Though the sun had yet risen, its ever growing presence colored the sky in light purples and deep gold. Quill watched as the paint of dreams was mixed atop the canvas of life. He had always loved sunsets, even when he was little more than a hatchling. There had been the fear, some years ago, that a sunrise might not be near as wondrous here in Equestria as it had been in the homeland. Quill was glad to know he had been wrong.

The wind picked up, and a memory tumbled forth like a fallen leaf:

Quill waking up to his mother’s dewy eyes gleaming down at him, a painted talon gently nudging him awake. She asked if he wanted to go with her on a little a morning flight. Nothing too adventurous, just a once over their estate to watch the sunrise. Quill was too young to fly at the time, but he was gluttonous for even the tiniest taste of flight. His mother, sweet Edina, had always been one to indulge.

Quill smiled ruefully. Getting sentimental, are we? That'll get us killed one day, you know.

As daylight crept out from the horizon, the Crystal Empire stirred awake. Ruby reds, platinum blues, and emerald greens twinkled sleepily, turning the city into a kaleidoscope. Quill had to squint for moment. His eyes had become quick to adjust.

The squeal of rusty door hinges told Quill that he was no longer alone on the balcony. Hooves patted up to his side. Quill felt a sweet warmth as a tiny body pressed itself close to him. Instinctively, he draped a wing over the filly and hugged her tightly.

Speira’s head poked out from the crook of Quill’s wing. Her pink mane was pulled back into a ponytail, revealing in full the face underneath. It occured to Quill that Speira would never grow up to be a ‘pretty’ mare. Even at her young age, that face was haunted by a decade of pain and strife.

If Speira was closer to his own age, Quill suspected that the hard years would have left lines like ruts along her face. Instead of wrinkles, there was that constant look of quiet defiance.

It’s the face of a fighter, Quill mused. Savagely handsome.

“You didn’t need to get up,” Quill said after a moment. “We’re not expected at the castle for another few hours.”

“I know.” Speira glanced away from the glittering city, looking Quill in the face. “You didn’t sleep well. I heard you tossing and turning.”

“Did you now?”

Speira nodded. Quill’s wing gave her an amiable squeeze.

“There’s no hiding anything from you, is there? Don't worry. It was only a bad dream.”

“Just a bad dream?”

“Yes.”

Tiny pimples of steel wool bristled along Quill’s face. A queer sensation, but not alien. Quill knew from it that Speira was studying him.

“Papa… you’re worried about this trip.”

There was no question in that voice, only certainty. Quill sighed.

“I guess I am, my dear. I guess I am.”

“Do you think…”

“If you want plain answers, Speira, I need plain questions.”

Speira had to think for a moment. “Do you think that Shining Armor is lying to us? They way he looked during our briefing… well...” she shrugged. “Something just didn’t seem right, I guess.”

“Outright lying?” Quill shook his head. “I don’t think so. Half-truths, more than likely. I can’t blame him for that, though. Half-truths are a given. Something tells me that he won’t be keeping the other half from us for long, though.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because, dearest daughter, he knows we’re suspicious of him. He has to. We’re far too observant.”

Speira’s ears twitched, a slight sign of irritation. “And we’re continuing along, then? Until he clues us in?”

“That’s right. Lies or no lies, it’s still good money. Besides… I hate to admit it, but I’m rather curious to see what the Prince is up to.”

The two were quiet for almost five minutes. Voices could be heard in the streets below. Some were the idle chatter of ponies sharing greetings on their way to work, others belonged to the occasional patrol of city guards. Watching the ponies below was like watching a river bed. They all shone like polished pebbles.

“Papa?”

Quill glanced down. “Yes?”

“What do you think is going to happen on this trip?”

Quill frowned. “I can’t say for certain, only that we should keep our wits sharp… and our weapons close…”

While most of the denizens were busy rousing themselves from a pleasant night of sleep, the secluded world of the Crystal Palace tarried on into the dawn with the same restless persistence that had propelled it up through the night before.

Shining Armor sat on the corner of his bed, head lowered. An unruly carpet of mane hid his sad, puffy eyes. Princess Cadence sat beside him, looking miles better in contrast. Her coat was brushed, her mane straightened. The makeup she wore even managed to cover the bags under her eyes.

Those maids of her’s work wonders, Shining Armor thought. Maybe I’ll drop by their quarters and ask Sherry to spruce me up a bit.

“I saw the carriages all lined up outside,” Cadence said. “Looks as if you’re going to take the whole Guard with you. Wouldn’t surprise me. You just might be able to fit them all in those big boats of yours.”

Shining Armor didn’t respond. He had heard the edge in her voice, though it was blunted. Cadence had slept less then Shining Armor had, and was too weary to be mean. Besides, it just wasn’t in her nature to be so.

“Did you hear me?” Cadence asked, the bed creaking as she turned to look at him “Are you awake?”

Boy, if I could actually sleep, he thought.

“Yeah, I’m awake.” Shining Armor lifted his own head. The joints in his neck crackled. Might need some of the stuff Ratchet greases the chariot wheels with.

Cadence studied him, her face sickened with sorrow. It was a long time before she said anything else. Shining Armor had almost began to think that they could enjoy this last morning together in silence, and maybe even in comfort.

“I know I can’t make you reconsider,” Cadence said suddenly. “Celestia knows I would if I could. But…”

“Cadence, please-”

Cadence’s eyes flashed. “No, I’m speaking now!”

That explosive tone rocked Shining Armor to attention. Cadence had always been slow to anger, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t get there. Perhaps Shining Armor just needed a reminder of this.

Cadence’s eyes softened when she saw her husbands hurt. “I’m sorry. This is just so hard for me… and if I don’t have my say now, then I might not be able to later…”

Shining Armor nodded, thinking it the more prudent. Cadence took in a breath, held it, then released it in an agonized sigh.

“I understand that something has to be done, Shiny, and I understand why it has to be you that does it… but it's foolish why you’re doing it, and Auntie would say likewise. I don’t want anymore good ponies to die… but more than that, I don’t want to see you amongst them.”

Cadence’s face withered. Thin brows drew close and tears blossomed in stunningly pink eyes.

“I’ve reviewed thirty death certificates from the outer holds this week, and not a single of those poor ponies died from natural causes, Shiny.”

Shining Armor knew about the certificates well enough -he actually had copies of his own tucked into his study- but said nothing. He understand what she was getting at.

“Do you understand? These ponies… however they are…” She broke off before finally adding, “I just couldn’t bare if something happened to you.”

Cadence turned away before the tears had a chance to fall.

Wrapping a foreleg around his wife, Shining Armor pulled Cadence to him. At first she wouldn’t look at him. This was remedied with a quick nuzzle to the sensitive place just under the shelf of Cadence’s chin. With an involuntary laugh, she was finally able to meet Shining’s gaze.

“Not. Fair.” Each word punctuated with a poke to Shining’s chest. “How am I supposed to make a point with you tickling me like foal.”

Shining Armor was glad to see that smile, however wan it might have been. In the heat of the moment, he spoke the two words his training absolutely forbade him from saying.

“I promise… I’m coming back, Cadence.”

This seemed to startled his wife. Cadence studied him for a long time, seemingly in disbelief.

“I… don’t promise, Shiny. I suppose now that’s what I’ve wanted to hear from you for days now, but…” she shook her head. “Now it just seems like bad luck to hear it. If you want to promise something, promise that you’ll hold me till it’s time.”

Shining Armor kissed the tip of her nose. “I can do that.”

When the knock on the royal couple’s chamber door came, Cadence and Shining Armor were tangled atop their bedspread in a rather shameless display. There was little passion as they cuddled, mainly just the need to hold close the other half that completed them so thoroughly. Their days. apart would be short if everything went to plan. However, uncertainty seemed to have pulled a steel shutter over the foreseeable future.

Shining Armor raised his head, nostrils still full of Cadence’s scent. “Enter.”

There was no sense in wondering who had come knock knock knocking. After Cadence had spent half an hour with her maids, the staff had been instructed to leave the royal couple undisturbed for the time being. That is, all of the staff except on person.

The bedroom door creaked open as Speckled Band entered. The Corporal stood at the threshold, his gilded armor glittering and his wary eyes wandering. He appeared to be looking past the couple on the bed.

“Sir, ma'am.” Speckled cleared his throat. “Just reporting in. Ratchet says the carriages are nearly ready, also Snow Dew and her cousins are packed and ready to depart at your behest, Princess.”

After a long and rather uncomfortable silence, Speckled added hastily, “I’ll just wait out here.”

And with that, the door clicked softly shut behind the Corporal. Cadence used a hoof to stifle a giggle.

“I know I shouldn't laugh, in fact it feels wrong, but could he be any more of a goofball?”

Shining armor grinned. “Given the kid’s history, I'm just glad he isn't some hyped up meathead. Celestia knows we've got enough of those as it is.”

Kid? As if I’m much older than he is. Heck, that kid is practically Twily’s age.

“I'm glad you're taking him.” Cadence’s humor evaporated, turning somber. “Please tell me you're keeping him close. I know you've vouched for those two mercenaries enough times as it is, but I'd sooner place my faith in true threaded Equestrian.”

Shining Armor said he would, and hated himself for lying. How would Cadence feel if she knew Shining Armor had actually planned to have the Corporal positioned at the opposite end of their little caravan. The Prince figured he’d have plenty of time to feel guilty about a lot of things once they reached Canterlot.

If we reach Canterlot.

“Then you shouldn’t worry. We’re going to be nearly forty strong heading out, and that’s before Broadside and his ponies fall in with us. That’ll be before we even leave the North.” Shining’s smile turned sly.

“What do you think Celestia will think when we appear with an entire regiment in tow?”

Cadence gave him a playful shove. “She’s going to clout you for looking for trouble… and I’m going to stand by and laugh…”

But Cadence didn’t look like laughing just then. The moment that they had feared all of last night had come at last, and it was now time to see it through. They embraced one last time. They both tried to hold the scent of the other, each hoping to carry it with them as a talisman.

“I love you, Shining Armor,” Cadence whisper.

“And I love you, Mi Amore.”

Cadence was the first to leave the bedroom. Speckled Band was busy staring into the empty sockets of his helm, but looked up when he heard the door open. He snapped himself to attention. Cadence rolled her eyes. She surprised the both of them when she pulled the Corporal into a tight. This made awkward by the sheathed sword riding high on his back, but nevertheless, Speckled Band was struck with gratitude by the gesture.

When Cadence pulled away, her eyes peered grimly into Speckled’s. “You know your duty, bonds-pony?”

Her voice was steel, tougher and colder than the armor protecting Speckled's hide. The Corporal swallowed and nodded.

“Good,” said she. “Then you know to bring my husband back to me… to bring all them back… including yourself. Your princess expects nothing less.”

“Y-yes, ma'am.”

Cadence gave him a curt nod before moving on. She set a prim pace, appearing to be heading towards the maid’s quarters.

Speckled Band closed his eyes and sighed, relieved.

“Now you know what I have to put up with.”

The Corporal hadn't heard the bedroom door reopen. His commanding officer stood at its threshold, grinning impishly.

“You’re a braver stallion than me, Captains,” Speckled Band said, laughingly. Then, as if remembering himself, the Corporal snapped into attention.

Shining Armor pretended not to notice. “Everything more or less ready, Speck? Speak plainly now, it’s only us.”

“Yes, sir. I put the lookalikes in the first floor sitting room... if that’s alright.” Speckled Band’s nose wrinkled in disgust.

Shining Armor cocked an eyebrow. “What’s that look for?”

It’s just… I don’t trust actors, sir… not these, at least. They look like Snow Dew and her cousins well enough, but… sir, they’re wretched. One’s sleeping off a hangover and the other…” Speckled Band went a startling shade of crimson. “She keeps offering to… to do stuff to me…”

Now it was Shining Armor’s turn to laugh. Clapping a hoof on his protege’s shoulder, Shining said, “It’s not like we need them to give a speech to the Princesses or anything. As they follow orders and don’t steal anything from the our sitting room, I could hardly care.”

Then, with a hint of scrutiny that quite hide his amusement, Shining Armor added, “You didn’t take the mare up on her offer, did you? I was expecting you to report in ten minutes ago.”

“Not funny, sir.”

The sun baked scent of sweat and body odor was always a glorious thing to savor first thing in the morning. Quill, whose sense of smell was slightly more attuned than that of a pony’s, could tell you that the sour aroma had stained the very cobblestones of the royal courtyard. This wasn’t a bad odor, in his opinion. It was undeniable proof that the ponies fussing and bustling about were actually busy instead of just appearing to be.

Quill and Speira sat side by side, well out of every ponies way, watching the spectacle with well guarded interest.

Four teams of soldiers -the running teams, Quill assumed- were being hooked up to some of the biggest carriages that the old bird had ever seen. They must’ve been the begotten children of a hearse and a locomotive. Yet, those armored soldiers had pushed them out into the courtyard without so much of groan of effort.

Speira muttered something under her breath. She was hard to hear over so many clopping hooves. Quill glanced down at her, then gave the filly a nudge.

“What was that, my dear?”

A little louder, Speira said, “Those… things. I said they’re enchanted.”

“Oh? And how can you tell?”

“It’s…” Speira strained her eyes against the sun’s mischievous glare. “It’s something to do with all that gold trim on them. They shimmer, but not like gold flakes should. You can see it when the clouds hide the sun.”

Then she shot a glance at Quill. “That... and the designs of them… they sorta remind me of my armor.”

Quill glanced back at the carriages, this time giving them more than just a cursory once over. He studied the gold trim. It was almost like a spiderweb of fire compared to the black wood it sat upon.

Within a minute, Quill also found himself surmising that carriages were indeed enchanted. But it wasn’t the tinkle of gold. He had seen enough of the Crystal Empire to know that everything glittered there -especially gold. What did the trick went more along with the second thing Speira said.

I’ll be damned, those do indeed look like glyphs. Nothing that’s like ones on Speira’s armor, however, but glyphs nonetheless. Makes sense now how they were able to push the damn thing in full armor... How in the seven hells did I overlook that?

Quill reached into a pouch sewn to the side of his armor, producing a tiny, worn-out notebook and a dull pencil. As he slid a single claw along the pencil’s tip, sharpening it, he gave Speira a beaky grin.

“A very astute observation, dear. May I share one of my own?”

Speira raised an eyebrow.

“Take a look at the rigs they’re strapping those lads to. Take a long look at them, then tell me what you see.”

Speira did as her mentor bade. At first she appeared soberly confident with her observation, but as the seconds turned to a minute, Speira’s brow began to furrow.

“Those aren’t… what are those? They aren’t like any rig I’ve seen used before. It’s…”

“I’ve heard a few ponies call it a ‘ripcord’ system,” Quill said. He had brushed away the pencil shavings and was doing a quick sketch of the glyphs on the carriages.

“They are set up so with that trigger-bit near the mouth, so that all you need to do is give it a tug. The whole rig falls apart and you’re good to go, lickety split. Quite nifty. They’re a pain to work with, though.”

Quill’s point was proven with a machine gun precession of snaps and pops. A pony strapping in one of the soldiers, a mare only a few years older than Speira, reared back, screeching. The series of straps she had been tightening unwound in a flurry. They lashed out at her like a bouquet of vipers. The soldier watched with pity as the belt buckles bit through her jump suit and found flesh. Her pretty brown pelt was decorated with long, bleeding stripes. They drummed off his armor as easily as raindrops.

“I see what you mean,” Speira said. “A pain.”

A large stallion strolled up to the screaming mare -waddled, to be more precise- scowling all the way. Quill had heard the fellow before he saw him, for his slooped belly was held up by a belt weighted with a wide array of tools and instruments.

Why, he’s a walked hardware store, Quill thought.

“By the sun and moon, Brush, how many times have I told you to watch your tension? A damned good thing you didn’t lose an eye!”

The stallion glanced at another worker pony nearby before nodding to the pony writhing on the ground. “Get her to the infirmary, Haddok. Be sure to grab Anvil on your way back. Just tell the bastard he can finish that chassis later. We need to have these buggies ready to move yesterday!”

All those tools rattled as the stallion did an about face and started as if to inspect the other carriages. That when he caught sight of Quill and Speira. The stallion froze. That doughy face of his worked, kneaded mercilessly by some contemptuous hands.

Quill gave the stallion a polite smile and ticked off a small salute. Speira only stared at him.

Though the courtyard was still rank with noise, the stallion’s voice only seemed to be amplified by it all. Quill had the suspicion that this was a pony who never had a problem being heard.

“It’s sad days when we got the likes of you loitering about. Like a flock of rooks waiting for spilled blood, so you are. You ‘for hire’ types should be packed and shipped to wheres you came.”

Quill, his good mood unaffected, said, “Perhaps you’d be kind of enough to pay that postal fee then, good sir. Otherwise, I guess we’ll have to keep working till we can afford it ourselves.”

The stallion glared at them for moment. His beady eyes appeared to be searching for a retort on Quill’s. He only grunted, hitched up his toolbelt, and troddled off. Quill watched after him before looking back to his sketchbook.

Quill flew too high on his own spirits to let someone else storm clouds drag him down. Besides, the two mercenaries had been getting dirty looks all morning, and would likely get many more if the job went according to plan.

If anything’s going to ruin this morning, Quill thought, it’s not going to be a fat jaw with a few mean words.

“You’re too nice.”

Quill lowered his sketchbook, surprised. He studied Speira intently.

“What’s the alternative, dear? Should I have ripped his throat out? Brained him? Maybe a good skinning? Pony hide makes for bad furs, I can assure you that.”

Speira didn’t respond, nor did she dane to look at her father. There was something petulant in her silence. Quill decided to leave Speira be for the time being. It really wasn't the time or place for a talking to.

Five minutes passed. Quill was gazing long and long at his sketch when he was josled by a loud ‘Atten-hut!’. This was followed by the unified snap of hooves as the soldiers came to rigid attention. Even the worker ponies, in their jumpsuits and tool belts, stood tall amongst the ranks.

Quill tucked away his sketchpad and stood. Speira following suite.

Quill had been expecting Shining Armor. Why, who else would have commanded such attention. He was pleasantly surprised, however, to find that the sound of marching hooves had proceeded the Corporal and not the Captain.

Speckled Band stood some yards off, helm cradling under one leg, and inspected the carriages with the scrutiny of an unhappy drill sergeant. His exposed brow revealed the mottled coat of blue and white. The lad’s cropped mane was slick with sweat.

It seemed to Quill that the boy had aged a year or two in just the days they had met. This was interesting enough, but what struck Quill’s curiosity the most was the sword sheathed on Speckled’s back.

“At ease,” Speckled Band said, rather uneasily. One by one, the ponies appeared to relax. The hitching picked up up their tools and went back to work, however, none of them would resume their idle chatter. Not with Speckled Band nearby.

The large stallion returned, ambling along as if on a summer stroll. Speckled Band gave him a polite nod, one that the stallion did not return. The two were close enough to the mercenaries that Quill and Speira were able to note the exchange. Quill saw that same look of contempt that had graced themselves only minutes ago.

Speckled Band shifted his helm to the opposite foreleg, and said, “Are the carriages about ready to go, Ratchet? The Captain will be along shortly, and we’ll want to be off at once.”

Ratchet grunted. “We’ll be ready by the time his immanience arrives. Don’t you worry, boy. Haste has made room for some nasty accidents this morning, but you’ll be rolling out on schedule.”

A few nearby ponies looked up from their work to quickly glance over at the two. Suddenly they were nervous. It had been something in the way Ratchet had said ‘his immanence’.

Speckled Band’s smile was as thin and strained as a taut rubber band. “You’ve done a good job with the iron boxes. You and your ponies are to be commended for your quick work, Ratchet… but there’s no need for unseemliness. You know my rank, and I only ask that you respect it.”

Ratchet snorted. “I’m not one of the Prince’s toadies, boy. These carriages came from my workshop, as well as the ponies working on them. If it’s respect you want, then get out there and start strapping down some of your buddies. Until then, you’re nothing more than the prince’s glorified lap dog to me.”

Speckled Band’s smile darkened, becoming almost like a snarl. Quill noticed the look and was oddly glad to see it. It was like seeing sharp steel glittering in murky water.

“Remember that we both work for the crown. However, while you do the crown’s bidding, I enforce its will. Respect me or not, I guess it matters little. But I at least demand the same tolerance that I show you. If that wild tongue of yours calls me boy again, or insults Shining Armor in front of me, and I’ll have you carted back to Detrot in pieces. Let’s see you fix taxis and stage coaches with stubs for legs.”

Ratchet was thunderstruck. He peered into the younger stallion’s face for a time, suddenly unsure of himself. Quill what’ve paid a pretty penny to know what the older stallion had seen just then. At last Ratchet gave a curt nod.

“Alright, Corporal.”

Speckled Band relaxed. “The Captain will be out here in ten minutes, Snow Dew in fifteen. I want these big bastards ready to move before either of them even step foot in the courtyard.”

Ratchet nodded. The large stallion walked past Speckled Band, heading to the soldier whose harness had just popped. Ratchet quickly went about picking up Brush’s slack. The soldier Ratchet worked on was grinning, and Quill could see he wasn’t the only one.

Speckled Band sighed and raised his head to the sky. It seemed as if had deflated and was now simply trying to fill himself once again. After Speckled Band had his moment, he turned to the mercenaries. Quill gave a quick wave. The smile Quill received in return was far more sincere than the one given to Ratchet.

“A fine day for a trip,” Quill said as Speckled Band made his way over to them.

“I suppose it is,” said the Corporal dubiously. “As fine as it can be.”

Speckled Band eyed the bags at the dou’s feet. “Traveling light, aren’t you?”

Quill chuckled. “You’ll never see a griffin weighed down with baggage, Corporal. Besides, heavy luggage is bad for the joints. Isn’t that right, my dear?”

Speira’s flicked an ear at Quill, but she said nothing. Quill wrapped a leg around the filly in a little half hug.

“You’ll have to pardon her. Never the morning person was me daughter. Would sleep till noon if I didn’t drag her out of bed”

At that word -daughter- Speckled Band flinched. Quill had long grown used to these nervous twitches from ponies that he hardly noted them anymore.

The Corporal smiled, rather self consciously, to the filly. “Well, you’ll have plenty of time to on the ride down. Plenty of miles between hear and Canterlot.”

“I hope you don’t mind me bringing up old business,” Quill said, “But I just want to make sure that our accommodations in Canterlot will be taken care of. Not going to leave us shivering by the road, I hope.”

Speckled Band said somberly, “We wouldn’t think of it, sir. You have Shining Armor’s word.”

Quill nodded, and decided that would just have to suffice him. At least his patron had supplied a healthy bonus for this little escort detail. Quill and Speira were more the richer if nothing else.

Quill’s gaze fixed on the hilt sticking up over Speckled Band’s left shoulder. A gem the color of obsidian shone on the tip of the sword’s pommel. It was inlaid with polished silver.

Quill felt a momentary wave of disgust to see such a gaudy decoration -gaudy by griffin’s standards, anyway- on a soldier’s service weapon. The feeling passed, however, when he took in the rest of the hilt. The silver was worn dull with much use.

A little flashy, maybe, Quill mused. But these ponies have a flare for the theatrics.There’s at least the chance that he knows how to use the thing.

Quill opened his beak to ask if he might have the honor of examining Speckled’s weapon, when his was rudely cut to the quick. There was a resounded ‘Atten-hut!’. Quill almost laughed when Speckled Band did an immediate about face. It was as if the boy’s strings had been given a hard jerk.

They’re all so rigid, their sphincters could probably crush coal into diamonds. Though Quill chastised himself for the thought, he couldn’t help but chuckle.

Just the hitching team began to withdraw from cluster of soldiers, their jobs done, heads suddenly began to turn towards the head of the cobblestone road. Strolling from the castle end of that road was the stallion of the hour.

If the royal guards’ armor were resplendent, then their captain’s was downright immaculate. It had the same ivy scrollwork as the rest of them, but that’s where the likeness ended. Patches of gold metal were overshadowed by a beautiful midnight lavender. This color, along with shades of blue, were reflected in the plume rising from Shining Armor’s helm.

Theatrics. Damn good ones, but theatrics nonetheless.

Shining Armor idled up beside Speckled Band, regarding his troops with a bright and sunny smile. It scrubbed away the long days of the past week from his face.

The soldiers held their breath, waiting to hear those three special words. Finally, Shining Armor spoke his command came with all of the authority of a booming thunderhead. Quill felt himself break out in goosebumps. He had heard stories of the royal voice, but never the thing itself.

“Troops! We’re moving out!"

Whatever aches Broadside might’ve felt after his time spent trussed up was suddenly forgotten as he felt the stinging night air. He watched the ground pass by beneath. It was slow going for the pony who carried him, but the Lieutenant was just happy he wasn’t being drug.

No, I’m happy that the bastard with the bastard of a sword isn’t carrying me. Probably would’ve neutered me.

The cold transformed into a sickening heat as they slipped into another tent. Broadside figured this must’ve belonged to his midnight assailants. The black canvas tent was far larger than any of the one’s he or his troop had brought. Hell, it was practically a pavilion.

The sudden transition of pure white to utter darkness was enough to make Broadside’s eyes hurt. There was enough light in the tent for Broadside to make out the ring of silhouettes crowded inside the tent before he was rudely deposited to the floor.

“Oof!” Broadside grunted, just managing to turn away before his muzzle met cold ground.

“Excuse you, Private. That is no way to treat a prisoner of war.”

Broadside’s breath froze in his lung. It was as if a mountain had spoken.

That voice… by the sun and moon, that voice couldn’t belong to a pony!

Broadside writhed on his stomach, trying to get a better look at his captors. This was made all the more difficult by his armor. He’d have cursed all that plate and padding if it hadn’t helped to keep him warm.

“I d-didn’t mean to be so rough, sir!” This voice was practically the squeaking of a mouse when compared to the former. “H-he’s heavier than the devil, he is! I-”

“Quiet.”

And all was quiet, for a second, at least. Broadside thought he could here the private shaking in his armor.

“You’re excused, private.”

Broadside had managed to roll over on his side. The tent was briefly flooded with moonlight as the front flap opened. That’s when Broadside finally got a glimpse of the soulless cretins crowded around him. When the darkness came back, he almost found it to be a relief. Almost… He could still see the glitter of eyeshine staring at him through the murk.

“Who the fuck?” Broadside wasn’t aware he was speaking. “Who the actual fuck...”

“Who indeed.”

Broadside was afraid to look towards that voice, but was hopeless to do otherwise. A shadow, bigger than the others, loomed above him. Broadside’s bowls turned to liquid when he met the dead eyes suspended within that dark mass.

“It’s been sometime, Lieutenant, but I think we’re still well met. Best that you settle yourself. We have much to talk about.”