//------------------------------//
// 106 - It’s Going to be one of Those Days 
// Story: An Extended Holiday 
// by Commander_Pensword 
//------------------------------//

Extended Holiday
Ch 106: It’s Going to be one of Those Days
Act 15




“It’s amazing that your Ponies have recovered from the attack so well with everything that’s happened.” Fancy Pants sat across from Hammer Strike at the small table they’d set up for the meeting, nursing a glass of sherry.

“We’re doing the best we can,” Hammer Strike replied.

“And it’s admirable,” Fancy Pants said. “But in all seriousness, is there any way we can aid you, Hammer Strike?”

“Not that I can think of.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “We have plenty of resources.”

“Surely you must need help recovering your losses. Perhaps we could fund a recruiting drive?”

“Sir,” Blast Shield said as he entered the room. “The Crystal Ponies have arrived with sixty soldiers. They say that another forty will arrive in the next month with an additional offering of ten more each month, till we have five hundred Crystal Soldiers for our garrison.”

“That’s good to hear.” Hammer Strike nodded. “Could you see to helping them set up in the new barracks? I think the repairs weren’t too difficult, and they should be fixed up by now.”

“I’ll see to it myself,” Blast replied with a bow, then left the room.

“Well, it seems that’s in order. I don’t suppose you need help re-building damage to your walls and buildings?”

“Oi!” A voice called from outside the window. Several Dwarves had shown up at the gate, each with resources and tools. “We’ve been given the green light from the Blue Lard an hour ago. That means you lazy lot can finally get to work on the wall whenever!”

“Are those . . . foals with beards?” Fancy Pants asked incredulously as he looked out the window.

“No, those would be Dwarves,” Hammer Strike replied. “They . . . may have taken tools from me nearly two thousand years ago, and think they have a grand debt to pay off to me for it. . . . And they don’t take no for an answer.”

Fancy Pants raised his eyebrows. “Your life is just full of curiosities, isn’t it?”

“You don’t even know the half of it. So, anything else?”

“What about food? Surely your resources were strained.”

“We’re well stocked on that end, actually.”

“Is there really nothing we can do to help?”

“Not that I can think of.”

“You know, it’s very hard to earn your trust when you don’t require any favors,” Fancy Pants sighed.

“I already trust you, Fancy Pants. I know your intentions right off the bat. As for the others, while their intentions are obvious, they aren’t the best.”

“Not all of us are overly paranoid and self destructive, you know,” Fancy Pants pointed out.

“I never said everyone was. I simply stated that it’s easier to tell who is.”

Fancy pants nodded as he took another long pull from his sherry. “I suppose, then, that I won’t be able to do much good here.”

“It’s at least keeping some of the other nobles visiting in check. That’s a positive.”

“I’ll take what I can.” Fancy Pants shrugged. “I should go find Fleur. If you need me, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Got it. Good luck, Fancy Pants.”

“And you as well, Hammer Strike.”





“So you're doing what?” Grif asked

Grif, Avalon, Shrial, Pensword, Fox Feather, Moon River, and Lunar Fang all stood with Luna outside the mouth of the immense cave where the Changelings had killed the Ursa Major.

“The cub is still in there, and We intend to aid it,” Luna repeated.

“The cub is still alive? May I ask how you plan on aiding this star beast?” Pensword asked in awe. “If you can pull a Dame Fluttershy, that will be a point of boasting for our tribes.”

“I believe I can enchant my armor to replicate the mother's scent,” Luna said.

“And if you can’t?” Grif asked. “We’re not exactly talking about a little teddy bear here.”

“I shall burn that bridge when I come to it. You know, I do think I actually coined that phrase. One of my lieutenants kept mentioning the strategic weakness of a bridge during a campaign, and I believe that was my exact response.”

“And pointless,” Lunar Fang replied with a chuckle as a majority of those present presented their wings.

“We must remember, my friends, not everyone has wings,” Luna noted.

“Very true,” Pensword responded. “So, where is the cub going to stay?”

“I’ll take it back with me to Ys,” Luna said

“I hope the Thestrals will spoil him and make him a part of our culture and society,” Fox Feather replied with a lopsided grin. “Lunar Fang, can I hold your daughter?”

“Our daughter,” Lunar Fang replied with a laugh. She broke off suddenly as she found the cradle on her back was empty. Her pupils immediately shrank.

Pensword was worried and looked to Chieftess Luna. “Permission to enter the cave? We felt it would be safe with you here to have our daughter, but she got out without any of us knowing she was awake.”

“Let's hurry,” Luna agreed. Her horn sprung to life as she galloped towards the cave with the others on her tail. They entered the chamber where the baby ursa was sleeping, and right there, curled up on the creatures back, was a sleeping Moon River. 

“How does she do that?” Pensword hissed. As usual, Moon River kept her toy crossbow held under the crook of her leg. “She’s turning into a ninja.”

“Your daughter scares me,” Grif said flatly.

Luna grinned widely. “She will make a fine captain of my guard one day. Maybe even a future commander.”

“Assuming she breaks the contract to marry Cosy,” Lunar Fang pointed out. “But I’m sure she would appreciate the sentiment. I know we do,” Lunar Fang said as she beamed a smile to her husband. 

Pensword continued to gape, first at the ursa, then at Moon River, then back at Luna, and his wife. “I’m never going to get used to this, am I?”

Lunar Fang leaned in and gave him a passionate kiss. “That’s what they all say with the first one,” she said with a mischievous wink. “Just wait till number two comes.”

Pensword shuddered. “Of all the foes I have faced, fatherhood is, by far, the greatest.”

“But it’s still the most worth it, too,” Lunar Fang pointed out as she laid a wing over his back. Fox Feather soon joined on the other side as they watched the sleeping children together.





Pensword sat at his desk looking over the mountain of requisition forms and requests from the troops. The sounds of mortar on stone, chisels, sledges, and saws mowing through wooden beams echoed through the hallways as the repairs continued to progress. Everypony was slowly getting used to the sight of nobles walking through the halls, and more Ponies moving about the castle. His left ear twitched as he heard the sound of shifting hooves from the secretary’s office. He’d left explicit instructions he wasn’t to be disturbed, unless it was absolutely necessary. His brows furrowed. If this was another noble trying to ruffle his feathers, he didn’t know what he would do.

“I don’t care what orders you have. I will see the commander presently.”

Pensword winced. He recognized that voice only too well, but thought he might as well let things play out a little longer. He wanted to see just how long the inevitable exchange of insults and bickering could be held off, and absently wondered if Baron Blueblood would get the hint to make an appointment first.

And then there was a loud rumbling sound, and something smacked audibly against his door.

Pensword quickly stood up, marched to the door, and opened it. “What is going on out here?” he demanded. His tone had shifted from its usual calm form to that of a commanding officer at basic training. Baron Blueblood was currently being held on the ground by Preston. His horn was at the baron’s throat, while the secretary lay nearby looking uninjured, but very much startled.

“What happened here?” Pensword demanded.

“I was merely leaning forward to explain the importance of my seeing you when this cretin charged me,” Baron Blueblood sneered.

Pensword didn’t so much as blink in Blueblood’s direction. “Preston, what happened?”

“He lifted his hoof. He intended to strike her,” Preston reported.

“Preposterous.”

“Are you certain, Preston?”

“One hundred percent,” Preston said. One could almost say he buzzed with indignation.

Pensword’s eyes narrowed. “In my office, Blueblood. Now!” he snapped. “And in case you didn’t realize, yes, that is an order, and not a request for pleasantries. Preston is a far better judge of character than you give him credit for, and I will gladly take his word over yours any day of the week. You will answer for that action now, Baron.” He looked to his secretary. “You have the meeting off. Go ahead and visit the medical wing. Collect your nerves. Preston, I want you standing guard here. And don’t let anypony interrupt. I don’t care if Tirek himself is attacking the castle. I want to give my undivided attention to the baron.”

“Yes, Sir.” Preston saluted

“Well, I never,” Baron Blueblood scoffed as he entered the office.

“Baron Blueblood, you are in my land, my domain. Have I tried to tell you how to run your affairs or demanded audiences from your staff with threats of violence when I’ve visited your home?”

“Perhaps you should teach your staff how to treat nobility properly,” Blueblood said dryly. “At any rate, I am here because the law requires me to remind you of the lands entrusted to my family.”

“And what else does the law state?” Pensword asked cooly, knowingly. “As for treating nobility, I tell them to treat my office hours with respect, and only just notified them that I could be dealing with some highly classified information. That is why you were kindly requested to return at another time. And had you had the courtesy a noble is supposed to be born with, you would have let my assistant inform you of that matter. For all you know, I could have been dealing with following up on the third incursion of the Changeling Queen known as Chrysalis. She is a known threat, and we will have to deal with her.” He was not very happy. “Also, even nobles should know not to strike the staff of another noble without just cause.”

Blueblood growled under his breath, before saying, “I am, by law, obligated to inform you of the lands which fall under your legal stewardship.” He grit his teeth. “What you do with them is, of course, your choice.”

“I would like them back,” Pensword said with a wing shrug. “As for how I would protect them? I will ask for the help from the Dream Clan and Bear Tribe.”

Blueblood’s eye twitched. “Very well. You realize, given the newness of the Lunar House, it will take time for the official documents to be ratified.”

“I will make sure that both princesses will know to keep an eye out for the documents. I expect this to be wrapped up by month's end, or I will be sorely vexed, and might bring this fallout to House Platinum.”

“Of course, of course,” Blueblood said with a strained smile. “I’ll have my attorneys begin working on them, then. After all is said and done, you should be able to reap the profits of next year’s harvest.”

Pensword’s expression remained perfectly neutral. “Was there any other ‘urgent’ business you wished to discuss, or did you almost strike my secretary just so you could inform me of something that could have been done by scroll? I still remember the last time we discussed the issue, Blueblood. I may have been born over a thousand years ago, but I’m not senile.”

“Watch yourself, Commander,” Blueblood said as he rose to his hooves. “Your status as duke is not yet so powerful, nor have you been playing this game long enough to start threatening me. I came to deliver this news in person, because it was demanded in my ancestor’s will. Nothing further.”

Pensword stood up. “And I will not take you treating my troops and those that serve under my orders any way you want. I thank you for your deliverance of the news, and I understand the importance of honoring your ancestor’s wish. Blueblood was a good friend, and a valiant soldier. However, if that is all the business you have with me, I would kindly ask you to leave my office. On top of a new house to run, I also have to deal with the arrangements for my troops. You have a good day, Blueblood. I will see you at the coming vote.” He allowed himself a brief smile. “Oh, and thank you for using the rank I earned. It’s about time the Solar Court started acknowledging us.”

“We shall see, Commander,” Blueblood growled as he stalked out of the office. “We shall see.”





Prince Blueblood sighed, and rolled his eyes as he passed yet another squad of guards. Honestly, can’t the military take just a moment or two to relax? It’s not like the Changelings were going to attack again any time soon. All this uptightness was chafing on his nerves. It certainly didn’t help having to deal with the financial fallout for the loss of Mountainside Falls. He didn’t even want to think about all the scrounging he’d have to do to make ends meet for this year’s budget. What he needed right now was a fancy bubble bath. Yes, that would cheer his spirits rather nicely. The . . . accommodations, if they could be called that, may not have been the same quality as the palace back in Canterlot, but if Auntie Celestia could use them, then he supposed he would have to endure it. He’d have to have Spit Shine set one up before getting his suit pressed for dinner. After all, a prince had a certain reputation to keep. 

It was rather odd, though. Most of the time, he’d be practically dripping with beautiful mares. They could hardly wait to kiss his royal hooves when he walked into a room. And yet, when they’d passed through Ponyville, there was hardly a fanfare. There was Lady Pie, of course, but she was always hyper. The rest seemed far too unenthusiastic. It wasn’t every day their little hovel of a village could be graced by nobility. They should have been grateful for their willingness to come. He groaned as he cracked his neck. He’d have a whole new set of knots for the masseuse to iron out when he got back to Canterlot again. Traveling through all that forest, and just because that stupid forest wouldn’t let the Pegasi do their job. If he were in charge, he’d have burnt it to the ground, and annihilated all trace of the magic responsible. Besides, the land would make for prime real estate once those ghastly beasts had been dealt with. Why Hammer Strike insisted on having a pet manticore was beyond him.

This whole time, Blueblood had been entirely unaware of Discord following him, and changing the color of his mane every five seconds.

“Look, I’m sorry, Mister Spit Shine, but I’m afraid there’s been a bit of a mix-up.”

Blueblood’s ears perked in surprise as he heard the voice coming from his quarters.

“Master Blueblood, I’ve had my fair share of young nobles wanting to mingle with the common folk, but you really should know better by now. I’ve been in the serving business my whole life. It is most unbecoming to walk among the common folk without a proper guard, especially in a place as dangerous as this Castle,” a reedy, nasally voice replied, followed immediately by a cleared throat. “Just look at you. Your mane needs a grooming, your hooves have lost their buffing, and, to be perfectly frank, you are clearly in sore need of a bath.”

“What did you just say?”

“Now, now, young colt, no need to get into a fuss. I’ve already had the servants draw out the water, and we’ve treated it just the way you like it, with all the essentials, and the bubble bath for extra measure. We’ve even included Mister Squeakums, as per your request.

“Spit Shine? What in Tirek’s name is going on here?” Blueblood asked as he slammed the door open.

An elderly gray stallion with a drooping white mane and a pair of thick spectacles stared with wide eyes, and a gaping muzzle as his true master walked in. His vest was carefully pressed, and a slim silver chain tied the lenses around his neck in case they ever fell off his nose. His fetlocks had been neatly trimmed to show off the carefully tended hooves, while a pair of maids also gaped with their hooves still on the struggling stallion in question.

“M-my prince! But . . . but I thought . . . that is, well. . . . Oh, dear.” He brought his hoof to his mouth as he snapped his head back and forth between the prince and the stallion he had thought was the prince.

“How?” Blueblood was flabbergasted as he took in the stallion struggling with his servants. “How could you mistake me for one of such obvious low birth?”

The Pony bristled. It took him several moments to compose himself. “Wow. You know, I’d like to say I’m surprised at your atrocious behavior right now, but, to be perfectly frank, after what you did to Rarity, I’m not.”

“And you,” Blueblood said, turning on the stallion. “How dare you attempt to take advantage of my servant like this!”

“Take advantage? I never asked to be dragged halfway across the castle by staff convinced I’m you. I’ve been trying to tell them I’m not. And then Mister Spit Shine goes so far as to insult me by claiming I don’t bathe regularly, when I bathed only just this morning, and do so quite regularly. And secondly, if you’re really going to insult me based on classes and bloodlines, I’ll have you know I’m descended from royalty, thank you very much.”

“Now listen here, you lying, low-born imposter. When I return to Canterlot, I will see you charged for your actions!”

“And the court will throw out your case faster than you can say misunderstanding. I don’t welcome harassment, Blueblood, and I won’t be bullied by the likes of you. Do you think I actually enjoy being mistaken for a spoiled jerk like you?”

“You are incapable of understanding the complications of a life such as mine!” Blueblood growled.

“You’re right. I probably am. I don’t have to deal with politics, and I’m glad I don’t, but I don’t have to put up with mistreatment just because you happen to be having a hard time. Guess what, Blueblood? Newsflash, you’re not the only one! Or have you forgotten all the mourning families you’re supposed to be here to comfort?”

“I honor those who died doing their duty, but keep in mind it was their duty to die defending we, the Ponies who make this kingdom function.”

“Exactly. We, the people who cook your food, clean your house, mend your garments, draw out your bath. The list goes on. We, the people who enlist our lives in the guard and the military to protect our families, our homes, our loved ones.” His horn began to spark dangerously as he tossed his mane. “Don’t talk to me about the people they sacrificed for. I know them. I’m one of them, and the fact that you don’t seem to even realize just how important those people are proves just how poor a ruler you would be if you were ever to ascend the throne.”

“Get out of my sight, Peasant!” Blueblood shouted.

The stallion trotted to the door, then turned. “I am no peasant, and I have a name, Blueblood. A blue beam shot from his horn, before concentrating to form a gauntlet of ice. He then dropped it onto the floor, where it lay, and slowly began to seep water onto the carpet. “If you have the courage to learn it, meet me in the courtyard tomorrow at noon. We meet on the field of honor.” Then he walked out, and slammed the door behind him.

Prince Blueblood scoffed as he turned away from the door. “What an arrogant prude of a peasant. I’ll have to see about reporting him to Hammer Strike, or perhaps Princess Twilight,” he mused. Then he noticed the ghastly expressions on his staff. “I say, Spit Shine, what on earth are you staring at?”

“Y-your mane,” the elderly servant said, then promptly fainted.

“My mane? What about my–?” As Blueblood approached the mirror in his quarters, he stopped, he gaped, and his scream was heard throughout the halls of the castle. Discord broke into hysterical laughter as he winked off into his personal dimension.





Pensword paced in a fury as he circled the council room. Hammer Strike and Grif both watched idly as they each sipped their respective drinks. “Why can’t I be visited by Fancy Pants, or one of the lesser nobles?” He snorted, and flared his nostrils. “I had to deal with Blueblood, and reward my secretary and Preston on the sly. He was going to strike one of my troops. One of mine!” he growled. “I never mistreated his staff. What gives him the right to threaten mine?”

“In his mind, or legitimately?” Grif asked as he drank another cup of raspberry cordial.

“Either one,” Pensword groused as he took out his aggression on an unsuspecting sugar cane.

“Fancy Pants is one of many that have come my way,” Hammer Strike noted.

“Celestia gave the House of Lords too much power, before she could outlaw physical punishment by nobility onto non-nobles. While striking your secretary would be considered impolite, until the House of Lords rules otherwise, it’s not illegal. Sadly, many of the lords like having that threat for their servants,” Grif said, placing a book on noble law on the desk.

“Well I come from the Lunar Courts, and it is unwise for a leader in Thestral culture to strike one who serves the leader. There are certain times you can. Honor, finding out that some in the clan were not . . . staying true to vows.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself as he sucked on the sugars from the cane, and tried to let that calm his beating heart and raging adrenaline. “Still, I will make sure Luna codifies those into the Lunar Court. That way, the Solar Court will have no choice but to abide by them on our lands, or we will have the right to retaliate. On the plus side, I have one good thing, however small, from that meeting. The Baron called me Commander.”

“I think it was a better thing you had Preston,” Grif said. “No offense, but I’m happier Baron Blueblood never got his satisfaction.”

“Same here,” Pensword muttered. “Although, Hammer Strike, if you want to make his life a little harder, I wouldn’t oppose it.”

“Not too hard to do that, to be honest,” Hammer Strike replied.

“True, but I still think he deserves a little feedback on how he acted with the staff.”

“Again, easy to do.”

“Meh. I’ll just wait until he has a lacky challenge you to a duel. Then I’ll take your place as a second, and publicly humiliate him. Humiliation going in, humiliation going out. Double the profit.”

“I shall keep that in mind, if you don’t mind Moon River watching with Lunar Fang,” Pensword replied with a fang-filled smile. “Just show who has the ear of the princesses.”

“He does,” Grif said. “At least politically. His son is, after all, still a fixture within the palace.”

“Yeah, but we have a trump card. Hammer Strike can ground them,” Pensword pointed out.

“Unless something big pops up, I don’t think I’ll be doing that again any time soon.” Hammer Strike shook his head.

“Besides. If we play that card too much, everybody starts criticising the crown for being toadies, and I really don’t think Celestia and Luna are prepared for a culling at this time,” Grif noted.

“Sounds accurate,” Hammer Strike agreed calmly.

“So what do we do to get these parasites out, before they start infecting our own men?” Pensword asked. “I had to deal with an angry noble father, and I can understand his anger, considering the circumstances, but Baron Blueblood.” He spat. “Anyone with eyes can tell he sees me as a stupid commoner too weak to withstand the rigors of nobility.” His teeth snapped his Sugar Cane in half. “So we just wait for the next mess-up, and activate the duel laws?”

“Oh, Blueblood can’t ignore this. He’s too much of a coward to draw a weapon himself, but to leave what happened in the wind would lose face for his house. It’s sad, but he believes, and, quite likely, can find a better swordsman than you. No offense,” Grif noted. “But he also mistakenly believes that I won’t step in, unless there’s a profit to be made. Thus, he doesn’t think the right of a second applies here.”

“But it is my honor,” Pensword growled. “Do you know how hard it was?” He sighed. “Of course you do. You were there. This is nothing compared to what I faced the first time as Commander, but this just sticks in my feathers, because it happened in my office, in my sanctum.” He snorted, and flicked his tail. “But we shall proceed, and have the duel, if he is brave enough to issue such an order. And I will gladly name you my second.” He looked at Grif as he prepared another stalk of sugarcane. “How do you know so much about the modern day Equestrian political world? Because it is confusing me which is still valid, and which has fallen out of favor.”

“Read the book.” Grif shrugged as he pointed to the item in question. “It’s frankly pretty simple in comparison to the three tomes in regards to Gryphon politics I had to read back in the Empire.”

“Have you read the book, Hammer Strike?” Pensword asked with a chuckle as he started chewing on his next stalk.

“Read enough on it to figure out most situations,” Hammer replied.

Pensword sighed. “Well then, I suppose I had better get a copy from you both. I appear to be behind the curve.” He shook his head. “Been working so hard on building the military, I have let my noble learnings suffer.”

“Well it’s a good thing we can have each other’s backs where it counts, then. Though I think we’ll need to start making decisions about Vital soon,” Grif noted.

“Agreed. I still can’t believe it. Tripping and falling back to Equestria.” Pensword snorted as he shook his head. “What do we do? I personally want to just have him gather his things, and send him home again. We can trade my Aunt for his life, assuming Discord needs to use that method to send him back.” He looked at the other two. “What do you two say?”

“Discord needs time to recover from the first trip. From what I heard, it wasn’t exactly easy for him to send us back the first time,” Hammer Strike replied. “Send him back as soon as possible, yes, but if it takes too long . . . well, yeah.”

“We should start working on his reputation, and the role he plays while he’s here. I hate to play the pessimist, but, at this point, gentlemen, we need to start thinking like he’ll be here for the long run,” Grif said.

“Well, Clover did give him a title at the gala. Vital the Virtuous, if I recall correctly, and she is teaching him as a student, which means he is going to be looked at for being the continuation of not just Clover’s legacy, but Star Swirl’s as well.” Pensword added

“Yes. And I think, given our current triad,” Grif noted, gesturing between them, “it may be wise to have him named Unity’s Arcane Advisor to Lord Hammer Strike for the time being.”

“I see nothing wrong with that,” Pensword replied.

“That’ll work for the time being.” Hammer Strike nodded.

“So, Hammer Strike, I trust you’ve heard that your . . . sycophantic friends have decided to improve our walls. Maybe you can convince them to help with more?” Grif asked. “I think this last bout has taught us we need to expand our fortifications.”

“Considering what I’ve seen them make, I’ll have to discuss that with them, yeah. At least for the construction of walls, and buildings of high importance.”

“Well, I think your friend is going to enjoy this, and the city is going to be built faster than we thought.” Pensword paused. “Also, next full moon, I would like to have no one around the Thestral area. We are going to be rebuilding our lodge.”

“I’ll alert the construction crew.”

“We can’t let that happen again, guys,” Grif said pointedly. “That attack was way too much.”

“Trust me, I know,” Hammer Strike replied simply.

“Agreed. The military cemetery is bigger than I wanted,” Pensword said. “We lost too many good soldiers. And if Spear’s father gets his way, we could see our efforts hampered.” He sighed. “When can we get a foundry for cannons? I think they would do well on the walls. Eventually, we might need to build those large artillery placements, like on the Atlantic wall.”

“I almost hate to say it, but howitzers?” Grif suggested. “We need something more rapid fire.”

“I’ll figure something out. Perhaps something better than a cannon. Maybe a crank-based machine gun. I don’t want to skip too far, and just give our troops firearms, because then we’ve got the rest of the world to deal with when it comes to questions and possible conflict.” Hammer Strike frowned.

“We say we find some of these crank weapons in one of the drawings the humans left behind? If you wish, blame it on Matthew.” He frowned. “How do we handle Matthew, anyway? Should we put a small tablet to honor them? We all know I’m not going to return to that form again.”

“Thats a question for Celestia and Luna,” Grif noted. “Not us.”

“I will see about getting a meeting with them. I think we should at least inform Luna about what plans we have for the military weapons. I want to keep Queen Chrysalis at a much further distance in any future conflict,” Pensword said.

“As stated, give me some time. I may be able to make equipment faster than normal, but firearms and stuff like that will take me more time,” Hammer Strike noted.

“What about the Dwarves?” Grif asked. “You said they were smiths, and they seem to be quite into the era of steam. Maybe they could make the parts, and we can assemble them here?”

“Possibly, yeah. I’ll have to check what they have, and work out a deal.”

“I’m going to pull in more of the mercenary groups, see if I can recruit more from some of the lands outside Equis. Every bit helps. Once we get the basic repairs done, however, I think we need to give our troops a couple of days off. Some have yet to mourn, and we should try and remind them that, in the end, what we had was a victory. Raising the morale can’t hurt right now.”

“Yeah. That’ll be for the best,” Hammer Strike agreed.

“I’ll get the papers written and ready,” Pensword said.

“Is there anything we’re missing right now?”

“Not really. I have my resupply lists given to your people. The burying of the dead is finished. And, frankly, the only thing we really need to figure out is how long these nobles are going to be staying.”

“Not long, I imagine,” Grif said. “Blueblood will make his retreat, and the others will follow. Either to keep an eye on him, rally next to him, or even just to make sure he doesn’t go after their houses while they’re away. Also, Hammer Strike, get Polished Brass out here as soon as you can. I’m not handling the public speaking anymore.”

“I know. He should be back up and running again soon. He’s just got to finish recovering from that cold of his. It doesn’t exactly help with all the death that’s been happening lately.”

“Do you have anypony in mind to take his place in the meantime?”

“No.”

“Can you keep us apprised? Because I cannot be your seneschal. In fact, I need to get one as well.” Pensword shook his head.

“Well then, gentlemen, if we’re done here, I am going to spend some time with my daughters.” With a nod, Grif took to the air, and left out the window.

“And I am going to spend time with my family. You take care, Hammer Strike, and I shall see you later around the castle.” And then Pensword was gone as well as he followed Grif.

Hammer Strike sighed. “Now where can I find another seneschal?”





Pensword couldn’t help but find the night sky relaxing as he sat on a passing cloud with Lunar Fang and Moon River. True, they couldn’t exactly control its movements, but the untamed currents were calm enough that it didn’t move too much, and it seemed their innate magic would still allow them to stand on the clouds, even if they couldn’t control them. Just one thing was stepping in to spoil an otherwise perfect evening. His ear twitched yet again as the annoying buzzing returned. He shook his head, and shifted left, then right, trying to isolate the source. He squinted as he tried to use his echolocation, and as he did, a figure slowly began to appear in front of him. 

“–ear . . . ord . . . our . . . ouble . . . isten . . . me!”

With a sudden burst, he heard the voice clearly, though the figure remained but a shadow. “Moon Burn?” Pensword asked uncertainly. The shadow swirled and shifted like the vapors from the cloud.

Moon Burn moved his head. His mouth opened, but again, not a sound could be heard. The figure seemed to tremble for a moment, then the voice echoed like he was talking from the mouth of a cave or the bottom of a well. A tiny crystalline tone seemed to follow at the end of every sentence. Pensword casually noted how Moon River seemed to be staring right at the shadow, and she was being unusually still and quiet. That was not like her.

“Finally! We’ve been trying to contact you for days. We had to tap into the wild magic surrounding this place just to get through, and even then, we still needed help. Where have you been? You’re worthy, but you haven’t been answering our calls. What’s going on, big brother?”

“I . . . I don’t know” He stopped. “Wait. How long have you been trying to contact me?” He was horrified. “As for what’s going on, I have been trying to win a battle. Why were you trying to contact me?”

“Why do you think? I was trying to tell you about the attack!” He huffed sulkily. “We all were. You should see me and Grandma right now. She’s here, you know, but . . . no one was able to get to you. Not even Hurricane could contact you. If it weren’t for Bella Fiamma, we wouldn’t even be speaking right now.”

“Impossible. If you’re joking…” Pensword trailed off as a discordant chiding tone rang in protest, and the cloud silhouette began to glow silver in its chest. His eyes widened. “... A Peg-A-Lantern.” He frowned. “So you’re not joking,” he whispered.

Lunar Fang looked worried, but said nothing. All she could do was stand by as she listened, and held Moon River in her forelegs.

“What do I do?” Pensword asked. A loud ringing filled the air as the apparition forged from cloud tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come across. A sudden spike of pain lanced through his head, and he clutched it as he watched the shape of Moon Burn break into a field of glowing stardust through tear-blurred eyes. He had somehow been cut off from his family and the field beyond. He collapsed onto the cloud, and he felt his heart break as he began to sniffle to himself. Slowly, he curled up as fear horror clawed their way into his chest. He heard the plaintive hurtful cry. He heard the ringing slowly die. He opened his mouth to let loose with a sorrowful wail, but Lunar Fang cut him off by buffeting him with a wing, and fixing him with a glare.

“You’re the Commander. Get a hold of yourself,” she snapped. “Here you are, breaking down over a simple setback. Did he say, at any time, that you were losing your gift on their end?”

Pensword shook his head numbly.

“Then you have a problem on your end.” She poked his nose. “That means you need to figure out what’s wrong. I can tell your Thestral magic and Pegasus magic is intact. Talk to one of your friends. Make sure that human magic is healthy. Process of elimination points there.”

Pensword winced. “I guess I should go find Grif?”

He got another whack in response. “And you won’t be let back into your bed till you find out exactly what’s going on.”

“Yes, dear.”

“And no sleeping with Fox Feather either. Moon River is coming with me. I mean it, Pensword. No distractions. I want this found out by sunrise. If you don’t, then we’re going straight to Luna.” Lunar Fang growled as she picked up their daughter and flew off. 

After taking a few moments to nurse his bruised ego, Pensword whimpered softly and took to the air. He really hoped it would be something only Luna could solve, because if it turned out Grif could figure out, then it would be something that was really stupid and he probably wouldn’t sleep on the same cloud with Lunar Fang for a week.





Grif stood alone in the dark of night between the compound and Unity. The area was torn up and ragged from his personal training. The gryphon was, surprisingly, without armor. His studded leather jerkin lay on the grass a few feet away with his weapons. His fur and feathers were slick with sweat as he panted from his exertions. 

He waited patiently as his breathing slowed and his pulse relaxed. He stood stock still and breathed the night air deeply before starting again. He moved carefully from right to left as fast as he could, hopping back and forth, while focusing his energy on increasing his pace. At first it seemed to look silly, but slowly, his image began to blur. Soon he vanished in the night as his form moved faster and faster. Finally, the blur separated into two blurry images. Each began to gain distinction, until for a few short moments, two identical images of Grif stood next to each other. This phenomenon lasted for ten seconds, before the two images gasped and vanished as Grif tumbled to the ground and rolled. His body shook from the momentum and exhaustion as the adrenaline slowly left his system. He lay there on the tattered but cool ground, panting as he let his body temperature slowly drop back to normal.

He heard a familiar chuckle from a nearby cloud.

“If you're going to try and kill me, Pensword, you should have just struck rather than letting me know you’re here,” Grif responded between breaths.

“Well, I am happy you can’t see me,” Pensword said as he hovered into the clearing and alighted on the ground. “I have to talk to you.”

“Can you pass me that water skin?” Grif asked as he gesturing towards his armor. “It’s just over there.”

Pensword picked up the waterskin and tossed it into Grif’s talons. “Grif, something’s wrong.”

“What's the problem?” Grif gurgled as the water ran down his beak and feathers to his breast, causing the green and black to glisten in the moonlight.

Pensword opened his muzzle, closed it, hovered, landed, moved a hoof about sheepishly like Fluttershy, then launched back into the air. Finally, he lowered again to look Grif in the eye. “I can’t see the dead anymore,” he said.

“I thought that was part of your Thestral magic,” Grif said.

“Same here, but my brother and others have been trying to contact me ever since we came back. They only just got to talk to me an hour ago. Lunar Fang thinks it is something that Luna needs to look at, but since she is busy with the nobles, she suggested I make sure it isn’t something involving the human magic.” Pensword sighed heavily, and Grif already knew what the hybrid was dreading.

“So it must be tied to something else,” Grif nodded in agreement. “You have a pair of spectacles on you? Sunglasses? A monocle?”

Pensword looked at the Gryphon before pulling out a telescope. “I have this.”

“I think I can make this work.” Grif took the telescope and held it in both hands. “Stand back. About ten feet,” he ordered grimly as he recalled a certain demonstration Hammer Strike had given him over a lifetime ago.

Pensword complied and flew ten feet back, while maintaining his hover a foot off the ground.

Grif took a minute to calm himself before concentrating as Shawn had instructed him, willing the energy through his body and into the telescope before putting it to his eye. Pensword noticed a slight glow cover the lens. To Grif’s eyes, Pensword’s body became out of focus and full of color. His colors however were dim and muted. Moving a talon to his own hand, he confirmed his colors were bright and shining. The strain hit him suddenly and he dropped the telescope. He released the energy before letting out several coughs, the last of which sprayed blood.

“What was that?” Pensword shouted as he raced to his friend’s side to try and help him. “What did you do?”

“Thaumic vision,” Grif said once he gained control of himself. “Had to take the thaumic energy from my body for it. It interrupted the energy keeping my injuries from killing me. I’ll be fine in a few minutes. As for you, you need to talk to Hammer Strike.”

“Why? Is it good or bad?” Pensword fidgeted nervously as he twiddled his hooves. “I don’t think he is in a good mood.”

“Your field’s really dim, Pensword. I think it’s deteriorating, but I don’t have the knowledge necessary for this kind of thing. I’m still as good as a novice.”

“Great,” Pensword huffed. “Why not? I am getting lectured by everypony else tonight. What is one more?” He sighed. “I don’t want lectures. I just want to get stable. Did you know my mom would lecture me whenever I had a dizzy spell, or if I did something off from the surgeries?”

“Maybe if you had paid attention before, things wouldn’t have gotten this bad.” Grif let out a growl. “Do you know how much danger you're in like this?”

“I guess not.” He looked tired. “I was always meaning to start. It just . . . I had one more thing to work on, and then I would get to it. And then another, and another. You know how I am. I have my check list, and I don’t like deviating from it.” His wings sagged. “I’ll see you in a week, when I wake up from the two days sleep, after I crash from Hammer Strike’s training.”

“If you were only so lucky.” Grif sighed. “Go to Hammer Strike. Talk to him. And I’d suggest you don’t argue. He may not be pleasant about it, but he wants what's best for us.”

“I know.” Pensword sighed. “But I cannot survive what he puts Celestia and Luna through. I have a military to lead. And with the nobles here, I cannot afford to appear weak or overworked. They’ll use it to their advantage.” He sighed again. “I’ll see you when I can, okay?”

“Good luck, Pensword.” Grif nodded as he got to his feet and made his way to his former spot, preparing to start training all over again.

“See you later.” Pensword took to the air and flew away slowly. He dreaded the meeting that was to come.





Vital Spark quickly snuck into the laboratory where Clover was busy working on her experiments. The egg continued to maintain its environment, remaining still and calm as it glistened in the torch light. The hour was late, but, as a student to Clover, one had to learn to bend to the teacher’s schedule.

“Um, Clover? Are you in here? Hello?” he called.

There was a loud bang followed by a puff of smoke. Clover walked into view, coughing lightly. She was currently wearing a thick pair of goggles, along with a protective scarf over her muzzle to prevent any fumes from getting in.

Vital spark furrowed his brow. “Clover?”

“Oh. Vital?”

“You . . . summoned me?” He blinked, and shook his head. “Wow, that sounded pretentious.”

“I heard you let yourself sink to the prince’s level,” Clover noted.

“I’m not going to try to make any excuses, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“No, but you’d better not lose.”

“Believe me, I have no intention of doing so,” Vital said as he looked curiously at her garb. “By the way, just what were you trying to do, anyways?”

“Burn the hydrogen out of H2O.”

“Why burn it when you can just separate it? Wouldn’t burning consume the oxygen just as quickly as the hydrogen?”

“Science.” Clover shrugged.

Vital Spark deadpanned. “Clover, remind me to introduce you to a chemist when we open the borders properly between the worlds.”

“Where's the fun in that?” Clover asked. “Sometimes science for science's sake is what makes it worthwhile.”

“In that case, get some potassium chlorate, a burner, and some gummy bears. Have I got a trick for you.” Vital Spark grinned.

“You’re on.” Clover chuckled as she left to acquire the ingredients in question.

“Note to self. If I ever want to divert Clover’s attention, utilize a promise of an alluring experiment,” he said as he prepared the lab equipment for Clover’s return.





Pensword walked into Hammer Strike’s office, and stood at attention. The lord was busy working on a sketch.

Hammer Strike sighed as he put his quill down. “What’s the problem, Pensword?”

Pensword sighed. “I . . . I goofed, Hammer Strike. And now I am going to be spending the next week on clouds away from my family for it. I . . . I lost my gift, Hammer Strike. Grif says my thaumic field, that . . . strange thing you do, is the cause. The way Grif talks, it doesn’t sound like magic.” He shuddered. “I suppose I should just say it. According to Grif, my field is dim, and I am already chewing my own hide for letting this happen. I thought–.” He groaned, and shook his head. “I thought I could push it off till after the nobles left, and then there was the attack we just lived through. . . .”

“No!” Hammer Strike’s voice snapped like a whip. “You didn’t think you could push it to past the nobles. You pushed it back for much, much longer. I warned you, technically years ago, that this would happen. Grif warned you. Even Vital caught on, and warned you after he found out how vital that field is for us. He literally pulled you aside, and explained how the benefits you’ve been experiencing because of that field would slowly disappear, because he was concerned for you. But even after that heartfelt warning, you still kept pushing it off. You even seemed disgusted at the idea of even having it.”

Pensword had nothing to say in his defense. He sighed. “And I am reaping what I have sowed.” He dropped his head to the ground as his ears lowered. “I am messed up. I guess . . . I guess I was angry at it for keeping me from going home, that it was what would keep me from my family. And then the Third Gryphon War happened.” He plopped onto his rump. “I’m a thick steaming mess, aren't I? I’m pretty good at hiding it from others, but I’m a mess when it comes to this. I don’t know why I hate it so much, but I do. It’s irrational. My hate of Gryphons can be explained, but this … you three can handle it. And you are right. I ignored it. I don’t know why. I ignored it, and I deserve what I’ve gotten,” he said gloomily.

“Be glad that it only took your gift from you,” Hammer Strike continued mercilessly. “It could have started by slowly killing you instead. It still can.” His eyes narrowed. “If you want to learn, then once those nobles are gone, you work on my schedule, my time. And if you dare try to work on this outside of training, I will personally make you regret it. I’ll have to talk with Grif about this, because some exercises, I can’t work with you on. It might overpower your field. And in this fragile state, if it breaks, it could kill you.” Hammer Strike rolled his eyes as he grabbed his quill again.

“And phrases like that remind me why this stuff freaks me out,” Pensword muttered.

“Get used to it, because I’m not going to lie. I’m going to tell you exactly as it is. If you didn’t come here, you would be dead. Maybe not today, maybe not for months, but you would be dead.”

Pensword stood stiffly, and saluted. “Understood, General.” He held his salute.

Hammer Strike sighed. “Keep it that way, because, as of this point, we aren’t talking like friends. Until training is over, I am Lord Hammer Strike, and I will not hold back.”

Pensword’s expression and military bearing broke. It looked like his heart had shattered. “U–understood, Milord.” He dropped his salute, then turned and left the room. His wings drooped, his wing tips dragged on the ground. For once, Pensword didn’t care.





Pensword slowly entered his office, and curled up in a corner. He draped a light blanket over himself as the tears pattered into the fabric. When he closed his eyes, he found himself back in the courtroom.

“I warned you! How many times did I tell you we needed to do this?” Matthew fumed as he sat on what appeared to be a rather uncomfortable stool. “Look what happened because you thought you could run from this!” He motioned around. The Thestral cavern had practically overrun Matthew’s domain, and his body looked sickly.

“Why should I have access to the power that could create a successful coup?” Pensword demanded. “What if I go crazy? What if Sombra succeeds, and I go dark?”

“That’s why you’re okay to learn this, why we’re okay to learn this. At least . . . it used to be we.” He clung to his arms as he leaned his elbows onto his legs. “You’re scared. I get that. But if we don’t do this, we’re both going to die. As it is, I hardly get to take control anymore, and it’s draining me. We need to do this for both our sakes.”

“And why should I take the cheating way?” Pensword demanded.

Matthew looked like he wanted to rise. He almost did, before he fell back onto the stool again with a fatigued sigh. He shook his head tiredly. “This isn’t cheating, Pensword. Were the trebuchets cheating when Lunar Fang had to help guard Fillydelphia? Were crossbolts deemed illegal after they were developed? That isn’t a way to cheat. It’s a resource, knowledge that we can use to help. To help ourselves, to help me, to let us see our family again. If nothing else, can you imagine what it would be like not having that power against the Changelings? If it weren’t for our family, we wouldn’t have won the war. That gift is fueled by our field, my field. And we’re both dying. But if we strengthen it, find balance again, think of what we could accomplish. We could join Hammer Strike at his side in the heat of battle. We can protect the innocent, push back our enemies, be an example of strength and mercy both.”

“And become feared like he is? Like Celestia was at a the end of the Third Gryphon War?” He moved a wing. “Look what happened tonight. In one night, this ‘field’ turned my family away. I lost my old friend. Grif will most likely turn tomorrow. I am going to be alone, because no one can stand the old war horse.”

“Don’t you dare say that,” Matthew growled as he stepped forward. He stumbled and grasped the stool for support. His legs trembled. “You are not a failure. Grif and Taze are our best friends, and they’re one and the same. They will be there to help you, not abandon you. As for Lunar Fang, once we’ve set things right again, she should hopefully forgive us on her own. Hammer Strike is angry, because of the danger you put us both in, especially me in this case.”

“. . . But what about Moon River?.”

“We don’t know. But even so, we need be ready, in case she does manifest one. You’ll be the only one who can teach her.” Matthew shook his head as he plopped back onto the stool again. “You’re scared, and that’s good. I fear the atom bomb, and yet I wouldn’t shy away from it, if I had to be in charge of one. You know how to be accountable. You know how to deal with responsibility well. You can do this.” He struggled to rise, but the effort proved too great. “Now get over here, and give me a hug.”

“Matthew. . . .”

“Hey. No beating yourself up now. You saw your mistakes. Now make up for them by doing the right thing. Everyone is trying to help us, and you are currently being a very stubborn cadet.”

“But I am going to be calling him Lord Hammer Strike for the rest of my life. He is never going to be done training me.”

“He stopped for Celestia, didn’t he?”

Pensword sniffled. “... Yes.”

“Then he’ll lighten up for us, too, once he’s satisfied. It’ll just take some time. And if that means a couple of months having to deal with him as the stony lord, so be it. He does it because he cares.” Matthew smiled.

“You are always hoping for the best outcome,” Pensword growled. “How can you be so confident?”

“Because I know my friends. And if you doubt them, then you need to get to know them again, too.”

Pensword felt the spontaneous urge to nicker as he felt Matthew’s fingers running through his mane. Since when had he gotten so close to the stool? But . . . who cared? Those fingers felt so good!

Matthew chuckled. “Get some sleep, Pensword. We’ll need to enjoy it while we still can. We won’t be getting much, once Shawn starts, unless he gives us energy drink crystals or something.” Matthew slowly began to fade away. “Remember, Pensword. It’s in your hooves now. I’m trusting you.” 

That was the last Pensword heard as the cave overtook everything. The moonstones shone gently over the cavern. They seemed almost to spin as they pulsed, and the Pegasus plopped down onto his rump. “Why me?” he groaned as he slumped to the ground, and let the blackness take over.





“Twenty!” Grif fumed. “Half of them volunteers! How are twenty Crystal Ponies sadistic enough to want to join the branch that has the hardest physical training program?” He looked to Hammer Strike. “Those, on top of the leftover guard, and my other responsibilities. I’m not sure how I’m going to keep up.”

“Don’t ask me. I still have more than enough to figure out on my own,” Hammer Strike muttered. “Start bigger classes or something. Develop insomnia, and train over the course of the day. I don’t know.”

“Says the one with the fully autonomous guard branch.” Grif rolled his eyes. “When was the last time you actually had them do anything?”

“They helped with the changelings,” Hammer Strike shrugged.

“You should try and at least say something to them.” Grif sighed.

“I do. You just aren’t exactly around twenty-four/seven to see it.”

“More than seven words?” Grif raised an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“More than eight words?”

“I’m not that anti-social, Grif,” Hammer Strike replied with a frown. “Close, but not quite there.”

“You wanted to see me, Grif?” Pensword asked as he walked into the room.

“Well, Pensword, you sorted the new Crystal troops based on preference, and what they volunteered for, right?”

“Correct, Grif, but your troops are getting large enough you need to find those that can do certain jobs. I may be the commander of the troops, but I have those under me to help with the trench work. My advice, make captains of hundreds, fifties, and tens,” he said as he settled into a spare chair.

“I was avoiding it, so when you take the military, you won’t have trouble about who keeps their ranks and who doesn’t,” Grif replied.

“Well, that can be done when we get to that point. We have precedent. After all, the militaries of the three tribes were meshed together, and, frankly, I see the Rohirrim as their own brigade. I might have to put in a general, but you created the structure underneath. Just try and use this structure here.” He handed over a scroll displaying the theoretical command structure for the army.

“I’ll work it out then,” Grif said, taking the scroll. “Honestly, the Crystal Ponies worry me. This morning, I found half of them in borrowed full suits of armor, and the ones who couldn’t find armor had the saddlebags full of rocks I use for punishments. And they were stuffing them with more rocks!”

Pensword laughed. “Look into the Crystal Pony military history then. Also, they’re Crystal Ponies. Remember, you helped to save their land. They worship us, so they are going to try and impress you by doing whatever they can. The Crystal Ponies I met this morning were all trying to get hooves on longbows, and working to learn the Earth Movers’ techniques, which, actually, I had to confiscate two of their manuals, since we no longer have those copies.” He looked to Grif. “Careful. I might just turn you into the birth of Equestria’s Marines. They might care for their armor, but it probably will not be the most shiny. However, I expect you to have the most pristine dress uniforms,” he added with a grin.

“Oh. You stop at Marines, but the way I push them, you’d think I was trying for Navy Seals,” Grif chuckled.

“Then we might be drawing from you for the birth of our special forces of Navy Seals, Rangers, Delta teams.” Pensword’s mouth twitched, then rapidly pulled up into a grin that stretched to the point where it looked almost like a certain purple mare’s, after she’d had a mental breakdown. “I wonder when I can get some World War One tanks. We need a Merrimack soon.”

Grif scrunched his brow together as he put a contemplating hand beneath his beak. “Has anyone seen Vital this morning? Clover sent me a message saying he wouldn’t be there for physical training. I’m hoping he’s not sick or something.”

Pensword hummed to himself as he tapped his chin with a pondering hoof. “I agree. Though I have heard some rumors from the Unicorns. Nothing concrete, of course, but when I get close to them, they get rather quiet. Something is definitely going on.”

“Well,” Hammer Strike finally started, “if something is happening, one of us will get alerted to it. Like we potentially will be in less than two seconds.”

Three firm knocks sounded on the door.

“Enter.”

A fully recovered Polished Brass made his way in, levitating a polished silver tray in his magic as he approached. “A message for you from Lady Clover, Sir.”

“Okay?”

Polished Brass levitated the platter to hover in front of his employer, before sweeping the letter off onto the table, and reclaiming the platter. “Will there be anything else, Sir?”

“That’ll be all, thank you,” Hammer Strike replied as he began reading.

“Yes, Sir.” Polished Brass bowed, and made his way out again.

Hammer Strike finished off his drink as he read. After a moment, he placed the cup down, and proceeded to pocket the letter.

“Should we be concerned with that letter?” Pensword asked

“Whats up?” Grif pressed.

“. . . I know where Vital Spark is.”





Vital Spark cradled his staff as he peered down its length. Despite all the time he’d spent with it, he still hadn’t come up with a proper name for it. “Well, this is going to be interesting,” he told it. “We’re going to have some real combat for once. I’m . . . not exactly sure how this is all going to go down, or if you’re even aware of what I’m saying, but . . . well, I guess good luck out there?” Silence greeted him. “Right. You can’t talk. And I’m talking to an inanimate object . . . which would generally certify me for the looney bin.” He sighed. “Yeah. I should probably just go now, shouldn’t I?” He waited a few more seconds, then hovered the staff onto his back. It seemed almost to glow at the point where the pearl rested in the flower-like housing. He sighed again, then braced himself, before pushing open the doors to the courtyard with his magic.

The entire wall was ringed in by guards. Blueblood stood in the courtyard with his father, and what appeared to be a smaller Earth Pony in full combat armor. Blueblood himself wore what appeared to be some kind of light breastplate with gold engraving and an enamel to give it just the right sheen in the sun when polished properly. His mane flowed gravely behind him in the wind as the other nobles who had come in the visiting party watched from a hastily crafted set of bleachers. As Vital Spark drew closer to the inevitable battle, he noticed the sky appeared to be swarming with Pegasi. He simply shrugged as he felt the heavy leather armor shift again. The familiar scent of the cleaning materials used to maintain the leather hovered around his nose as he stepped forward, and removed his helmet.

“You brought an audience?”

“Of course I did. I need witnesses to praise me when I’m finished with you.”

“Actually, I’m a little surprised you showed up,” Vital Spark said. “You never really struck me as the fighting type. Then again, I never struck me as the fighting type either.” He levitated his focus, and seized it in his hooves, giving it an experimental twirl. “I’m guessing you want this to be a standard duel. No killing, but first one to yield or suffer a ring out is deemed victor?”

“Yes,” Blueblood said in a bored tone.

“And the weapon?”

“We will rely merely on the power of our horns,” Prince Blueblood said.

Vital Spark shrugged. “Fine with me.” He nodded to the elder of the two. “Baron.”

Baron Blueblood merely nodded at Vital Spark indignantly.

“I’m afraid I don’t have a second, but since this is solely a duel of magics, I don’t think we’ll really be needing them anyways,” Vital Spark said as he laid his focus down. “You know, it’s funny. I think this is the first real fight I’ve been able to have in this thing.” He chuckled. “What are the odds?”

“You can amuse yourself later, Peasant,” Prince Blueblood snapped.

Vital Spark shrugged. “You know, you really need to learn to lighten up more. That, and to actually listen, instead of overreacting, and pretending to be superior to everypony else. Seriously, it’s no wonder your other staff was so grateful to be with Hammer Strike.”

Prince Blueblood growled as he charged his horn. In a flash of light, the magic around said horn formed a curved blade.

“And who’s going to officiate?” Vital Spark asked.

Baron blueblood opened his mouth to speak when an axe blade dug into the ground less than a foot in front of him. 

“Why, Baron, surely you are aware of the rules that prevent family of one party from officiating a duel,” an all-too-familiar voice spoke up as Luna landed with a boom on the ground beside the axe. “Dueling is, after all, a practice I, myself, brought into being. As such, I have hunted down the perfect offical for this.” Her horn glowed brightly, and an elderly unicorn appeared in the courtyard, looking confused. He had a deep grey mane, and his coat was only slightly lighter. His cutie mark was the white and black shirt of a referee, a shirt he, himself, currently wore. It was, admittedly, hard to miss his large bushy mustache.

“Where am I?” he asked as he swayed briefly on his hooves. “One minute I was on line at Donut Joe’s, the next thing I know, I’m here.” He squinted at Luna. “What’s going on here, Princess?”

“I am sorry, my friend, but we require a referee for a magical duel. Would you be willing to aid us?” Luna asked.

The Unicorn took a minute to take in the field, before his eyes widened. He gave Luna a determined nod, before clearing his throat, and releasing in a dusty, but surprisingly loud voice. “Well then. If it’s agreed, I declare this match a submission magic duel. In accordance with Canterlot Magical combat rules, I shall referee! Me, Mister Referee!”

Vital Spark deadpanned. “Does he have to be so flamboyant?”

“Yes. It’s part of his charm. Never before have I found somepony so determined to prevent unnecessary injuries, and enforce fair play,” Luna said happily.

“Have we missed it?” Pensword panted as he landed in the courtyard close to the walls to make sure he wasn’t in the way. Lunar Fang landed on one of the walls with Moon River, knowing full well that the combatants were outside of the range of her toy crossbow. Fox Feather landed on the rampart of one of the completed towers for her view.

“We wondered what was keeping you, Mon Commander,” Khan said with a mirthful chuckle.

“Running the Military is hard work. Besides, you guys kept this under wraps pretty well. I knew nothing about it till Hammer Strike received a letter,” Pensword replied as the Unicorns took their sides. “I want to see how Vital’s training is coming along.”

“I want to see him wipe the floor with Blueblood,” Grif said as he landed beside the others with a large tub of popcorn.

“The gamblers will have a hard time earning a profit today, unless they manage to get the nobles involved, of course,” Khan said.

Meanwhile, Hammer Strike was at the far point of the clearing, slowly making his way over to the group.

Vital Spark simply braced himself as he entered into a defensive stance. “Ready when you are, Mister Referee.”

“The rules are simple. The first mage to submit or be knocked out of the ring loses. The loser must then acknowledge the victor’s prowess. Everypony ready? Then, Unicorns, let’s mage battle!”

Vital Spark maintained a cautious stance as he waited. Even before he’d started training with the Rohirrim, he knew the importance of gauging the enemy’s strength and tactics. He would need to be careful, if he wanted to stand a chance of winning. And considering how little the prince had been willing to listen, this seemed the only means to get through to him.

Blueblood charged Vital Spark, taking wide sweeps with the blade.

Vital Spark jumped to the side, then rolled to avoid an overhead sweep, before jumping up, and running to the other side of the makeshift arena.

“So, the Peasant is a coward,” Blueblood quipped as he watched Vital dance about the field to avoid the construct. “He can’t even conjure a weapon.”

As Vital Spark lunged forward to dodge yet another strike, he charged his horn, and fired a blue beam directly at the prince.

Blueblood let out a gasp, and barely managed to stumble out of its way. A circular patch of slick ice materialized with a diameter a yard long. With Blueblood distracted, Vital took advantage of the opening to press the prince, and make it harder for the noble to focus on his spell. 

“There’s more than one way to skin a cat,” Vital quipped as a sparkling clear blue mist eddied around his horn. He fired another shot at Blueblood’s hooves.

This time he hit dead on, as Blueblood was unable to dodge in time.

Vital Spark stared. “I’ll be honest. I wasn’t expecting that to happen,” he said as he began to approach. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

Blueblood growled, and lashed out with his magical blade in several sweeps.

The mist that had been hovering around Vital Spark’s horn jumped out in front of him, and compounded into a thick icy staff glowing in his magical grip just as the blade was about to strike. “To quote a certain elderly Kitsune, ‘Magic must defeat magic.’” He smiled as he struck the magical construct, and swung it away like a bat would a baseball.

“Why . . . won’t . . . you . . . break?” Blueblood practically shouted as the staff took blow after blow.

“There’s more than one way to summon a weapon, Blueblood. I just utilized my magic to reinforce the ice, instead of using all my manna to concentrate into a single blade. It’s actually a lot more effective.”

“I will put you in your place,” Blueblood snarled as energy arced from his horn, and began to congeal beside the first sword, but even as the magic approached the shape of a second blade, it lost cohesion, and dissipated. “Curse you!” he roared as he struck out with the one construct once again.

Vital Spark continued his slow approach. His eyes were steady and determined, but not a word passed his lips as the contest of blade and staff continued. He stopped just a few feet away as Blueblood panted and snorted angrily. 

“Blueblood, please. Just stop,” Vital said gently. “There’s nothing to prove here. Only lessons to learn, if you’re willing.”

“I do not need any education from you,” Blueblood spat.

Vital shook his head, and let out a sad sigh. “Is that you or your father talking?”

The blade that was about to strike Vital Spark in the back jerked to a halt in mid-air, even as the icy staff shifted to guard that very area. “... What are you implying?” Blueblood asked.

“It’s a simple question, Blueblood. I want to know if all this spoiled rotten attitude is coming from you, or if it’s just you trying to please your father.”

Blueblood simply glared at him.

Vital sighed. “I thought so.” He lowered his staff, and held it in one of his hooves. “You don’t have to be like him, you know. And you don’t have to worry about measuring up to whatever expectations he has for you. You can be your own Pony, try new things. Heck, you might actually like a few of them, if you’d give them a chance.” He smiled slightly. “So what do you say? Call it a draw?”

Prince Blueblood stammered, seemingly unable to respond, while Baron Blueblood seethed behind him, glaring daggers.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Vital Spark’s smile widened as he released the ice binding Blueblood, and extended a hoof.

Blueblood said nothing, did nothing. He stood there with the look of a Pony whose entire life was unraveling before his eyes. The magic on his horn flickered, then died as the blade disappeared.

Whatever would have happened next was washed out of the realm of possibility when Baron Blueblood barked, “Hit him, you fool!”

In his stupor, Blueblood yelped, reacting on instinct as he shot a blast of magic straight at Vital Spark point blank.

A dark blue light flashed, and dust filled the arena. Nobles and soldiers alike were on their hooves and paws respectively, and Pensword, Grif, and Hammer Strike looked like they were ready to leap into the field when a sudden gust scattered the breeze to reveal Princess Luna in all her glory. Her mane glittered brilliantly as she slowly allowed her magic to dissipate. Her wings tucked neatly against her side. Her crown and torc reflected the sun’s rays with a sparkling sheen as the crescent moon glowed silver.

“This match is over.” Her voice boomed over the makeshift arena as she fixed the baron with a glare that was far more intense, and much more ancient. “There was to be no outside interference. Because of your pride, Baron Blueblood, an innocent was nearly killed. At the very least, if he was lucky, he likely would have been crippled. It took our sister over a week to recover from such an attack after the royal wedding, and she is an Alicorn.” Her tone shifted dramatically as it grew deeper, silkier, and dripping with a barely-contained rage that bordered on the cataclysmic. “Do you know, Baron, what would have happened, not only to your son, but to you, if I had not been able to stop this foolishness? Do you?” She flared her wings as her gaze intensified, and it seemed as if the very shadows were being sucked towards her. “Answer me,” she ordered.

“He would have been imprisoned,” the baron said with a gulp, as though he were swallowing nails, “for life.”

“That would be your son’s sentence under normal circumstances, yes. Your’s, however, Blueblood, would be far worse, ” Princess Luna growled. “This ‘peasant,’ as you two have so callously called him, is a personal friend to many powerful Ponies, and holds many titles.” She turned to the Pony she had just protected. “Tell them your name.”

Vital Spark lowered his head. “Vital Spark,” he said quietly.

“Also known as Vital the Virtuous, Clover the Clever’s personal apprentice, and a duly appointed member with good standing in Lord Hammer Strike’s household,” Luna proclaimed. “Believe me, Baron Blueblood, had that blow succeeded in hitting its mark, life imprisonment would be the lightest punishment your son could expect, and you would foolishly be responsible for plunging this kingdom into civil war. I cannot speak for Hammer Strike myself, but if I were in his position, and had watched your son murder someone so close, I would not rest, until I had my vengeance against you and all of yours.” Her eyes narrowed into slits. “Pack your things, Baron. You and your son are coming back to Canterlot with me, immediately. Your son and I have much to discuss.”

Baron Blueblood choked up the words, “Yes, your highness.” 

Prince Blueblood sobbed.

“On second thought, I will have your things sent to you. We leave for Canterlot immediately.” Luna placed a gentle wing on Vital Spark’s flank, and nuzzled him consolingly. “Go to the others,” she whispered. “It will be all right.”

“. . . Luna.”

“Go on,” she said, more firmly this time, as she took Prince Blueblood in her magic, and laid him next to his father. “I apologize for having to leave you all so quickly, but this is a matter that must be tended to immediately. I shall return after I have apprised my sister of the events that have transpired here. Mister Referee, if you would kindly accompany us, your presence is also required.”

The grey Unicorn nodded silently as he approached the party.

“Until next time, my dear subjects. Farewell.” And in a bright blue flash, they were gone.





Pensword looked about at the band he had assembled.

“Alright, ladies and gentlecolts. You know your orders. Get those instruments ready. We are going to send those nobles off with joy and vigor.” He chuckled. They would show proper respect, of course, but this was a welcome time for them as well. Then they could focus on recovering lost time. While Fancy Pants was always a welcome guest, most of the other nobles were just pains in the flank to deal with.

Grif had taken a rather different approach for his part of the sendoff. The path out of New Unity was lined with Bladefeathers in full battle array standing shoulder to shoulder right to the Everfree boundary. They were all visibly armed, but seemingly motionless.

Fancy Pants and Fleur de Lis sighed as they each bid Hammer Strike their farewells.

“I truly am sorry about what happened, Hammer Strike. If there’s anything you need from us, we’ll be happy to help in any way we can.”

“Yes. We had no idea zat ze baron would go so far as to attack your friend,” Fleur added.

“Keep me fully updated on what happens to him, would you?” Hammer Strike questioned.

“Of course, old boy. I’ll see if I can’t pull in a few favors, too. It’s clear that the Baron means business here, if he’s willing to go that far. We can’t allow that to continue. Oh, incidentally, I found this under my door after I finished packing this morning. It’s addressed to you. I’m afraid I don’t recognize the writing, though.” He frowned as he pulled out a somewhat crumpled envelope. “I’m sorry to say, I accidentally stepped on it on the way out.”

Hammer Strike raised a brow as he took the envelope. “Strange that they would know you would get it to me. Thank you, nonetheless.”

“I took ze liberty of scanning ze letter for any threats. Zere do not seem to be any spells attached, and zere is no sign of any kind of tampering or poison.”

Hammer Strike gave a soft grin. “Thank you for checking, but if whoever wrote this wanted to harm me in any way, it’d have to be something . . . drastic.”

Fleur sighed as they made their way towards the other nobles in the hall. Their time together was coming to an end. “Be well, Hammer Strike.”

Pensword stood passively, and watched as events passed on in preparation for the ultimate departure of their guests. He flicked his eyes up to the wall, where the Demon Slayers stood watch. He saw the speck on the horizon, and nodded as Duke Hurricane landed, and saluted the commander.

Pensword returned the salute, held it a moment, and dropped it, even as they murmured about the military action the pair had just exchanged. 

“I am sorry we couldn’t hold a war game,” Duke Hurricane said.

“I know.” Pensword sighed. “Maybe next time?” He smiled. “I think it would be fun to have a time to play.” He nodded. “I shall keep you apprised on the bill.”

“I am honored that you’re willing to do so. The Hurricanes haven’t been much with the military over the last couple of generations; however, I hope you will find a spot for us once things are set in place.”

“You don’t even need to ask. Good luck. And may we be able to handle the first joint session of the noble houses meeting.”

“Faust and Sleipnir willing,” he said, before he joined the rest of the crowd.

The Pony who approached Grif was a well-dressed Unicorn with all the trappings of a noble, but no one seemed to be able to name who he was.

“Tell the bureau that Baron Blueblood’s schedule is now the highest priority,” Grif whispered into his ear. “I want to know where he sleeps, what he eats, where his butler’s cousin's roommate went on vacation three years ago. Everything. Authorization code Ace Six Nine Seven Eight Three Five. Understood?”

The Pony nodded to him, before mixing his way into the crowd.

Pensword held his emotions in check as Baron Sharp Spear walked up and got into his muzzle. “I insist that I stay, and–.”

“This is for your own good,” Pensword said, cutting off Sharp Spear’s protest, before it could even start. “Because of what the Bluebloods did, we are all more than a little uptight, and everypony in this castle has little trust or tolerance for nobles right now, so this is for your own protection. I assure you that I will send Princesses Celestia or Luna a letter the moment your son is able to see visitors, and I will make sure you have the guest quarters in my section of the castle, and that you can stay as long as I can allow within my power.”

Baron Sharp Spear had little recourse in the matter, when faced with the cold facts, and the cold glares from the troops lining the halls. He nodded his head numbly as his face slipped into that peculiar neutrality that all sapient creatures experience when dealing with sorrow.

“I . . . thank you. Can you at least tell me what you’re doing now that I’m leaving?”

“I’m sorry, but that is still classified.” Pensword shook his head. “But we are doing the best we can. You will have the news soon, I hope.” With those words, Baron Sharp Spear had little recourse. He joined his fellow nobles to begin the long journey home. Pensword waited till he was out of earshot. “Even if you disown him, he will always have a cadet branch in my house. I will take care of him. I swear it.”





Grif and Pensword were currently sitting far away from New Unity, where the troops were just beginning to work on clearing away trees from the Everfree. Grif had his copy of the book out, and watched carefully as Pensword reviewed the chapter.

“Now Hammer Strike asked me to take you out here for this first step, but don’t think I’ll be any easier on you then he would be. Everything from here on out is going to require time and patience. What we’re going to be working on today is feeling the aspects out.”

“Okay,” Pensword mumbled. “You two are going to enjoy this. The great commander, a private in your ranks. I still feel uneasy about using knowledge that can kill way too easily.”

Grif held up a talon. In his other hand, he held up a rock. With a single swipe of his talons, and a screech, he left a deep gouge in the stone. “Because we can’t kill otherwise?”

“But we need to think about it, be knowing. All I have heard is the dangers. Tell me something good about this. Because all I have heard from you and Shawn so far is how it can destroy worlds, mess things up, etc. What is the plus?” Pensword asked, crossing his hooves. “The atom is both deadly and useful. Where is the usefulness here, besides keeping me alive?”

Grif flicked Pensword on the forehead. “No. All you’ve heard is the bad. You’ve ignored the good when we’ve mentioned it. Now pay attention. Thaumaturgy can have many beneficial effects, like healing non-fatal injuries. With the right discipline, a skilled thaumaturgist can alter the growth patterns of plants, or simulate the energy of the sun where growing crops might be difficult. It’s no more or less of a toss up than magic,” Grif pointed out. “Is Luna a hazard to her people because she wields stronger magic?”

“No, but . . . look, I don’t know why, but I just don’t feel comfortable with this.” He flapped a wing. “I am comfortable with these, but I still don’t get this energy, this field. 

“Maybe you haven’t felt the right kind of energy,” Grif said as he reached into his bag, and removed several small crystals. “I’ve brought several crystallized aspects here to help you get a feel for the different energies.”

“I . . . guess that could work,” Pensword murmured.

“Lets try something more relaxed.” Grif held up a shining white crystal in his talons. “This is ordo, the aspect of order. I always found it has a calm, comforting feel too it.”

“I would like to try, I guess,” Pensword groused. “I’ve been a poor listener to this part.”

“Tell me something. Why do you think I took to learning this?”

“I don’t know. You took to it like an otter to the water?”

Grif stared Pensword down. “I’m scared, too, Pensword. I wasn’t given a choice to entering this thaumaturgy thing either. I woke up with this field, and, honestly, by the time I found out there was a way to get rid of it, I couldn’t. I’m scared of what that could mean for me, of what I could do, of what it could do to me, to others, but ignorance isn’t the answer. It wouldn’t just kill me. It could kill Shrial, Avalon, my twin girls, and everyone else. I may not have asked to wield this sword, but I’d rather know how to use it, rather than the possible alternative.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Pensword conceded with a sigh as he drooped his head, and stared at the ground. “Can I be honest?”

“You can tell me anything. You know that, Pensword,” Grif said.

“I am scared this is going to turn into math. Did you know my father can use a slide rule still? My brother is great at math, and so was my grandfather, and I am great at math, but I . . . I fear I will have the same problem with you and Shawn in thaumaturgy as I do with my father in math. He always looked at me with displeasure when I used a calculator or my fingers. What if it is the same way with this, with cheat sheets and the like?”

“Neither of us is here to judge you, Pensword. And, honestly, I’m probably worse at math than you are. The only way you could disappoint us is to neglect your safety. How would you feel if Moon River neglected some potentially dangerous aspect of her life?”

“I would be more upset about myself not teaching her what is needed.” Pensword’s expression hardened with determination as his head rose to look Grif in the eye. “Okay, lay it on me. What do these crystals do? Can we start there? Start at the beginning?”

Grif nodded. “That’s more like it. Okay. To start, let's go back to your comparison to nuclear physics. What is everything made of?”

“Mass and Energy,” Pensword answered.

“And all mass in the universe is formed from?”

“Atoms.”

“And atoms are formed from?”

“Energy.”

“Now thaumaturgy believes that the energy that forms atoms is distinctive, and, furthermore,” Grif waved his claws, and the wind followed them. “That manipulation of that energy can affect the makeup of our world. In short, it is Einstein's third law: Energy cannot be created or destroyed, only changed.”

“That is not Einstein's third law. That is the law of Conservation, which was older than Einstein.”

“Just the answer I expected.” Grif chuckled. “These crystals are just a manifestation of that energy, simply gathering it–” Grif held his claws together as a bright yellow glow began emanating from them “–and compressing it into a matter-like form.” He squeezed his claws together. When he parted them, a yellow crystal thrummed in his palm.

Pensword managed to keep his eyes from widening too much, and nodded his head. “I hope you don’t expect me to do that today.”

“No,” Grif said adamantly. “Hammer Strike will need to teach you that. For now, close your eyes, and relax.”

Pensword did as he was told, and took a series of slow and easy breaths.

“Now, when you're calm, push out gently. The world will probably feel a little funny, but, for now, try to feel out the small spark of warmth. It should be like seeing a tiny light in a dark room: not very bright, but visible amongst everything else.”

“Push out with what?” he asked. “Sense with what?”

“Have you ever noticed a kind of tingling in the back of your mind when your relatives talked to you?”

Pensword nodded, even as he kept his eyes closed. “Yes, but all Thestrals that speak like I do have that feeling.” He took on a confused look. “What do I do with that tingle when I feel it?”

“When you're feeling it tingle, that's the spirit aspect touching your field. It’s acting like a radio signal amplifier, and that tingling is your thaumic field acting as the antenna. It’s why you’re able to pick things up so much better than ones who normally have the gift. But that's not just for receiving, Pensword. That also works for broadcasting.”

“Broadcasting?” Pensword broke out of his meditation as he balked at the Gryphon. “Uh, if I try to ‘broadcast,’ will you pick it up?”

“You won’t be aiming in my direction,” Grif instructed. “And anyway, as my field has no spirit aspect, and I don’t possess your Thestral gift, my field would simply push it away anyway. Think about the white crystal in my hand, and then reach for it in the back of your mind.”

Pensword returned to his mediation, calmed his mind, and did what was asked. He focused, until he found the tingle, and, from there, he tried to find the crystal in Grif’s talons. Locating the tingling was easy enough. He’d had enough experience speaking with the dead to recognize it, but locating the crystal was another thing entirely.

It took several tries, each comprising at least twenty minutes, but, finally, Pensword touched something, and was washed over by an overwhelming calm. Some of the tense muscles relaxed as he let the emotion wash over his being, and took in the reward for his actions.

“Ordo represents calm, order, and harmony in the universe. It isn’t quite as potent as some aspects, but it has a relaxing feel to it. However, like all things, it’s also to be held with caution. After all, order is best expressed in death.”

“I agree. Death can be dangerous. However, I think I have experienced those strong feelings. This was a heavy concentration, but I could feel a tiny bit of it whenever I talked to my loved ones, so I think we have no problem with me trying to overdo the order.” 

Over the next couple of hours, Pensword found himself experiencing the heat from the hottest fires he’d ever felt, the shock of an entire thunderstorm striking him at once, and numerous other sensations, some of which he could not yet understand.

Grif slowly, and carefully, packed the thaumic crystals away as Pensword came to after his last ordeal. “And now you’ve felt the building blocks of creation, my friend. It really changes your view on the universe, doesn’t it?”

“I . . . there is a lot here I need to mull over. I am guessing you get to pick our next meeting?” Pensword asked.

“No. I give you your homework,” Grif said. “You need to memorize the first chapter of the book, and the name of the seven basic aspects, and you’ll need to start feeling out the aspects around you at least twice a day. As for your next lesson, that will be Hammer Strike’s job, when he thinks you’re ready. The next chapter involves things I’m barely allowed to practice with myself.”

“I thought this first week was just chapter one, something to see how I get a handle on it.”

“You will need to exercise this on your own. Gathering energy, and crystallizing it, are the same lesson, as one follows after the other. Just don’t try it until Hammer Strike tells you you can.”

“Very well,” Pensword answered. He felt rather confused, but he would do his best to just sense these aspects he’d been exposed to.

“If you need help, come see me, but don’t try to manipulate the energy until Shawn's lesson. I mean it. Believe me, Twilight is still last to get new chapters of the book for that little stunt she pulled in her basement.”

“I have no plan to practice what I don’t know.”

“Good. Then I’ll see you in a day or two to check on your progress.”

Pensword nodded. “Until then, Grif.”

And with that, the Gryphon flew off for his compound.