Extended Holiday
Ch 94: Three Warriors, A Mage, and a Warship: Roll for Initiative!
Act 13
Pensword sat at his desk as he looked over letters and clippings from newspapers dealing with the military and the opinions of the nation. He was happy to see Preston doing so well in assembling and presenting this briefing so efficiently. He looked at the clock, knowing in five minutes a reporter and photographer would be entering this office to conduct an interview, or in the worst case scenario, a witch hunt.
Finally there was a knock at his door.
Pensword put the file he was reading back into the folder and closed it.
“Enter,” he shouted, knowing that Lunar Fang had been out in the front office. He looked to the paintings of Celestia, Luna, Cadence, and Twilight hanging on the wall as the door opened.
Preston saluted before taking three strict paces forward. “Sir, a Mister Headliner and a Mister Quick Snap are here to see you.”
“Send them in,” Pensword replied. He eyed Preston’s military uniform, happy to see that it fit the Grey Pegasus disguise. “And if you could please join us, Preston, it would be most appreciated. I need someone to take minutes for this meeting.”
“Of course, Sir,” Preston replied with a crisp salute before returning to retrieve the guests.
Two pegasi entered the office, followed by Preston, who quietly shut the door behind them. The first was small and skinny with a deep brown coat and a bright red mane. He wore an ID badge on a lanyard across his neck. Next to him was a taller steel-grey pegasus with a purple mane and tail. He wore a camera around his neck, and his badge poked out from a side pocket in his saddle bag with some magnifiers and flash attachments that were too bulky to remain within the pockets.
“Hello, Commander.”
“Hello, Mister Headliner, Mister Quick Snap. Please, sit down.” Pensword stood and shook hooves with the two Pegasi, then beckoned to a pair of chairs that had been set up before his desk. He then proceeded to sit down in his own chair. “Now. As you two know, you have a thirty minute window for this interview and photo op. For the sake of our records, please state the city and paper you represent.”
“The Whinnypeg Sun,” Headline stated, “Whinnypeg.”
“Welcome to New Unity then, Mister Headliner. So I know what it is that you said you were going to talk about when you scheduled this meeting, so shall we begin?”
“We couldn’t help but notice Lord Hammer Strike was loading his airship with supplies. Could we get a statement on that?” Headliner asked.
“Certainly. We originally acquired the vessel in Gryphonia, and used it to transport ourselves from the Gryphon Empire. From there, we took the ship to and from the gala with a nice big breakfast onboard. As you can imagine, a ship that size needs a sizable crew to run it. To put it simply, the vessel needs to be restocked periodically with supplies, fitted out for travel, things that you normally do when you purchase a new air yacht or some other larger vessel. You simply make it your own.”
“Some ponies feel that Lord Hammerstrike has been given too much liberty in forming a military for himself when Equestria itself has no military at this time. Is there anything you’d say to help clear up this misunderstanding?”
“Yes, the misunderstanding is that you think Hammer Strike is keeping these troops. True enough, he will have a small honor guard; however, as the military experts are all here, and he happens to be one of them, Hammer Strike will be a crucial piece in training and mobilizing the new Equestrian Military. As it stands, when the bill is signed and authorized, a large portion of the troops we have here, who used to be washouts I might add, will be redeployed to various posts throughout the Solar and Lunar Courts to form the backbone of the Equestrian Military.”
“But there have been reports of Kitsune and Horses visiting New Unity, and Hammer Strike’s connection with the Gryphon clan known as the Bladefeathers has caused some concern.”
“What the Sultan of the Saddle Arabians does, or the Kitsune do, is their own concern. As for the Bladefeathers, are you insinuating that he is unable to maintain friendships and contact with the only Gryphon who fought on our side during the Third Gryphon War? Are you willing to actually question the wisdom of Princess Celestia in giving the Bladefeathers her official seal of approval as a clan in Equestria?”
“It‘s merely suspicious that Lord Hammer Strike has built up such a sizable force after fixing up what could be considered a fully functional war fortress.”
“Let me put it to you this way, Headliner. If Hammer Strike were to do something along those lines, then I would be bound by my oath of office from over a thousand years ago to wage a coup within these walls. High Chieftess Luna would be bound by oath and honor to lay siege to, and conquer, this fortress. You are talking about Celestia’s Ghost, the Mighty Smith as the bards called him a thousand years ago. The day he uses those troops to wage war against the nation he gave blood, life, and Faust knows how mnay years to, would be the same day that Discord becomes Harmony, the day Celestia and Luna turn into non-alicorns, and Tirek returns to plunge us into darkness. I understand the worry the populace can feel, and the letters that you might be getting, but I swore allegiance to the crown and country. I will fight against any who would take a blade up against this nation, be they friend or foe.”
“Very well,” Headliner said as he finished writing Pensword’s words on a small note pad he had produced. “There have been some accusations of the use of weaponry that some would call unethical. What is your response to these allegations?”
“Weaponry? Unethical?” Pensword asked, giving a confused look. “I have gone through the laws and treaties myself. I have to in my position. All the weapons we utilize most definitely fall under the legal side of the law. As for unethical, to my knowledge, anything we have used so far to defend ourselves has been ethical and proper for the enemy in question.”
“Okay.” Headliner nodded as he finished writing. “Is there anything you’d like to leave off with for our readers?”
Pensword paused as he heard the shutter click a few times, slower than Matthew remembered about moments like this. “Yes. The Future is as bright as you make it. I plan to be the scout on the cloud to protect those dreams from those that would seek to destroy them or the means to achieve them. I want Equestria to stand for another thousand years, and even longer.”
“Thank you, Commander,” Headliner said. “Now if we could just get another quick photo for the article?”
“Of course.” Pensword stood and motioned for Headliner to do the same.
Headliner did so as Quick Snap prepared his camera. When he had directed pensword in the position he wanted, he snapped the picture, and the two Pegasi were led out of the office by preston.
The bell rang on the door to Carousel Boutique as two sets of hooves clopped through. Rarity’s ear twitched, and she smiled pleasurably as she made her way towards the counter. “Welcome to Carousel Boutique, where every garment is chique, unique, and magnifique. What can I do for you today?”
“Hello, Lady Rarity,” a skinny brown Pegasus said. Rarity eyed the lanyard and note pad knowingly, even as the companion pulled out his camera. “My associate and I here were just wondering if we could ask a few questions for the Whinnypeg Sun?”
“Questions? Why, whatever for, darling?” Rarity asked sweetly as she batted her eyelashes.
“We’re doing an article on the current happenings in and around New Unity after the announcement by Princess Luna at the gala,” Head Liner explained.
“Happenings, you say? Well, I suppose I am a regular at the castle. All the guards come to me for armor and ceremonial designs, along with the occasional fashion piece, and I do collaborate with Hammer Strike on a regular basis. What would you like to know?”
“For starters, we heard that congratulations are in order. Care to explain how Hammer Strike swept you off your hooves?”
Rarity blushed and pawed a hoof on the floor as she looked to the side. “Well, that’s a rather long and complicated story.”
“How long has your relationship with Hammer Strike been going on?”
“You mean the whole time I’ve known him, or when we officially started dating?”
“When you started dating.”
“Well, that’s a bit of a difficult question. I’m not exactly certain when the friendship ended and the dating began. It all just sort of crept up on us, really,” she said as she rolled up her measuring tape and returned it to its place on one of her tool shelves. “I will admit, at first the attraction was more because of the fact he was a lord, and held some standing in the community, not to mention that devilishly handsome figure,” she praised. “But as time passed, I got to know Hammer Strike for the Pony behind the lord. He’s courteous, kind, loyal to a fault, and would do anything to help someone in need. I suppose that may have been what really helped us to connect,” she mused as she tapped a pondering hoof against her chin.
“I imagine you must have some big plans for the wedding. Anything that our readers can expect to hear about?”
“Now now. A bride mustn't reveal her secrets too soon,” Rarity chided with a wink. “But needless to say, the celebration will definitely be one to remember.”
“Okay. Now to more serious matters. There’s been a notable concern stated about the privileges given to Hammer Strike and the military power he’s amassed since his return. What are your thoughts on these statements?”
Rarity laughed. “Why on Equis should anyone be concerned? Hammer Strike is the greatest defender, not only of our nation, but also of the Crystal Empire. He could defeat the Equestrian military on his own with a hoof tied behind his back back when it was at its peak, and he could still dispatch them within a few minutes. If he had any negative designs, I assure you, he would have executed them by now.”
“And your thoughts on the troops from other races Lord Hammer Strike has acquired?”
Rarity shrugged. “Mercenaries to help train, and forces created as boons for deeds done in the past. It’s nothing all that unusual, dearies,” she said as she levitated a tea set in. “Would either of you care for some tea?”
They both shook their heads. “If we could just get a picture for the article, maybe with the ring?” Head Liner asked.
“Certainly, darlings. Though I’m surprised you haven’t asked Hammer Strike. He probably could have answered most of your questions just as easily,” she said as she levitated the box over and mounted the ring on her horn.
The two of them looked at each other, but said nothing. After a few adjustments, Quick Snap nodded with approval as he took his picture and complimented the mare on being so photogenic.
“Well, a girl does have to try her best.” Rarity giggled just as the CMC walked in. She squealed with delight. “Oh, could I get a picture taken with my sister and her friends? Please?”
The four fillies’ eyes widened with delight at the suggestion, and they quickly crowded around Rarity, joining the power of their cuteness to Rarity’s charm. After spending a good five minutes reviving Quick Snap and Head Liner, the photo was taken, and the two news Ponies left with coupons for a free fitting and a half off special on the design of their choice.
Pensword walked through the doors and into the dark coolness of the establishment. “Hello, Berry. How are you doing today?” He asked as he walked up to the bar. He casually looked around. The place was silent and empty.
“Pretty good. Yourself?” Berry asked as she worked on cleaning a glass.
“I am happy to hear that. Things have been … all right on our end,” he replied as he settled in at the stool. “So … how has business been since we left?” he asked with a pang of guilt. “I–” he paused. “Well, I have to say I miss my time staying here.”
“It’s been slow, but steady,” Berry said. “We’re keeping our heads above water.”
“Do you need me to help? Rent out a floor? Pay for you to cater drinks? I mean, well, that is, I might be trying to come back here more often. Catch up on rumors and what is going on in town, that sort of thing. Also ... I am warning you. You’ll get more reporters coming in soon, and … I would be willing to pay for any information you might overhear.”
Berry Punch laughed. “Don’t worry too much, Pensword. We’ll be fine. It’s not like the banks are going to foreclose on an inn their owner thinks highly of.”
“I never bet on luck. I like to stack the deck when I can,” Pensword replied. “Still, I am rebuilding a lot. Also, did Cheerilee ever get over that fact we have Changelings nearby?”
“She’ll live,” Berry said, laughing. “Cheery’s always been a bit high strung. It’s no big deal.”
“Yeah. I have vague memories about when Matthew….” he trailed off for a time. “Berry, when the next few months are done, I would like to return to talking about the history of the United States, starting from the beginning. I want to become just as skilled a storyteller as Grif or Taze are.”
“Just let me know,” Berry said. “I’ll get everything ready.”
“I would like that.” Pensword sighed as he looked over at the piano. “Would you mind?” he asked, motioning to the instrument with a hoof.
“Well that's definitely the first time an adult’s asked like that. Sure. Go ahead. I mean, it’s not like there’s anyone in this early you could chase out anyway.”
“Right. Right,” Pensword said distantly as he moved to sit at the piano bench and looked at the keys, then his hooves, before placing them on the white keys. He paused, giving Matthew the chance to pick the song. As he played, a small smile began to creep up on his muzzle. The scenes of a car chase, a running train, bullwhips and fedora caps raced across his mind.
“Wow,” Berry complimented. “That was pretty good.”
“You think so? I missed a few notes, and it was a little fast in some parts and slower in others, but thank you for the compliment. It has been ages since I have played.” He trailed off as another idea came to him. “Well, that would be an interesting one,” he muttered as he moved to play his next piece. This one was more slow and reserved, and brought to mind the cold void of empty space filled with asteroids and a great moon that fired a powerful beam of what appeared to be concentrated changeling magic. Matthew quickly clarified that it was a separate energy source, but just as powerful.
“I didn’t realise you had time to learn the piano during the war.”
“I didn’t. I was warned that I would get some quirks when I, well…” he paused as he looked to Berry. “You know who I am as well, right?” he asked as the tempo and beat changed into something a little more upbeat. “This is from Matthew.”
“Well it’s coming through very well.”
“Thank you.” Pensword stumbled a little, showing just how difficult it was to talk and play at the same time. “Still, I am going to need to keep this skill alive. If I don’t use it, I will lose it.” As he finished, he changed to an entirely new piece. it felt almost like a fight was building between two sides.
“Maybe you need to get a piano for New Unity?”
“I would enjoy that,” Pensword answered as he wrapped things up with a dramatic and triumphant fanfare. “I remember, well, my–his aunt teaching … us? To play the piano.” He spoke as the music kept playing, only to shift into a new piece with a melancholy tone. “I … miss them,” he admitted after he’d finished the piece. Silence reigned as he struggled to hold back the tears.
“What’s wrong?” Berry asked.
“To me, it has been almost thirty years since I, that is, since Matthew has seen them, his family. I miss them. I cannot think of them without seeing them as creatures of this world, creatures that could be my–” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. “I need to see them soon, or they will become little more than Equines to me, and thus to Matthew. He’s scared.” He sighed. “I … I am sorry. I am talking your ears off. Do you have any requests?”
“Not really.” Berry shrugged. “Not one for piano music normally.”
“Then, if you don’t mind, Matthew wants to play a song that has many meanings to him. Would you like to hear it?”
“Sure. Go ahead,” she said, even as she laid a drink on a chaser next to his hooves. “It’s on the house.”
Pensword nodded his head. He took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. Then he began to play.
Ponies and Gryphons spoke in hushed tones as they eyed the training ground. A match that had not been recorded for well over a thousand years was about to take place as Grif tested out a pair of training blades on one side of the ring. Vigilance and Vengeance lay sheathed on a nearby bench, as Grif felt using them for this exercise would be pointless. Across the ground from him, one of the Kitsune, a stocky solid fox with a scar running down the left side of his face that vanished into the top of his training Gi, stood. He had two tails, and grinned in anticipation as he stretched to warm up. A dao, a massive blade with curved end, sat awaiting the touch of its master. He picked it up in his familiar grip, practicing with a few swings before turning to face Grif.
Earlier, Grif had taken some time to talk with the Kitsune party; those that he could speak to anyway. He had asked about weapons and the Kitsune people’s proficiency with them. This conversation had led to questions regarding Grif’s own abilities, which, thanks to some rather loudmouthed young Gryphons within earshot, had led to someone boasting that their most skilled swordsman would never be able to account for Grif’s speed. This had led to an argument, and despite Grif’s best attempts at finding a peaceful solution…. Well, if he had, he wouldn’t be standing across from a Kitsune with a dao preparing for a sparring match now, would he?
“We really don’t need to do this,” Grif attempted one last time.
The warrior simply smiled. “And yet, the wind seems to blow us together. Can we not simply view this as a test of arms between two warriors skilled in their craft?”
“A test of skill between two such as us should never be forced by the idiotic pride of others,” Grif said. “I’d hate to think this came from someone saying something stupid.”
“And what if I just want to fight simply for the sake of the challenge, and this just happens to give me an opportunity?” he asked with a sly wink.
“Fair enough,” Grif said as he sheathed the blades on his back and stood in a waiting pose in the ring.
The Kitsune sheathed his sword. “Then let us begin.” He entered into a crouching stance, and the pair slowly began to circle one another.
Grif nearly laughed at the confused smirks they got, but he was concentrating on his opponent. The two settled into place, and neither of them moved as their eyes locked. Time seemed to slow as they searched each other for an opening. Then on some unseen or unheard signal, the two sides clashed. The sound of steel on steel echoed through the arena as sparks flew. Grif had his blades crossed and locked against the pressing blade of the Kitsune’s dao sword. At first they seemed frozen, but it soon became clear that Grif was starting to lose ground before he seemed to vanish in a cloud of dust. The kitsune responded by slamming his dao behind his back to block a strike. Before he could properly respond, Grif vanished again, and struck from his side; however, the Kitsune managed to use his dao’s massive weight to pull himself out of reach.
Spinning the dao with one hand blade, the Kitsune advanced. Grif had to jump to avoid the edge hitting his paws. Flipping forward in the air, he brought the blades down where the kitsune’s unprotected back had been moments before. The Kitsune, having rolled out of the way, leapt to his feet before charging with his dao raised. Grif brought his blades up in a cross to block the blow. There was a roar that sounded as the slash landed, and while Grif took the strength of the blow well, the power of the slash was so much that the displaced air from the strike had turned into a blade in and of itself, scoring the stone wall behind Grif.
“You really are very skilled,” Grif commented as he held the dao as best he could in his crossed blades.
“I have trained for many years,” the Kitsune grunted. “A chance to fight a warrior who is not of my species is a special treat indeed, especially if it’s an ancient hero. I apologize in advance,” he said as he promptly slid the blade out of the cross and gave Grif a solid kick to the chest and a second to the chin before finishing the backflip and entering into a battle ready stance.
Grif coughed a bit as he got back to his feet and rubbed his chin. “So you want to kick this up a bit, huh?” He asked, retrieving his blades. The air around him picked up into a small gust as he charged, attacking with a flurry of slashes like a swarm of angry, deadly hornets.
Much to his credit, the Kitsune managed to block a fair number of the strikes, though with Grif’s increased speed, it was impossible to block all. Shifting strategically, he took the blows that would be least painful and grit his teeth before diving beneath with his sword outstretched. Assuming he went uninterrupted, it would slide just beneath the Gryphon’s fur without drawing blood while clearly indicating the technical victory.
His sword slid into it’s target with no real effort. It took him a minute to realise there was no resistance before the afterimage faded from existence.
“Not going to be that easy, my friend,” Grif chuckled, standing a couple of feet away, though he was panting slightly.
“One should never assume so,” the warrior agreed. “To do so leads to consequences,” he said, pointing to his scar-streaked eye. “I believe it is your move.”
Grif nodded, taking a moment to take in the situation and the circumstances. Sliding back into bullet time, he charged along the side of the Kitsune’s uninjured eye, kicking up as much dust as he could before taking to the air and circling around to try and get his opponent’s weak side.
The Kitsune waited, his eyes closed against the cloud and wind that had arisen as he twitched his ears to listen for the attack and sniffed with his nose. “We are trained in more than sight, Grif. But I am sure you knew that already,” he said as he raised his sword to block the first blow. Unfortunately, that left him open to the second strike as Grif arced his sword towards his opponent’s belly.
“Yield,” Grif said as the edge of the sword pressed against the Kitsune’s skin. Bits of fur clippings fell from the contact. Grif was panting heavily, but he held firm.
“At last, a worthy opponent.” the Kitsune nodded his assent as he sheathed his sword. “My name is Yao,” he said by way of introduction.
Grif sheathed his own swords. “And I am Grif. You fought well. Had things been more even, you likely would have trounced me.”
“Perhaps, perhaps not. Fate’s funny like that,” Yao said as he extended a paw.
Grif took it and shook. “I have more speed than anyone should be able to brag about. Without it, I doubt I am so skilled as to be a match for you,” Grif said, trying his best to humble himself. “You worked hard for what you have, and you’re many times my own age. It wouldn’t be much of a contest.”
Yao chuckled. “Then perhaps we can teach you a thing or two during your visit to our lands.”
“I look forward too it.” Grif nodded before turning to the crowd. “Okay, everybody. Show’s over! I know at least half of you are still on duty, so move it!”
A series of grumbles passed between troops as losers in the bets passed their bits in while the victors smiled smugly.
“I look forward to learning more of your style, Grif San.” Yao bowed before making his way back towards his company of fellow warriors.
Grif eyed a trio of young Gryphons attempting to move out of sight. “Uh-uh, you three. You caused this mess. I expect the weapon racks shining so brilliantly that the sun gets jealous,” he ordered. “Now get!”
Hammer Strike sat at his desk, quietly translating the book in front of him. His hoof traced over the words as he pulled sentences together and put them into Equestrian. He wouldn’t be writing these chapters, as they were much too dangerous to try. The further into the book he went, the more he would uncover about this power, and just what it was capable of. But it also uncovered dark secrets that taunted his mind, giving him a faint sensation of paranoia.
He paused, pulling his hoof off the page, and sighed. The later chapters described grand feats that could be accomplished, but the risk of each and every one of them outweighed them tenfold. The one that scared him the most though…
...The Primal…
“Watch’a doooooin’?”
Hammer Strike jolted out of his thoughts. He hadn’t heard any hoofsteps. But that was impossible.
This time, a giggle sounded behind him. “Oh, so close. Turn around, silly. Maybe you’ll catch me this time.” The voice was young, energetic, but more playful than mocking, almost as if this were all a game.
Hammer Strike turned to see a grinning foal, no taller than his chest. The young colt had to be one of the most bizarre things he had seen to date. Black and white stood in perfect symmetry. A feathered white wing on his right stood open, while on its opposite, a black Thestral wing extended. His ears were much the same way, each an opposite. The white ear was the same you’d find on any other Pony, while the black ear was tufted and twitched. A single fang stood out from the grin, and two eyes, one red and one blue, stared back with impish delight. The tail seemed constantly in flux. One moment it appeared as bright as the sun, the next as dark and empty as a black hole. A tiny spiral horn rose up from his brow, a mixture of red and gold with the slightest curve.
“Finally! It took you long enough.” The colt giggled again. “You had to find the Primal before you could see me.”
“Knowledge of the Primal has nothing to do with this.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “Now, would you mind explaining just who you are?”
“I’ll give you three questions. Yes or no. Feel free to guess as much as you want. I don’t mind.”
After a moment Hammer Strike frowned. “Fine, I’ll play along. You snuck inside here without so much as a creak of the floorboards, and I get this weird feeling just with you being near. Are you some presence in a similar fashion to Death, just not of the … dead?”
The colt giggled. “Yup! Good job. Death’s my big brother. He’s new to the family, but he’s a lot of fun to tease, especially after you punch him so hard.”
“I don’t mean to be so mean to him. It just happens that way,” Hammer Strike commented before humming. “Given the three yes or no questions, are you someone along the lines of an embodiment of luck?”
“Eww! Luck’s my big sister. No way I’d come from her!” He made a fake retching noise, even as he stuck his tongue out at the idea.
“Didn’t mean it in that sense, but … okay?” Hammer Strike said, confused for the moment. “Related to luck, but you don’t strike me as an opposite. You strike me more as … Chance? You give the idea of fifty fifty.”
The colt’s horn glowed and a bell rang three times in the air before disappearing. “That’s right! Great job.” He grinned. “I’ve been following you guys for ages.”
“Oh boy…” Hammer said, unsure of how to feel. “I’ve gone past seeing Death. Why do I get the feeling there is quite a bit of individuals like the both of you?”
“Our family’s huge!” Chance flew up and spread his hooves as wide as he could manage. “And it’s always growing or shrinking with each new race and world. Pretty cool, huh?”
“Am I just able to see you and Death, or should I feel worried?”
“Yes.”
“Of course. Nothing can be simple.”
Chance shrugged. “I wouldn’t say nothing. It’s fifty-fifty. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be around, and everything would be so boring!”
“Bring a bunch of the family next time. We’ll play poker or some nonsense,” Hammer Strike said, his voice heavy with sarcasm.
Chance gasped. “That’s a great idea!”
“Note to self. Learn to play poker,” Hammer Strike commented softly. “Because knowing my luck … it’ll happen.”
Chance shrugged. “You never know.” Then he smirked. “Then again, I might pull some strings.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “What brings you here, Chance? More than testing strings on if I can see you.”
“You know Pinkie’s Pinkie sense?”
“The base idea of it, yes. Why?”
“Cause I felt a doozie when you were looking over the page,” he said casually. “Heck, my whole family probably felt it. It’s probably part of why I appeared to you.”
“These pages hold information that any normal person would pass up. They list feats of creation and destruction on the level of gods,” Hammer explained. “This book teaches those with this power the way to go against everything ever considered fact.”
“So pretty much the power to chain me.” He frowned. “I don’t like being tied up.”
“Then it’s a good thing that only I can read these pages.”
“Don’t tell my sisters.” Chance shuddered.
“I didn’t want anyone to know. But I guess it’s better to have one know, especially since you can convey the feeling to your siblings. I’ll let you choose who you tell.”
Chance nodded. “So uh, I noticed you’re kinda bored most of the time.” This time a mischievous grin crossed his muzzle, and his voice warped. “Would you like to play a game?”
“What do you got?”
Then the moment passed, and his voice was normal again. “What do you like to play most?”
Pensword smiled as he entered his office. That piano session had been just what he’d needed. He turned to put his cloak up on a rack, then turned back to his desk. He froze when he saw who was sitting in his chair.
Death looked at pensword, lifted a bony hoof, and casually waved.
“Yo.”
Pensword looked down at the floor, checked to make sure his body was still corporeal, then looked back up again. “I am not dead,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Good … for you?” Death said, somewhat confused.
“Well … you are Death, so one does tend to assume…. Is someone close to me going to die soon? Is this a courtesy call?”
“No. Just wanted to be somewhere quiet while my little brother bothers Hammer Strike.” Death Shrugged.
“So my office was the logical choice?” Pensword asked as he moved to sit down in a chair. He did recall that those with the sight could sit in Death’s presence.
“Well, it was deserted,” Death said.
“The lower levels are as well,” Pensword noted. “Or the woods.” His left ear twitched spasmodically as he finally processed the fact that Death had mentioned a brother. “Why are you here? From what I know, my position allows me to ask this question without reprimands from you, Death,” he said in as calm and polite a way he could manage.
“I already answered that,” Death pointed out.
“But why would you need to babysit your brother? Should you and your kin not be able to take care of yourselves?”
“Mom’s very protective of him.”
“Ah, I....” Pensword stopped. Matthew nodded the muzzle in understanding.
“He’s still a kid for the most part.” Death shrugged. “He likes to play around with people.”
“That makes me nervous, to be honest,” Pensword replied. Something was tickling the back of his head, but he wasn’t sure why. “So you finally came to talk to me, or did I finally come to you to talk?”
“Yes,” Death answered.
“I suppose I deserved that answer,” Pensword muttered flatly. He shifted nervously as he realized that if anypony else entered the room, they would see him talking to empty air. He knew that was normal to most of the Ponies, but for some reason, Matthew still felt fear over it. “Why do I feel like you have something to tell me?”
“That must be a weird feeling,” Death said nonchalantly.
“Indeed,” Pensword muttered. “I thought you would be some wise being ready to teach those that have the sight.”
“Yeah. I don’t do that,” Death said.
“I can see that,” Pensword muttered. “Is it because you are scared of me?”
“No, more because I have other things to do.” Death shrugged.
“Good. Then I am not on Death’s radar at this moment.”
Death cracked his bony neck and rose. “Anyway, I suppose I should go check on those two. One of them is possibly the scariest force of destruction ever known, and then, of course, there’s Hammer Strike”
“I am suddenly worried,” Pensword muttered. “This could cause a lot of … discord. I hope he is far away.”
Death laughed hard as he walked away through the closed door. His voice lingered, even as he left Pensword’s sight. “You think Discord’s a threat? That’s a good one.”
Pensword sat there, bewildered. “Old habits die hard, I guess,” he muttered, then shook his head as he pulled out his special store of sugar cane and immediately started chewing.
Conor smiled as he finished his set of pushups and situps in the courtyard by the new barracks construction zone, a little flushed and winded, but still ready for more. “I’m getting better,” he said as the smile turned to a grin. “Finally.”
“Yes. Pretty soon you’ll be able to keep up with the rookies’ physical fitness schedule,” Black Rook chuckled.
“Hey, considering how bad I was when I first arrived, you have to admit it’s been pretty good progress.” Conor chuckled goodnaturedly. “You really love busting recruits’ chops, don’t you, Rook?”
“As of last week, it’s my job description,” Black Rook replied.
“Thanks. Say, have you considered maybe inviting the Kitsune along for the run? It’d be interesting to see how well the troops can keep up with them, and maybe help foster some relations between Equestria and Neighpon, too.”
“They seem reluctant to talk with us more than they have to.” Rook shrugged.
“If they’re anything like their counterpart in my world, they’re probably mostly an isolationist nation. They’re afraid of what may happen if their cultures mix too much, especially if what I’ve heard about them being record keepers is true. They’re basically the guardians of the most unbiased treasure trove of historical knowledge in the world. But that doesn’t mean that the warriors in their escort might not like the challenge. I think Yao showed that pretty well when he fought Grif.”
“Well Grif’s a famed swordsman in his own right, isn’t he?” Rook said pointedly. “Listen, Conor, this is thousands of years worth of mentalities to work with. It’s not going to be so easy as walk up and say hi.”
“Ten bits says you’re wrong.”
“Don’t gamble,” Rook said. “And aren’t you going to be late for class?”
“Today’s fitness day,” Conor said with a shrug. “And we haven’t gone on our run yet. Also, just for the record, the gamble was more of an expression. I don’t really gamble, and I would’ve told you to keep the money if I’d won.”
“Well then you’d better go get in line with the others, hadn’t you?” Rook said with a smirk. “Grif’s been noting a drop in the last few runs from the others. He wants me to run in full armor to give them a bit of a kick.”
“Give me a second.” Conor ran off to the camp where the Kitsunes were currently enjoying a cup of tea. “My apologies for intruding,” he said with a bow. “My name is Conor. I’m a human from another world, and the guardsponies have been helping me to get in shape to face the challenges this world has to offer. We were just about to start a training run, and I was wondering if any of you would care to join us. The Everfree is actually rather beautiful as long as you know the right trails to stay on.”
They stared at him for a moment before one of them cleared his throat slowly. “We are honored by your offer, my friend, but we must respectfully decline.”
“I see.” Conor nodded. “I hope you continue to enjoy your stay.” He smiled then and bowed. “Sayonara.” Then he returned to Black Rook and rolled his eyes. “Okay, you were right.”
“Get in line,” Rook said.
“Yes, Sir,” Conor sighed as he joined with the other Ponies.
Without a word, Rook made his way to the armory to don his armor.
Big Mac grinned as he carried the giant cartful of apples past the outer gate and into the Bladefeather compound proper. There seemed to be an unusual spring to his step as he mosied along, nodding occasionally to the passing Gryphon as he made his way towards the kitchens and bakery, sloughing off his harness as he arrived between the two buildings.
“Special delivery from Sweet Apple Acres,” he called.
“Thank you,” a large panther-bodied, hawk-headed female said as she moved in to help him with the harness. “I hope the trip wasn’t too rough.”
“Nope,” Big Mac replied with his characteristic simplicity.
“Good to hear. Let’s see. Is it still two beaks to a bit?” she asked as she began counting out money.
Big Mac shrugged. “Grif’s already paid for it, ma’am. You can settle it with him.”
“Well then,” she said, giving him a few bills. “Take this as a tip. We appreciate you being so willing to come all the way out here.”
“No trouble, ma’am,” he said. Then he blushed. “Uh … you wouldn’t happen to know a girl by the name of Little Willow, would ya?”
“You won’t find a Gryphon with the name of Bladefeather who doesn’t,” she laughed.
“Think you can point me in the right direction?”
“She and her brother are probably in their house. It’s just down there at the end of the row, the one on your left,” she said.
Big Mac grinned and let out a whicker of excitement. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said. Then he was off, storming like a freight train before finally coming to a halt at the door in question. He took a brief moment to compose himself, then knocked loudly with his hoof.
Tall Oak answered the door and gave Big Mac a taciturn look that would have been threatening for anyone who didn’t know him. “Mac,” he said simply.
“Oak,” Big Mac said back. Then he cleared his throat. “Is Willow in?”
“Willow! Mac!” Tall Oak said as if these words should explain the entirety of the situation, which at least for Little Willow, it seemed to, as she was rather suddenly at the door.
Big Mac blushed. “H-hiya, Willow,” he said as he rubbed a hoof over his mane.
“Hey, hun,” she said as Oak made his way out of the scene, leaving the two alone.
“Been doin’ okay?” he asked.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” She chuckled as she left the house and closed the door. “Not like there’s anything you should be afraid of, right?”
Big Mac chuckled. “Nope.” Then he moved in and kissed her. “How’s the tree?”
“Doing fine,” she said. “How’s Granny? That balm help with her pains?”
“Eeyup,” he said with a smile. “Wanna go out?”
“You don’t have to run back to the farm for chores?” she asked a bit surprised.
“Nope,” he said with a smirk. “Applejack.”
“Well this is a pleasant change.” She grinned as she opened the door and, out of reflex, grabbed her dagger belt from the hanger and strapped it on. “Usually I have to drag you away.”
“Granny said we needed the time.” He sidled up next to Little Willow and nuzzled her affectionately. “So where’d you like to go?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. “Maybe we should head for Ponyville and see what's happening? I mean there aren’t a lot of places to eat here that don’t carry the scent of meat.”
Big Mac shrugged and smiled. “Anything you want.”
“Promises, promises.” She giggled as they walked.
“Just wanna make you happy,” he said as he fixed her with an adoring stare.
“You already do,” she told him. “You don’t need to work at it.”
Big Mac chuckled. “Work is kind of my thing.” Then a thought struck him. “I haven’t introduced you to our a capella group yet, have I?”
“Not yet,” she said. “You mentioned them once or twice though.”
“Want a private performance?” He asked, smiling playfully at her.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Don’t you need three other ponies for a quartet?”
“Eeyup. Still don’t mean we can’t sing just for you though.” Then he kissed her on the head.
“You know I’m a millennium older than you.” She laughed “It’s so weird. I had to travel a thousand years forward in time to find you.”
“Nope,” Big Mac said. “I would’ve come back for you.” He grinned at her.
“Somehow I don’t doubt that. But I’m still glad we’re in the safer of the times.”
“Says the girl who took on eight Changelings by herself.”
“Eight changelings are worth about four Gryphons from the Gryphon Wars,” she said.
“Eeyup,” he said pointedly.
“So how are things looking for the zap apple harvest?” she asked.
Big Mac smirked. “Buffer crop. You want a jar?”
“I wish you’d let me help. Do I need to be wearing the wedding clip before I get to find out about them?”
Big Mac shrugged. “Dunno. Y’never asked. We can see, if ya like.”
“It would be good practice for when we’re living together on the farm,” she noted. “Don’t you think?”
Big Mac blushed. “Eeyup.”
“So has granny been dropping ideas for names yet?” Willow chuckled. “Told you how many great grandchildren she’s expecting?”
Big Mac took Little Willow in his hooves and smiled as he leaned his head lightly on hers. “That’s for us to decide now, ain’t it?”
“Maybe.” She laughed. “But I never got a chance to hear my grandmother nag me about my future.”
“Then the farm it is.” He smirked as they walked together, hoof in hoof into the forest.
Pensword was happily invested in his paperwork and writing: filling out reports, making official requests, filing approvals for advancement. This was his element. Still, despite how skillful he’d become at the job, it didn’t change the odiousness of the task when it went for too long. With any luck, that request he’d submitted would be approved by the diarchy, and he would soon have a personal cadre of logistic troops to help manage the load. Already he had been able to delegate a portion of his paperwork to lower ranking officers, so the transition shouldn’t be too terrible.
A loud, solid knock sounded at his office door.
Pensword paused. He knew the guards on duty would have vetted any unexpected visitors, and he wondered who it might be. “Enter,” he called as he returned to signing another piece of parchment.
The door opened to reveal a heavyset Pony with a giant crate for his cutie mark. “Got a special delivery here for a Commander Pensword from the Crystal Empire. Sign here, please,” the stallion said in a Jersey accent.
“Sure,” Pensword responded while Matthew was thrown for a loop by the accent. Matthew tried to understand how that dialect ended up in Equestria while Pensword waited for the documents to be placed on the table. “Where are the crates being stored?”
“We’re waiting for direction.” The stallion shrugged. “You know how it goes. Where do you want ‘em?”
“Well,” Pensword began, “I think…” He frowned. “Preston!” He shouted.
“Yes, Commander?” Preston asked as he appeared at the door.
“I need you to get some troops to move equipment to vault one eleven. I want this done in the next half hour. You can leave the crates in the courtyard for the moment. I’ll have Lightning Dust guard them while we get a moving crew of our own to transport them to their final destination.”
“You’re the boss,” the moving Pony said as he made his way back out into the halls, but his yell made it sound like he was still in the room. “Alright, ya lazy colts, you heard the commander. Move it, move it, move it!”
“Just five years younger and he would have made a nice drill sergeant,” Pensword muttered with a grin. “Now then.” Pensword got up. He walked out of the office as a white stallion approached via the hall. “I take it that our staff is ready for tests and assembly prototypes in Vault one zero one. I want to have this little project up and running so when the military is fully signed in, we can have our tables ready to go. Also, how is the dummy company for finding future tactical leaders?”
“Our first major demonstration will be unveiled in the next two weeks,” the stallion reported. “After that, it is highly probable most arcades will seek to make use of the new technology.”
“Of course. And the wealthy will buy them for their own homes. What I want is to try and get the Mark Xes small enough that folks like Button Mash can have them in their homes. Which reminds me, rig a contest to get Button Mash one of them.”
“With all due respect, Sir, why not just give it to him?” the guard asked.
“Because this way we can get a list of future candidates, and we can roll out future test platforms. Yes, we can just give it to him, but with this contest, we can find out more information and details. If we move this direction, we will be able to build a solid base of future testers and fans. After all, we will have consolation prizes and gifts for those not elected, and we can always say that putting your name in the hat might get a future release to them.”
“Truly devious, Sir,” the guard complimented.
“Thank you. Now please, if you have not already, inform MeMe that I will meet her in vault one eleven.”
The guard saluted. “Yes, Sir.” And then he was gone.
Pensword stood in his office and smiled. He was going to teach tactics and strategy by games, and he might just organize official tournaments like… He frowned as Matthew filled in the country’s name. “Humans are mighty strange,” he whispered to himself. “What kind of a name is South Korea?”
Grif looked over his list one last time as the Gantrithor was loaded down. Genevieve had returned home two days ago, and everything seemed right for the trip to Neighpon. Grif had selected his honor guard to accompany him on the Gantrithor, but not into Neighpon itself unless required. He’d seen that the larders had enough preserved meat for their stay, and packed up some goods and recently recovered treasures for trade or tribute. The doctor in Equestria had cleared Avalon for the trip, and he was sure he had everything sorted out for his absence.
Given the distance of the trip, it was decided to test the ship under a full staff, rather than just the necessary occupants. Gryphons, Thestrals, and Ponies of all tribes had been selected to look after the various areas of the ship, and fill the small accompaniment of soldiers that Hammer Strike had somewhat begrudgingly allowed Grif and Pensword to take. The goods had been Grif’s idea, seeing as they had no basis for the value of bits to whatever the Kitsune Empire used for money. The delegation had been somewhat secretive about the subject. Goods were, of course, always of some value, and Grif hoped that if push came to shove, the gemstones and antiques would be eye-catching enough to be of value as curiosities.
“Everything's all right from my end,” Grif noted as he continued to look over his list while Pensword approached from behind.
“Everything is fine on my end as well,” Pensword answered. “Also, Fox Feather, Lunar Fang, and I talked, and we feel that a military wedding on the Giant will do, so we are going to have a military wedding. That means the family is coming, and the Demon Slayers, as they will then interview and put their stories into the archives, and we will have more views on the failed coup.”
“The giant?” Grif raised an eyebrow. “You named my ship the Giant?” he chuckled.
“It is a nickname. Enterprise was call the Big E, Queen Mary was called the Grey Ghost, the Constitution gained the name Old Ironside, so I am using tradition to have a nickname. It might stick, or it might not, but I am doing it regardless.”
“Okay,” Grif said, “you have everything you want to bring on board?”
“Everything I need. Not everything I wanted. After all, I have to wait for whenever it is that Discord is finished, which surprise was ruined due to Conor’s meddling. Anyway, I wanted to show off Earth, but that can wait for another day.” He paused. “What happened to the flag I gave you for Hearth’s Warming?”
“I keep it above my mantle at present.”
“Matthew and I are both happy to hear that. I, personally, am just a stranger privy to information that has more meaning.” He smiled. “Well then, I think I am going to the captain's quarters, since I assume Hammer Strike and Rarity will be taking the imperial quarters, and you and your wives are taking the Admiral’s Quarters.”
“Me and Avalon,” Grif corrected. “The doctor has decided Shrial is too far along to travel that far.”
“I am sorry to hear that. I was hoping to have them help be some of Fox Feather’s honor guard.” He frowned. “We decided to do a full combination of Thestral and Pegasus war weddings to honor the cultures we are more accustomed to.”
“I have to say the thestrals have adapted to areas of the ship with impressive ease. It usually takes a couple of years of training to master those Ballistas”
“We are a warrior society. Plus, you think I didn't have some of our development teams copy what they could from the Ballistas on board the moment we got home? We have been using vaults sixty and sixty six for weapon tests of these machines.”
“I’m still wondering how you convinced Caring Circlet to rename the cannon systems Yamato,” Grif chuckled.
“I told her about the Yamato, both historical and the anime. She liked it,” Pensword answered simply.
“And you’ve come to check if things are prepared for your master?” Grif said, turning to Vital Spark as he approached, grinning. “Nice cloak.”
Vital rolled his eyes. “Clover insisted I wear it. I know they can be functional and really helpful, but I feel ridiculous in this thing.”
“Nonsense,” Grif said. “A cloak is easy to make work. A pointed hat, now that would have been ugly.”
“Unless I grew a beard, of course. Then I might make it work. Merlin sure did,” he said with a playful smirk.
“Merlin never wore a pointed hat,” Grif said dismissively. “Thats just added for flare.”
“And Starswirl?”
“Well, he did wear the hat, but he also believed mercury should be sold as a children's toy.” Grif shrugged.
“From what Clover’s told me, that was the least of his quirks.”
“It was a harder time.” Grif nodded. “I only saw a few years of it, and it made a new person out of me. He was over seven hundred years old when he died. If I get that old, and a few quirks is the worst of it, I’ll consider myself lucky. But no Gryphon’s gotten that old since the betrayal.”
“Which one?”
“Which what?”
“Which betrayal? Your species goes through those an awful lot. … No offense.”
“No, that's a coup,” Grif said. “When a Gryphon speaks about the betrayal, we’re referring to when the Diamond Dogs cut us off from our gods, sending us into chaos, and forcing our lifespans to quicken.”
“You mean shorten?”
“That's the modern term for it, yeah. A thousand-year-old Gryphon used to be something every clan had. We were united, had our order and universal honor. But without the winds, our culture fell.”
“Is that why you’re always fighting?”
“Yes. Fighting us, fighting Minotaurs, and the war against the Ponies until Celestia reminded the empire why she is considered so dangerous. War is the one thing we do best as a culture. And sadly, it’s become the only thing that most of us have wanted to do.” Grif sighed. “And what I’m trying to work against.”
“And doing a fine job of it, I might add,” Vital said pointedly.
“For a handful of Gryphons, yes,” Grif said as he set his list down. “But I’m supposed to bring great change for my race.”
“And you will. You said you had a plan, right? And I’m guessing you’ve consulted with your gods about it, and they gave you approval, so it’s really just a matter of pushing through and having faith in the plan.”
“I’ve spoken with their children, but I can’t actually speak to the Winds themselves. Still, now you know why Gryphons despise Diamond Dogs most of all.”
“It’s a sad thing to lose people you love,” Vital agreed. “It’s no wonder you’re so angry at them.”
“But this impromptu history lesson needs to end here for now. You can tell Clover the three rooms she requested have been prepared, but under no circumstances can we give her such a large fire pit for a cauldron in the center of the room.”
“Aye aye, mon capitan,” Vital said with a salute and a smile. Then he moved up and hugged the Gryphon. “If it makes you feel any better, I certainly believe in you.” Then he left.
“Okay, Pensword, you can send Hammer Strike a message that we are ready to board when he’s ready.”
“Roger,” Pensword commented as he turned around and opened the cover to one of the talking tubes. “Light up the lights. Signal that Hammer Strike can come aboard.”
Hammer Strike made his way onto the ship, having already stored whatever he would need for the journey on board.
Rarity followed close behind. She had surprised those around by only packing three steamer trunks of clothing. She looked around in her flowing gown, but the occasional catch as it swished around her body helped to reveal the carefully concealed light armor beneath it.
“This is so exciting.” She giggled to herself. “Maybe I can pick up a few trinkets for my friends. That is, if you don’t mind, Hammer?” She asked as she fluttered her eyelashes and smiled coyly.
“Not at all.”
“I’m so happy to hear that,” she responded before trailing off as they entered the ship. “Oh my. I could do so much with this hallway.” She scanned the walls and piping for the communications system. “Hammer, darling, I’ll meet you for dinner. I need to get a closer look at–” She gasped suddenly. “IDEA!” she sing-songed as she trotted down a corridor.
“She’s not going to pretty up my ship, is she?” Grif asked, approaching Hammer Strike.
“She knows her limits.”
“Good. I do not want to have a Queen Mary of a warship,” Pensword said. “That being said, I would love to have her design a luxury ocean liner.”
“We can ask her to help with that when the stormstone cores arrive,” Grif said after having convinced Daedalus to give them five. “Anyway, everyone’s as ready as they’ll ever be. Troops are in the barracks, weapons are in the armory, and cooks are in the kitchen. We have enough food to feed everyone on board for a month, and enough varied valuables to hopefully be worth something. All we need is the word.”
“Then let’s get on our way. It might be time to press the throttle a little, see how fast we can go before everyone gets motion sick,” Hammer Strike commented.
“You heard him, Pensword. Give the order,” Grif said.
Pensword smiled. Instead of using the voice pipe, he made his way to the bridge. He looked around as the crew stopped and stood at attention.
“Command on deck!” they shouted.
“At ease, everyone. The word is given. Take us out at fifty percent full throttle,” Pensword ordered, knowing that was at least twice as fast as any ship in the air. He could feel Matthew grinning in his head.
Grif nodded to a Thestral beside a record player, who immediately lowered the needle. The ship began blasting an orchestral version of the Star Wars score.
Pensword tried to keep a straight face. Matthew, on the other hoof, was laughing up a storm, which manifested in a series of tremors that flowed through his equine body.
Outside the ship, those who were staying behind watched as it detached from the air dock and began to rotate. The day had been slated to be cloudy, but a small hole had been left open for the ship to exit through. The engines glowed a cherry red as they adjusted themselves to the bearing that had been set. The shadow of the ship seemed to eclipse the sun and cast everyone in the fortress in darkness, giving the illusion of a night illuminated by giant red stars. When the ship reached the appropriate direction, the glow intensified, and with a loud whooshing sound, the ship sped away. The clouds around its exit hole dispersed, torn apart by the pressure of the air coming off the ship.
Twilight, who had been watching from the ground below, turned to her assistant. “Spike, take a note. We need to create a corridor for the Gantrithor to travel safely into and out of this area. I can already tell Rainbow Dash is going to complain about the air wakes the Gantrithor leaves when it travels.”
“You want me to send a letter to Princess Celestia, too?” Spiked asked.
“No, Spike. I want to take care of this by myself.” She tapped a hoof against her chin. “And maybe the girls, too,” she amended.