//------------------------------//
// Chapter 56 - A Warm Welcome 
// Story: Bad Mondays 
// by Handyman 
//------------------------------//

Sky marshals were an interesting annoyance Handy had not anticipated but really should have seen coming.
 
That was one of the realities of living in a world of flying creatures that comprised a substantial portion of any given country’s population. In other words, sky cops. People had long since gotten used to the fact that guarding the borders on the ground was one thing, but you needed people in the goddamn sky to make sure things stayed legal as they crossed to and fro from market to market.
 
Complete border control was impossible, of course, unless an entire border was on lockdown as was the case recently with Equestria and Griffonia. Equestria, and many other kingdoms for that matter, being sensible when it came to their limitations in that regard, simply did patrols for banditry for the most part. They posted pegasi on key positions using clouds as stations, another reminder to Handy of the awful, awful disregard for sensible physical possibilities in this world, with ground-based forts as regional headquarters.
 
Keeping people from individually moving across the border from Griffonia or vice versa with pegasi was all but impossible given that, well, they could fly wherever they damn well pleased. Fortunately, policing the border was still possible because of one simple reality: shit was heavy. Therefore, transporting goods across the border, legally or otherwise, was always going to be a hassle. To ship anything of meaningful number would require flights of courier armies carrying stuff across, which was most certainly not cost efficient. If one wished to carry it by sky carriage, it would require teams of griffon or pegasi, and the concentrated weight would require the use of favourable wind currents to avoid turbulence. That made projecting most likely points of crossing and entry literally as easy to predict as the weather, which was evidently a privatised industry in this world. They might not be able to control the wind, but they could damn well tell which way it was blowing. In all, controlling the flow of goods was still very possible and manageable.
 
And then some asshole invented airships and ruined many a cushy soon-to-be-retired sky marshal’s day.
 
See, the problem with airships was that, for all intents and purposes, they were trains that flew. On top of that, they were flying trains that carried substantial amounts of cargo, counterintuitively, a lot faster than most other forms of transport. How? By simple virtue of flying in straight lines and damning geography as something for ground-pounding peasant merchants to deal with.
 
They could never do the same amount of cargo as a train could. Instead, they were able to carry far more cargo than a modern commercial aircraft back on Earth, depending on their size, and at higher altitudes and at a fraction of the upkeep costs. They got to their destinations a lot slower than planes, sure, but much faster and with less bullshit than trains, hence their substantial economic value in this world. Handy often wondered why they weren’t already filling the skies as it were, but then he recalled the horrific cost in actually getting one airborne that decimated his last nest egg of gold. He had even had to enlist the king’s help in initially getting it off the ground. They should be seeing much more of them in the coming decades as the merchant guilds all start pitching in for airships of their own.
 
Another issue was that large dirigible airships, while still having to obey the laws of physics, could usually tell wind currents to go get fucked and power on regardless. That meant many a boring day for a sky marshal was ruined by someone slamming through their doors in a panic, saying a huge shining asshole of an airship was crossing their part of the border without notification when they had neither the resources nor manpower to deal with it. That meant the sky marshal having to attend to the matter personally.
 
This was the situation Handy now found himself in and was busy trying to distract himself from. He stood on the bridge of the ship, looking out over the wheel at the breathtaking vista of endless clouds and numerous peaks and valleys of the range before him. The front of the boat was given over entirely to the bridge and the quart-sphere of iron-wrought windows that allowed such a sight. He was lost in thought as his gaze swept across the desolate beauty of the snow-swept peaks and the clumps of dark green of the pine forests that eked out an existence in those deep valleys.
 
He idly realized that the sky marshal’s fort of operations was down there somewhere, among these nameless peaks. Handy neither knew nor cared which one it was. This entire mountain range had far too many peaks than was sensible for any respectable range, in his opinion. Then again, as an Irishman, Handy was generally unused to encountering any mountain that simply couldn’t just be walked over or avoided entirely, but he could not deny the stunning beauty of the ones in front of him. By and large, the mountains of this world had always been faraway scenery to him, now that he was up close and saw them in person…
 
“Baron Handy?” He was snapped back to attention by the voice addressing him, his heavy black cloak swivelling around as he turned. Despite the insulation of the ship and the usually unbearable heat caused by the steam pipes, here at these mountainous altitudes and at the tail end of winter, the chill still bit deep.
 
Air Marshal Wind Swept looked up at him with a neutral, professional expression. The cream-coated mare wore an old and worn set of silver armour with a red half-cloak tied around the neck and over a wither with a fairly simple brooch with the Equestrian seal. He couldn’t tell exactly, but if he had to estimate, the mare was clearly middle-aged, but that was sometimes hard to tell with ponies.
 
“Everything to your satisfaction?” Handy asked, gloved hands clasped behind his back. His voice was neutral, but carried enough force. “I trust we do not need to go over my permissions and licences again?”
 
“Everything is…. fine, Baron. However, there is one thing I would like to question you on.”
 
“Yes, it’s blood,” Handy pre-empted, waving her away and turning back to the sight out the window. “And yes it's for medical purposes, mine in particular. I trust you are not a total imbecile.”
 
“There is no call for that. I was merely being thorough.” The ire quickly rose in Wind Swept’s voice.
 
“And the fact I am deigning to allow you to search my vessel is me merely being polite,” Handy responded over his shoulder.
 
“I realise that, but like I said, I have to do this. And I have to be sure.” Handy smiled wryly.
 
“Worrying I’m going about sucking the life force of the innocent, Equestrian? You may relax—my own king made me promise not to do it. If that does not suffice for you, well, I guess you’re just going to have to go against the laws of two major kingdoms and void my writ of passage and my royal licence and seize my goods. That would be such a hassle now, wouldn’t it?”
 
“…What’s in the crate?” she insisted, ignoring Handy’s words. He let the silence hang for a moment.
 
“Pig’s blood. Now, if you’re quite done, I’d appreciate it if you got off my ship,” Handy said with finality. The air marshal, of course, did not move.
 
“Can you prove that?” If Handy had bothered to look, he'd have noticed how uneasy her expression was.
 
“Easily, but I imagine you have no taste for it, being an Equestrian. Or I could just pour it over you and let the stink speak for itself. Pity you're not a unicorn—you'd have made a lovely Carrie impersonation.”
 
“What?”
 
“Never mind.” Handy waved away the question, reaching instead into his cloak and pulling out a small metal flask, placing it down on the railing nearby with a metallic clink. “Here. I am not wasting any of those refrigerated containers on you. Enchanted items are not cheap, even wooden ones like medical casks. Take this and be satisfied and do whatever testing you want and come arrest me later if it is found wanting. Now get off of my ship.”
 
Thankfully, though it took her a second before she finally walked forward and swiped the offered flask up with one wing, saying nothing in reply. Handy let her leave the bridge before turning to see her and her little entourage of pegasi traipse down the main corridor to the airlock. He turned back to the mountains below.
 
He did think it was odd, in truth, that a wooden ship of any kind would have an 'airlock'. They weren’t high enough to worry about pressurization in any case, and besides, Handy wasn’t entirely convinced his airship was actually fully capable of safe pressurization. If airship technology was as young as it apparently was in this world—and his ship was small by comparison to most of the ones merchant guilds used—it was quite possible Handy’s ship was one of the earlier models and probably woefully incapable of it.
 
Or it could be all bullshit and one only needed to worry about pressurized cabins with aircraft traveling ludicrous speeds and not dirigibles. Handy didn’t know. However, if Silvertalon said that was what the airlock was for, Handy wasn’t going to correct him. You didn’t argue with the man who seemed to objectively know more about the topic than you did, at least not until you took the time to do the research yourself, and Handy was busy with other things at the moment. Besides, what he did know about dirigibles, Silvertalon was currently teaching him.
 
He heard the door lever turn and the iron locks slamming into place, securing the airlock as Silvertalon saw their guests out. He then padded up the main corridor to the bridge.
 
“Forgive me for speaking out, milord, but you could have afforded to be more polite. We're in no rush.” Handy glanced over his shoulder at the older griffon. He cut a fine figure in the captain's uniform his tailor had simply insisted on making for the griffon.
 
“I was being polite. I have a reputation to adhere to. If I was anything less than brusque and standoffish, the Equestrians would have been suspicious.”
 
“Oh. Alright, if'n you say so, sir.” Silvertalon turned and went back to the wheel and started to flip heavy-looking switches and turning tiny valves on the complicated control board to the side. Handy got the distinct impression the bird didn't fully buy his reasoning. He scratched his chin in thought for a moment before letting out a breath.
 
“Well... mostly at least,” Handy admitted. “I was considerably ticked she insisted on the search. The documents should have been more than enough for anyone. I don’t care if this isn’t a standard trade lane. We’re hardly getting in anybody’s way up here.”
 
“You could’ve refused, sir.”
 
“And cause a scene? This soon after everything has settled? It isn’t worth it, and I am in no mood for it.” Silvertalon looked up at him briefly before turning back to the helm as the airship continued on ahead in silence. For some reason, the old bird’s silence made Handy distinctly uncomfortable. He had grown to like the bird over the few days they had been flying together.
 
Having been taught the very, very basics of airship piloting, Handy now knew how to steer the ship without blowing it up, all without having to alter any of the variables on the intimidating array of engine controls. It was mostly so Handy could keep the ship on somewhat the same course during the night hours when Silvertalon took to his bed, albeit at a slower and slightly lower altitude. It was a prospect Handy felt somewhat insulting, but he understood damn well that it was probably for the best.
 
He was also a damn shark at cards. Handy’s bad luck at the card table continued the few times they took a break to do so, and Silvertalon had even taught him two more games: Concordian Threefold and Liar’s Gambit, both of which Handy was abysmal at. He did do Handy the favour of pointing out what Handy’s tells were. Apparently, Handy noticeably stiffened when he had a bad hand of cards.
 
He also found he enjoyed listening to the old bird’s stories from when he was a younger rake, the terror of the eastern coast guilds of Griffonia where he had captained many ships and first learned to fly. Honestly, Handy suspected he was embellishing to a grand ideal. He could scarcely imagine such a roguish character evolving into the mild, quiet, and well-mannered bird he now saw before him.
 
“When will we be arriving in Ponyville?” Handy asked, changing the topic.
 
“Should be in a few days, milord. We should know it when we see it.”

“What makes you say that? Have you been there before?”

“Thereabouts, years ago. But Ponyville is notable for its castle. Only one of its kind and on the edge of the Everfree.” Handy mouthed the word ‘Everfree’. Thoughts resurfaced in his mind, but nothing concrete. He knew he hated it, however, and he trusted that intuition.

“And we’re south of Canterlot?” he asked, looking to the north. Silvertalon nodded. “Good, let’s keep a fair distance between us and that city as much as possible.”
 
“Why?” Silvertalon asked as Handy turned to the navigation desk on the bridge. The desk was set against the wall with the backboard extended, showing geographic maps that displayed altitudes, weather projections, and forecasts based on the almanac. He also saw heat charts and known areas that were simply marked as dangerous in various colours depicting hazard levels. A tiny globe was built into the desk that spun as Handy ran his palm across it. Like every other globe of the world he had yet seen, only the continent he happened to be standing on seemed to be consistent.
 
“Why is that I wonder…?” he muttered.
 
“Sir?”
 
“Call it respect,” Handy said in answer to the griffon’s first question. “No need to go ruffling anyone’s feathers. Take us back by this same route on our return sojourn.”
 
“But we’d run into the same marshal again,” Silvertalon put forth.
 
“That's the point.” Handy pushed off from the desk and walked down the corridor. “Better to run into a border guard familiar with us than suffer the same rigmarole if it could be avoided.”
 
He left Silvertalon there on the bridge as he made his way back down to his fairly modest quarters. It was the same room he had occupied on the ship’s maiden voyage when he shared the ship with the king as they had headed to that fateful tournament that nearly tore the continent apart. He found he preferred it, and gave over the better quarters as the captain’s.
 
He had placed a bathtub within. It was a literal oblong bathtub made of wood, iron bounds, and an enamel interior. He had yet to use it, but he figured if he was going to be using this for most of his journeys, and he had hot water available practically on demand, he figured he might as well have it. He rubbed his face down and tried to relax, then realised he probably couldn’t while he still held onto the rock in his hand.
 
He used it to shift the things in his quarters back into their places after they had moved in the course of the flight. Watching the silver aura surround his hand and encompass the various items of the room, watching them fly around, never failed to bring a smile to his face. He was getting faster at focusing magic, it seemed, depending on how often he used a given stone. In time and with practice, he could begin using simple wooden objects.
 
Wood was easier, in many respects, with its strengths being its versatility and the speed of being able to cast magic. The downside was how easy it was for wood objects to explode in your hands. Or catch fire. There were very good reasons non-unicorn mages used large staffs made of ancient and rare woods, lovingly and carefully crafted almost to a fault, enchanted, engraved, and infused with spells and augmented with magical crystals. It was all to get the most bang for their buck, as it were… and with less likelihood of their tools exploding on them.
 
One might therefore understand why Handy was making damn sure he was used to the stone before he moved on to that. It meant he was slowing his education, but if it meant safety, then all the better. He let the stone go on top of the dresser, warm to the touch, and looked at himself in the mirror.
 
He looked… better than he had been. His face was not nearly as gaunt, and his skin no longer had that worrying pallor he had been brushing off over winter. He had been eating and, much more importantly, sleeping better. The semblance’s wake Mimae had given him had done exactly as advertised. He flexed his left arm. It still looked horrendous. The grey, cracked, flaking skin and purple veins did not make for a pretty sight, and he kept it covered almost at all times, for his own benefit as much as for others.
 
However, he could actually feel it now. He felt the press of the clothes against his skin, could feel the heat or the cold, could even feel the blood pumping in his arm again. Of course, he knew it had never stopped—if nothing else, he had heard it during his hungrier days. He never realised how much the sheer deadness of his arm had bothered him, probably because he had been working so hard to put it out of his mind.
 
And the sleep, oh God the sleep. The tallow’s Ear had worked wonders in returning him to a reliable sleeping pattern. He still had his bad nights, but now… now he could sleep consistently night after night. He still perceived everything as having jumped in time every time he went to sleep, but at least his body was rested. And that, it seemed, was all that was needed to help it recover somewhat from his travails. He was now haler and heartier than he had been even a few months ago.
 
Which, now that he considered exactly where he was going, was probably what he was going to need.

 


--=--


 
So when Silvertalon told Handy that Ponyville had a… unique castle for the region, he had no idea it was because it was an architectural affront to all that was good, beautiful, and holy.
 
It looked like a mutated frozen tree from some horror film at first, and at a distance, he thought it was some oddly coloured geological formation. Then, as he got closer, he realized to his dismay that the entire thing was one gigantic multifaceted crystal. Fortunately for Handy, he now knew there was a difference between gems that were formed by natural processes and their doppelgangers that were apparently grown and farmed. So the fact that his first impression, that of a tree, didn’t seem too out of the realm of possibility.
 
A part of him resented that fact, but he accepted it so he could quietly put away the gibberingly mad possibility that somehow Princess Twilight was so hideously wealthy and yet so hideously terrible at managing said wealth that she had the entire castle built out of coloured quartz.
 
“Silvertalon, what am I looking at here?” he asked.
 
“The Castle of Friendship, sir,” he answered nonchalantly.
 
“Yes, but why am I looking at it?” Silvertalon gave him a weird look, noticed the near despair on Handy’s face, and then shrugged.
 
“Don’t know, popped up a few years ago, not long after the Princess of Friendship herself popped the wings out of her back.”
 
“…What?”
 
“Jus’ saying what I heard. Never knew of no Princess of Friendship existing in pony lands when I was a young’un. This Twilight popped up a while back. Bit like that pink one a while before her, but she was born like that, last I remember. Quite a bit of hubbub about that among ponies for a long while before it became normal.”
 
“Wait, so you’re saying Twilight wasn’t always an alicorn?” Handy groaned internally. “Ponies can become other types of ponies?”
 
“I don’t rightly know, milord. Just saying what I heard is all. Makes a right useful landmark is all if you’re trying to avoid the Everfree.” Handy looked up and out at the town of Ponyville below them. It was a quaint town of hay-thatched roofing, white walls, and wooden support beams, rather reminiscent of some old European town buildings he recalled seeing on the continent once or twice. Some buildings stuck out here or there to break the mould, but that was the general look of the place. There were no surrounding walls, so it was probably a more recent town that never had the histories of the some of the older pony towns and cities they had passed over. Probably less than a century even. Fields, fields, and more fields of farmland stretched out far and wide, radiating from the town, many of which still laid fallow as snow still covered much of the landscape. Winter was dying down, but spring was a bit of a ways off, it seemed.
 
Beyond the town, dark and green, lay the Everfree Forest like an emerald expanse. Handy’s brow furrowed, for the name struck a bell. He had heard it a few times since he had accepted the princess’ request, but he could never put his finger on it, and now that it was here in front of him, the sense of familiarity nagged at him all the more. Then, at once, it all came back to him.
 
“Huh, son of a bitch.”
 
“Milord?”
 
“Not you,” Handy corrected, “just something hit me right now that I hadn’t considered. Can you tell me something? How large is that forest?”
 
“Don’t rightly know the estimate. I know it stops some leagues south where the Everfree meets the Whitetail Woods and stretches a bit of the ways to the north before it reaches its end up near Dodge. But as for its width, it seems to change.” Handy looked at him.
 
“Change?”
 
“Right-o, some days it takes ya no less than half a day’s flight to cross from one end to the far side. Other days… Other days it takes a mite longer.” Handy looked back out at the approaching mass of dark green, the forest looking far more ominous now. He felt a prickling chill on the back of his neck at the implications, especially given his previous experience of forests that were… wrong somehow.
 
“Does it… stretch? I mean, does it affect the lands surrounding it when it changes?”
 
“That’s the darnedest thing: it doesn’t. All of them towns and villages around it? Never an inch of difference between them and anywhere else at any time. Whitetail Woods in the south and Dodge Junction up in the north is the same. Some say it’s jus’ all in your head when you’re flying over it. S’all the same—most are of like opinion: better t’ fly around.”
 
“Hmm,” Handy hummed noncommittally as he processed this information. He spotted a pair of glinting golden armour and small white specks that wore them as they neared the town. It seemed that the welcoming committee was here. Handy rolled his eyes and slapped Silvertalon on the shoulder. “Well, looks like our taxi guides are here. Follow them in. I’ll go get ready.”
 
“Aye sir,” Silvertalon said as he turned the ship’s wheel. Handy left him to his devices.
 
“Forests...” he muttered under his breath. “I fucking hate forests.”

 



--=--


 
Twilight Sparkle waited anxiously on the main balcony of her castle. More than once, she had wanted to look over the side facing Ponyville to see the reactions of the ponies below at the sight of the dark-coloured blimp in the skies above the castle, before realising she already knew well in advance.
 
She recognized that it was rather unwarranted to be worried, of course, but then again, she did receive all those letters from Luna and Celestia on the matter, and the more she read, the more concerned she grew.
 
It also didn’t help that she had decided to greet him alone, something which at the time she thought made a lot of sense, but the more the reality dawned on her, the more she began to regret the decision.
 
“Relax…” she muttered to herself. “It’s going to be fine. You’re going to be fine.”
 
She looked up at the two royal guards circling above the airship as it docked close to the balcony and lowered to be level with it. It reminded her of her old balloon, and a smile grew on her face as fond memories replayed across her mind’s eye. She had loved riding in that balloon and watching the world pass by beneath her. It had been so peaceful.
 
She snapped out her reminiscing at the sound of armoured hooves on marble. The two royal guards had landed a respectable distance from her but were quite obviously flanking her. She thought about telling them to fly off, but the words died on her lips. Instead, she was grateful for their presence.
 
The airship reached equilibrium, and it was then that a thick wooden boarding plank extended from a slot beneath the main doors of the airship. It overshot the balustrade by a quarter of a metre, but at least it wasn’t much more than an inch or so higher than it was above the floor. The ship clearly had an excellent pilot. The doors clanked loudly as the locking mechanism behind them was unsealed before opening outwards. Handy stood there in a dark, floor-length heavy cloak of a dull, dark navy colour. Twilight found herself surprised to see his face exposed.
 
She had seen it before, but everything she knew about the human led her to believe that him showing it was the exception rather than the norm. Handy, for his part, looked at the two guards at either side of her judiciously before walking silently forward across the boarding ramp and stopping just where it crossed the balustrade.
 
“Your Highness, I hope I’m not too early?” Handy greeted amicably, with a light smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.
 
Twilight allowed herself a small smile as well. “Not at all!” she said brightly, “Welcome to Equestria!”
 
Handy casually eyed the guards to either side of her again. Neither seemed to move. He then looked out around him. There were no further guards in sight, nor did he sense any flying nearby, but he'd be damned if he did not expect them to be there. Even if the Princess herself was presenting a chipper front and did not wish to swamp the welcome mat with armed guards, he was of little doubt her elder princesses would be doing more than keeping a mere eye on these proceedings.
 
Still, best to make sure. He tried to direct his auspex into the castle. He picked up a few more people within his radius, but they seemed to be milling about the castle and in no way were organised or clustered. House staff, he wagered.
 
“So, do I have your permission to land?” he asked. Twilight blinked.
 
“Uh, sure? I mean yes, of course. You... didn't really need to ask.”
 
“Terribly afraid I did. Part of my agreement with Princess Celestia.” Handy placed a foot forward and allowed himself to drop to the floor of the balcony, the chainmail he wore rattling. He had foregone his armour but donned the magic-resistant hauberk as a precaution. “Never to unduly step foot on Equestria and all that. Thank you for your invitation.”
 
“You're welcome,” Twilight said, though the look in her eyes told Handy she wasn't entirely sure about what he just said. He looked around.
 
“Is Spike not here?” Handy asked, frowning slightly.
 
“Oh, he’s just doing some errands. He’ll be along soon. Would you like to come inside?” Twilight asked, smiling brightly.
 
“Certainly.” Her returned her smile and gestured with a hand, the opening in his cloak revealing the hammer for the guards to see. It was best to be polite, after all. “Lead on, if you please.”
 
Twilight did just that and gestured with both a hoof and a wing for Handy to follow her inside, turning around with the guards flanking her and, oddly enough, not casting any glances back at Handy. He did one last look around just to make sure there wasn't anything he was missing before calmly falling into step.
 
The interior of the castle was much less hideous than the exterior, though it still had that same, crystalline appearance. Unlike the jagged, uneven exterior, it was all flat floors, evenly spaced walls, smooth columns, and elegant doorways. The same colour scheme pervaded throughout: all soft purples, blues, and light reds, with the more stark colours provided by the non-crystalline furnishes and fixtures. Strangely, he couldn't pick out a light source within the corridors he was led down, as if the structure itself provided its own luminescence. However, looking up, he could barely see the high ceiling in some parts, so thick was the darkness above them. It was all very strange, but he felt no sense of apprehension from the fact.
 
He must have been noticed looking around him, because Twilight began to slow down to walk closer to him, the guards politely distancing themselves further behind him. Now that made him a little apprehensive, but he refused to let it show. Surely nothing would be attempted, now after everything had been settled?
 
“I see you're taking in the sights.”
 
“It is certainly the most unique building I have seen, Highness,” Handy admitted. Okay, it technically wasn't. So far, the tree cities of the deer took first place in 'weird-cool shit people live in' that Handy had seen. Still, it was more politic to say that than admitting it was the most ungodly abomination to architecture he had seen since those long abandoned English supermarkets made entirely of concrete built back in the seventies by people who had more commercial optimism than sense.
 
“You think? It took me longer than I like to admit to get used to it,” she confided, looking up at the walls. Handy looked down at her with a raised eyebrow.
 
“Truly? Most wouldn't admit they were less than thrilled with their personal castles.” She shook her head, smiling.
 
“It's not bad, I guess,” she said, confirming in Handy's mind that she had no aesthetic sense. “It's just that before I had this castle, I was very happy with my previous home.”
 
“Indeed?”
 
“Yes, it was a tree house.”
 
“A tree house? You lived... in a children's playhouse in a tree?”
 
“No no.” She chuckled. “As in the house was actually a tree, a living breathing oak tree that was hollowed out on the inside. It was the town library, and the tree had been there since before the town's founding.”
 
“Like the deer?” Handy asked, now genuinely interested. Twilight looked up.
 
“The deer live in trees too?” Her ears flicked.
 
“As far as I am aware, they do so near exclusively. I was never allowed inside their massive tree cities, only allowed to venture through the streets of the exterior towns built up and around them, on their barks and on top of the large artificial ground they had constructed to keep the base of the great trees in perpetual darkness. Hishyms, I think the hanging towns were called, with the great trees called oakenhearts.”
 
“You were there!? In a deer city!?” she asked excitedly. Handy was slightly taken aback by her abrupt change in attitude, but recovered well.
 
“Yes, actually. It was something of an ordeal to get there and back again.”
 
“I had heard something to that effect but wasn't sure if... if it uh...”
 
“Was another flaming pile of lies said about me?” Handy asked, chuckling slightly. “I commend your caution but, sadly, yes. That little excursion of mine is true.”
 
“Would you mind telling me sometime? There is precious little known about the deer and their way of life; they are famously secretive. Even the few who grow tired of their isolated communities and enter the world are notoriously tight-lipped.”
 
“Yes, well, that isn't exactly true either.” She cocked her head.
 
“What do you mean?”
 
“Perhaps another time I might tell you.” They stopped outside of a pair of large gilded doors at the end of the corridor. He looked back... Odd, from the air, he had not estimated the castle was this long from the outside. Must have been the oddness of pony architecture getting to him. He also recalled Canterlot Castle seeming deceptively small from the outside as well from his time there. “For now, care to let us through?”
 
“Oh! Pardon me, sorry about that.” She opened the door and led them through to a rather large chamber. A large and ugly chamber, it must be said. Crystal formations flanked the door and misshapen, jagged crystalline columns rose from the floor to the domed roof far above. In the centre of the room lay a circular table along with six thrones… no wait, seven—there was a smaller throne beside one of the larger ones. All seemed to be hewn from some white-blue crystal and didn’t really fit in with the rest of the structure.
 
“Impressive. A conference room?” Handy asked as Twilight went ahead.
 
“Hm? Oh yes, I suppose so. My friends and I usually gather here, but they’re busy today,” she said before moving on. Handy ran a hand along the table as he passed. It was smooth and, oddly enough, warm to the touch, but not unpleasantly so. One would think a crystal palace would be cold, but that didn’t seem to be the case. He placed his hand against it. It seemed to increase in warmth slightly. He could feel the magic coursing through the thing. He walked away from the object before he inadvertently activated something he shouldn’t.
 
He followed Twilight through the castle before he finally realised what was bothering him. Where the hell was the castle staff? He looked around. He certainly saw evidence of their existence—a cloak room with a half-open door revealing several pairs of maid uniforms on hangers, and the hurried skittering of hooves from some distant point in the castle as he passed a corridor. They were staying out of the way for some reason. Very odd.
 
He was just about to question his host before they stopped after turning a corner, and he saw the incredibly large and imposing front gate of the castle before him. Handy gawked openly. Indeed, he didn’t think even Canterlot castle’s front doors were this needlessly big. The purple princess seemed to open the damn things effortlessly with her magic. Handy’s fingers flexed around the stone he had been gripping for the past few hours now in his other hand. Ever since learning a thing of two about magic, he suddenly had a newfound appreciation for magical telekinetic shenanigans than before. He mentally made note of that and what that implied for the little pony’s magical strength.
 
The door opened out to the snow-covered roofs and busy streets of the town of Ponyville. The picturesque agrarian town was bustling with ponies going about their business, and as Twilight beckoned him further into the town, he noticed the guards had stopped following them, staying instead by the front gates of the castle.
 
Handy paused briefly, looking between the castle and the princess before following her towards the town. The strangeness, if anything, only seemed to increase the more he was led through the town, so much so he briefly forgot to ask where the damn alicorn was supposed to be leading him.
 
The ponies around him didn’t as much as flinch as he passed. Hell, they didn’t even look at him. It didn’t feel like he was being deliberately ignored, just that… he wasn’t sure how to put it. More than a few of the ponies they passed waved their greetings to the princess as if they were all lifelong friends with the mare and she was not, in fact, one of the most important ponies in the entire bloody kingdom.
 
“Princess, where are you taking me?” Handy asked at last.
 
“Oh, right. Well, I was going to offer you tea, but I figured you wanted to see Spike as soon as possible. So what better way than to catch two butterflies with the same net?”
 
“Not… exactly the phrase I’d think of, but I suppose I can acquiesce. So you’re leading me to Spike?”
 
“Yes, he should be at Sugarcube Corner! We might just catch him,” she said happily. The town annoyed Handy though he couldn’t put his finger on exactly why. It wasn’t the fact the ponies here were probably among the strangest he had met so far by simple virtue of the fact that his presence among them was apparently having absolutely no effect on the bastards. Although that did pique his curiosity somewhat, no, it was something else, a familiarity he couldn’t quite place. A strange feeling churned in his gut at that thought. He knew that the great forest that bordered the town was the Everfree, but it couldn’t possi—
 
“Well this is the place!” Twilight said, Handy looked up.
 
He then looked down at the princess, his face stony and unamused. She had led him to a fucking gingerbread house. An honest to God, Hansel and Gretel, witch in the woods, gingerbread house. Here in the middle of the town and standing out like a sore thumb on a camel for all it did to blend in with the prevailing architecture.
 
“You’re joking me,” Handy stated flatly. She frowned up at him.
 
“What do you mean?” Handy glared at the offending building.
 
“Just… never mind. What is this place? I smell pastries and bread. A bakery?”
 
“Oh yes, Sugarcube Corner is the best bakery in all of Ponyville. Spike should be here on one of his rounds. He should be just inside.” Handy nodded, looking around and feeling especially conspicuous standing there with one of the most important people in all of Equestria, in the heart of Nothing Town in the middle of nowhere, outside a bakery and absolutely no one around them so much as batting an eye. Indeed, apart from one pony exiting the building with a box of admittedly delicious-smelling food hanging from its muzzle, there was no one near them. It was surreal to him.
 
“Alright, so we'll wait for him here then.” She shook her head.
 
“Why wait? Come on in.” She walked in without waiting on him. Handy made to speak but she was already inside by then. He shut his mouth and glanced around again, then followed after her. The interior was just as outrageously thematic as the facade. Candy decorations dotted the walls and several of the wooden support beams had been carved and coloured to resemble striped candy. A glass display showed off the various goods that were up for sale.
 
The majority of the bakery’s floor was giving over to tables and chairs. More than a few of them had evidently been used recently if the white powdery dust of recently consumed confections were any evidence. There was no one behind the counter and, to Handy’s disappointment, there wasn’t any short drake in sight. Twilight cleared her throat as she approached the counter, ringing the bell for attention.
 
“You rang!?” The Pink Thing more or less exploded into existence just behind the counter, hooves extended wide and face bright with the largest and most terrifying smile Handy had ever seen. Handy’s hand involuntarily gripped his war hammer, even as he struggled to keep his expression neutral. He… had not been expecting this particular pony to be here.
 
“Hey, Pinkie! Is Spike here?” Twilight replied, not put off in the slightest by Pinkie’s behaviour. Pinkie rested a head on her hoof, looking thoughtful.
 
“Um, I think he went to Rarity’s, actually.”
 
“Rarity?” Twilight sounded surprised. “Why? He doesn't need anything from her.”
 
“Oh, she had dropped by and asked him for his opinion on something before they left. I think she just wanted help lifting things again.” Pinkie said the last part conspiratorially, leaning in to Twilight to stage whisper. The princess chuckled.
 
“Well, I’m sure he’ll be glad to help. I guess we’ll head on over there next.” Then Pinkie spotted Handy standing a good ways behind the princess, closer to the door, as all sane individuals should do so when standing in the same room as a deranged anomaly. She gasped loudly.
 
“Oh oh oh! It’s today!? Why didn’t you tell me!?” she asked Twilight, grabbing her by the cheeks and smushing them together. Twilight looked puzzled and asked something that only came out in muffled noises. “Well, duh!”
 
Pinkie’s answer to the muffled answer revealed nothing and raised additional questions, from Handy at least. Twilight seemed to realise something, judging by the way her eyes widened. Pinkie zipped up to him—literally zipped up. All Handy saw was a pink blur before the mare was already by his shoulder and giving him a sideways hug.
 
“Oh, had I known you were coming, I would have prepared you a Welcome to Ponyville Party!” Handy pushed off from her suddenly, disconcerted to be near, let alone touched by such a thing, only to have her disappear from his side as she materialised by his other shoulder, forelegs crossed and hoof to her chin. “Well, I knew. I knew you were coming, but I’ve been so busy that I guess I lost track of time. Oh well!”
 
Handy backed up again, almost jumping out of his skin, but again the pony had vanished.
 
“You’ll stick around though won’t ya!? Huh, huh, huh!?” She seemed to pop out of his peripheral vision, never out of anything he was looking at directly, the last three times appearing outside his vision every time he looked at her. It took everything in his power to not react by either blowing that pony out of sight with everything in his admittedly mediocre magical talent, as his fist closed around the stone in his grip, or just bashing her with his hammer.
 
It must have showed. Twilight was stifling a smile behind her hoof. Handy, for the sake of his dignity, kept his cool. Turned to the pink pony, he smiled… and stepped outside the door, slamming it shut behind him. Pinkie sat on the floor and turned to Twilight.
 
“Too much?”
 

--=--



Handy waited for the princess outside, fixing the gloves on his hands as she finished up with whatever business she had with the Pink Thing. She hadn’t followed him out, so either she was wrongfully waiting for him to come back inside, which he wasn’t deigning to do, or she had a few things she wished to discuss with her friend.
 
He idly watched the ponies of Ponyville trotted to and fro on the slush-ridden cobblestone streets and the muddy square down the road where he saw market stalls set up selling goods. Farmers and tradesmen selling off the last of their winter stores they didn't think they’d need, no doubt.
 
He turned and cast his eyes over the various, more solid storefronts around him. There was a flower shop, closed down and barren of goods for the winter, as would be expected, though he spied several ponies moving around within through the window. Over there was a blacksmith's, though the sign outside referred to it as Haversack’s Metal Shop. He also spotted a clothing store, a tavern, a restaurant, a carpenter’s, a cafe, several town houses were families lived, a haberdasher’s, a strange shop purporting to sell quality quills and sofas. He also spied a book store, huddled away and squashed in between several other buildings. He allowed himself a small smile and briefly wondered if it would be worth it to take a gander at what lay within, before deciding against it.
 
The ponies hustling by were wrapped up in hats and scarves, coats and cloaks tied about them to protect from the chill. Children played games with each other in the snowdrifts that filled the green areas between buildings while older ponies skidded about on the frozen ponds nearby. It was a town that, to Handy, stood out the most for its sheer normalcy and the fundamental goodness of all and sundry he could see around him.
 
They had walked past him without the slightest of remarks, nor did he catch a single erstwhile glance for curiosity’s sake, nor caution. It was as if he were nothing more unusual than all else that had visited upon them, as if the ponies here were not only not perturbed but could not be perturbed. Not by anything, not by him. Not by a long shot.
 
He was broken from his reverie by the sound of approaching voices coming from around the corner. “…I only said I was helping for a bit. I still need to… get… the ca…” Spike trailed off as he turned the corner of the bakery, the white-coated, purple-maned mare he had encountered back in Skymount in toe. Her smile faded slightly as she followed the dragon’s gaze. Handy calmly looked back as he finished putting his gloves back on, his expression plain as he measured the dragon up.
 
The drake was taller than the ponies around him, but not by much, his long limbs giving him a lanky look to him, the spines along his back sharp and almost iridescent in the light. He was, oddly enough, wrapped up in a very heavy array of clothing. A large heavy coat covered him from his neck to his clawed feet which he noticed were bundled in heavy fur wraps. A knitted scarf and cap almost obscured the entirety of his head, leaving his eyes and the spines on the side of his head exposed.
 
He was more dressed for winter’s fury than even the scrawniest pony Handy had seen scarper by, and the thought of the fact a dragon needed that much protection from the cold brought a quiet smirk to Handy’s face. The look in the drake’s wide eyes made it clear he had not been expecting him today. More was the pity for him.
 
“Ah, there you are,” Handy said. “I take it you are prepared?”
 
“Uh… I uh, um…” Spike stammered. It seemed that whatever confidence that had possessed him back in Skymount had evaporated in the face of the consequence of that action. For that, Handy was secretly relieved. The more the dragon feared him, the less he would have to take action to keep him in line. “Wh-Where’s Twilight?”
 
“The princess is busy with the baker,” Handy explained, glancing sideways at the abomination he was standing outside of, “where I was led to believe you were to be. Alas, I see you had been stolen away by, uh… hmm.”
 
Handy looked thoughtful when he glanced at Rarity. “Rarity,” she supplied, looking nonplussed for a fraction of a moment before smiling. “We met at the reception?”
 
“Yes, of course.” Handy immediately turned back to Spike, as if awaiting an answer. Spike hesitated for a moment, sharing a look with Rarity, who gave him an encouraging smile.
 
“Yes. I’m ready.” Spike looked back at Handy, a touch more resolute.
 
“Excellent, my ship is docked with the castle. I trust you’ll be able to find it.”
 
“Find what?” Pinkie asked from Handy’s side. He all but jumped in shock, rounding on the mare. He hadn’t heard the door open. In fact, it only just opened then with Twilight coming out and laughing behind her and telling Pinkie Pie goodbye. Then she did a double take as she spotted the same mare beside Handy, glancing back inside and back again.
 
“Oh, Pinkie!” Spike said cheerfully. “Are they ready?”
 
“Yeperoonee!” Pinkie reached for the box of baked goods on her back, lifting it with her muzzle and offering it to the dragon with a smile. “Be careful, they’re still hot. Let them cool for a bit.”
 
“Aheh, Pinkie, I’m a dragon. I can handle hot food.” Pinkie chuckled.
 
“I don’t mean for you, silly!” Spike gave her a confused look. Twilight suddenly walked between them and stood beside Pinkie.
 
“Anyway, we were just here looking for you.”
 
“Yes, I have made him aware. He tells me he is prepared,” Handy said.
 
“Oh no, not just yet,” Twilight interjected.
 
“What?” Spike asked.
 
“We still have a few more things to do. Handy wasn’t supposed to arrive this early, you see.” Twilight walked with Pinkie over to Rarity. Handy narrowed his eyes slightly in suspicion while Spike scratched at his head in confusion.
 
“But, uh, what else is there to—?”
 
“As I live and breathe! Handy?” They all looked at the figure in the street as Handy turned. A dark blue unicorn stared at him with wide green eyes, most of his face covered by a woolly cap and scarf. However, the fireplace cutie mark on his flank was unmistakeable.
 
“Warm?” Handy’s brow furrowed in confusion.
 
“Haha! It really is you! What are you doing in Ponyville?” Warm Night approached the small gathering, accompanied by a light yellow, white-maned pegasus carrying… something in a cloth sack close to her chest. Most of it was obscured by one of her wings as she held it out and covering her front.
 
“I… I have business here. A better question is what are you doing on this side of the Everfree?” he asked, surprised more than anything at having seen these ponies again. Happy Hour, that was the mare’s name, he recalled. Unaware of it, Twilight was studying his expressions carefully as the interaction unfolded, noticing the change in demeanour when the new pony arrived.
 
“We’re here visiting family.” He smiled at Happy Hour, who looked down lovingly at the little package she was carrying, lowering a few primaries so Handy could see the tiny bundle of pony she was carrying. It was a tiny red thing with the same white mane as her mother, a rounded horn emerging from her forehead. Warm Night’s smile faded as he noticed the princess.
 
“Oh! Oh my apologies, Princess. Am I… I mean, are we interrupting something here?”
 
“Not at all! We were just about to head off to Carousel Boutique,” Twilight answered helpfully.
 
“We were? Oof!” Spike yelped as someone nudged him. “I mean, uh, yeah! I need to help Rarity move her stock for clearances.”
 
“Oh, you’re Rarity?” Happy Hour asked brightly, her voice like silver bells. She sounded a lot different than Handy recalled, certainly much happier. “My aunts have been telling me all about your shop. I mean, I had always heard about you in the fashion columns. I would have thought you’d be in Manehatten or Canterlot.”
 
“Perish the thought, darling, Ponyville is my home and I choose to live here. Besides, I have several wonderful and extremely talented mares apprenticed to me that I trust fully with my other outlets. It allows me to focus on continuing my art rather than let the drudgery bog me down,” Rarity explained in dramatic fashion, complete with touching her mane and gesturing with her hoof in the manner of woman who thought very highly of themselves and who had more assumed sophistication than sense.
 
“That sounds wonderful. I would love to see it before we leave,” Happy Hour said. Rarity’s eyes seemed to shine in that odd manner Handy had seen so many other times. It was only just then that he noticed the evident connection between the phenomena and something the pony was intrinsically passionate about.
 
“Oh, would you like to come with us? I have some wonderful sundresses for my spring line up that would look absolutely darling on you!”
 
“Oh no, I couldn’t. I can’t afford it with the baby and all.” Rarity took a step forward and placed a hoof on one of hers.
 
“Nonsense, I have dresses made specifically for new mothers such as yourself. I’ll hear nothing of price. Come with us; I would love to get a photograph of you and your gorgeous baby. Would you mind?” Happy Hour looked at Warm Night, who smiled and nodded at her. She beamed at him.
 
“I’d love to!” she confirmed brightly.
 
“If I may, Princess?” Handy interjected, drawing Twilight’s attention. “Would it be quite alright with you if, in the interim, I could spend my time waiting here in town until you and Spike are ready to continue?”
 
Twilight opened her mouth as if to object before putting her hoof to her chin in thought. She looked at Happy Hour and smiled to herself before answering.
 
“That won’t be a problem. We won’t be long!” Twilight herded Spike along with them as she followed after Rarity.
 
“Well now, I have received plenty of criticism that nopony would want to see an outfit specifically made for new mothers, but pish posh, I wouldn’t hear of it! Nothing says springtime like new life, and nothing is more emblematic of that than a mother with her new foal. Now, are you sure you wouldn’t mind you and your darling little baby posing for a few choice photos? I would be ever so grateful and I assure you…” Rarity chattered away with Happy Hour with the rest of them following along in step. Pinkie pronked along in an energetic manner and the dragon occasionally glanced back before they disappeared from sight. Handy turned to Warm Night, who gestured with a hoof for him to follow before walking on.
 

--=--


“So, it’s been a while. Never thought I’d meet you again,” Warm Night said as the two stopped under the cover of a shop window as a light drizzle came down. Handy idly studied the toys on display of the woodcrafter’s shop as they spoke.
 
“Yeah, that’s… Yeah. How’ve you been? How is Spurbay?”
 
“Oh it goes, it goes.” Night gestured with a hoof as he shook the scarf about his neck into place. “I’ve been doing well, as you can probably guess.”
 
“I can see that. When did… I mean, the baby and all but… When did that happen?” Handy asked, looking down at him. Warm Night smiled.
 
“Isn’t she beautiful? She’s a month old now. I couldn’t be prouder.” He beamed.
 
“No I mean… Fuck.” Handy rubbed a hand over his head. “I mean, uh, congratulations. I just never thought it’d been so long since we last spoke already.”
 
“Twelve months isn’t that long, Handy,” Warm said with a smirk. Handy snapped around.
 
“... Twelve months?” he asked quietly, eyes wide. “Has it been a year already?”
 
“What? No, there’s more than twelve months in a year.” Warm Night’s eyebrows rose. Handy waved him aside.
 
“Not what I— Never mind, that’s… Sorry, my mind was elsewhere.” He looked out on the passing ponies on the street as the drizzling rain passed, clearing up for the sun once again. “Time flies, I guess.”
 
“Hmhm, that it does. Want to get a drink while we’re waiting?” Night asked. Handy looked up at the sky.
 
“At this hour?”
 
“Ha! Not that kind. Come on, Ponyville has cheap coffee.” They settled at a cafe that, oddly enough, consisted of two buildings around a central square with exterior tables and chairs. Both the interiors and tables were full, so the pair had to make do with standing, holding cheap cups with the steaming liquid.
 
Handy, not for the first time, wondered where in the hell this world got its coffee from when no one this far north had either the appropriate climate or the greenhouses to cultivate it. He never could find bags of the stuff on the market, only ever in coffee houses or restaurants or, rarely, in the possession of higher nobles than himself. It was weirdly restricted for such a desirable product that was sold openly to the public, and Warm Night was not kidding when he said it was cheap here. Only three Equestrian bits, barely making a dent in one of his Grey Coast bond notes, right here in the middle of Equestria.
 
He shrugged to himself. Must be some merchant cartel or something. He had increasingly learned such attempts were not unusual but rarely as successful as he had seen coffee had been. Warm took a long draught of his cup, letting out a satisfied breath as he moved out of the way of a cream-coated mare with a two-toned dark blue and pink mane returning to her seat. Handy idly contemplated his own cup. He wasn’t much for coffee generally but had grown more and more appreciative of it in this world for its reviving effects. He drank the dark liquid and suffered through its burn as it passed down his throat warmed him.
 
“I wanted to thank you, you know.”
 
“What?” Handy asked, distracted.
 
“I meant thank you. I… don’t know what would have happened if you and Joachim had not showed up. I don’t know if we’d still be in that mine or…” He trailed off, speaking quietly. Handy took another drink.
 
“You’d have had made it out eventually.”
 
“No, I mean really. We wouldn’t have. I would never have… I mean, my wife and child. I’d never have them; little Ruby would never have been born.” Handy didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. They both stood there in the quiet of the day, listening to the crowd as they chatted and laughed and mingled around them. Handy looked up and observed the pegasi lazily meandering in the sky above.
 
“I know you weren’t telling us everything.” Handy looked down at him quietly. “About how we got out of there. I know damn well I fell down that shaft after I flipped the switch.”
 
Handy said nothing, shifting in his cloak. Warm’s voice was barely audible with the crowd around them, which was just as well.
 
“I remember the fire at the bottom. I remember the choking fumes and the acrid smell of oil as I took my last breaths. I remember not being able to move my limbs, the twisted metal, my vision fading. I remember the pain, all of it. It’s hard to forget what a punctured lung feels like.” He took a breath, Handy remaining silent. “I am not saying I know what you did. I am not saying I am not grateful to you, because I am, more than I could ever pay back. But I know you lied. I know Joachim was in no state to carry himself out of that hole, let alone both of us. I knew that before I made the jump. You probably lied to him too then, didn’t you?”
 
Handy looked away, his gaze focused on a clothesline where a mare was hanging a red blanket while chatting with her neighbour who carried a basket of dried vegetables. He still did not respond.
 
“It was cold, the thing that grabbed me. I felt it run right through me. It was like it was scratching at my mind and my heart before things went black.”
 
“Warm,” Handy finally said, a note of warning in his voice. Warm shook his head.
 
“I am not prying. Like I said, I am grateful, truly I am. I just… I’m saying I don’t want to know. And why I don’t want to know. It was dark down there, Handy, and I do not mean the lack of light. I don’t want that darkness to follow me, is all. To follow my family.”
 
“And it won’t. I promise, so long as you let it go.”
 
“And I will,” Warm said quickly. “It's just… I want you to know I don’t believe most of what I heard about you, about how you are now a blood-sucking monster that eats ponies and sacrifices virgins to dark gods.”
 
Handy snorted at that. It couldn’t be helped. Warm could hardly hold back the hint of a smile despite the dark mood that had taken over the conversation. Handy didn’t let him see the look in his eyes, however.
 
“But,” he began. Handy looked back at him expectantly. “I can’t rule it all out. Nopony in Spurbay takes any of the stories seriously, and you have an entirely different perception on the West Coast than from what we have heard from travellers and news from elsewhere. Still, I want to hear it from you. Is any of it true?”
 
Handy was quiet for a moment as he considered that. He didn’t want to lie to Warm. Besides, it might as well be pointless, as there was no way he was unmarked by the princess after approaching him in the street. Warm was going to find out one way or another once the Crown approached him, if at all. Hell, for all Handy knew, this was probably a set up by the Equestrians. His mouth twitched as he suppressed a smile. Trust Warm to be put up to something without his knowing—the man was too honest. That, or perhaps Handy had grown too cynical.
 
“Less than you’d think, more than I’d like.” Warm Night finished his drink and watched the crowd go about their business.
 
“Which parts?”
 
“Whichever ones help you sleep at night,” Handy said before letting out a breath. “I thought you didn’t want to know?”
 
“I guess I don’t. I just… I dunno.” The sun poked out from behind a passing cloudbank and bathed the town in its scant warmth.
 
“How’s your dad?” Handy asked at last. Warm smiled sadly.
 
“In a better place.” Handy looked down at him, his face dropping in realization.
 
“Oh… I’m sorry.”
 
“Don’t be. He died happier than I’ve known him to be in years.”
 
“Did he get to see his grandchild?”
 
“No, sadly, but he knew she was coming, at least. He seemed content with that.” Warm sighed briefly. “How’s Joachim these days? Am I hearing right and he’s now wearing a particularly heavy hat?”
 
Handy smiled at that. “He’s doing as well as can be expected.”
 
“Very diplomatic of you.”
 
“Can’t very well be saying things about my king, now can I?”
 
“No, but how about a friend?” Warm smiled broadly.
 
“Being a king isn’t an easy job.” Warm detected a hard edge to Handy’s voice that was not directed at him. He moved the conversation along.
 
“I see. And you?”
 
“Hm?”
 
“How are you doing?” Handy snorted.
 
“That’s a question and a half. But I am well.” Handy waved a hand in the direction of the ugly castle and the charcoal-black envelope of the airship docked beside it. “Moving on up in the world.”
 
“Literally, I see.”
 
“Only way to do it,” Handy replied with a laugh.
 
“Haven’t gone home yet?” Handy’s mouth drew tight.
 
“Not feasible right now.”
 
“Really? You seem to have the money. Obligations tying you down?”
 
“Amongst other things. I simply can’t as things stand right now.”
 
“Why not?” Handy chewed the inside of his cheek as he considered.
 
“Price is currently too high. ‘Sides, the Black Fleet is in the way.” Night nodded.
 
“Always did wonder how you got past them in the first place.”
 
“Alcohol covereth a multitude of sins. You’re a port town lad. Do any of the sailors you know ever come ashore sober?”  Warm Night laughed with genuine mirth.
 
“Usually their passengers are more reserved.”
 
“Well most passengers aren’t Milésian,” Handy countered. Warm Night just shook his head.
 
“Well, whatever the truth of it is, I hope you manage it someday. Or are you settled down yet?”
 
“Not at all.” Handy recalled his rather entrenched position back in Gethrenia and grimaced. “And I do not plan on doing so.”
 
“Well, whatever you do, I wish you the best.” Warm placed his cup on a table by the door to be picked up by one of the employees. “You should visit Spurbay sometime.”
 
“I might just do that one of these days,” Handy promised, a smile coming to his face. “Any more dog troubles?”
 
Warm laughed. “No, not anymore, you’ll be glad to hear. “They’ve foreclosed the mine at long last.”
 
“They hadn’t before?”
 
“Oh, it was long since abandoned to the dogs. It’s just official now.” Warm shifted his scarf. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to pick up the girls. You think they’ll be ready?”
 
“It's barely been more than an hour, and they’re women. Give them another half hour or two.” Warm chuckled.
 
“Well, let's get something to eat then. Hungry?”
 
“Aye, what food does this town have?”
 
“How do you like dried hay?” Warm asked. Handy frowned.
 

--=--


Spike saw him approach from the town not long after he himself had returned from Rarity’s. Twilight had told him to stay outside to greet Handy when he did eventually come back, which was definitely something he was not looking forward to.
 
“Why did I agree to this again?” he asked himself, and not for the first time, he crossed his arms over his chest again for added warmth, the heavy coat itself not enough to keep out the chill that bit to the bone. He should not be this cold this close to spring.
 
Handy drew closer to the grand doors of the castle as he left the town, his pony friend in toe beside him as he chatted amiably with the stallion. Their conversation abruptly cut off when the human saw the drake waiting for him by the two guards. He still bore a smile, but it had shrunk noticeably.
 
“Spike, is it?” Handy asked as he drew up to him. Spike stood up straight and looked him in the eye, but the human was still head and shoulders above him.
 
“Y-Yeah.”
 
“Excellent. I take it you are prepared for our sojourn now?” Handy asked.
 
“Uhm, yes. Twilight said she wanted to talk to you for a bit before we left.” Handy nodded.
 
“Of course, of course.” Handy glanced at the two guards who, to their credit, were standing stoically, eyes forward and as impassive as marble statues. Warm Night took a step forward.
 
“Is my wife still with the princess?” Spike blinked at him, surprised for a moment that the stallion had spoken to him.
 
“Oh! Yeah, they’re inside. She’s been waiting on you.”
 
“Oh well, best not keep her waiting then. Ha!”
 
“Have you not gone in yet?” Handy asked. Spike shook his head.
 
“I uh, was told to wait here for you.”
 
“How polite. Well, it wouldn’t do to keep them waiting. Let's head on in.” And as Handy said that and as Spike reached out to open the massive doors, they swung in on their own accord and, much to everyone’s surprise, a warm gust of air blew out. It was followed by an explosion of confetti and blasts of horns and trumpets and a hundred and one other instruments.
 
“SURPRISE!” an amazingly pink voice bellowed out, chorused by dozens of other voices. Handy blinked in confusion, covered in the detritus that had exploded onto the three of them. The entire hallway of the castle was packed with townsponies, both in the air and on the ground. Banners hung from the balustrade of the upper floors, stating: WELCOME AND FAREWELL!
 
Pinkie Pie was there, reared up on her hind legs, forelegs outstretched in the air in welcome, her face split with the warmest grin before she ran forward and swept Spike into a bone-crushing hug which, given the relative strength of earth ponies, was quite considerable.
 
“Oh, we’re going to miss you so much!” Spike chuckled as he was released and followed the pony inside to be greeted by the townsponies.
 
“I’m not going to be gone forever, you know.”
 
“We know that, Spike,” Twilight said as she came forward with her other friends. She nervously rubbed at one foreleg. “But you… know how hard it is for us to let you go off on your own.”
 
Spiked rolled his eyes as he removed the scarf and smiled at the alicorn. “Yeah, and how. But I’m not—” He coughed violently for a few seconds. Handy noted the alarmed look in the princess’ face. “—Ack! Sorry, but I’m not going too far. It's just the dragon lands… and then Griffonia. It's not as if we can't keep in touch.”
 
Warm began picking off the confetti and streamers from his coat and mane as he entered the reception and went searching after his wife. Handy still needed a moment to register what was happening before following them inside and… immediately the heat washed over him. Huh, the castle must have some way of magically containing the heat even with open doors. He didn’t notice it when he first entered the castle, but it was definitely conspicuous now.
 
He brushed the shoulders of his cloak and shook his head. Spike was conversing with the princess and her friends, Warm had wandered over near a table where his wife stood… wearing a rather expensive, if simple-looking dress. The rest of the ponies were mingling amongst each other or eating and drinking. Seemed he had been unduly worried. The oddness of the princess’ insistence on getting him outside the castle earlier was probably just to set up this surprise party. A charming touch, he decided, if he was right about his surmising and this dragon was something of a little brother to this mare.
 
He noticed the pink pony, who was bobbing side to side on her hooves as music played from somewhere in the castle, was looking back at him with a smile. Apprehension crawled along his neck, and he decided it was in his immediate best interests to find something else to occupy his time and look busy before the... Thing decided he required seeing to. He wandered to the nearest table and picked a plate of what looked like edible fruit slices. It wasn't until he bit into them that he realised they were apples, for which he was pleasantly surprised, and took a few more.
 
“Do my eyes deceive? For this I cannot believe!” Handy, mouth full of apples, looked across from him to see a zebra. A very distinctive zebra, wearing large, hooped, gold earrings and neck brace of similar rings. Who spoke in rhyme. He froze. It was the witch of the woods, the one he had first met when he came to this world, whose door he had come to for directions after waking up on the riverbank. And she was smiling at him. He swallowed.
 
“I’m… sorry?” Handy asked cautiously. The zebra was wearing a green travelling cloak that looked slightly damp and tattered. Given she apparently lived in the nearby forest, that was to be expected.
 
“Remember me, you do not? Though this cannot be blamed, for surely you went through a lot, in the forest that cannot be tamed,” she said without hesitation.
 
“Oh… well.” He looked around. “Yes, I guess I do remember you.”
 
She smiled at that and lifted the ladle of the nearby punch—or at least Handy thought it was punch—and poured a glass with it, deftly manipulating the tool with her hoof. Again, it annoyed the fuck out of Handy. How the hell did ponies, or zebras in this case, do that with just their hooves? She gestured to the bowl with the tool, and Handy shook his head.
 
“I see life finds you well, how finds you Ponyville at last, pray tell?” Okay, this conversation was happening, he guessed.
 
“It’s… pleasant.”
 
“Only now in the present?”
 
“What? No, that is not what I meant.”
 
“Then why then, away from Ponyville did you bid me have you sent?”
 
“Look, I did not want to go to Ponyville at the time.”
 
“So you sought refuge in another clime?”
 
“What is this? What are you doing?”
 
“I don’t understand what you are construing.”
 
“Okay, that one was a stretch. What's with the rhyming?”
 
“It is how I best practice my timing.”
 
“Why?” Handy asked monosyllabically. Zecora smiled wider at him, eyes dancing with mischief.
 
“I cannot lie, this is simply how I choose to speak. It keeps the wits sharp and my humour sleek. To practice my arts and speed my chores along, perhaps you would rather I spoke in song?” she offered. Handy shook his head.
 
“No! No… anything but that.” Handy rubbed the bridge of his nose and looked around. It seemed that Spike had wandered off into the crowd and the princess and her friends had similarly disbanded. Concerned, he scanned the room and spotted the pink one some ways off. She had pulled a clown outfit from somewhere and was busy doing a rather complicated display to the amusement of several ponies. Well, at least that meant she wasn’t anywhere near Handy for now, and he figured if the princess had went through this much trouble for a farewell party, it’d be rude to demand it to be hurried along.
 
He turned back to the zebra and scrutinized her for a moment. She didn’t… seem like much, and he certainly had not expected to ever see her again. However, she did confirm that this was, indeed, the very first town he had seen when he first woke up in that damned forest so long ago now, the very same town he had walked the opposite way from out of disgust for its existence.
 
“So, you live alone in the Everfree then?” She nodded.
 
“I am she who dwells in the forbidden dells of the Everfree. I live plain in sight as even those such as you can see.”
 
“Must be quite harrowing, given the wildlife,” Handy commented.
 
“I make do with what I can. It has been that way since life first began.”
 
“So you just... deal with all those wolves made of wood? And those horrible mounds of flesh with teeth and those… chicken things that turn people to stone?” he asked incredulously. Zecora chuckled into her hoof.
 
“Cockatrice bother me none. It is not hard when you venture only on the road which is lit by the sun.”
 
“Cockatrice? Is that what those things are called?” Handy asked, a thought coming to him suddenly. If this was indeed the same town as before, and Zecora lived not too far into the forest, at least close enough to venture into town, he wondered if… “I don’t suppose it’d be too much trouble to ask of you a favour?”
 
“A boon you seek of me? Tell me what you seek and we shall see.” While her smile seemed genuine and her expression curious, the entire vibe Handy was getting off of her made him hesitate. As far as he knew, she was probably not a witch, even though she had all the trappings of one. With this world, it could go either way. He had met one isolated old griffon lady who had turned out to be the definition of a witch herself, and another who was nothing more than a kind old lady who gave him some medicine for his troubles. He glanced at Twilight for a moment, and the surrounding ponies. They all seemed to tolerate and accept her, probably had done so for years, and if the Equestrian’s suspiciousness surrounding him was anything to go by, anything untoward from this zebra this close to the youngest princess in the land would certainly have been noted. He bit the bullet and put forward his suggestion.
 
“I was wondering if you would be able to direct me to a certain cockatrice?” he asked. Zecora lifted an eyebrow at that.
 
“If it is a hunt you are after, then perhaps it is another woodspony to whom you should defer.”
 
“No no, it’s not a hunt. It’s a very particular cockatrice. For a very particular reason.” She tapped her chin in thought.
 
“If it is not any one that will do, then I am led to understand this is one in which you knew?”
 
“Yes. Very familiar with this particular cockatrice.” She smiled at that and gestured for him to continue with a wave of her hoof. “I can’t distinguish much about it other than it was rather large and it had turned one of those large, fat, ball-like things into a statue not long before we… met.”
 
“Ah, I know of the one of which you speak. Into cockatrice dens, wrigoths do not dare peek. So when one is turned to stone, it is not long until such a new landmark is then become known.”
 
“So you know of which one I am talking about?” Handy asked hopefully. Perhaps he would get more out of this trip than he had expected. Zecora nodded.
 
“There is only one new such statue, such an unfortunate fate. And cockatrices guard their territories well and intruders they most certainly hate.”
 
“So could you guide me to where this cockatrice’s territory is?” he asked cautiously. She nodded again. “So what would I owe you? I can pay, if that’s what you’d want.”
 
She waved him off with a hoof. “Not at all, for cockatrices are but a pest. Tell not my yellow friend before you set out on this quest. For the good pony, though she means well, she cannot fully accept some animals make a home impossible to dwell.”
 
Ah right, the pegasus with the pink hair he had met before, the really quiet one. Well, no problem there, he should think, since he’d unlikely to be near her anytime soon. “Well, regardless. The cockatrice’s ability to turn things to stone…”
 
“It pierces you with its stare, and petrifies with its baleful glare,” she said happily. Although how you could say something like that happily was beyond Handy.
 
 
“Right. What can you tell me?” he asked at last.
 
“Less than you’d like, and more than I’d prefer, but lo, to another I now must defer.” Zecora’s gaze shifted to behind Handy. He turned and saw the yellow, silent mare all but jump as the two finally noticed her. Speak of the goddamn devil...
 
“Uhm, sorry if… if I am interrupting. Zecora?” she asked. The zebra smiled warmly at her.
 
“Not at all, Fluttershy. For what purpose do you pass by?”
 
“Oh, I was just wondering if you had any more of the tonics to help out my squirrel friends. They’re still ever so sick.” She glanced up at Handy and gave him a light smile. Handy did not return the expression. The smile fell from her face, and she quickly looked back to Zecora.
 
“Of course, my friend, anything to help you out of this bend. I shall make a new batch for you upon the morrow that is sure to remedy your furry little friends’ sorrow.” Zecora walked from her side of the table to theirs. Handy tolerated the interruption, not planning on leaving the zebra just yet. “You have yet to introduce me to this strange friend of yours. Another that Twilight and company have picked up on their tours?”
 
“What? Oh, oh my no. This is, uhm…” Fluttershy gestured to Handy.
 
“Handy,” he said, giving Zecora a questioning look, wondering what she was playing at. “I am here as a favour.”
 
“A favour you say and name of Handy? Such a dandy moniker for you to waver.” Not for the first time, he wished the woman would pick a rhyming scheme and just bloody stick with it. “I do not come into town as much and I am not as caught up on the news. Tell me, why have you need to fulfil such dues?”
 
“I am certain you can ask Princess Twilight about it,” Handy said, more than fed up with speaking to this damnable zebra and her witch-rhymes. Granted, he had not seen a single witchy thing about her other than that she lived in a strange tree house in the middle of foreboding woods far beyond the limits of the town.
 
That, to be perfectly honest, just screamed that she was a witch. Either that or a grouchy Finn.
 
“I can tell ya jus’ what he’s here for,” said an orange mare suddenly. Applecrack or something, he recalled. The pony gave him the most openly scrutinizing look he had received from an ordinary pony in the longest time, and clearly had no fear of him as she approached with Rarity in tow.
 
“Applejack, dear, there is no need to be rude,” the white mare admonished
 
“I ain’t being rude none. I am just telling Zecora here the facts as I knows them. This here is the human what been scaring folk around the country. Rightly or wrongly mind.”
 
“Now that isn’t strictly true,” Handy said neutrally. Applejack seemed to pause and tilt her head slightly.
 
“It's true enough though, ain’t it?” Handy cocked a brow.
 
“I am not responsible for what other people think. It's none of my business. It’s none of yours either.” He might be a guest here, but he didn’t need to take this. Applejack’s stare seemed to lighten momentarily before hardening again.
 
“Now that’s a lie. You do it on purpose, don’t you? You like scarin’ folks.” Handy’s eyes widened slightly. “I know I got a feel for ya back at your house, but I had to be sure.”
 
“Are you telling me you can detect when someone is lying?” Handy asked, curious.
 
“I reckon I can tell a fib better than most,” she confessed.
 
“AJ!” Rarity interjected
 
“Hush, Rares.” Handy contemplated that for a moment, then narrowed his eyes at her. Truth be told, the only other person he knew who could easily tell when he was lying was Johan himself. However, he had always chalked that up to the griffon knowing him far better than most people. He smiled.
 
“That is rich.”
 
“Beg yer pardon?”
 
“You are hardly the first nor will you be the last who claims they can judge someone’s honesty just from ‘looking’ at them,” Handy commented. “Honestly, really now, I expected better of the sorts the good princess chooses to surround herself with.”
 
“Now see here, are you calling me a liar?” she demanded with a huff.
 
“I don't see how that is different than you claiming the same out of me, and with much less evidence. I have not sought to scare nor strike fear in anyone since I have arrived here, and certainly I do not go out of my way to strike fear into the hearts of anyone in my own home in Skymount. Or are you going to deny the evidence of your eyes and believe that of your ears instead?” he challenged. He could see that Applejack looked flustered, so he went in for the kill. “Now it could be that I, in fact, always lie, and that this too is a lie. Tell me, Applejack, was it? Have I just lied to you?”
 
“Uh, well—”
 
“Honestly, Applejack, that's enough now.” Rarity placed a hoof in front of her friend and turned to Handy. “I apologise, my dear baron. I’m afraid AJ here is very forward with how she feels about things. I fear we may have gotten off on the wrong hoof before, and I would like to make amends.”
 
Handy nodded and smiled genially at the purple-haired mare. Honestly, flattery would get her nowhere with him, and he was unlikely to ever reconsider his first impression of her, but politeness and respect had its place and he appreciated the gesture.
 
“It is forgotten. A pleasant surprise you laid out for young Spike.”
 
“Yes, well, Pinkie Pie simply insisted on it. It is also for you, you know?” she asked.
 
“Is that why it says welcome and farewell?” Handy asked.
 
“Oh quite. How are you finding it?”
 
“It is… nice,” Handy decided. It was a very simple affair. The music wasn’t overbearing, the colours bright, the food sugary, and the drinks absent of alcohol of any kind. Reminded him more of a bingo hall celebration from back home than an actual farewell party. “A touch unexpected though.”
 
“Well that’s our Pinkie Pie—simply could not dream of knowing somepony new was coming to Ponyville and not welcome them appropriately.” She tittered. “Though I imagine this is not the sort of thing you would be used to.”
 
“You’d be right about that. Hm.” Handy looked around. “Not that I am complaining, but I am surprised that your blue friend is not around. The Rainbow something.”
 
“Dash is spending time training with the Wonderbolts. She couldn’t make it for this,” Applejack explained, now looking behind her towards where Warm Night and Happy Hour were conversing with a rather large white stallion with comically overdeveloped muscles and shrunken wings. She murmured under her breath, “Ah jus’ don’t get it.”
 
“What are you—?”
 
“HI!”
 
“GWAH!” Handy stepped back and overturned the food table as he struggled to maintain his balance as Pinkie Pie all but appeared in his face. Pinkie laughed, and was soon joined in by the others as they scattered in the wake of the spilt punch and treats.
 
“Sorry about that. I wanted to say I’m sorry!” she began, then looked up and frowned. “Well, not sorry that I’m sorry. I mean I am sorry for that just now, but I am also sorry for something else I really wanted to tell you I am sorry for, before I was sorry for the other thing which I am REALLY sorry about but—”
 
“Enough!” Handy managed, wiping pink frosting from the hem of his cloak and sighing. He supposed he was bound to run into this thing long enough. He’d been avoiding it enough. “It’s… alright. Really.”
 
“But it isn’t! You see, I knew you and my sister were friends and all, and she was just here a few days ago, and I was really hoping she could stick around for the party, but she really really couldn’t, so I just wanted to say sorry about that!”
 
Well. That happened. Truthfully, Maud would have been a more bearable pony to have a conversation with than her sister, but that would have just been a bonus for his time in Equestria. He smiled at the pink pony.
 
“It’s fine, really. Thank you very much for this party.” Handy decided that being amenable to the thing that clearly had some very weird magic was probably a good idea.
 
“You’re welcome! And you’re welcome!” she said before falling back and giggling to herself, causing Applejack to roll her eyes and shake her head. Rarity kicked her foreleg. She mouthed an ouch, rubbed it, and gave the mare a poisonous look. Rarity simply gestured with nod of her head. Applejack sighed and cleared her throat.
 
“Look, Mister Handy, ah know I was rough on ya but…” She looked back at Happy Hour. “I guess after hearing all the things your pony friends had to say, I guess I may have you wrong…”
 
Handy raised his eyebrows at that. “Oh, changing your tune are we?” She frowned.
 
“Now don’t think that means I’ll let you off easy. Ah know you are mightily going out of your way on this for us, and Ah appreciate it, Ah really do, just… Ah dunno, forget about it. I take notions sometimes.”
 
“Cleary,” Handy said dryly, looking up as he saw the smiling princess approaching.
 
“Hi girls, hi Zecora!” she greeted.
 
“Twilight, my good friend, time with us at last you do now spend?” Zecora asked playfully. Twilight rolled her eyes.
 
“Yes yes, I know I’ve been meaning to give that book back to you for months now. I keep forgetting. I promise you won’t leave here without it this time. I’m not avoiding you, I swear. I see you’ve met our guest.”
 
“That I have, and not for the first time. Aheh, though he does seem to take objection when I rhyme.” Handy frowned at her. Twilight blinked.
 
“Wait, you knew each other?” she asked, pointing at the two of them.
 
“Zecora is the first person I met from this town,” Handy said, not technically a lie. Twilight rounded on Zecora.
 
“Why did you never tell me about that!?” she demanded, shocked more than anything. Zecora smiled nonchalantly.
 
“Whenever it came to matters of the past, you never really asked.” Twilight smacked her face with her hoof in a gesture that he always thought would have hurt the ponies more whenever he saw them do it, but it never seemed to.
 
“Oh I am sure there will plenty of time for you to catch up on all of that, darling,” Rarity said reassuringly, looking over at Happy Hour again, her smile fading as her eyes looked down upon the sleeping foal the mare held in her foreleg, close to the spring dress she had gifted her. She looked down thoughtfully before her eyes looked out at the cold weather through the nearby window. “Uh… If you’ll… If you’ll excuse me, I need to take care of something. Applejack?”
 
“Hm?”
 
“Could you come with me? Just for a moment. I need your advice on something.”
 
“Uh, sure. See ya around, Twi, Fluttershy,” she said as they departed.
 
“Oh, that reminds me. Handy?” Twilight asked. Handy looked down at her. “Spike is just gathering what's left of his things and will be down soon. If you have a moment, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about?”
 
Ah, there it was. He adopted a neutral expression and nodded, letting the princess guide him off to fulfil her part of the bargain. He turned to Zecora one last time before leaving.
 
“Do you mind meeting me at the edge of town in a half hour’s time? I’d prefer if we could take care of that matter today.”
 
“Of course I would be happy to be your guide, and show exactly where your prizes likes to hide.” Handy nodded his thanks and walked off. Fluttershy gave Zecora a questioning look.
 
“Uhm, what are you showing him exactly?” she asked curiously. Zecora clearing her throat answered her.
 
And deep in conversation on the other side of the hall, Applejack’s ear twitched, and she rubbed at it with a hoof in annoyance.
 

--=--


 

He followed the princess back into the room with the circular table and again noted how large the room was, and how empty it was. Surely she did not trust him this much already? Unless...
 
Twilight presented him with a small casket, magically levitated from under her right wing. She held it in front of her and looked down at it contemplatively. It was a small thing, plain and unassuming, which he supposed made sense given what he knew of the mare. She sighed and levitated it over to him, and he gratefully accepted it in one hand as the aura disappeared from it. He opened it to see the transparent glass flask filled with the vital fluid, resting in the velvet folds of the casket’s interior. He blinked in astonishment.
 
“Huh.”
 
“What?”
 
“Nothing, just never imagined you would actually go through with it.” Twilight looked at him with incredulity.
 
“I gave my word! Why did you think I wouldn’t?” she asked. Handy simply shrugged.
 
“Given your reaction when I first proposed the idea, I would’ve thought you’d have been a lot more hesitant.”
 
“You saw me back in Skymount. I agreed to it then and there whe—”
 
“Not. Then.” Handy closed the casket with a noticeable clack as the lock slipped into place. He looked up at her steadily.
 
“What do you me— Oh.” Her ears flicked.
 
“Quite.” He smiled. “Seems you are much more amenable to the idea than I was led to believe.”
 
“What? No, no no, I think you’re misunderstanding. I mean, just because… I mean—”
 
He nodded understandingly. “I understand. It’s for the research, right?”
 
“I uh… W-What?” she asked.
 
“You’re the inquisitive type. It was nothing more than idle curiosity. You’d want to know what happens, and this is the safest way, isn’t it?”
 
“...What do you mean what happens?” she asked cautiously, tapping the ground lightly and turning her head to the side. Handy’s smile remained kind and confident as he looked around at the empty throne room and placed the casket on the crystal table. He considered his options. It probably would be his only way of getting more in the future. And who knew what benefits it would give him in the long run if he got just enough for the effects to be permanent.
 
“Tell me, are Ciara or Sorcha aware of this little part of our arrangement? Truthfully, I am surprised they let you go through with this. I mean, this is yours, right?” Twilight didn’t respond. Handy grimaced. “They don’t, do they? Your friends, perhaps?”
 
Again, Twilight looked away. Handy’s expression looked surprised.
 
“Hm, I see. I hope you did not have to lie on my behalf about it? That friend of yours, the one with the hat? She seems rather adept at sniffing out untruths. She might be a touch upset by this.”
 
“They would have… objected. I didn’t tell them,” she admitted.
 
“But Spike knows, I assume?” She looked at him. “I assume you have a means of keeping in contact with him, even at distances. You hope to find out what happens when I drink this, right?”
 
“I don’t know what you mean.” She glanced away.
 
“You’re a bad liar. Just as well you didn’t tell them anything. It also doesn’t help that your heart is pumping faster the more nervous you get.”
 
“W-What?” She now looked rather alarmed. Handy took a step closer to the table, tapping the lid of the small casket as he went.
 
“We both know I change based on what I… consume.” He allowed his eyes to flash briefly. “And you know damn well why I requested this off of you. A curious sort like you wants to know what happens, right? Purely as a case of scientific inquiry, of course.”
 
She tapped the floor lightly again with her hoof and ruffled her wings. “W-Well…” He gave her time to finish, “I just… I figured it would be worth it. I mean then I’d… I’d also get something out of it.”
 
“Would you now? Indeed. You’re certainly holding up well for losing half a quart of blood. How old is this sample?”
 
“Uhm… a few days,” she confessed.
 
“And the glass? Preservation enchantment?”
 
“The casket, not the glass,” she corrected. “So long as the flask is in the casket, it’ll be preserved. Good for a year.”
 
“Fantastic gift. I graciously accept.” He lifted the flask out of the casket and studied it appreciatively. His smile fell. “Alas, there is just one problem.”
 
“What? What is it?” she said, looking up. He placed the flask back and closed the casket, looking to her.
 
“I am afraid you will never discover the effects alicorn blood has on me.”
 
“What? Why not?” she said in surprise, unconsciously admitting to what Handy had insinuated she was planning.
 
“Because I plan on denying you that. You will never know it by proxy. I will never allow Spike to find out.” Handy’s expression was neutral. “And there is nothing and no one that can aid you on the matter.”
 
“What!? But you’re going back on the deal!” she protested.
 
“Oh? What deal?” he asked dryly. “All the world knows that we agreed upon was, in a gesture of goodwill, that I would aid you in this quest to the Dragonlands, for the sake of your dear dragon friend’s health. No one, not Sorcha, not Ciara, not your friends, not anyone, knows about… this.” He tapped the casket for emphasis, and Twilight suddenly realised the depth of her mistake. Her eyes darted from the casket to Handy and back again. Her horn began to glow momentarily, and Handy’s willed power into the hand held behind his back.
 
The second Twilight disappeared from view in a flash of light and a burst of burnt ozone, a silver aura encapsulated the box and whipped it into his cloak as she reappeared behind him. She reached for the box, and her hooves grabbed empty space on the table. She blinked, and shocked eyes locked upon Handy as he stood less than a foot away.

“Now, now,  I’m afraid it's too late for that, Princess.” Twilight glowered at him.

“Give it back, this is not fair!” she demanded, pushing off the table.

“I entirely agree, it is not fair. And that’s exactly why I’ll be holding you to account.”

“What?”

“Do you know what I think of you, Twilight?” Handy asked, dropping the nickname for the sake of the severe expression on his face. “I thought, out of all of the alicorn princesses, I could actually trust you.”

He walked around the table from her, observing each of the thrones in turn and noticing the marks upon each. It seemed the princess’ friends were actually people of some importance and not just her entourage. Ah well, something to worry about later. Twilight now looked at him in confusion.

“I. Hate. Luna,” Handy continued. “I hate her; I hate her servants; I hate her for the trouble she has put me through, I hate what it has made me become. I hate her intentions, both good and bad, and through her, I hate Equestria, Equestrians, all ponies generally, and thestrals in particular.”

“But… That's not—”

“Celestia I do not trust,” he barrelled past her weak protest. “Not as far as I can throw her, in any case. She is clearly capable, and she has been amenable to working with me in the past. However, I know rulers, and I do not trust her in the slightest. You?”

He stopped and looked directly at her.

“You, on the other hand, I thought I could work with. You clearly do not have the same duties and responsibilities as your elders, and thus not the same pressures. You walk with common folk and have ponies of different ranks and sensibilities as your closest confidants. You are relatively distant from whatever local nobility inhabites this part of Equestria. I figured I could trust your word on its face without having to know you first.” He cradled the casket in his arm, ensuring it was tightly gripped in his magic as well. “And now I have learned you are willing to lie to your closest friends and elders, for the sake of a stranger and your own selfish curiosity.”

Twilight reeled at that, looking down, abashed, her wings sagging. He seemed to have gotten through to her on this. Putting the casket away again, he decided to throw out the last saving line.

“And that is why you are going to be telling them. I insist on it.”

“W-What?” Handy stare was unrelenting.

“Either you do that, or I will.” Her eyes went wide.

“You wouldn’t! Why would you want to?” she demanded. Handy shrugged.

“Because for better or for worse, I am here on good faith. And the agreements between our kingdoms rely on that, and frankly I owe Sorcha that much. It is already too late to undo what we did. I assume you know that.” He completed his circuit of the table and stopped beside her one last time. “So, I will offer you this, regardless of what you decide to do. If you want to find out anything else about the nature of my powers, you will have to do so by yourself.”

“No proxies, no distance learning. You will have to come to me. I refuse to be the subject of a foreign monarch’s amusement. Again.”

“What do you mean by that?” Twilight asked, head tilted.

“Hopefully you will never have to know. I certainly will not be telling you. Am I understood?” he asked. Twilight looked around herself at the room and, eventually, sighed and nodded her head.

“Yes. You’re right. I shouldn’t have done that. I’ll… I’ll tell them as soon as I can.” Handy nodded.

“Good. I look forward to hearing from you about the matter by the time I return to Equestria.” He turned for the door. “You may send Spike up to the ship. My pilot will help him get settled. I have one last thing to see to in town before I leave. I trust I have your leave?”

He halted by the door. Twilight looked contemplatively at the table beside her as it hummed with power. Handy gave her a friendly smile before opening the door, the party music briefly flooding into the room as he left.

“Then I wish you the very best of luck.”


--=--


It was having a good day.
 
It had stoned many a bird and watched them fall to the ground, to the confusion and fear of other animals. It had driven off many predators, from orlaxes and forest cats, to frelkors and foxes. It had deftly avoided not one, not two, but three timber wolf packs on the hunt. It had eaten its fill and had won its territory again and again from other migrating cockatrices, ensuring it would still rule its roost come summer when it returned to its nest.
 
Now, it was time to relax as it prepared to move near the forest’s edge, on the border of where the strange field creatures dwelled in their living hill-nests. It did not fear them—they had always fled from it, as was only good and proper behaviour in lesser creatures. Now, all it had to do was await the arrival of the females and it would have yet another successful cold-time behind it, with its posterity yet again realised and abandoned to fend for themselves. As was only right and proper.
 
It stopped at a creek not far from one of its proudest trophies. The towering figure of the bulbous creature cast a distinctive shadow, marking his territory better than any scent trail. It would have smiled knowingly to itself in smug pride if it were capable. It lowered its head instead to drink of the cool running melt water of the creek that always passed through its territory come the season of mating, and never once had it failed to invigorate him. Truly nothing could ruin its day.
 
Just as it drank of the water, appendages snaked around its long neck and clamped down on it like steel. It flailed its leathery wings in surprise and tried to cry out in shock. A heavy boot stamped down on its long, heavy tail to prevent it from whipping around. What dared trespass on a cockatrice’s nest!? What predator was this that it had not already killed and eaten it!?
 
It could not move its head to fix its gaze on its enemy. Instead, it just made out the reflection. The face of the prey that had gotten away from it all those seasons ago looked back at it. The one it had dumped into the whipping river from which there is no fish and from which it was not safe to drink for fear the water would grab you and whisk you to your death.
 
Its eyes began to glow a sickly yellow light in the warped reflection of the water as it smiled a toothy, predatory grin.
 
“Hello again. Did you miss me?” one abomination asked another. “I missed you.”
 

--=--

 
As the ship sailed off into the northwest, its shadow against the sky highlighted by the setting sun, Bonbon sighed, put down the quill, and closed over the notebook. She didn’t ordinarily need the glasses, but when writing in the Cant, it was necessary in order to see the tiny numbers written in the shapes of letters. She’d transcribe it later for a report to the… well, she didn’t know anymore.
 
SMILE had been disbanded. Only now did she know it was simply a more mundane arm of a more extensive intelligence service, one she was pretty sure was a joke until she got confirmation that yes, in fact, those crushed velvet-wearing weirdos were still around and that she had recently been notified she had a new mission. Compartmentalisation, she determined, was as wise a policy as much as it was utterly infuriating for the individual agent. She sighed as she slid the thin book into the false panel, placed her actual diary on top of it, slid out a drawer, and carefully replaced them both in the hollow just under the roof of her drawers.
 
Apart from general security issues, her housemate was as curious as she was eccentric, so it was better for her to find an obvious secret so long as it distracted her from the real secret. Well, she already knew, but old habits die hard. She supposed she should really count her blessings: nothing was blown up, nopony stampeded through the streets, no magical abominations against nature taking up residency in the nearest well, and the human hadn’t caused more ruckus than a simple farewell party for the town’s dragon.
 
It was a good day in Ponyville, all things considered.
 
SLAM.
 
AAAAAAnd that was one of the reasons why. She smiled lightly to herself as she left her room to greet her friend. Lyra was standing just in the foyer, breathing heavily, soaked to the bone and shivering, wide-eyed and wild-haired.
 
“Uh, long trip?” Bon Bon asked. Lyra took a deep breath.
 
“You would not BELIEVE what I had to go through just to get firewood! Firewood! We live next to one of the biggest forests in Equestria! It should not be that hard or that expensive just to get firewood!” Lyra complained, shaking off the water and tossing her shawl on the cloak hanger.
 
“That’s where you were?” Bon Bon asked as the grumbling unicorn walked past her into the living room and plopped herself down in front of the fire. “Out getting firewood?”
 
“Well, yeah!” Lyra said, lying down couchant on the carpet. Bon Bon raised an eyebrow.
 
“And how much was it?” Lyra tsk’d.
 
“I didn’t pay for it, silly!”
 
“What?”
 
“I mean, not at those prices.”
 
“Lyra did you steal firewood!?” Bon Bon asked incredulously.
 
“What!? No!”
 
“Then where did you get it?”
 
“I got it myself!” Lyra protested proudly, holding her head up high. Bon Bon blinked.
 
“You got it yourself.” Bon Bon was suddenly apprehensive. She had been in the forest this whole time? And she had not run into him?
 
“Yep.”
 
“Like… with an axe and everything?” She relaxed slightly when she realised Lyra would be reacting very differently had what she feared transpired. She… She didn’t know, did she? Of all ponies...
 
“Borrowed one from the Apples that Applejack wasn’t using.”
 
“And... that’s what kept you so long?” Lyra still held her proud pose smiling for a few seconds longer before she sagged, sighing.
 
“And I have a newfound appreciation of why firewood is so expensive in this town. That forest is… certainly something.” Bon Bon laughed. “It’s not funny! It was really spooky… And icky… And I need a bath.”
 
Bon Bon laughed all the way to the kitchen, where she made themselves tea before coming back out and giving a cup to Lyra, who took it gratefully.
 
“Ah, thank you.”
 
“No problem. But why did you go out? We have plenty of wood here.” Lyra sighed in exasperation, rolling over on the carpet and kicking her legs in frustration. Bon Bon looked down disapprovingly at the now wet and slightly dirtied carpet.
 
“Because it’s so boring! Nothing’s been going on in town, and Winter Wrap Up isn't for another week!”
 
“Two weeks.”
 
“See!” Lyra rolled back over. Bon Bon smirked and looked out the window as it began to rain.
 
“Oh, I wouldn’t say so. Today was interesting.”
 
“Hah! I doubt that.” Lyra moved to take another drink. “Why? What did I miss?”
 
Although she’d probably regret having to do the inevitable clean up, she wagered it was worth it just for the reaction. She waited just until Lyra was well and truly enjoying her drink before she smiled knowingly and told Lyra all that she had missed.