//------------------------------//
// Time After Time 
// Story: My Little Dragon 
// by Metal Pony Fan 
//------------------------------//

	A short, silver-spectacled dragon kicked the door shut behind him.  His black scales shimmered when he moved, broken by a pattern of light blue scales scattered across his body and a leather belt loaded down with pouches.  He teetered on his hind legs, as his his forelegs were tied up with stacks of papers, folders, and a clipboard or two.   "I've got the info you asked for, Boss."

He took two more steps before looking down and dropping the papers.  The point of a blade was at his throat, the smooth curves of a khukuri, its etched lines of damascus steel as twisted as the snarling face of its wielder.  He slowly looked up, realizing his mistake.  She hated being called that.

"What was that?" The angry dragoness asked.  Her pink scales rippled, and the short, pale, purple fur that lined her back bristled.  She stood three times taller than him, hunched over in the short-ceilinged room.  "I didn't quite hear you," then, she spat out the short dragon's rank like she was spitting out a tooth, "Specialist."

"Apologies, I, um, I got the info you asked for, Centurion."  He slowly leaned down to pick up one of the folders.  The blade lowered enough not to skewer him, but not enough for him to relax.  "Witness reports say that, um, the other centurion was taken out of the picture before any actual fighting occurred.  The green drake currently in custody seems to have a history with this town, and a bloody one at that.  He's a bandit by the name of Koro, and led a band of raiders in an attack on the town a number of years ago.  This resulted in a number of both criminals and civilians injured or dead."

The blade retreated with a swish, joining its twin in the scabbards on the centurion's back.  Her swirl-shaped right eye flashed as she shut it, pulling a leather eye-patch down over it.  "I hate asking this, but any notable casualties?"

The folder opened, and the drake skimmed the list of names and timeline on the first page.  "The forest guardian was the first casualty.  He took down three of approximately fourteen attackers in mass combat.  Second casualty was the local librarian, a millenial dragon who flat out ate two attackers, and flattened another two.  Took several years for him to succumb to a rather extensive list of devastating injuries."

The centurion nodded, face unable to decide on a smile of pride or a show of pain for the loss of innocent life.  "Tough old bastards, small towns usually have a few."

"This town has its share of tough kids too."  The short dragon flipped a page.  "The librarian's assistant at the time, the white dragon who accompanied Centurion Spike into the E.R., killed another two, though she is most likely unaware of this."

The pink Centurion sat down, cross-legged in a corner, raising an eyebrow.  "Unaware that she killed two dragons?"

"According to these notes, she was rather young, and has an unidentified and abnormal magical talent, and was apprenticed to the librarian for the purpose of controlling it.  It was by his request that she not be told.  It was also by his request that she took in his grandchild, a hatchling who currently serves as the current librarian... of sorts."  He sighed as he turned to the next page.  "The gang of attackers hightailed it out of the town proper in the midst of all that, and ended up on a small farm near the edge of town.  The owners and their single employee each took down another of the gang, but then the leader made his move.  Both farmers ended up dead, their helper was raped, and three hatchlings ended up orphans living with their grandmother."

One more page, and the small dragon leaned towards what he was reading.  "According to this, Koro and his last remaining raider were chased out of town shortly afterward by a single hatchling, also displaying an abnormal magical ability."  He reached the end of the page, and straightened up.  "Oh.  It was General Ice Heart's grand-daughter, Ice Empress Fluttershy."

The female Centurion nodded.  "I've heard she was a good fighter.  It's a shame she decided to become a forest guardian in the middle of nowhere instead of following her Grandfather into the military.  It would be nice to have a fellow female Centurion to talk to.   Or at least another dragon Centurion."

"Sure," the short drake agreed with a shrug, "but she probably wouldn't end up under her grandfather's command like you and Spike.  Kind of like how you weren't assigned to your father's ranks."

Her sword flashed forth once more, faster than the spectacled dragon could follow until it was once more pointed at him.  "What have I said about mentioning that creature in my presence?"

Papers fell from his folder, now neatly sliced in two, and the short drake offered a nervous chuckle.  "Which one?  Spike, or your father?"

"Either one," she answered flatly.

"Um," he reached down for the pieces of the last page in the report, "never do it?"

"Yes.  I will forgive the mention of Spike since it is related to our investigation, and we are in the hospital waiting for him to die-"

"Actually, a nurse I spoke to said he would be making a full recovery."

"Ugh.  Of course he is.  Whatever.  Any news on the dragon that took Koro down this time?  That bandit would be a formidable opponent for anyone."

He held up the two pieces of his last page.  "It seems that it was one of the orphaned hatchlings from the first attack, a red drake.  The witnesses referred to him by the name Mac."

The centurion's head tilted to the side and she placed her sword back in the scabbard with a slow, absent-minded motion.  "Mac?  A red farmboy?  That sounds like the recruit from the Dunbar incident."

The specialist nodded.  "I haven't gone to see for myself, but I believe it is ma'am."

The centurion rested her claws on her knees.  "You never got a chance to thank him, did you?"

"No one did.  He left the moment the doctors signed his exemption papers.  It was the middle of the night, and he was long gone by morning.  Do you really think he walked straight home after that?"

"I guess so.  I really wanted him under my command, too.  He never properly joined, but still saved more lives than most will in their entire career."  She shook her head.  "Any dragon can fight another dragon, but it takes courage or idiocy to run headfirst into an avalanche."

"If it's all the same to you, ma'am, I'll call it courage.  A lot of recruits, especially us smaller ones, wouldn't have made it off that mountain if it weren't for him."

Her face finally settled on a small smile.  "I will have to thank him myself then."





"Hey, don't stir so hard, you're gonna spill!"

"Then quit staring!"  A tan dragon clad in steel armor tossed his wooden spoon at his silvery-grey companion.  He was by far the taller of the two, and had to aim down at the pointy scaled annoyance.  "What are you looking at anyway?" he asked in a huff, adjusting the soup pot hanging over their campfire.

The tiny dragon dodged the spoon with ease, and shrugged at the question.  "I was only looking at your armor.  You had to get it somewhere, right?  Then that corpse we found had to get his armor somewhere too, right?"

"And your point?"  Armor took a sniff of the soup.  It was coming along nicely.  "How do you know he didn't make it himself?"

"Even if he did, you saw all those weapons laying around, right?"  Scales picked up the spoon and licked the soup end of it.  Tasty.  "There seemed to be at least three distinct design styles.  Even if one of those styles is his, he had weapons from at least two other makers.  Maybe we can track those and determine his identity."

"You really think the boss hasn't thought of that?  She's one of the top Centurions, and on the short list to become one of the next generals.  She probably has four-eyes looking into it already."  The armored drake gestured across the clearing.  There, away from the fire, sat a cage of gossamer steel, an enchanted material made from modified ore-spider's silk.  The thin strings were all but invisible in the waning light, only reflecting dancing sparks of firelight.  The cage's occupant, left claw torn and bleeding from testing the wire's stength, glared at his captors.  "Besides, I bet you we can get everything we need from this little scumbag."

Koro let out a low growl.  "Open the cage, and see what you get."  Wounds covered his body, and every movement sent pain shooting down his back.  "I will kill you, and raze the town to the ground."

"Yeah, yeah," silver waved a claw, "don't give up on your dreams, big guy, they's all you've got left, right?"  She pointed the spoon at him, waving it in little circles.  "You got your tail handed to you by a local farmer, right?  And our boss is the daughter of General Discord, right?  And she's super pissed about something, right?  There wouldn't be enough of ya left to interrogate."

"True," said a gravelly voice behind her, "there won't be."

When she turned, she saw a large, brown drake standing over her armored comrade.  No blood was obvious, just a large dent in the chestplate of the armor.  "Pentarch!"

"He's still alive."  Stahl kicked the limp body away, sending him crashing into the cooking soup, dumping it into the fire and creating a cloud of steam.  "You two are of no consequence to me.  I will not kill you unless necessary.  Needless to say, though I will say it anyway, please do not make it necessary."  He started forward.  "Now, if you'll excuse, I need to have a word with my subordinate."  A swipe of his claw, too fast for her to even try to block, tossed the smaller dragon and a good chunk of earth into the trunk of the nearest tree.  "Privately," Stahl added.

"Took you long enough, Stahl."  Koro stood up, ignoring the grinding feeling in his spine.  "The big one has the keys.  Let me out and we can finish this."

"You seem confused."  Stahl didn't even spare a glance back.  He kept up his grim pace until he was standing before the cage.  "You finished exactly what you needed to do."  He reached up and grabbed a handful of the steel threads.  As he squeezed them together, the rest of the cage shifted, walls closing in on Koro.

Koro took a step back.  "Wait!"  He looked around him, the memory of testing the wires fresh in his mind as the walls grew closer.  The wires didn't cut into Stahl like they had him.  "What are you doing?"

Another squeeze of the claw, and Stahl shrunk the cage a little more.  "If you'll pardon the pun, I'm tying up a loose end."  He brought his other claw up to the wires grabbed another claw full.  "None of you were ever expected to survive.  We only wanted to focus some attention on that hatchling and her caretaker.  A failed kidnapping would surely draw some eyes from above."  He continued to crush the cage together until he and Koro were face to face.  "We never expected you to actually injure the Crown Prince of Draconica."

With that, Koro understood.  He had been dead from the moment he accepted the money.  He had been chosen because of his history with the town, because they knew he wouldn't ask too many questions after being offered a chance at revenge.  He was a pawn, used to lure out a higher ranking piece, and discarded once the play was over.  This was one step in a far grander plan.

A plan he wouldn't be around to see completed.

As the cage drew in around him, Koro offered up all his anger, pain, and futile rage in one final scream.  "Stahl!!!"






"Are you sure?"  Derpy limped towards the hospital door, joining Fire flash at the threshold.  Her right claw was wrapped in a cushioned support.  Apparently, punching things with a boulder in your claw is not good for your tendons.  That and the various small injuries made it painful to move around.  She just wanted to go home, hug her daughter, and sleep for a few days.  "You haven't had a chance to recover at all."

Fire Flash shrugged.  "I know, but I can't put this off."  He was in worse condition than she was.  His left eye was gone.  The surgeon had tried to remove the lead pellets, but the point blank concussive blast left very little to even try and salvage.  They ended up sewing the lid shut after removing everything.  His wings were in tatters.  The membranes were so torn that the doctors actually had to sew patches of fabric in to guide the growth of new tissue, and the limbs were hardly any better.  They had to pull most of the scales off, and with all the stitches they put in after that, disfigured was the best case scenario.  "Before I go, I wanted to thank you.  We made a pretty good team out there."

"We still could," she said softly.  "If I tell them what you did, maybe you won't get in so much trouble?"

Flash shook his head.  "I don't know.  Even before I came to this town, I got into a lot of trouble.  I have a punishment of some kind waiting for me, and I will accept it with my head held high."

She lowered hers, closing her eyes.  "Even if that means we never see each other again?"

"That will be the hardest part."  Flash moved his head to meet hers.  Foreheads and snouts touching, he closed his eyes.  "These last few days, you've saved me, gave me the chance for redemption, but you can't change what I've done.  I have to pay for my crimes."  He slowly pulled away from her, turning to face the door.  "I just wish we could have gone flying together."

Derpy looked back.  Her wings were back to normal, thanks to an antidote potion.  She gave them a little ruffle, since they wouldn't fit in the room at full extension.  "That would have been nice."

"Goodbye, Derpy, and thank you."  Fire Flash pulled the door open, intending to rush out before either of them could say anything else, but he couldn't step outside because of a short dragon standing in the way.

"Ah!  You must be Fire Flash."  He pulled his claw back from where it had been reaching for the handle, and adjusted his glasses.  "My name is Turquoise, Turq for short, a Specialist under the direct command of Centurion Screwball.  I was sent to inform you that she has declared an emergency situation and passed a summary judgement in the matter of your court-martial."

"Summary judgement?"  Derpy tried to push past Fire Flash.  "Wait, you can't!  You don't know what happened in the forest, I owe him my life, he deserves the chance to-"

Turk reared back and held up his claws in a placating gesture.  "The decisions have already been made.  I'm just a messenger."  He turned to Fire Flash.  "You are hereby demoted to the rank of recruit, with the immediate loss and forfeiture of all prizes and privileges once afforded to you by any previous rank.  This includes a reset of the two year mandatory service term."

"A demotion?"  Fire Flash shook his head.  That couldn't be right.   "That's it?"

Turquoise nodded.  "The Sentence would have been stiffer, but we have an immediate need for any and all military personnel we can get our hands on.  For now, you will be under my supervision.  I specialize in restraint magic, and I'm carrying enough gossamer steel to immobilize a small army.  So don't try anything."

"I... I won't."  He exchanged glances with Derpy, then smiled.  "I will do my best to repay the centurion's kindness.  Thank you."

The short drake squinted behind his glasses.  "I hope that's your genuine sentiment, and not you trying to throw me off guard.  Typhon knows I'd probably fall for it.  Anyway, we'll be based out of Dragonspire for the foreseeable future, so you'll need to figure out your own food and lodging."

A grey wing wrapped around Fire Flash, giving him a gentle shake.  "That's all taken care of," Derpy answered happily.  She looked at Fire Flash with a huge smile on her face and could barely keep herself from squealing in excitement.  "Anything else?"

"Nope."  Turq shrugged.  "Other than that, all you need to do is follow orders.  And the first order is to provide me with all the information you can regarding the dragons you encountered in the forest."  He looked over at Derpy.  "Any cooperation you could give in this matter would be appreciated as well.  This is a matter of extreme urgency."

"Urgency?  They're all dead..."  Fire Flash stiffened up the moment the words were out of his mouth.  "Except for one.  Did something happen?"

"Yes."  Turquoise adjusted his glasses.  "Our camp in the forest was attacked.  Two extremely skilled soldiers were overpowered with no chance to fight back, and Koro has been killed.  We are operating under the assumption that the worst is yet to come."

The two injured dragons shared a short glance, and Flash looked back at his new commanding officer.  "His name is Stahl..."





"Is that all, your Highness?"

Rose's voice drew Celestia's mind back to the present, and the dark, candlelit throne room she sat in.  The barrels of steaming tea the small dragon had hauled in on a cart drew her nose to their delicate aroma.  "Yes," the princess answered distractedly, "thank you, it smells absolutely delightful."

With a smile, the smaller dragon offered a nod.  "I try, ma'am.  But, if you don't mind my saying so, you seem distracted lately.  It may not be my place, but is there anything I could do to help?"

Celestia shook her head an reached for a barrel.  "I wish there were.  However, you already do more than enough by bringing me such wonderful tea.  It helps me relax, and that helps more than you might imagine."

With one last, "thank you," Rose started for the chamber doors.  They swung open as she reached for the handle, and she barely avoided the fine-robed politician that barged in.  "Sorry, sir, excuse me."  The drake stopped and turned to face her.  He was taller than her, at least twice over, and the dark velvet of his cloak made his colorless grey scales stand out all the more.  She recognized him immediately.  "Lord Greyscale, I-"

"Speak when spoken to," he nearly spat, cutting off whatever she might have said.  "Good day, servant."

With that, he continued towards Celestia, leaving Rose to slink out the door as his two personal guards pulled it shut.  The small dragon stared at the door for a moment, sparing only the briefest glances at the two guards before starting down the hallway.  She liked Greyscale less and less every time she came across him, and had to wonder if it would help the princess if he managed to have some sort of accident.

Inside the throne room, Celestia let out a sigh.  Good news never followed this particular visitor, and neither did good spirits.  "Rose is a personal employ of mine, and not a member of the palace staff.  I would appreciate it if she were treated with more respect."

"You are far too generous.  Exchanging pleasantries with every clumsy servant who ends up in the way only serves to waste valuable time."  Greyscale reached into his cloak, and for a second, Celestia caught herself hoping he would pull a weapon and give her an excuse.  When his claw reappeared clutching only papers, she sighed.  Greyscale offered up a short laugh.  "I can already guess what you must be thinking.  More tax proposals?  Or another petition to officially reinstate the Dragonlord title?"  He flipped through the papers, pulling one out and placing it atop the others.  "As much as I would love to live up to expectations, I bring nothing of sort.  These are merely letters that were mistakenly addressed to the council instead of you personally."

Celestia straightened up in her throne.  This was surprising to say the least.  Greyscale never did anything unless it would advance his own position.  "Go on."

"Yes."  He cleared his throat.  "First off, we have another letter from the monks of Casull.  To summarize, the children they have rescued see the monks and older children as family now, and refuse to leave them.  The numbers are still low enough that they can continue to take care of them all, and they will let us know if that changes."  He shuffled through the papers, picking out another.  "A new restaurant is opening, and is asking you to grace their grand opening with your presence."  He shuffled again.  "The two generals that got married wish to thank you for the lovely wedding gifts."  He moved to the last of his papers.  "Also, some dragoness by the name of Rarity has written to you, claiming to be a friend of Spike's."

"Is that so?"  Celestia shrugged.  She didn't dare let Greyscale know how important that might be.  If he were to find out that she was the earthmate, or that Spike could well be Earth King Terris, there was no telling what he would do.  She could only hope that Rarity hadn't realized it yet, or at the very least, hadn't mentioned it in her letter.  "I've heard Spike was making some friends in that town he visited.  What does she say?"

"It's odd," Greyscale scratched his cheek, "and I almost dismissed the claims as fake."

Celestia grit her teeth.  Whatever it was, she wouldn't like it.  She could tell by the barely contained smile on Greyscale's face.

"But," Greyscale lowered the papers and look up at the princess, eyes gleaming in the candlelight, "it seems that Centurion Spike has fallen in battle."

The marble arm of the ancient throne snapped off in Celestia's grip.

"He survived," Greyscale continued, knowing full well how his choice of words affected the princess.  The priceless stone sculpture work she was grinding to dust in her claws was proof enough of that.  "But, barely.  He has been hospitalized, and is currently unconscious under the watch of this Rarity, as well as another of Ice Heart's Centurion.  He does not seem to be in a coma, but has not waken up despite his condition stabilizing.  The letter is dated two days ago, should I send an agent to confirm?"

Celestia threw the mangled chunk of marble at the floor between them.  "I'm sure you already have.  Recall them."

"Is something wrong, your Highness?"  Greyscale stepped away from the mess in front of him.  "I only wanted to ease your mind, regarding your pet's well-being."

The princess moved forward, stepping from the throne.  Tiles unfortunate enough to wind up underclaw shattered as her claws gripped the floor a bit too hard.  "I will check on my son's well-being on my own.  And your agent had best not cross my path."

Greyscale set the papers down on the floor and backed away.  "Of course.  My apologies."  As he neared the door, he turned around.  As his guards opened the door, and he walked out, he could feel the predatory glare on the back of his neck.  He was playing a dangerous game, against the most dangerous of opponents, but that merely meant the rewards would be that much sweeter.