.
“Dang, Axel,” she said. “You didn’t tell me your new employers were Andalusian. I can’t decide if I want to revel in all this money or if I want to leave and go straight back to Turm’s bar.”
“Hmm,” Axel said. Spec noticed that she was sitting very straight. “Listen, Spec,” she said. “These people aren’t like us. Alabaster Sterling, his customs are… different than what you would be used to. He doesn’t take offense to much, but just keep your manners present.”
“Yeesh, Axel,” Spec said, waving a hoof. “You’re the one that brought me here, remember? Don’t worry about it. I’ve got this.”
As if in answer to her statement, a stallion stepped into the room, crossing the doorway from the foyer into the waiting room. The first thing that Spec noticed was that his right ear was clipped, a wedge of flesh removed from the middle, splitting it into two peaks. His coat was smooth and white as snow, and as it caught the light it seemed to gleam with a multitude of colors.
At the sight of him, Axel scrambled to her hooves. “Lord Sterling,” she said, dipping her head in what was almost a bow. “It is good to see you. I have brought the guide.”
Sterling fixed Spec with a white eyed gaze. She had the feeling of being examined by something that wondered if she would give it indigestion. “Is that so? She looks rather… bedraggled.”
“Hey,” Spec said, examining a hoof, “We don’t all have cushy pads to crash at.”
“I suppose…” Sterling said, narrowing his eyes.
“This is Spectrum Tempest,” Axel said. “We worked together during my caravan days.”
“Indeed?” Sterling said. “That is no small commendation. I seem to remember you speaking of this Tempest in the past, Cartwright?”
Axel coughed. “That was her father, Blitz.”
“I see. Well, it is apparent to me that she shares her father’s blood. You were not exaggerating about the mane. It is most impressive. Tell me, Spectrum, from where do you come by so many colors? Perhaps it is dyed?”
Spec bristled. “No way. I was born like this.”
“Most impressive. We Andalusians put a great deal of stock in blood, Spectrum. Perhaps not in the way you understand it in the twilight lands, with your colors and your breeds, but the net result is the same. And it is clear to me that you have inherited your father’s prowess. But I must ask: where has the daughter of such a great caravaneer been since her father’s death?”
Spec narrowed her eyes. “That’s none of your business,” she said. Axel winced.
A thin smile streaked across Sterling’s face. “Indeed it is not,” he said. “But as it is, you will be entrusted to the two things that are the most precious to me in all the world, and before I agree to such a thing, I would know why you would turn your back on your family name.”
“I didn’t turn my back—“ Spec started, but Axel cut her off.
“After her father’s untimely demise, Spectrum decided that she needed time to collect herself, and to understand why she was in caravanning at all. I am delighted that she has decided to take on her father’s mantle. Blitz was among the best pathfinders on record.”
Alabaster regarded Spec. “Well, it is good to see one of the Astrals understands the ties of blood. But I am not sure if that is enough. I require—”
“Father? You requested my presence?”
Spec turned – and stared. A mare had walked into the room. She was clearly related to Sterling; she shared the same off-white coat and their manes were styled in similar fashion. But while Alabaster’s was a velvet maroon, the new mare’s was a deep violet, shining in the sunlight and twisted into a host of elaborate curls. Her eyes sparkled like diamonds in the light, and she moved with the grace of an actress.
And Spec felt that she had seen the mare before.
“Ah, Ambrosia,” Sterling said. “I am glad you could come. These are the ponies I am hiring to take you and Ivory to Prospolis.” 
“Indeed?” Ambrosia said, fixing the ponies with an interested gaze. When her eyes found Spec’s something flickered within, but her face did not change.
Axel stepped forward. “I am Axel Cartwright, ma’am, and this is my associate, Spectrum Tempest.”
“Good to meet you,” Ambrosia said, dipping into a slight bow. “I am Ambrosia Sterling. You will be taking myself and my sister to Prospolis.”
“Should we choose to hire you,” Sterling said.
“I believe they will do, father,” Ambrosia said. 
Sterling started, the first true emotion that Spec had seen from him. “I do not wish to override you, daughter, but this is a very delicate matter. The road to Prospolis is quite treacherous.”
“Treacherous?” Axel said, snorting. “It’s a nightmare. Ever since the refugees started streaming down from above the horizon it’s been chaos. The area that Prospolis directly controls is shrinking by the quarter turn, and there are a whole lot of ponies that would like to get in on that action. We’ll see raiders, bandits, desperate refugees… I’ve even heard talk of a warlord on the rise. And all of them are going to want to take a bite out of a Ridgeback caravan. You might as well cut them a slice of cake for their trouble. In fact,” she said, scratching her chin, “the more I think about this, the more it sounds like a harebrained scheme if I’ve ever heard one. I might not even want to take this job.”
“The pay is excellent.”
“And also useless if you aren’t alive to use it,” Spec said. “Axel, you remember that bounty hunter, Pike, who thought he could get Cesar?”
Axel snorted, playing her part. “Yup. Turns out some bounties pull out only the desperate or the cocky. The experienced don’t want anything to do with them.”
“It’s like that,” Spec said. “What does your caravan look like? We can bring in… oh, three more ponies on our side.”
“We will have a fully armed caravan.” Sterling said.
“And you will have two dead kids,” Spec said. “We can’t fly Ridgeback colors in the midlands if we want to get through. A few guards is a must, but we can provide them.”
“I will not entrust my daughters to a band entirely of your choosing.”
“Please, father,” Ambrosia said, placing a hoof on his shoulder. “These two seem to know what they are doing.”
“Perhaps a compromise?” Axel said. “We bring two ponies, and you provide two of your finest guards. That gives us a band of eight ponies, large but manageable. Any higher and we tempt fate too much.”
Sterling frowned. “I do not like it,” he said.
“Father, Ivy and I can take care of ourselves,” Ambrosia said. “We are not helpless fillies. And any one of our guards will be quite the match for some bandit rabble.”
Spec snorted but the father and daughter ignored them. Sterling placed a hoof on his daughter’s head. “If this is the path you wish to take, Ambrosia, then I am not the one who will stop you. I merely hope that you understand what you are risking, on top of what this trip will require of you and your sister already.”
“Do not worry about me,” Ambrosia said. She dipped her head to her father and stepped forward. “When can you be ready?” she asked the pair.
“We can be ready in a quarter turn,” Axel said.
Ambrosia shook her head. “Too late,” she said. “We must be long gone by then. A sixteenth at the earliest.”
“A sixteenth? That’s like…” Spec whistled and shook her head. “Fine,” she said. “We can work with that. Axel, I hope you’ve got some ponies in mind.”
“Of course,” Axel said.
“Very well,” Ambrosia said. Then we shall meet at the stables in a sixteenth.”
“We doing this?” Spec said, looking past Ambrosia and to her father. Sterling cleared his throat. 
“This is my daughter’s mission,” he said. “And if she trusts you two, then I will provide my blessing.”
“Good,” Axel said. “Well then, miss Ambrosia, Sterling, we will see you both soon.”
“Indeed,” Sterling said, calling for the butler. Axel and Spec walked out of the house, the butler rather pointedly slamming the door behind them. 
“Well,” Spec said. “You’ve sure gotten us into a hell of a pickle, you know that?”
“Rest easy, Spec,” Axel said. “I’ve got some of the old gang on tap, and we’ll have plenty of time to brief them. “I just hope you’re up for it.”
“Oh, don’t mind me,” Spec said. She found herself grinning from ear to ear; the familiar feeling of adventure welled up in her chest. “It’ll be good to see some more old faces.”


“Turm!” Cesar called, flagging the Carmague bartender over, “bring us another round, won’t you?”
Turm smirked from the bar. “Just a sec, Cesar.”
Cesar clapped a hoof on the table. “You’ve been slacking, Turm,” he said. “I seem to recall you rushing over whenever Blitz gave the go ahead.”
“Well, maybe you fellas just don’t have Blitz’ charisma.”
“I don’t buy it,” Capricon said in his thick Hub City accent. “Cartwright here has done the impossible.” He gaze flicked to Spec, who was nursing a beer and trying not to admit how much fun she was having. “I never thought I would see you again, Spectrum.”
“And I hoped I’d never see you again, Cap.”
Capricorn snorted, flashing her a grin before his gaze turned to the drinks Turm had brought. 
Cesar and Capricorn were almost as Spec remembered them. Almost. Seven  years older, seven  years wiser, and a few extra grey hairs around their muzzles. Cesar was well into middle age now, but had kept himself in shape and had easily picked Spec up into a bear hug when she greeted him. His green coat was no worse for wear, and he had chopped his blonde mane down almost to the scalp. Capricon had grown as well; the Sagittarian had filled out from when Blitz had first found him in the military. His mane was long, no longer cut short in the Hub City military style. They were the two members of Blitz’s old team that Axel had kept in contact with the most; Abel had settled down with a family and Marlowe had vanished a few years after Blitz’s death. Axel thought he had been killed by raiders, or that some bad deal had finally caught up with him. 
But it was not in the nature of caravaneers to dwell on the past, and a few drinks to the names of their fallen comrades had brought the group up to speed once again. Now they sat, only a few hours before they were too meet the Andalusians, in Turm’s bar once again. 
“Honeybrew mead,” Cesar said, lifting the glass. “You know, I’ve never been able to find this outside of Ridgeback territory.”
“We’ve got the perfect angle. It’s too dark or too light anywhere else,” Axel said.
“I saw some in the annexed regions,” Capricorn said. “Back in my military days.”
“Makes sense,” Cesar said. “That’s Ridgeback land, always has been, should still be.”
“Well, you go and take it after this, hmm?”
“Well, I’d like to see you try and stop me.”
“Is that a threat?”
The two of them grinned and clapped hooves. Axel rolled her eyes at Spec. 
“I can’t believe these were the two you kept up with,” Spec said.
“Yeah, well. They know their stuff.” Axel took a drink. “Or they did. Probably got rusty on me. Had to make sure they’ve still got it.”
Cesar snorted. “I know you just wanted me for my looks, Axel.”
“Believe me, if that’s what I wanted I would have kept on looking.” Axel grinned at Spec. “Let’s hope those Loosies picked out a couple of studs as their guards, eh?”
Capricorn rolled his eyes. “Why would you need them? You’ve got me!” he flashed the pair a dazzling smile, and Spec thought about her younger years, all the… inappropriate thoughts she’d had about Capricorn. She took a drink to hide her blush.
“Cut it out, Cap,” Cesar said. “You’re going to give the lady a nosebleed.”
Spec shoved Cesar and made to throw her drink at Capricorn, who laughed and ducked. Axel took another drink. 
“We should get going after this,” she said. “The walk down the mountain isn’t exactly short.”
“We’ll be fine,” Spec said, eying the full glass of mead in front of her. “It’s not like they can leave without us.”
“No,” Axel said, “but that Alabaster could try something. I don’t like the look of him.”
“His daughter won’t let him,” Spec said.
Axel frowned. “Ambrosia? The pampered mare?”
“Yeah,” Spec said. “I think she’s on the level.”
“But you don’t know her at all,” Axel said. Spec shrugged.
“I’m good at reading people,” she said.
“Since when?”
“Since I had to start cheating at cards,” Spec said. Axel snorted.
Cesar and Capricorn were watching the exchange with interest. “Am I to assume that Ambrosia is the name of our new cargo?”
“One half of it,” Axel said. “Her sister Ivory is coming as well.”
“And they’re Andalusians?” Cesar frowned. “This doesn’t seem right to me.”
“Tell me about it,” Capricorn said. “Andalusians are filthy rich. Well, most of them anyway. If this Alabaster wanted his daughters to get to Prospolis, there are faster and better ways than hiring a caravan.”
“Are you doubting our skills, Capricorn?” Axel said, mock disapproval in her voice.
Capricorn was not fazed. “I’m doubting our ability to be faster than an airship, mostly.”
“Some ponies don’t like airships,” Cesar pointed out. “Too high.”
“Yeah, but we’re from Ridgeback,” Spec said. “How can you not like heights?”
“I don’t like heights,” Axel said. 
“Yeah, well your people are plains ponies,” Capricorn said. “You shouldn't have come to Ridgeback if you didn’t like heights.”
“The Ahkal-Teke,” Axel said, “have been living in the mountains here long before Ridgeback was even an idea in your ancestor’s blue brains. Besides, it’s possible that the Sterlings don’t want it to be so public. It’s hard to be discreet when you’re flying a giant balloon through the sky.”
“Fair point,” Cesar said, chewing the inside of his lip, “but something about this seems… off.”
“Well, we’ll outnumber them,” Spec said. “Or, the guards, at least. If this is some kind of scam, they’re going to have to try a lot harder to pull the wool over our eyes.”
Axel glanced towards the door. “We should get going,” she said. “Turm! Get us the tab, eh?”
“Right, Axel,” Turm said. “Thirty sovereigns.”
“Yeesh, Turm. Were we drinking gold over here?”
“Honeybrew mead isn’t cheap. You each bought four.”
Axel rolled her eyes. “Well, it’s a drop in the bucket compared to what we’re about to make.” She fished out her drawstring and handed over the necessary gold. Spec stood, stretching her wings. Finally.

The Sterlings were waiting for them when they arrived. Ambrosia and Ivory were dressed in what Spec guessed was supposed to be travel ware: tan jackets over a collared shirt and khaki slacks. Ambrosia wore a pair of racing goggles around her neck. She was whispering to her father, who was wearing the same getup as before. The white fur gleamed in the twilight at the base of the mountain. Beside them, standing so still that they could only be guards, were two other Andalusian ponies, a stallion and a mare, their coats as white as the snow on the mountain. The stallion's mane alternated between light and dark blue, accenting his handsome face. He would have been quite intimidating save for a small, goofy smile that broke the tension. The mare was much stricter. Her mane was clipped short, streaks of dark cyan cutting through the base deep purple. She stared straight ahead, so still she could have been bolted into place.
At the sight of the caravan ponies, Alabaster twitched his ear, rising up from beside his daughter and greeting them with a small bow. 
“Welcome, Spectrum, Axel,” he said. “I am pleased to see that you are on time.”
“Of course, Sterling,” Axel said. “Is everything ready for departure?”
“Quite. The wagon has been prepared to your specifications,” Alabaster said.
“And our payment?”
“Here.” Alabaster clicked his mouth, and the pony with the blue mane stepped forward, reaching into his saddlebags to remove a large satchel. “This is the down payment,” Alabaster said. “One thousand sovereigns. The rest is to be paid upon your return.”
“Thank you,” Axel said. “Cesar, can you give us a count?”
Cesar stepped forward and took the satchel from the guard. He opened it and began rifling through the contents, pausing occasionally to weigh the satchel in his hoof. “It’s all here,” he said. 
“Good,” Axel said. “Now, let’s get to it. I assume these are your guards?”
“Quite,” Alabaster said, beckoning to the second guard to join the first. “Allow me to introduce Jade and Noble.” He gestured to the mare and stallion respectively. “They are two of our finest guards, and I feel quite confident in their combat and stealth capabilities.”
“Hmm,” Axel said. “Capricorn? You know defense. How do these ponies look?”
Capricorn made a show of squinting at the guards, who still made no sound. “They seem to be in excellent shape, boss,” he said. “But as for their combat capabilities, well, we’ll have to see on the field.”
“I can assure you that they are exceptionally well trained,” Alabaster said. “All Andalusian guards are taught unarmed combat as well as staff and horseshoe fighting. They are loyal without bounds and will fight to the death to save my daughters.”
“I’m sure,” Axel said, still not sounding entirely convinced. Spec knew better, though: Axel was quite impressed at the physique that she saw here. And if the training rumors of the Andalusians were true, then these two could prove to be quite valuable.
“In any case,” Alabaster said, “I have fulfilled my part of the bargain.” His eyes flicked to the mountain behind them. “I must be leaving now. There are very important matters to attend to, and I must ensure that everything is prepared for when my daughters reach Prospolis.”
At the name of the city, Ivory shut her eyes. Against her better judgment, Spec felt herself feeling sorry for the filly. She was younger than either she or Axel had speculated, old enough for the trip but just barely. Ambrosia seemed to recognize that her sister was tearing up; she placed a hoof on the filly’s head and stroked her hair. Ivy jerked at the contact, then allowed herself to ease into it. Spec frowned at the sight.
Alabaster, seemingly unaware of the emotions his daughters were going through, dipped his head at the ponies and turned to leave.
“Hey wait!” Spec said. Alabaster paused. “You aren’t going to say goodbye to your daughters? Who knows when you’ll see them again?”
“My daughters are strong, Miss Tempest. They will be able to take care of each other. And there is nothing I can say to them that has not already been said. Unlike you, we Andalusians do not believe in redundant words.” With that, he left the stable. The ponies inside were silent as they listened to the sound of his carriage roll away.
“That’s white ponies for you,” Capricorn whispered to Spec. She snickered.
“Well,” Axel said, “What an asshole. But anyway, let’s put that guy behind us. Newcomers and oldcomers alike, welcome to the caravan. I am Axel Cartwright, and I am the leader here. With me are Spectrum Tempest, my second in command—“ Capricorn hid a snort that Axel ignored, “Capricorn Aster, and Cesar. We’re in charge of getting you to Prospolis in a manner that is both fast and safe. However, seeing as both of those together are impossible, I’ll settle for fast.” She flicked her eyes towards the guards, who had not moved since their employer left. “You guys statues or something? You got a voice?”
“If you please, Miss Tempest,” the mare said, “we are guards. Our job is not to speak.”
“Well, it’s going to be your job now, what was it, Jade?” she said. “I don’t like quiet caravans, unless we’re trying to sneak, but we won’t be doing that often and all the rest of the time I like noise. The wilderness gets pretty lonely, and we’re going to need all the voices we can to keep this caravan moving. Got it?”
Noble's smile became a smirk. “Come on, Jade,” he said. “Lighten up a bit.”
Jade shot him a look so sharp it seemed to burn right through his grin and fledgling good mood and shut him up again. “Noble Shield,” she said, “may I remind you of your duties and the reasons you were chosen for this mission? We do not associate with our… guides.” She spit the last word out.
Noble rolled his eyes. “We’re responsible for keeping the Mistresses safe and secure,” he said. “We can do that better if we talk.”
Jade sniffed. “Looking at this lot, I doubt it.”
“Oh boy,” Capricorn muttered. Spec rolled her eyes.
“And how about you two?” Axel said, turning to Ambrosia and Ivory. “Are you two going to give me any trouble?”
“Axel, was it?” Ambrosia said, stepping forward and adopting a winning smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Please, call me Amber. This is my sister, Ivy. Thank you for accepting this job.”
“That’s more like it,” Axel said, giving the pair a nod of approval. “Good to know you kids have your heads on straight. Let’s keep it civil, and we can have a fast, easy trip.”
Amber smiled, and Spec felt a twinge of recognition once again. “Believe me,” Amber said, “I would like nothing more.”