Pensword looked to Grif. “You’re serious. You’re telling me that your Clan wants a cinema? Why?” He shook his head. “I just got hit on my end with the same request from the troops.”

“You mean you haven’t heard about what’s happening next year?” Grif asked with a playful smirk.

Pensword gave him a flat look. “I have been working on the bill, and my newspapers were missing today. I think Moon River took them to make hats out of them.”

Grif opened his bag, and withdrew a rolled sheet of paper. He flapped it open to reveal a deep crimson background with two black silhouettes: one of a Pony, and one of what seemed to be a massive horned creature. Between them was a brightly colored rose imposed over an intricate silver hand mirror. “Next year, High-end Visual Entertainment Incorporated brings you a tale as old as time itself in this fully animated color feature-length movie. So, please, join Billy Bee at your local theater, and be our guest as we present to you, Beauty and the Beast.”

“You . . . you–.” Pensword looked at the flyer. “You didn’t,” he deadpanned. “But how are we supposed to get a cinema? After all, we have to show justification, before this comes.” His look of exasperation turned to one of frustration, and then to a glare. “I’m blaming you for putting this idea into that studio’s heads.”

“Hey, they already had animation. It had to happen sometime.” Grif shrugged. “Someone heard me reading the story to the foals at the Punch Bowl the other day, and made me an offer. One transcript of the story for a rather fair price.”

Pensword proceeded to grumble, and then to complain. “This just gets in the way of my plans! I was hoping to create a studio, like how Disney helped the war effort back on earth, but now. . ..” He slumped. “We still have to figure out how to bring income in. Even Luna, my own, and the other incomes of the nobles will not be able to support the growth and maintenance of the military. Either we raise taxes, or we have to start having companies help Civilians, with profits or parts going towards helping maintain Military infrastructure.” He loosed a defeated sigh as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Well, then, where do we put it? Wherever it goes, it needs to be accessed by both Ponies and Gryphons, and we’ll have to consider some of the larger races, too, like Minotaurs.”

“Have you thought about investments?” Grif asked. “I mean, Equestria is pretty much an open market, and, between the two of us, we have a pretty sizable amount of money.”

“I have. But that is the long game. I am talking about short term, capital that would jumpstart everything,” Pensword said. “It doesn’t help that laws have to be changed, before some of those investments can become available for military use.” He looked around the clearing. “My wings are bound, it seems. I will go broke and destitute, if it means Equestria gets the military. I’ve only felt this strongly about one other nation, and it freaks Matthew out.”

“Don’t give up hope just yet,” Grif said as the smile dropped to business. “Hell, ask Hammer Strike for help to start. He owns the banks. I’m sure he’d happily give the military a large indefinite-term loan.”

“And that will bring in the accusations and blowhards claiming that Hammer Strike owns the military, and we could, and would lose support in the houses, if we do that. I can ask for a small one, perhaps. Half a million bits would likely be the most we can. That is the most Fancy Pants was able to donate. If Hammer Strike donates more than that, we will definitely lose support.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Grif promised. “Just give it time. Who knows? Maybe you’ll find a sympathetic friend in the studio's owner.”

“I hope so.” Pensword sighed. But I need to get back to work. I am drawing up plans, just to stay busy. That might be my next project: films or animations to invite pride in Equestria, and help Ponies see the military isn’t so bad, like the old US World War Two cartoons and movies.” He frowned. “I don’t know when my field will be fully back to strength, but, till then, Lunar Fang has maintained I sleep in my office. So, thanks to some of my books, I have a start on Project Iron Side.”

“One word: Merrimack,” Pensword answered. He smiled, tried to hold his silence, but, ultimately, couldn’t help himself. “Another word: Seharia.”

“Yeah, but you’ve been around. What was the Merrimack? Or her foe? They battled for ages, and it was a stalemate, even after direct hits.” His expression brightened. It was good to be the one leading the conversation for once.

“Glad you think so, too. I have three planned: Equestria, Sun, and Moon. Personally, I liked the Merrimack more.”

“The Dwarves can help there. They make enough sheets of metal as it is for their machines. It would be nothing for them to incorporate more into their production for the ships. And that way, Hammer Strike will still be helping the Military out, just not in ways the nobles can trace.”

“Well, I look forward to the christening, or . . . Faustining? What do they call it here?”

“We call it a launching. But Luna wishes to show support to the United States, if these three prove seaworthy, Luna wishes to build one for use of the United States, if any more humans end up trapped in Equestria.” He blushed. “That is the official story, anyways. The real story is she wishes to give something to Matthew for all he’s gone through.” Pensword smiled. “He intends to call her Columbia.”

“That does seem like something he would do.” Grif let out a chuckle. “Anyway, I need to go handle some other matters. I’ll see you later, Pensword.”

“See you later. I will be in my office, working on this new project of yours.” He chuckled as he trotted back towards the castle, whistling a familiar tune.

“Okay, so on top of trying to figure out a wedding gift for the stallion that literally has everything, I now have to participate in the Running of the Leaves, because you signed me up for it. . . Once again without my permission, and used Grif to do it, because you knew he’d agree to it in a heartbeat. Does that about sum it up?” Vital Spark asked as he stood up on his hind hooves, and folded his forelegs.

“You catch on quick,” Clover noted, not even deigning to look up from her work.

“The hate you feel for me does not even begin to pierce the membrane of the cells that make up the vast mountain of hatred I held for Star Swirl at times, my apprentice.”

“I’m guessing he threw you into a den of vicious beasts to gather some spell reagents for him?”

“Yes, but he didn’t trust other wizards, so he coded the list beforehand, and didn’t bother to give me the cypher required to crack it. Have you ever tried to break a code while fighting hordes of imps?”

“Can’t say that I have, though I’m surprised you didn’t just exorcise them to their home plane. Wouldn’t that have been simpler?” he asked as he clopped back down to all fours, and approached the work table.

“Imps aren’t always demons, Vital.” Clover sighed, and shook her head. “I learned that the hard way.”

“Yes, so running a simple marathon isn’t going to kill you, unless, of course, the trees are actually ents, but I highly doubt they’re in this area.”

“Hey, you’re the one who mentioned ents and plantlife. He does technically qualify.” Vital couldn’t help but smile impishly. “So what are you working on here?”

“For the sake of reversing the process afterwards? Or is there a particular end you had in mind?”

“My Gift to Hammer Strike. What do you give the Pony who has everything, and doesn’t want it? A way to be rid of it.”

Vital pursed his lips. “Clover, I am incredibly impressed, but also insanely jealous that you thought of it first. This round clearly goes to you.”

“Yes. As soon as I can master the formula. For now, you should probably be preparing for your marathon.”

“If Gif is allowed into this, he’s guaranteed to win, hands down.” Vital chuckled. “Either way, I guess I should be getting ready. Good luck on the formula, Clover.” He sighed as he passed through the door, and shut it behind him. “Many men have tried. Probably Ponies, too, but if anybody is going to be able to crack it, it’s you.” Then he bumped into a solid mass of metal and muscle, before thumping backwards onto his rump. “Ow.” He rubbed his snout as he looked up . . . and up . . . and up at the armored Pony.

“Oh. Sorry about that. Wasn’t watching where I was going,” the dusty voice spoke as the armored head looked down.

“Uh . . . no . . . problem?” Vital said as he slowly got to his hooves. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

“I don’t think so. I’m–.” Suddenly, an incredibly loud explosion rocked the castle’s floors, causing the smaller Unicorn to actually lift off for the briefest of moments, before touching down again with a light clop. Smoke and fumes began to pour out from under the door, followed by a great deal of cursing and swearing in old Equish. “But most folks call me The Storyteller.”

Vital Spark stared for the longest time at the Pony as he took in the voice, the general appearance, the design of the armor. “. . . This kind of thing wouldn’t happen to happen to you on a regular basis, would it?”

Vital Spark promptly facehoofed. “I can’t believe the guys didn’t tell me about you.”

“Well, that depends on who you’re asking. My friends call me Vital Spark.”

“So you were.” Vital chuckled. “Just call me Vital Spark, Storyteller. Any friend of Hammer Strike’s is a friend of mine.”

“I just found out I’ve been signed up for the Running of the Leaves. So now I’m going to have to train for the next few days, before actually running in it.” Vital shook his head. “My friends and my teacher have a peculiar sense of humor.”

“Huh. You know, in the pre-war times, leaves used to fall on their own, back before Ponies took total control over nature.”

“Is that so? How about you tell me about it on the way to the training yard?”

The Storyteller seemed surprised for a moment, before he started. “Well, you see, back in pre-war times, nature was left to its own devices. . ..” And so the storyteller began his story, and Vital Spark, in his ignorance, began a conversation that would last long into the night, and proceed to the following morning.

The Courtyard was abuzz as Wonderbolts and Demon Slayers stood gathered together. Rainbow Dash watched from the ramparts as an official guest of Commander Pensword, but she had received specific instructions to strictly to observe. Princess Luna stood on a high stand, dressed in her royal uniform from before her banishment to watch over the proceedings. Meteor Impact rested at her side. Commander Pensword and Captain Spitfire stood on either side of her. Down on the ground below, Lightning Dust stared up, awaiting the ruling she knew would come. True to Pensword’s orders, she had worn her Demon Slayers uniform.

Pensword casually took in the scene as he looked around the courtyard. The occasional flutter of motion in the shadows confirmed the presence of the spies from the other noble houses. Of course they’d be here. The nobles needed to find any means they could to smear the good name and standing of the Lunar court.

“Don’t worry about them, Pensword,” Luna said through barely-moving lips. “All they’ll see is how serious we are about ensuring proper procedure is followed in our armed forces.” Then she smiled.

“They might call us inhumane, if the judgement is too harsh in their eyes,” he noted casually.

“No matter what we do, it is likely they will seek to twist the narrative. What matters is how Lightning Dust feels about it in the end.”

Pensword looked to Captain Spitfire. She returned the gaze, then nodded as she stepped forward..

“Private Lightning Dust!” Her voice carried across the courtyard, rebounding off the walls, before fading into the silence of the skies above. “You stand here, having completed your penance for your actions during the Wonderbolt Academy. By all accounts, you have been through a training few have experienced since the Third Gryphon War. I would tell you your options; however, Princess Luna has asked for some time to address you. As a fellow warrior, and the Princess of this realm, I saw no reason to deny that request. Princess Luna, the floor is yours.” She stepped back to make room for Luna to step forward. Luna did so and leaned on the shaft of her hammer to look down on the recruit.

“In the time before my banishment, a recruit would be hung for the actions you displayed in the Wonderbolt Academy, Lightning Dust. You have endangered civilians and your teammates, and misused resources set aside for your training. That being said, I am glad today, that there have been changes in this regard. It would be a pity to see such talent as yours wasted. As of this moment, you have three paths made available to you.”

Lightning Dust did her best to keep her military bearing, and waited patiently for the choices to be given, though her eyes shone appreciatively at receiving such high praise from the princess.

“First, you may choose to return to Wonderbolt Academy as an instructor in basic tactical maneuvers. Second, if you wish to stay here in New Unity, you may decide to become one of the Demon Slayers officially. Your final option, should you so choose, is to return to civilian life, and gain employment as either a weather technician, or some other field suitable for your talents.”

Lighting Dust looked forward as she thought on the issue at wing. If she returned to the Wonderbolt Academy, it would be nice, but she wouldn’t really get to be a true Wonderbolt. That ship had sailed. She barely managed to keep herself from wincing as she thought of all the students that would be passing on to greater things, while she remained behind, a civilian contractor with no hopes of advancement. If she returned to civilian life, even with the Princess’ approval, she would still have the tornado as a black mark on her record. True, she paid her debt to society for her actions, but those actions still carried weight. Few, if any, weather officials would want to hire someone who had been so reckless as to put innocent Ponies, and even her own team, in danger. She could probably still get work, if she really tried, but as she thought about it, she realized she’d probably doubt herself, and second guess the decision as time went on. She didn’t like the idea of living with regret. That left only one viable option. She steeled herself as she looked up to the princess. A gentle smile pulled at Luna’s lips. She knew. Perhaps the two of them had more in common than Lightning Dust first thought. She’d probably chuckle, if it weren’t such a sober event.

“I’d like to stay in the Demon Slayers, Princess. I still have a lot to learn, and a lot more to do for Equestria. The training’s been hard, but the lessons were worth it. I’m not done yet. I want to keep going, keep growing, do something with myself, for the right reasons this time.”

Princess Luna nodded, and stepped back to give Pensword the stand. He looked around the courtyard with a steady gaze.

“Private Lighting Dust, I would be more than happy to accept you into our Demon Slayers. There is one slight problem.” He paused, and waited for his rumbling voice to fade. “You have been a menace to all privates everywhere, making them feel like they cannot get out of bed for the day.” He chuckled. “It seems you’ve already finished their work for them by the time they wake up.” He leaned forward. “That is why I cannot accept you.”

A collective gasp filled the courtyard, and Lightning Dust seemed almost to wither where she stood. A mirthful smirk played across Pensword’s face. “That is to say, I cannot accept you as a private.” He chuckled as he snapped a wing towards the shadows, where Fox Feather stepped forward, bearing a polished mahogany box. “So, I suppose I’m just going to have to settle for a Sergeant.” He hardened his bearing again, even as he saw the tears of joy brimming in Lightning Dust’s eyes. He would give her a proper congratulations after the ceremony. For now, he had a duty to fulfill. “Sergeant Dust, step forward to receive your unit crest, your new badges of office, and your day pass into Ponyville,” Pensword shouted.

Lighting Dust flew up in a stunned silence as Fox Feather opened the box. Fox Feather removed the private’s rank from Lightning Dust’s uniform with all the proper precision and ceremony. With the emblems properly secured, Fox Feather reached into the box to replace the space with the Sergeant’s emblem. The unit crest of the Demon Slayers was placed on the empty slot on her shoulder, and sewn on with Luna’s magic. Lightning stared down at the crest, a stylized head of a horned goat demon with two blades, one of Pony design, the other of Gryphon design, scissored beneath the creature’s neck a drips of blood flowed from the cuts where the blades had pierced flesh in the act of slaying of the beast.

“Welcome to the Demon Slayers,” Fox Feather said with a smile. “We expect you to slay the demons given to us by command, and in so doing, help to slay some of your own. Congratulations, Lightning Dust.

A collective cheer arose as the ceremony completed itself, and Lightning Dust soon found herself swarmed by Gryphons and Ponies alike as she finally dropped her composure, and let the tears flow. She had a future. She had a home. She had acceptance. And, most important of all, she had forgiveness.

Vital Spark frowned as he knocked on the door embedded into the tree trunk. The eyes of the mask over the door frame seemed almost to glow as the gentle flicker of candlelight and flames welcomed the visitor. The new acquisition lay on his back as he waited for the telltale hoofsteps. He was not disappointed.

“Vital Spark. What a pleasant surprise. This Zebra can hardly believe her eyes. I heard you’d returned to the life that was taken, and yet, here you are, so I must be mistaken.”

“Ah, there is the smile that spreads so much light. Tell me, what brings you to my home this night?”

As the two entered the house, Vital Spark couldn’t help but take a deep breath. The mixture of herbs and spices brewing in the pot over the fire filled the air with a sweet, spicy scent.

“Well, it definitely works.” Vital Spark chuckled as he pulled the case off his body, and levitated it onto the hut’s floor. “I wish I could say I came here just for a courtesy call between friends, but I’m afraid I need your advice, Zecora. Something strange happened to me earlier this week, and I wanted to see if you could help me make sense of it.”

Vital Spark pulled out the instrument, and levitated it for Zecora to examine. “I bought this in the store, but, as I was playing it, something happened. It’s . . . difficult for me to explain. One moment, I was standing in the shop, but the next, it felt like I was in a dream, but it felt so real. One minute I was flying, then I was playing, then I was dancing with a girl and . . . well. . ..” A blush rose in his cheeks, and Zecora couldn’t help but chuckle.

“A waking vision, or a fantastic dream? Let’s take a look closer to see what we can glean.” Zecora led Vital Spark to a table, where he gently laid the instrument down. She then proceeded to search through her ingredients, pulling out a variety of herbs and powders, which she proceeded to grind together in a mortar with a pestle. Then, she carefully poured the mixture into a circle around the instrument, and laide three candles in equidistant points along the circle. Next, she approached the place where the tree grew outwards to form her bedroom. She knocked on the floorboards three times, and they opened to reveal a small chest.

Zecora took the chest reverently, and slowly made her way back to the table. Then she flipped one of the larger masks aside to reveal a hidden compartment, where she drew forth a familiar tin. This, too, she placed on the table. Lastly, she retrieved her staff, and used it to remove one of her bottles from its place where it hung from the ceiling, and laid it on the table with the rest.

She opened the tin first, revealing bright silver-and-green leaves. Tiny gold veins seemed to flow through them as she pulled one out, and placed it on the circle. Then she closed the tin, and returned it to its hiding place. Next, she opened the bottle, and tipped it, until a tiny green tendril was exposed. She smiled as she looked to Vital Spark, and motioned toward the bottle. He nodded, and the tendril glowed blue as he pulled it out with his magic to reveal a weeping willow frond. This, too, was placed on the table, and laid upon the circle. Lastly, she whispered to the chest. A light wind blew through the room as candle flames flared, then dropped low as the chest’s catch unlocked. Zecora reached in, and pulled out a single wood chip. She placed it reverently on the circle, then closed the chest’s lid. As the catch sounded, all returned to normal again. She promptly returned the other two containers to their proper places, then came back to the table, where she laid three candles down at each of the empty points between the three ingredients.

“I cannot cast this spell for you. The words must be spoken exactly and true.”

“The spell cannot be invoked with rhyme. Therefore, it falls to you this time.”

“I cannot say a single line, unless its mate is found in time. It is my burden, and I bear it well, as a price for a very powerful spell.”

Zecora nodded. “I do not have another choice. Without my rhymes, I have no voice.”

Zecora nodded as she proceeded to pull out paper and a quill, and dipped it into a tiny vessel with what appeared to be some sort of dye. In a few minutes, the spell was written, and ready to go. “Read,” she urged. “Succeed.”

Vital Spark took a deep breath. Then he looked over the spell. “Wait, you seriously had that in your hut?”

“Which is why I hide it within this tree. Now read, and cast. See what will be.”

Vital Spark gulped noisily as he looked over the scroll once more. “Okay . . . here goes.”

His horn glowed a gentle blue as he levitated the scroll, and read from the words:

“I call upon the ancient powers to reveal the nature of truth.
Three forces divided, I now unite to aid in my search.
I call on the first, the deepest of all, the sifter of the soul.
You who lay the true nature bare, reveal to me now this item’s soul.
I invoke thee, Tree of Essence.”

The first of the three candles flared as its wick and flame turned a bright green, and the leaf from the tree of essence glowed silver. Silver sparks descended over the instrument, and hovered within the circle, floating playfully as they touched the markings along the wood, drawing out wisps of silver light to float and waver like willowisps above the violin.

“I call upon the second to grant me knowledge and power to understand the nature I divine.
You, who set the worlds upon their course. You, who open the eyes of the innocent.
You, who blind the arrogant. You, whose fruit is sweet, but whose taste is death.
Reveal the knowledge that I seek, and grant me power over it.
I invoke thee, Tree of Knowledge.”

The second candle flared as its flame glowed scarlet. The wood chip began to smolder as smoke rose off of it, before it burst into flame, flickering between gold and black. As it did so, the powder beneath it began to ignite and spread, consuming as it went, and jumping with a malevolent crackle as it sought to destroy the other reagents. A sudden eddy swirled the wisps, causing them to form a tornado as the lights spun faster and faster with the spreading of the flames.

“I call upon the third to bind, and to hold back the flood.
You, who temper the arrogant fires of upstart youth with experience and sound words.
You, whose voice is the wind, so difficult to understand, but vital to those with the ears to hear.
In humility, I call upon you now. Let thy wisdom bring balance and focus to my quest.
Embrace me with your patient guidance, and guard me from the flames.
Lead me to the gate, and help me to see.
I invoke thee, the voice of wisdom, Grandmother Willow.”

The third candle blazed a cool blue with just a hint of gray at its center, and, as it did so, the willow frond snapped to attention, flicking the leaf into the air just in time to avoid the flames, before it rose and joined from end to end, closing to form a circle over the powder. It hovered there, for a time, then it began to spin, slowly, steadily as the blue light coursed over it, before it began to lower into the rising flames. As it did so, a pitiful whine sounded, followed by an angry pop from the wood chip. A single spark leapt out into the whirling fray within the confines of the circle to join with the leaf. Lastly, as the frond dropped to hover less than an inch above the table, a piece of root grew from its end, and broke off to join the other elements within the circle.

“By these powers three, united in purpose, let the truth be made clear.
Reveal the nature of the magic that lies at this object’s heart.
Help me find peace.”

The three flames rose from the candles, and merged with the storm to create a golden light. An old woman’s voice laughed kindly, and began to sing. “Que Que na-to-ra. You will understand. . ..”

As the song wound to its end, and the light faded, an image took shape within the circle, which was little more than a pile of ashes now. A great white spear, covered with looping engravings like the ones on the instrument hovered there.

Zecora’s eyes suddenly glowed a bright yellow, which quickly spread down her stripes, and across her flanks down to her hooves, where the wood of the tree wrapped around her hooves, and little sprouts grew. She laughed kindly, shaking her head, but the voice was not the familiar deep voice Vital Spark was used to. Instead, he heard a rich, strong woman’s voice somewhere in the middle register, yet, beneath it, he could hear an elderly grating of one who had lived a long time. The wood continued to grow upwards, and sprout green moss, which flowed down Zecora’s back to form a mantle as a wooden torc formed around her neck beneath the gold rings. A beautiful flower blossomed forth to fill the socket where the royal jewels or insignias normally sat. As a finishing touch, two green vines sprouted, and wrapped around Zecora’s earrings, before blossoming, and bearing fruit in vibrant greens, reds, and golds.

“My dear, brave little boy.” Zecora, or whatever thing had possessed Zecora, chuckled. “I’m afraid my granddaughter couldn’t make it. It’s a rather long journey to travel across the planes between the worlds, you know, and she prefers to remain with the children on Earth.”

“Well, of course I know about Earth. I know about all the worlds, silly boy.” Again, she laughed. “Earth just happens to be one where I was . . . more active, I suppose you could say. Now then, why don’t we start off with proper introductions? This is your first time meeting me, after all. Oh, and don’t worry about Zecora. She and I are old friends. She’ll go back to normal once we’re done with our little discussion. Speaking of which, that spell she had you perform–” she clicked her tongue chidingly “–Very dangerous on her part. Still, I suppose it did get the proper result.” She lifted a hoof off the floor, and offered it to Vital Spark. “I’m Gaia, Mother of all Living, Spirit of Nature and the Wilds, etcetera. You really don’t need to hear the whole list. Why, my children have given me so many names, it would take me a whole century just to get through all the As.”

“Oh, would you stop that already?” Gaia rolled her eyes as she shook her head, and a strong tendril of wood grew out from the wall to push Vital Spark back towards her again. “Honestly, you men always had such wild imaginations. If you’d listened to your wives more often, you wouldn’t be nearly so misinformed. I love all of my children, Vital Spark, even humanity.”

“No, no! That’s . . . okay. I just . . . wasn’t expecting to be talking to, you know, the incarnation of pretty much all life? It’s a lot to take in.”

“Hey! Praying and physically talking are–.” He broke off as he drew toward the conclusion of that sentence.

“And there it is.” She laughed mirthfully, until a glowing tear coursed down her cheek, and plopped onto the ground beneath, causing yet another branch to sprout. “You’re still talking either way. I’m just like any other god, and this is just another conversation, and I can tell you now, it won’t be our last.” She smiled tenderly. “Prometheus did well when he made some of your ancestors. Without them, you four couldn’t have been born, and without the four of you, this world, and, by extension, many others, would wither and die.”

“We all have our missions in life, Vital Spark.” She chuckled. “But enough about that. Fate and Destiny can take care of their own affairs. You called for help understanding something, and I answered that call. Now let’s see if we can’t answer your question, hmm?” Gaia walked over to the table, and peered up at the projection of the spear. “Ah. I see. That would explain the vision you mentioned.”

“This instrument was fashioned based on the designs imbued in a divine weapon from the land of your forefathers. I’m afraid I can’t tell you too much about the nature of the ones who made it. The Celtic gods and I don’t always get along. And don’t even get me started on the fae. So few of them actually care about nature, and the ones who do usually take millennia before they realize it’s better not to meddle in the first place.”

“Oh, that’s easy. It’s a branch of magic called Sympathetic Magic. Basically, your Celtic blood called to the magic that was imbued in the wood when the maker fashioned it after the spear’s design. It’s likely that whomever crafted this instrument still has the weapon in his or her possession. Naturally, as a boon from the Celtic gods, it only reacts to one of Celtic blood, ergo, you. In this case, rather than those ridiculous requirements to enact the magic, which is rather messy to say the least. After all, they are warriors. Anyways, as I was saying, rather than having to fulfill those ridiculous requirements, it reached into your own magic, and made contact with your soul, giving you a vision of things that matter most to you, even if you don’t know it yourself yet.”

“What’s the saying you kids use nowadays? Ah, yes. The heart knows what it wants.” She chuckled mirthfully. “And if that vision of yours is to be interpreted correctly, I think I know someone’s got a crush~!” she practically sang.

“I do not!” A heavy blush raced through Vital’s cheeks. His face was practically glowing. “I hardly even know her, and besides that, she was evil! I mean, sure, I’d like to give her a chance next time we meet and all that, but liking her? I mean, really liking her?”

“Just wait till you go back, darling. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised. Don’t worry. I can give you plenty of tips.”

“I really don’t think that’s necessary,” Vital said hastily as he waved his hooves frantically. “Just . . . is there a way to make it stop, or at the very least control it?”

“Well, you have two options. You can either drain the magic out of it, which would basically destroy its quality and performance, and kill it, or you can live with it, and just power through the visions. The magic only activates when you get passionate about something. You were fiddling last time, so it pulled at your roots, and made you think of home, both as you remember it, and as your blood remembers it. In other words, it shouldn’t happen too often, and, if it does, it doesn’t mean you have to stop. If anything, you’ll just be going on autopilot, and can enjoy it and playing at the same time. Trust me, Vital, it’s not a bad thing.”

Gaia stared incredulously at him. “Warrior gods, warrior magics, warrior’s weapon. Sympathetic. Honestly, Conor, I do love you, and your simple approach to things, but, sometimes, your need for bluntness can be very frustrating. I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I tried to get your attention while you’ve been here.”

Vital Spark blinked in shock for a few moments, then spoke in a forced Caribbean accent. “It’s my nature. Would you love me, if I were any other way?”

Gaia burst out laughing. “Never change, Vital Spark. Your friends need that laughter.”

“Well, my time is up, and I think you and Zecora have a bit to talk about now. I need to get back to my husband. It’s date night tonight, you know.” She winked at him. “Oh, and Vital Spark, let those girls down gently, won’t you?”

Gaia simply laughed as the light slowly began to fade, and the green to wither. “Spoilers,” she echoed as her last farewell.

Zecora blinked in surprise as she slowly came to on her bed. A cup of freshly-brewed tea levitated in a blue aura by her side. “Vital Spark?”

Luna groaned as the two rapier blades met, and, for the umpteenth time, the two thin sword blades shattered in a shower of metal shrapnel. “This is pointless. We’ve broken more rapiers than necessary proving I can’t do this,” Luna said as she tossed the handle to a pile of likewise broken handles.

“Come now. You’ve been doing better about your power control,” Hammer Strike commented as he moved to grab another set of blades. “It took three more strikes that time, before the rapier shattered.”

“Yes, so we’re at a record of six strikes,” Luna said, rolling her eyes as she drew a new one.

“I mean, it was either this or paperwork. At least, with this, you’re learning a new form of combat,” Hammer Strike shrugged.

“One which I doubt I will ever use,” Luna said as the two clashed again. Ponies had gathered around to watch the combat, protected by walls of enameled glass, of course. Sparks flew as the thin blades clashed again, and again, until they inevitably shattered.

“Better safe than sorry. Magic can be hampered, your weapons damaged, so it’s best to know many forms of combat, and be prepared for any fight that could happen.”

“Speed. In the time it takes to strike an enemy with a greathammer, a weapon like this could have already struck you four or five times, depending on the user.”

“And done what, nicked the opponent? This blade wouldn’t even scratch my armor.”

To you, it isn’t much of a strike, but if it were a normal Pony, the blade can puncture deep into them, potentially hitting vital organs, and resulting in either a slow, painful death or a death far quicker than expected.”

“And have you ever employed one on the battlefield?” Luna asked as the two clashed again.

“Yes. When I first arrived, I found myself with a dull pair of short swords, so I picked up the closest weapon to me.”

This time they made it to nine, before the blades shattered. “They’re still far too weak.”

Hammer Strike sighed. “You think these are bad? Try a rapier forged by a different smith.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t shatter as you made them,” she said. “Do you tap them into shape with a mallet?”

“Yeah, I spent way too long working on strength control,” Hammer Strike said. “But it’s paid off.”

“Well then,” Luna said as she drew two more rapiers. “Shall we try for twelve?”

Pensword smiled as he looked about with little Moon River once again on his back. It was good to be able to spend time with his daughter again. Unfortunately, Moon River was not in the best of moods, and was currently glaring at her mother. He looked to Rarity and Hammer Strike, along with Grif, Shrial and Avalon, and finally to Vital, who held a scroll that had most likely been given to him by Clover. “So,” he began, “are we ready to have some fun? I just hope they learned their manners this time around. Can you believe that it has been a year since the humans landed in Equestria?”

“Well, we’ve got a lot more money to spend this time around.” Grif laughed as he jingled a bag of coins. “Who knows what they’ve found for us!”

“You and me both. Clover gave me a whole shopping list of artifacts to look for. Apparently I’ve graduated to a new level in my apprenticeship. I am now, officially, the loyal pack mule. No offense,” he said as he turned to face a drabby gray mule who’d appeared behind them.

“I swear I’ll never get used to that particular law of physics in this world,” Vital said as he shook his head.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, Grif.” Vital Spark muttered a few incomprehensible words under his breath.

Grif casually passed Moon River a small, but full, sack of bits. “And here’s a little something for you, in case you see something you want,” he told her with a wink.

“Grif, you may well have just dug the foundations of the New Unity branch of the CMC,” Vital said as he shook his head.

“Are you kidding? I look forward to seeing what she would do in that organization.” More than one head turned to stare at Pensword. For some reason he seemed to be enjoying that thought. “Still, I think Moon River will be spending all day with Daddy.”

Lunar Fang just looked at the two. “Daddy is in trouble for something he did.”

Pensword glowed at the words. “So, shall we see what they have, and maybe have a little fun on the side, or should we see if they are trying to peddle things as ours?” Pensword smirked as Lunar Fang slapped a wing over her muzzle. “I forgot about that.”

“They actually tried to pass stuff off as belonging to you? Huh. I guess you guys really are celebrities. I wonder if we’ll run into Chumlee and the gang from Pawn Stars while we’re here.”

“I don’t feel like paying three times what something's worth while he refuses to pay as much as ten percent to desperate Ponies,” Grif said with a roll of his eyes.

“With all due respect, Grif, from what I’ve read about Gryphon culture, a lot of Gryphons try to do that on a regular basis.”

“You’ll have to acquaint me with them some time. As it stands, though, I think Hammer Strike would actually want us to try to spend as much money as possible. Isn’t that right, Hammer Strike?” Vital asked.

“Did someone say they want more money?” Hammer Strike questioned the group. “I spaced out for a moment.”

Grif rolled his eyes, and chuckled. “Lets just get moving. I want to get to the book trader, before Twilight gets anything good.”

“You do realize princesses get first pick, right? They specifically stop by the royal castle first, before coming here. I wouldn’t be surprised if they already went to Twilight’s library to see if she’ want to add anything else to Ponyville’s collection,” Vital pointed out.

“Yes, but they probably saved the good books for Hammer Strike’s private library,” Grif said with a grin.

Vital stopped, opened his mouth to object, then closed it again. “Touché, Grif. Touché”

Pensword turned his head. “So let’s hope we get some good books, and maybe we might end up with a history book or two from Twilight in the future.” He smirked. “So, I am going to be in the antique section, and the toy section, and the tech area. Heck, I think we are going to be looking at everything. What do you say, dear?”

“We may as well take advantage of everything.” Lunar Fang nodded. “I’ve heard that they’ve been experimenting with new flavors of spices and seasonings for meat out on the coast. I wonder if we’ll find some of those here.”

“We’ll have to search together, then,” Vital said. “Clover’s added a secondary list of foreign herbs and spices for her potions. She even went so far as to alphabetize them by category and most likely organization based on descriptions of the salesponies’ personalities she had me gather from the people of Ponyville! I swear, it’s like I’m dealing with another Twilight, only this one’s more assertive and pushy. I love her, and all she has to teach me, but, sometimes, I think she needs to learn to relax a little. Then again, it could be using me like this is amusing to her, and thus relaxing.”

“Already did, remember?” Vital said with a deadpan expression. “I still haven’t forgotten the abuse.”

“Abuse?” Pensword asked in confusion. “What you told me was not abuse. It was more akin to the training I received at the Academy. Abuse back then . . . well, I won’t tell you what it is. It would curl your horn.” He shook his head, while Moon River looked at Vital, and reached out to give him a hug.

“Thanks, Moon River.” Vital Spark smiled as he leaned into her hug, and nuzzled her gently. “You know, it still feels odd using nuzzling as a form of affection. Do you ever really get used to it?”

“I grew up using nuzzling as affection, so I’m used to it.” Pensword did a wing shrug. “Still, you got anything you want to get on your own? After all, you need you time, too.”

“You know, I’m not really sure. A good fantasy novel would be nice. Either that, or I could see about writing an actual memoir about humanity. Interviews With a Human. Has a nice ring to it, wouldn’t you say?” He chuckled. “Nah. I’ll just see what I can find. Half the fun is just looking, anyways.”

“That’s the spirit, Vital,” Lunar Fang replied. “Maybe you might find a cute mare to buy something for.”

“Onwards, then, to adventure!” Grif said, posing dramatically, which would have been more inspiring, if not for the two fluffy bundles that had latched onto his crest.

“Grif, I hope you’re ready for all the mothers that are going to assault you to see your daughters,” Vital said with a good-natured chuckle.

“I’ve said my prayer to the South Wind for protection, and sent a large ball of peppermint-flavored chocolate to the great pink spirit of distractions, should I need to call on her.”

“You sly dog. No offense,” Vital said hastily. Much to everyone else’s surprise, no mysterious random creature appeared at the saying. However a familiar canine had appeared on Grif’s back, and proceeded to nuzzle the Gryphon cubs affectionately.

“And that's Winona. Everybody, keep an eye out for Applejack,” Grif noted as they headed into the bazaar.

Grif smiled as he sorted through a large collection of plushies he’d found at one of the stands. They were all hand made of rougher material that the seller claimed to be resistant to talons and beaks. Gentle Wing was currently holding tightly to a stuffed manticore. Athena, however, was proving to be picky, batting away each of the stuffed animals as Grif offered them in turn. Finally, he offered her a stuffed jackalope, and prayed she would claim it.

Athena looked curiously at it for a moment or two. She cocked her head left, then right, then she snatched the stuffed animal, and proceeded to start gnawing on its head.

“Well, I guess that’s decided then,” Grif said, laughing as he looked to the stand’s owner. “How much?”

Grif happily dropped the bits on the table. “Pleasure doing buisness with you.”

“Oh, I will.” Grif chuckled as he walked away, tickling each of the girls’ chins with the tuft of his tail. He was about to head to the bookstand, when he, for the fifth time that day, felt his crest being tugged towards a stand where a Pony was showing off a series of children's toys that spun or bobbed or walked to clockwork. He looked to his daughters, and sighed as he saw the large puppy dog eyes staring back at him.

The two siblings cooed in delight as they ran their beaks through their father’s feathers to show their affection.

Hammer Strike was walking through the stalls when the light glinting off the metal of a bare blade caught his eye. He turned to appraise it, seeing an artfully crafted metal pommel reminiscent of the Knights Templar, only this one seemed to focus more on dragons than it did on crosses.

“Hello, my good–.” The trader’s eyes widened as he realized just who he was talking to. “Hello, M’lord,” he said nervously. “Has . . . has something caught your eye?” The Earth Pony moved the formless cap on his head about nervously as he ran the hoof down the side of his muzzle to the red scarf around his neck, before setting the hoof gingerly to the ground. It would seem Hammer Strike’s reputation preceded him.

“This blade here.” Hammer Strike shifted his attention to the trader. “What information do you have on it?”

“Well, the appraisal states it was forged in the last three hundred years. As you can see, it’s been carefully cleaned and polished. The pommel’s red gem design is as recent as of one hundred ten years in its setting. We don’t know what was there before. Other than that, I’m afraid I can’t say much more. The legends behind it are much more interesting. According to the tales, it was forged by a stallion who wished to avenge his family, after they were killed by a dragon. Supposedly, he succeeded, and then went on to slay many more. The legend ranges from two to ten depending on the teller.” He sighed and shrugged. “Normally, I’d use that to bolster the price, but I can’t really lie to you. I don’t believe the stories. And considering the bluntness, it’s more of a decorative piece. I’ll sell it to you for a hundred bits, if you’re interested.”

“Sorry. Decorative blades don’t interest me as much. But perhaps I could do something with it.” Hammer Strike hummed ponderingly. After a moment, he shrugged, and handed the stallion the bits. “Worst thing that happens is that I lose a hundred bits.”

“Thank you, M’lord. I . . . I must say I am happy to finally be rid of that sword.” The Stallion hoofed over the blade with its metal sheath, and heaved a relieved sigh.

“Yeah. No clue why. I never wanted much, but as soon as I told the legend behind it,” he said in a disgusted tone, “which I am legally bound to do, no one wanted to buy it. It was taking up space I could use for other items. Maybe before I leave I could buy a sword from you to sell somewhere else?”

Hammer Strike hummed as he placed his newest acquisition into his coat, and pulled out a different blade. It wasn’t one of his personal ones, but it would probably do the job. “Perhaps this one.”

“How much do you want for it? Two hundred bits?” he asked. He was practically drooling as he stared at the careful bevelling, the engraving, the silverwork, and the honing on the edge. “I have to pay something for it. Otherwise it would be bad luck, and this baby’s worth at least twice that price.”

“Deal!” The stallion practically punched Hammer Strike with the bag of bits.

“Okay, freeze-dried eye of newt, check,” Vital said as he placed another jar into his satchel. “Now I just need to find some frost fronds, and that’ll finish the list.” He couldn’t help but smile in relief as he made his way to a rather roomy purple tent. He pulled its flap aside, only to experience a keen sense of deja vu. A fire burned in the pit at the center, its smoke rising through the hole at the top to prevent the smoke from getting too thick. A series of jars, roots, and herbs littered the space and cluttered the shelves, along with some few baubles here and there. A set of luminous crystals lay in a mortar next to a pestle as a large cat stretched lazily in the sunlight, purring contentedly.

‘Naturally,’ the cat’s soundless voice responded. ‘I don’t think there’d be another cat like me here.’

“I’m back here!” the witch spoke up from a work table behind a divider. Vital Spark pulled back the curtain with his magic to see the Pony holding two open-topped jars in front of her, one containing an Equestrian toad, and the other containing a less colorful toad. “Solembum is keeping an eye on things while I figure out if toads exist in Equestria.”

“Isn’t that proof enough right there?” Vital Spark asked with a cocked eyebrow.

“Please.” Angela shook her head, pointing to the less colorful toad. “Anyone can see this is a frog masquerading as a toad.”

“I assume you also talked with it? I’m pretty sure you can do that, if you want to.”

“Oh, you should never assume,” Angela said with a strange smile. “I always stick to educated guesses. Less trouble that way.”

“More chance of chaos, too, but, then again, everybody needs a little chaos in their lives, don’t they?” Vital asked curiously as he looked to the amphibian. “You know, you could always just ask Fluttershy. She’d be able to verify it for certain. She can talk to animals, so she’s probably met her fair share of frogs and toads in her time.”

“Where's the fun in doing anything the easy way?” Angela asked him. “Next you’ll be telling me to pay people to cook my food.”

“Indubitably. But if you don’t mind my asking, I was wondering if you could help me get ahold of some frost fronds for Clover. You are a rather skilled herbalist, after all.”

“Oh, and what’s she up to now?” Angela asked. “I haven’t spoken to her since she finally cut ties with Miss High-and-Mighty herself.”

“No.” Angela shook her head. “I meant Platinum, of course. Stupid mare tried to tax me for beauty cream. Can you believe that? Said I was hiding some kind of youth tonic from her.”

“Ah, you’re talking about that Platinum. Well, things have been going pretty well for Clover. She’s helping us out at New Unity now. You should stop by. I’m sure she’d be happy to see you. And besides, it’s fun being able to talk with you.” He winked at her. “Plus, it’d be fun to see Discord’s reaction when you sneak up behind him, if you were to do so, of course.”

“So they finally let that silly serpent out, did they? I sure hope Celestia knows what she’s doing. Still, I might just take you up on visiting Clover, see if she ever proved her theory about newts just being water salamanders.”

“What an intriguing premise. I never thought of it that way before, though I don’t know how sound the theory would be. Sure, they’re slippery enough, but they don’t really manifest any signs of the element when they leave it, while fire salamanders clearly do, but I digress. Would you happen to have some frost fronds handy?”

“You know very well that if it’s an herb, I have it somewhere in here. Come along, and we’ll get you your fronds,” the witch said, leading him to the back of the store, and a greenhouse that most assuredly wasn’t connected to it from the outside.

“Oh, by the way, Angela, would you happen to know how I could hatch a cryophoenix egg?”

Pensword was moving about the stalls to browse the various wares, when he felt a sudden jerk to the left, thanks to a certain young foal, who wanted her daddy to herself. “What is it, dear?” he asked Moon River as he tried to spot what she wanted him to see.

Moon River giggled as she reached a hoof out towards a table. As Pensword looked at the table, he stopped dead in his tracks, then blinked a few times, before grin slowly grew on his muzzle. He immediately approached the stall owner, and the treasure trove of wooden train and track pieces, complete with magnets to lock them together. Once he’d taken stock of the wares, he dropped his face into a completely neutral expression, though his eyes burned with determination and passion as he focused his gaze on the stall owner. “Can you tell me about this train set?” he asked. His tone remained in tight control, even as he casually fluffed his wings in a minor assertion of dominance.

“Certainly,” the owner responded. “It’s a children’s toy. You use these magnets here to connect the rail cars. Their unique round design allows for them to follow any twists and turns the track might make along the way as you build. I also carry a few other small accessories, including switches and display tables for the smaller creations.”

Moon River whimpered, and her lower lip quivered as she reached out towards the train set, and the owner chuckled. “Would you like to try it, little one?”

When Lunar Fang finally caught up with her husband and daughter, she found a saddlebag stuffed full of the wooden railway toy. Meanwhile, the stall keeper stared, bewildered as he looked over a sheaf of order sheets and hastily drawn diagram portraying new additions that Pensword wanted to get for the complete experience.

“Who . . . was that train nut? I just made more bits in one day than I normally do in a single quarter, and then some!”

“Just smile, and nod, my friend,” Bonbon said as she walked by. “Just smile, and nod.”

Grif had been about to sit down to his paperwork, when the horn sounded warning that someone was approaching the gate. He rolled his eyes as he set the papers down on his desk, and made his way outside. He was just in time to see the gates part as a large contingent of armed Gryphons made their way inside. Dagger Feather Scroll stood at the front beside a rather large Gryphon with the body of a tiger and a frill of feathers surrounding his face like a headdress. He bowed gracefully, and his harpy eagle heritage shone proudly as his slick black-and-white feathers shone in the sun. His armor had been well polished and maintained, and he carried a thick gladius at his side. A powerful longbow poked out from the pack on his side, and his emerald eyes pierced through the air as he stared ahead. The experience of many a battle hung behind those eyes, many victories, and many losses. Truly, this could be none other than Graven Graytalon.

In the center of the group, an assembly of lesser armed Gryphons stayed alert, despite their lack of heavier armor and weaponry. Grif assumed this to be Dagger’s family. He smiled welcomingly as he approached the group.

“My friends, I’m glad to see you made it safely. And Graven, once again, you accomplish the task to the letter. Thank you, my friend.”

Dagger nuzzled a fine Gryphoness, who was a cheetah-osprey mix. Three more cubs ranging from four years old to newly born clung to the pair. “Greetings, Clan Leader,” Dagger said as he bowed. “I present my mate, Helen Feather Scroll Bladefeather, and our four cubs, Bloodfeather, Jepsen, Killing Blade, and Jorund. They are all family names.”

“Well, I’m glad to see you all made it here safely. I hope there was no trouble for you?”

“Bloodfeather took care of a tarantula placed to kill us. He has his warrior name now,” Dagger said. “Other then that, it was a calm flight.”

“We had a few daggers in the night, Grif, but we took care of them, before they caused any excitement,” Graven told him. “Whoever was after them didn’t seem to care enough to hire some competent help.”

The cubs’ eyes widened in shock as Dagger ruffled his feathers. “I was hoping to not get the cubs too excited, Graven.”

Helen shook her head. “I lost our first born to intrigue, so we wanted to make sure we were in a secure area, before we tried to train them again. I’d rather not lose any more of my cubs to ‘accidents.’”

“Don’t worry. You're amongst family now,” Grif said, spreading his wings wide. “Your cubs will receive a full education, as well as a basic training, and extensive training in whatever course of trade they choose. This clan doesn’t have castes. I believe our children should choose their own futures.”

The stunned mother bowed her head in gratitude, while Dagger blinked like he’d been blindsided. “We’ll do our best, Sir.” He shuffled. “When do you need me to resume my duties?”

“As soon as you can,” Grif said, “but, first, I suppose I’ll show you to your house.” He smiled as he handed Helen a stack of papers he produced from his bag. “These are promissory notes good for any bank in Equestria. You can use them to get anything additional you might need. Meals are served in the family kitchen at eight, noon, and six. If you’d like to cook for yourself, we can arrange the proper amenities.”

They all nodded numbly, before following towards their new home, unsure of what they would do, or what type of home they would have. The cubs laughed as each played and rushed around between the adults’ legs. Grif chuckled good-naturedly as Dagger and Helen did their best to keep them under control, while dealing with carrying the youngest cub.

Grif finally stopped before one of the main houses in the complex. Thanks to foresight, he’d had extra housing built in, in case more influx should happen. It was neither finer nor uglier than his own home, just a simple two stories with six bedrooms, a large family room, and an adjoining room that could become a kitchen for those who wished for it to be. It also included a small study on the first floor with a large fireplace. “This is it,” Grif said, turning to them with the key.

While the wife and cubs entered the rooms, Dagger shook his head in amazement. “This is the largest home we’ve ever had. Thank you,” he said. Tears stood in his eyes as he bowed deeply.

“Every member of my family has a house no lesser than my own. I’ve seen enough of the large mansions and strongholds of our homelands to know what that idea breeds. I may be the clan leader, but I’m no better than you are here. Every Gryphon proves his or her worth through actions alone. The only obligations I put to you is, should the need arise, that you lift your weapon beside us. I hope our clan will set a standard for how we should treat each other in the future.”

“Now get some sleep, and a meal. If you require anything before you leave on your journey: weapons, armor, travel fees, visas, etc., the quartermaster will assist you, but please be sparing. At some point, we may need the excess. It saved us a lot of strife in the last attack.” Grif clapped Dagger’s back gently. “Fly well, live well, and expand, my friend. There is plenty of room in this compound for more.” With those last words, he turned to leave.

Dagger blushed. “I have a feeling that will happen by daylight tomorrow. As for what I need, I’ll report to the quartermaster in the morning.”

Pensword worked at his desk. He was hoping to have his uncles, or mom, dad, brother. Heck, he would even welcomed Jorund Bloodfeather screeching at him. It was just too quiet. He needed someone to help get his mind off all the stress. He looked up from the block of wood he’d been whittling. The boxes of paperwork had been sorted and finished. Now it was just a matter of waiting for Luna to return the bill with any further feedback, comments, and on his suggestions for the Bill. The suspense was killing him.

“Commander?” Preston’s voice called through the door as his hoof tapped gently against it.

“Yes Preston? What is it?” He paused as he recognized the tone, and the knock, and groaned inwardly. “Who’s out there?”

“There’s a large group of nobles arriving from canterlot. They wish to speak with you.”

“With me? Not with Hammer Strike? Not with Grif? You’re sure?” Pensword asked He could hardly believe it. Usually, he was a secondary objective in their plans.

Pensword placed a pondering hoof to his chin. “Very well, but have the Demon Slayers on standby. If something goes wrong, have them storm the gatehouse. Tell them I will be there in thirty minutes.”

“Of course, Commander,” Preston said. The clop of his hooves faded gradually as the Changeling made his way out the office, and towards the barracks.

“Right.” Pensword sighed as he laid the chunk of wood in a desk drawer with his carving knife, before making his way to his armor rack. He donned his armor, and emblems of his office, before marching towards the gatehouse. Occasionally, he would receive a salute from various troops as he passed down the halls, and finally strode into the courtyard.

He took a moment to compose himself for the inevitable unpleasantries to follow, then strode to the gatehouse, and opened the door. The scene was rather ludicrous when comparing the simple wooden furnishings to the much more lavish garb that practically blinded him.

The nobles had dressed in their finest silk garments, varying from suits to vests to dresses, each as grandiose and elegant as they could manage with their means. What really shocked Pensword, however, were exactly who stood with these nobles.

“What?” Pensword asked, taken aback as he stared at what, for all intents and purposes, appeared to be a series of Thestral foals either peeking out from beneath the nobles’ legs, or staring out from hiding places among the bookcase and under the beds. Others’ tails trembled cutely from behind the gate’s mechanism. Some few even hung from the light fixtures. “Can somepony please tell me why we have a herd of foals playing hide and seek in my gatehouse?”

A very tired-looking pegasus cleared his throat. He was slightly taller than Pensword, though not nearly so well built. His coat was a dark grey that was interchangeably splotched with bronze. His mane was short cut, and a faded blue color. He wore a tailored green suit that covered his flank, so Pensword couldn’t see his cutie mark. “If we could talk alone for a moment, Commander?” the stranger asked. His tone was neither friendly nor condescending. Indeed, it seemed almost respectful, apologetic, even.

Pensword looked at the foals, and twitched an ear. “I am sorry, but the foals have invaded every inch of this building.” He took a breath in, and then let it out. “However, I think the cellar will likely still be secure for us to use. Please, follow me.”

The stallion nodded, and followed behind as they carefully made their way through the crowd, and down a set of stairs. Pensword had taken a single candle from a sconce nearby. The pegasus was kind enough to light the wick with the flint and tinder next to it. Now sufficiently armed against the darkness, the pair made their way down into the depths, leaving the other nobles to tend to the foals. The trapdoor soon closed behind them, and the clomp of hooves over the top assured Pensword that the guards on duty were making sure the pair would not be disturbed. As soon as the pair had found a comfortable place to sit down, the old pegasus sighed.

“To begin, my name is Weight and Measure. On behalf of myself, and the others, I apologize for this intrusion, and the secrecy.”

“An apology from a Canterlot noble?” Pensword raised a curious eyebrow. “What a novelty. I must hear more of this. It seems quite clear to me that you are not like most nobles I have met in the Solar Court.” He laid the candle down on a dusty table, and sat, before motioning to the other side, where an old wooden chair waited. “Please, sit, and tell me what brings you here.”

Weight and Measure sighed as he plopped himself onto the chair, not even bothering to remove the dirt and dust. “Well, my family’s nobility is only token, due to our rather . . . unique duties,” the old stallion explained. “As you're aware, the ancient Pegasi were very strict about monitoring breeding, in order to produce optimal soldier stock. In a perversion of that ideal, the nobility has also set themselves to upholding the ‘pure stock.’”

Pensword nodded his understanding. “Your family maintains the books and genealogy of the Solar Courts, I presume. Making sure that only those of the right blood marry into their correct station, and none below or above.”

Weight and Measure sighed again. “And, unfortunately, we are also the ones who have to deal with the unending problems that come from the lords and ladies who can’t avoid being,” he cleared his throat, “improper with their own staff, which brings us to why a large group of nobles have appeared to you today with a virtual herd of foals.”

“Judging by your initial introduction, I am going to assume that all of those children are either illegitimate, or that they show the blood of, as some of your superiors so eloquently put it, past skeletons? What are they hoping I can do, wave a wand, and make them vanish into the shadows? Take them in? Find homes for them?” He frowned. “Or were they thinking of something less pleasant?”

Weigh and Measure slumped. “You see the headache I’ve been having to deal with, then. They believe that they can simply dump the problem on your people, that the Lunar Court will be grateful for an injection of ‘real noble blood.’ I assure you, Commander, I have tried my very best to explain how offensive that sounds, how obscene this notion is, and what the princesses will likely do to all of us when they hear of this, and I have no illusions they won’t.” He raised his hooves in a helpless shrug. “Unfortunately, my words fall on deaf ears.”

Pensword was silent for a time as he drew his hoof across the table in thought. “If all that you have said is true, and you did your utmost to protest this action, then I can promise that your house will not suffer.” He paused as he rubbed the base of his muzzle with a hoof. “I may be willing to have these foals brought to the council for proper upbringing, but your employers must understand. If they give these children to us, then we will raise them as proper Thestrals. That also means they will have to accept that they have claims to the same titles their siblings have, whether they’re bastards or not. If a Thestral stallion or mare has an indiscretion, all foals have equal claim their their parent’s legacy. And, in fact, it is frowned upon for a Thestral to abandon foals they have brought into this world. Family is very important to us. Make sure to warn your employers. If they proceed down this road, the Solar Courts will be looked down upon by the Lunar Court for the next two generations at the very least.”

“My house has spent a thousand years making foals like these vanish from the records, Commander, and received high bribes for their work, weights, and measures, Commander.” He moved his suit to reveal his cutie mark, a scale. “It is the way of justice. Even now, my corruption is evident in the fact that I agreed to keep this notion from the princesses. I don’t come to you for amnesty, commander. I come, because I fear for the lives currently playing hide and seek above our heads, if I refused.”

“And for that, I am offering my help. You are doing this for something far more precious than class or title could ever give. I will make sure if you do fall, a bed of clouds will catch you.” Pensword’s face stormed like a thundercloud. “As for the nobles above our heads, no such promise will be given to them. Celestia and Luna both will judge this night with fairness.” He sighed, and rubbed a tired hoof over his forehead. “I shall make accommodations for you, and our guests. It won’t be till tomorrow night at the earliest that we can meet with the council.”

“You should know there have been . . . variations amongst the foals of Thestral blood. They aren’t common, but you will notice them eventually: Unicorns with horns that are finned outwardly, instead of spiraling, Earth Ponies whose only notable trait are their eyes, that sort of thing.”

“What about these?” Pensword asked, smiling as he showed his fangs. “Believe you me, I understand better than most about the gift and curse of being a hybrid, Mister Measure. Unlike other nobles, we will still count them as full-blooded equals.”

A slim smile pulled at the corners of Weight and Measure’s lips. “If I may make one small request, Commander?”

“Amongst the nobles here today are Duke Spiced Eggplant, and the Countessa Gem Setting. They are not here for reasons of vanity or fear for loss of reputation. The duke’s wife is notably hostile towards the Thestral staff, and he fears his daughter would not reach maturity in his house. The countessa worries more for the fact that the count enjoys his wine, and while he has never struck her personally, she couldn’t live with herself, if her twins were to be near him in one of his moods, and received undue punishment. Many nobles love those children, Commander, and I would dare to believe that at least some of that love is unfeigned, even if they were too frightened to make the trip themselves.”

Pensword’s expression was grave, and the shadows cast by the candlelight played over his face, warping his features to look practically skullish. “I will do what I can, but I promise nothing. It is up to the Thestral Council to decide, which means that Princess Luna will know, and it will be up to her when to tell her sister.”

Weight and Measure nodded. “That's all I can ask. I’ll see to getting these foals set up somewhere for the night. I have no doubt most of these nobles will not be willing to take them back to Canterlot with them.”

“Oh, the nobles will be staying tonight as well, with their foals, in the same suites. If they wish to go through me, they will follow my rules. And any who try to leave beforehoof can take their foals back with them.”

Weight and Measure gulped. “I’ll make sure they understand.” He nodded as he offered his wingtip to Pensword, an old gesture in Pegasus culture, but a meaningful one.

Pensword moved his dominant wing out, and touched his wingtip to the other stallion’s wing tip. No words were spoken, but much was exchanged in that one gesture. Then the two rose, and made their way back to the entrance with candle in wing.

Vital Spark smiled as the violin thrummed its fiddling song. Each note that jumped into his head seemed to automatically play as though the instrument were an extension of his very mind. He laughed as he did his best to break into a jig. The results were less than exemplary, though when he started stomping his hooves and picturing the river dancers from Ireland, something sort of clicked, and suddenly he was dancing with a partner, clacking his hooves in a song as old as the roots of the earth beneath the great rocks at Stonehenge. When the song wound to an end, he found himself out of breath as the images faded. The beautiful face of the fiery-haired maiden dissipated to be replaced with a rather flat-faced Clover. Vital Spark drew back in surprise, and immediately blushed.

“Clover! I, uh . . . didn’t expect you to be visiting so soon. To what do I owe the pleasure?” He chuckled nervously as he levitated the instrument back to its case.

“Yeah, it actually has to do with my other side. The carvings along its edging are old runes of power from the human world. They synchronized with my blood, since my human side is descended from the same region.”

“Interesting that they still had meaning and power after magic stopped working in your world,” she noted.

“It’s possible that they simply required enough mana to become active again. From what I understand, the weapon these carvings were inspired by was meant to be wielded only under certain conditions, but if those conditions were met, almost nothing could stop it.”

“That's very advanced enchantment I don’t think even the alicorns were able to do very easily,” she noted as she examined the runes on the violin.

“Well, according to legend, the weapon was crafted from the bones of a sea monster, and imbued with power from the old Celtic gods. Ponies are pretty limited, but I’m guessing gods aren’t as much.”

Something about that comment made Clover shiver. “No. I suppose they’re not. So, are you still in denial of your attraction to Sunset Shimmer?”

“The mare turned human, Sunset Shimmer. Celestia’s former pupil? It seems quite an interesting combination. She, a mare turned human woman, with an affinity for fire, and you, a human male turned stallion, with an affinity for ice.”

Vital Spark gaped. “Okay, I never thought of it that way before,” he said, then promptly recovered. “There’s still no way I can like her yet, though. I mean, maybe as a friend, if she changes, but I’m not the kind of guy who just jumps right into a relationship, Clover,” he said pointedly, even as his cheeks flushed.

“You seem to be under the impression you have a choice when it comes to attraction. A relationship is another matter altogether.”

“I disagree. I have been attracted to many stallions in my life, but I am not known as Clover Giantslayer the Clever, am I?”

“Uh . . . how does that apply here?” Vital asked as he rubbed his head confusedly.

“Attraction, my very young apprentice, is an automated reaction caused by chemicals in the brain in response to a Pony we find physically appealing. As any scholar knows, the eyes can be rather dumb, but they have an amazing skill at persuading the brain.”

“True enough, but the truth is, I don’t really care so much about looks. Maybe a little. I mean, sure, looks are nice, but I care more about a person’s personality, and . . .” He sighed as he trailed off. “Okay, I guess I have to deal with attraction the same way everypony else does, and Sunset was cute. She kissed me, and now when people mention the possibility of attraction or a crush, I blush. Are you happy now?”

“I just made fifteen hundred bits,” Clover said. “So, yes, I’m in a pretty good mood.”

“Don’t you Ponies have something better to do than bet on somepony else’s feelings?”

“Our culture has a magic that makes random Ponies break into song, and guides all those around them to dance and sing in perfect accompaniment. Would it really surprise you, if I said no?”

“And here I thought you were learning.” Clover gave an exaggerated sigh, and shook her head.

“You know, there are some things that are universal about these kinds of situations that I really wish weren’t right now,” Vital Spark grumbled. “I suppose you’re here to talk about a magical surge you detected in the Everfree earlier this week, too?”

“I thought you’d discuss it when you were comfortable,” she said as she took a seat in one of the spare guest chairs that had been added to Vital Spark’s room.

“Considering it’s linked pretty much directly to the info I got on my violin, it sort of goes hand in hand, or hoof in hoof, I suppose the saying goes here.” He sighed, and braced himself. “Basically, I invoked the spirit of Gaia.”

“She’s the only deity, currently, who measures on a scale comparative to Sleipnir or Faust. Supposedly, she, and some of her children, appeared to the Zebras in the back-when time, as they call it.”

“On my world, she was the mother of a powerful race of god-like beings called the titans. She was literally the embodiment of the world, and all life on it. I suppose she still is, now that I think about it. Oy.” He took a deep breath, then let it out. “I know she simplified talking to her face to face, well, vessel to face, but it’s still kinda overwhelming to think about.”

“Doesn’t change the fact it’s kind of impressive, when you consider the plane of existence they’re on compared to us.”

“Speaking of deities, have you asked Grif about getting an audience with his yet?”

“You mean with the Bird of Paradise? I asked him about it. He said the only way she might be able to manifest nearby to ask about the egg would be at Hammer Strike’s wedding. It takes a powerful union of love to draw her. Though, for the record, she’s not exactly a deity. Her mother, the South Wind, is.”

“To get the answer for how to hatch the eggs of one of her children? Yes, I think you’re right. I’m going to have to see if I can get a proper gift to exchange for the information, as well.”

Vital Spark chuckled. “You know, there’s an old saying back on my planet. ‘The song of the righteous is a prayer unto me.’ I always switch that to the song of the heart, instead, since that’s where the music always comes from.”

“Well, we’ve been around for a long time. Of course there’s going to be a lot of old sayings.” Vital Spark chuckled again. “I guess we’ll just have to see how it goes when we get to that point. In the meanwhile, I’m going to go out on a limb, and assume that thick tome you’ve got hidden with a spacial distortion spell in that satchel is for me?”

“No, but good guess. That’s a modern thesis on transmagical property distillation by a leading mage. I’m going to be looking through it, and noting corrections, which I will then presume to magically send, and staple to her door. The tome that’s been masquerading as a potted plant less than a hoof’s length away from you is for you, however.”

“Oh. I wondered why it had the nametag Potty, the Potted Plant on it. That would explain it.” He ignited his horn, and directed it at said plant. In a flash of light, a frost-covered book appeared in its stead. “Heh. Looks like I still need to work on keeping the ice out of things, but at least it’s not frozen in a solid block this time.”

“You’ll get the hang of it, eventually.” Clover shrugged. “Not like a little frost bite hurt anyone.”

“No. It just killed their nerves, and made them need amputation,” he said casually as he cracked open the tome. “. . . The Art of Magical Divination, by Professor Sybil Trelhawney?”

“She is, admittedly, the closest thing I could find to a proper divination expert.” Clover sighed. “If only she wasn’t so grim.”

“Let me guess. She sees ill portents in just about everything, and often acts overly dramatic to put on an air of mystique?”

“Yes.” Clover rolled her eyes. “More so than most mages these days. When did it become so popular to be a drama queen with magic? Half these mages today make Platinum look bland by comparison.”

“And I’m sure she must have rolled over in her grave the moment those words left your mouth.” Vital Spark chuckled. “So where did you want me to start? The art of reading tea leaves?”

“Horse apples,” Clover said, “and so is the whole ‘astrology’ thing. Start with the chapter on fetlock and hoof reading, and we’ll work from there.”

“You know, I think, if I ever find a centaur living on my world, I’ll send him or her your way. You two would have a very interesting conversation.”

“How come? They’re usually rather nice, and honorable, provided you treat them with the proper respect.”

“Thats enough on the subject,” Clover said briskly. “You get started on your reading.”

“You only do that when I’m getting close to something important. You realize that, right?”

A bolt of lighting proceeded to go between his legs, and strike the ground behind him.

“And, clearly, you do.” Vital Spark proceeded to rise up on his hind legs to check his coat, among other things. “For the record, I wasn’t going to pry further,” he said as he let out a sigh of relief. Nothing had been damaged, though a few hairs had been singed. “I was just making note of a tendency. And, wow, I must be getting far too used to near-death experiences.” His horn glowed, and Vital’s focus flew to join him. “If you’ll excuse me, Watcher and I have a sparring session with Grif in a few minutes.”

Grif sat before his desk. The doors were locked, and the blinds were shut. The dampening crystal had been activated, so no one could eavesdrop on him as he tapped the communication button, and the three green crystals rose into place. The three faces of Sisko, Bond, and Poindexter appeared immediately before him. The changelings appeared tired, but at attention.

“Commander Poindexter, how are things going? I understand that a mysterious group of Ponies were on the scene when an earthquake struck a small village a few miles west of Manehattan?”

“That is correct. I’m sending you some newspaper clippings summarizing the events,” the Changeling replied with pride in his voice.

“Supplies are good. Good Heart created a food drive and charity drives to get the Ponies involved, and to help stretch our budget further. Expenses were higher than normal with the tax increase soon after settling into Manehattan, as well as being forced to take a certain ‘insurance’ in the neighborhood. That particular financial report will be on your desk in the morning. Morale is good, and we’re happy to report we’ve had at least six letters from normal Ponies applying to work in our cover business, though it appears at least three wish to join us more for the purpose of getting fed.”

“No foreign Changeling attempts. Infiltration has remained within acceptable parameters. We had a break-in, but they got the documents we had planted, so no foul came of it. We also superseded two listening bugs. I think we’re caught between the police and some organized syndicate here. There have been no battles yet, though we did have a pie fight two blocks down the road yesterday.”

“You have a year's supply of apple family pies, and drones cleared to use them. Don’t be afraid to, if necessary. Terrific work, Poindexter. Have it spread around your branch that Ace and the Queen are pleased.” He gave a small salute, which was probably little more than a talon wave with his form darkened as it was. He turned to Sisko. “I understand a mysterious info drop appeared in the Vanhoover guard barracks yesterday in regards to an illegal salts operation in the area?”

“That is correct. They were able to get some of the lower ranking folks, but the higher-ups fled the scene, and are underground as we speak.” Sisko’s baritone voice almost melted through the channel. “Still, this strike counts as a major blow for that group. We now know the gender of the head operator for Vanhoover, a mare. Unfortunately, we know nothing else as of yet. We did lose three Changelings right before the raid, so they must have had some information. We lost good links, but we are not severed. Vanhoover will become a clean city within three years’ time, even if I have to wage war personally.”

“A cider operation covering bit forgery in the north. The Royal Guard did a raid this morning. Once again, something tipped them off. We were able to tip off the Guard that they might be using forged signets from the Solar Court. We did sneak our own marks as Lunar Court marks to trace them. We got no ponies, but a lot of equipment was retrieved from that raid. We also took down an underground Unicorn supremacy group in Seaddle. They’re being held for questioning, but most of them will be let go, and put into community service projects. We’re also working on infiltrating some activities in Las Pegasus. A few of the businesses are being leaned on.”

“I want a team dispatched for Manehattan as well. See if you can find Poindexter’s friends, and get Bond a list of names he can get started with. I believe the serial killer known as ‘The Judge’ used to roam that area, and was never caught, so I think we can fit someone in there to act as a copycat, and keep the guard guessing. Any infiltrator issues?”

“We have four infiltrators from a hive not of Chrysalis's brood, meaning there is an unknown hive operating. This brings the known hives to three. We just don’t have a face for this unknown queen. We do have a few guesses as to her disguise here in the city, and those are on their way in locked chests for you to do with as you wish. None of these new ones survived our interrogation. Hopefully, the queen will think that Ponies have found her out, and not another hive.”

“We are . . . unsure. to our understanding, yes, they were hostile, but we don’t know if this is a greeting for that hive or not. They tried to hypnotize one of our staff, and to gain access to GRASP. We found diagrams for replacing the aid workers, most likely to get emotions, or create something. Most of the information was very specific on what each infiltrator was to do, so we only know they were to infiltrate aid programs to set up identities, by force, if necessary.”

“Try to see if you can get a parley with their queen through proxy. We shouldn’t make enemies, until we’re sure enemies need to be made,” Grif said. He saluted again, and turned to the last face. “So, Bond, I understand Booze ‘Small Hooves’ Hound was found at the bottom of the lake in a set of cement horseshoes. An ironic death for such a Pony, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Well, you know Las Pegasus,” Bond as he leaned back in his chair. “Everything can turn on you with the flip of a coin or a card.”

“We’ve eliminated thirteen well-known mobsters in the last week, five of which were here in Las Pegasus, two in Trottingham, and the rest, unsurprisingly, were in the Canterlot slums. We have the names and locations for several other criminals pending, and are waiting on Sisko’s report, before moving forward with the malcontents. My people have begun getting rather creative on how to deal with these thugs. Q even put together this device made with springs and wound-up razor wire. You just plant it in the target’s path, and they’re ripped to pieces.”

“Brutal, but it sounds effective.” Grif nodded his approval. “And infiltrations?”

“One or two, maybe, but none that made it past the lobby. You’ll get a report by morning.”

“Very good, commanders. I hope to see the three of you continue to run at peak efficiency. Contact me through the usual channels, if something comes up, and I’ll see you in a month. And remember, we’ll be watching.” With that said, Grif pressed the button to sever the desk’s connection to the hive mind.

Pensword stood in an empty vault, deep under the ground beneath the castle. The area had been well lit with torches, and a series of storage bins and carts had been left down there with the materials he would require to practice with. After making certain everything was in order, he ordered his troops to make a full retreat, and settled onto a cushion.

With his preparations complete, he closed his eyes, and cast his hearing and new thaumic sense around him. He groaned inwardly as he sensed the two Changeling drones that stood outside the door. Clearly, Me-Me wasn’t comfortable leaving him alone. He couldn’t help but smile at that. At least he could say he’d made a meaningful friendship with the hive. He settled deeper into the cushion, and cast his mind back to his lessons with Hammer Strike.

“Go, and practice making some of these on your own. Use only the base attributes that you have an affinity with. You’re not ready for more yet,” he’d said.

The words still stung as Pensword recalled the hurt and disappointment he’d caused by shunning these lessons for so long, but he had made progress, and that was enough for now. He would do anything to get back what he had lost, and with that in mind, he set to work. He found that tingling spot in his mind’s eye, and slowly began to draw from the air, the aspect he could sense most readily in the room. He held his wing outstretched with its tips curled to ensure he wouldn’t exceed the proper size. To make a crystal too large could prove too much for his field at this stage, let alone what might happen should the crystal shatter on the ground. He took a calming breath, then concentrated the new energy into the air above his wing, and, slowly, a tiny whirlwind began to form as yellow particles of light gathered together, and coalesced.

Pensword worked for the next hour gathering a small pile of air and water aspects around him. The barrels of water he’d had delivered were much lower, and the air had grown significantly thinner. He twitched an ear as he both felt and heard a Pony approaching the door. He slowly rose, and his joints snapped and popped as he stretched out his limbs, before moving to open the door to look muzzle to muzzle with Hammer Strike. “Oh. Hello,” he said, a little surprised. “Come to pick up the crystals? I sensed you coming this way earlier, but I thought you might have had other business down here. Does this visit mean anything?”

“Considering the aspects I put off, not so much, but it’s a step in the right direction that you can actually see and/or feel them now,” Hammer Strike replied. “And yes, I’m here to deal with the aftermath of practice.”

“Come on in.” Pensword motioned to the room, which, while its condition had been altered by the experimentation, was still no worse for wear. “I hope I did well in here.”

Hammer Strike looked casually over the room. As usual, no emotion passed over his face. “I can’t stay for long. I have to return to practice with Luna.” He shook his head. “I’ll just collect the aspect crystals for now.”

“They are over there, in the sack. I took the precaution of padding and packing them to prevent any risk of damage or destruction.” He stretched again. “Speaking of other appointments, I have to get back to my office to take care of some things, as well.”

Hammer Strike simply took the sack, and placed it into his coat. “Then I’ll leave you to that. Have fun.”

Pensword made a face. “Yeah, fun.” He deadpanned as he thought back to the Nobles, and the headache he’d have sorting out what to do with the foals during the day.

It had taken days, hundreds of destroyed rapiers, and almost a ton of metal that now littered the ground in tiny bits and pieces, but it seemed Luna had finally grasped the true intricacies of the rapier as she and Hammer Strike clashed again and. Blades clanged, and sparks flew as the two locked and broke in rapid succession. It was like watching the waves in the ocean during a tempest as the two forces flowed against one another. The ground scored and scorched around them as strikes were made and deflected or parried faster than the eye could comprehend.

Luna slid back, panting, with rapier still locked in her magic. “I think I’ve finally gotten the hang of this frog sticker,” she chuckled.

“Go against Grif some time. If you can keep speed with him, then you’ll be considered better than ‘good.’”

“Should I keep the fact that you said that between us?” Luna asked, grinning.

“Nah. I fully admit he’s better with a rapier than I am. Much better. Heavy weapons are more my thing.” Hammer Strike chuckled.

“Perhaps I’ll have to test him myself sometime, then.” Luna laughed again. “So, does this mean we’re finished?”

“Yeah. We are.” Hammer Strike nodded. “This time, at least. Next time, I’ll have to come up with something . . . much worse.”

“For now, though, you’re done.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I’m going to go back to work on my larger blades after this.”

“And I need to see about getting myself presentable. Pensword is seeking an audience with me, and it’s about time I relieved the dream walkers that have been taking my shifts.”

Hammer Strike nodded. “Okay. See ya.” He shrugged as he made his way towards the castle. “You know where to find me, if you need me.”

Pensword stood at the quarters that housed his High Chieftess. Four guards stood at the doors, barring entry to any that might seek audience. He gave them a brief nod, then knocked. A few moments later, he was allowed to enter. Luna lay reclining on a couch draped with a bear skin. A wine glass had been tinged blue in her magical aura, and a bright silver liquid mulled gently as she swirled the contents, and sipped casually. “Welcome, Pensword,” she said.

“High Chieftess,” Pensword said with a nod. “How has your training been? I am sorry I wasn’t able to watch as often as I should.”

“It is ended, Pensword, and I hope I never have to experience such things again.” She shuddered.

“Then I shall hope so as well,” Pensword replied. “But now I must approach the matter at hoof, and I am sorry to say it is a grave one. I request that the council meet as soon as possible, preferably tonight. We have . . . a situation.”

“I need something to tell the council, Pensword, if I am to have any hopes of successfully calling them together so swiftly. What is this issue?” Luna asked.

“Members of the Solar Court are currently staying within New Unity’s walls, and–.” He hesitated as he tried to fix the words properly. He didn’t wish to draw the ire of the princess, but she had to know the truth. Finally, seeing no way around it, he let out a heavy sigh. “They are here to give away their children, Chieftess, those that look more Thestral than ‘noble.’ It is their aim to have us raise them in the Lunar Court, most likely as a means of . . . civilizing us, while seeking to erase any potentially embarrassing discoveries.”

Luna’s face had already begun to turn red, and Pensword was swift to raise a halting wing.

“I know this is difficult, Luna, but these children might not have anywhere else to go. The stallion in charge of the party has informed me that several of them are in grave danger, should they remain in their homes. This is a unique opportunity to teach the next generation of the Solar Court our culture and ways, like a lost tribe. I told him we would meet, but I had conditions to not be budged on. Those conditions are as follows. First, if they give these children to us, then we will raise them as proper Thestrals. I also said they will have to accept that the foals have claims to the same titles their siblings have, no matter how much like a Thestral they look, or the nature of their parentage. Also, the stallion, Weight and Measure, should be protected from any and all political or physical retribution. He is honestly doing all in his power to protect the foals. I offered him my personal protection, if it comes down to it.”

Luna’s eyes flashed as she slowly lowered the glass to the floor, and steepled her hooves in thought. After a long period of silence, she finally spoke. “You did well, Pensword. I’m sure the Council will agree with your judgement. It saddens me that my sister’s court has become so biased that it has come to this, but we will make it our strength. Assuming the council agrees, we can then inform my sister and the other princesses on the matter. I am certain that they will not take kindly to such untoward behavior.”

“I understand,” Pensword said. His wings fluffed out in pride as he bathed in the afterglow of Luna’s praise. “If you need a Pony to stand as an example, I shall talk to Lunar Fang about adopting a brother or sister, so Moon River can start, as the Solar Court would call it, corrupting them.” His grin was practically savage as his fangs glinted in the light. He could just picture the nobles’ faces as they came to visit their illegitimate offspring after a year of Thestral upbringing.

“Of course, we should see if the other clans will be willing to take some of the foals as well. We cannot risk swamping New Unity with this sudden population boom.”

“Even if Moon River and the older Thestral foals will be over your moon with the thought of creating something like Mommy and Daddy’s units,” Pensword responded with a smirk.

“I thought she had already recruited a Gryphon and a Unicorn into her troops. It would be good for her to experience commanding multiple troops of different species.”

Pensword beamed with pride at those words. “I agree. She would make a great future military leader in the Crystal Empire.” He frowned for a brief moment. “It is still strange to my human side that I have an arranged marriage set up for our daughter.”

“So what is keeping you up all day, and all night, and all night, and all day, Commander? I have not seen you amongst the dreamers in some time.”

Pensword’s expression fell. “Trouble,” he answered. “You know that strange power that Hammer Strike has, the one that is magic and not magic? Well,” he hesitated, “I came to his world with it as well, but . . . I neglected it, and because of that neglect, I have lost one of my most precious gifts.” He felt the sting of tears starting to form in his eyes, and did his best to force them back. “Until I get it back, I cannot return to sleeping with my mates and daughter.” His face was filled with determination, as though he were expecting some form of attack. “When I can speak with the spirits again, I will return to my family, and I can sleep more than the dreamless naps I have been getting.”

“You miss being able to speak with them.” Luna nodded sympathetically. “I can understand that.”

The determination melted into shock. She hadn’t shown a single sign of anger. “Yes, I–I do miss them, and . . . thank you. I must say I still feel honored, and humbled, at your wish for Lunar Fang and I to call you just Luna in private.” He took a deep breath. “How do your quarters and our attempts at reviving New Unity measure up in your eyes?” He asked suddenly. “Also, will tomorrow or the day after be good to meet to plan for the Bill?”

“If you promise to get some actual rest, I will meet you in the afternoon.” Luna smiled kindly at him.

“I plan on getting some sleep after my meeting with you, before the meeting with the nobles and the council tonight,” Pensword answered.

“Good. I well convene with the chiefs while you rest, and then we shall make arrangements.”

Pensword nodded, before dipping his head, and flaring his wings in a Thestral bow. High Chieftess Luna responded with a dignified dip of her head. With business concluded, and formalities past, Pensword rose, and left Luna’s quarters, heading to his office to get some proper sleep, as ordered.

“So that’s the long of the short of it, Trixie,” Vital Spark said as the two smashed their foci together in a battle of magical will.

“Is that so? Trixie is intrigued, though she really wishes you’d stop taking such risks with Clover.”

“Vital Spark, you fainted out of shock, just before sparring practice.” Trixie’s practice focus snapped round, and Vital Spark was quick to counter with a cross block.

“She wouldn’t really do anything to me, though, right? I mean, she knows I’m not the kind of person who’d push past that line,” he said as he flicked the lower end of his staff to try to knock Trixie’s focus aside, and give him the precious time he’d need to break one of her protective shields.

“Vital Spark.” Trixie sighed. “This is Clover the Clever we’re talking about. She may favor you as a student, but that doesn’t mean she won’t punish you, if you go too far. Star Swirl used to do the same to her all the time. I remember reading, one time, about how he’d thrown her into a lair of manticores to fight her way out. She was supposed to be gathering their venom for study, or at least that was the official excuse,” she said.

“You’re kidding.” Vital Spark gaped, and Trixie smirked as she found her opening, and smashed his second shield.

“This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with losing a substantial amount of bits to a certain betting pool, would it?” Vital asked. Seconds later, two of Trixie’s shields had been broken by Watcher, and the pair were even again.

“Dirty tricks make up combat,” Grif’s voice butted in as he approached them, while others continued to spar behind him. “When it’s life or death, nothing should be off the table. Remember that.”

“Say, Grif, I have a question,” Vital said as he twirled his staff in his magic to create a pinwheel of sorts. The force of the two foci’s impact was enough to send a minor magical shockwave through the air towards the combattants’ shields, even as Vital struggled to force Trixie’s focus down, while Trixie stubbornly held it in place.

“What about if both promised to follow a mutual code of honor in the battle? I’m not saying you shouldn’t be prepared,” he said pointedly as he casually threw Watcher like a kunai at Trixie’s shield. “I’m just wondering what then,” he said, even as Trixie’s focus came flying at his face.

“That, my friend, is a duel, and that's an entirely different matter.” Grif laughed. “And it’s likely you’ll have to ask a mage about a mage's duel.”

“No problem. It’s good practice for keeping my power under control. That, and I like seeing the look on your face when you’re about to lose.”

“Oh really?” Vital Spark smirked. “I’d like to see you put your money where your mouth is. Why not join me in the Running of the Leaves?”

“Trying to make sure you don’t end up in thirteenth place?” Grif asked Vital Spark in a teasing tone.

“Hey, I don’t mind finishing lower on the totem pole. I just wanted to invite Trixie here to some friendly, non-magical competition.”

Trixie stood that for a whole impressive minute, before letting her pride get the better of her as steam blew out her ears, and her face turned red. “Fine! Trixie will be there.”

“‘Atta girl.” Vital smiled, and patted her on the back. “We can race together, if you like. No competition. Just helping each other get to the end.”

The moon and stars shone brightly overhead, casting their lights upon the ruin that was once the lodge, before the Changelings had burned it to the ground. A large tent had been erected in the center of the debris with a narrow opening to release smoke, and allow the light of the moon to filter down to the flames. Sedans and cushions lay in an equidistant circle for the tribal leaders. The largest of all was reserved for Luna, who sat in the heavenly radiance of her ursa major robes atop a raised platform. Representatives from each of the clans sat in the outer reaches, looking on, while the nobles, guardians, and foals sat in the outermost circle. The children were doing what children did best, taking in the sights, and the awesome appearance that Luna put off as she gazed regally upon her subjects.

The nobles, on the other hoof, ranged from downright frightened to wetting themselves. Others gazed haughtily on the proceedings, choosing to ignore the significance of the event, and judge it for its more primitive and tribalistic nature. Naturally, it didn’t help that they had been ordered around by a duke that had only been appointed for such a short time. They were doing him a favor, after all, or so they thought. Pensword stood at the front of the platform with Lunar Fang and Fox Feather flanking him on either side. All three bore the silver circlets of their office, forged by Luna herself. Lunar Fang and Pensword had taken the liberty of donning their ursa robes to add to the solemnity of the occasion, much to the jealousy of many a noble lady, even if they weren’t willing to admit it.

At last, Luna slammed the butt of her hammer on a specially crafted gavel to draw the attention of the crowd. “Are all the chiefs present?” she asked.

Flury Fang stood from his sedan, and stepped forward. His leather bat wings flared as he bowed. “High Chieftess.” All the Thestrals ignored at least one loud sniff of disdain from the back of the tent. “All chiefs are present, and ready for the council to commence. We anxiously await hearing what the nobles of Canterlot wish to present to the tribes of the night. So says the Wolf Tribe, speaker for the council.”

The glares and glances to the back spoke far louder than any voice could ever hope to manage. The accusatory silence was deafening.

Flury Fang waited with purpose, before raising his head from his bow. “We do know why, High Chieftess.” Some few of the nobles flinched as Flury Fang glanced their way. Many trembled nervously at the sight of so many weapons glinting at the Thestrals’ sides. If they thought they would be welcome before, that belief had been thoroughly buried, and entombed, before the cairn was lit on fire, put out, danced over, then lit on fire again for good measure.

“The Wolf will bring them into our pack, and shall teach the ways of the Moon, as well as the strength of the pack, and the hunt.”

Luna nodded, and turned to Shadow Wing. “And will the Fox take the extra kits into his den?”

“We shall teach them the cunning tricks and the trails unseen. The fox kits will learn their heritage.” Shadow Wing turned to gaze on the young foals with a tender smile, but cold fire burned in his eyes as he looked upon the nobles. The temperature in the tent seemed to drop, and the nobles shuddered.

“And will the Manticore accept this weight upon her back?” Luna asked Silent Hoof.

Silent Hoof nodded. “We shall teach the might of the stinger, the strength of the paw, the power of the bite, the softness of a mother’s love, and the kindness of helping another.” It seemed that the story of Dame Fluttershy and her manticore had reached Silent Hoof’s ears. As she turned to gaze at the outsiders, the nobles could swear they saw breath in front of their muzzles.

“And will the Lion take these cubs into her pride?” Luna asked as she turned to Long Mane.

“We shall foster them as we would our own hatchlings. We will teach them to horde life, to fight for their rights, and never surrender. They will be feared as the mighty dragons themselves.” He turned to fix his gaze upon the foals, and as he did so, his shadow rose in the fire’s light, until it formed a mighty dragon whose fangs hovered over the nobles as its wings spread protectively over the foals. The haughty expressions had long since vanished from the more cynical of the outsiders.

“And will the Viper make room in her nest?” Luna turned her attention to Blitz Fang.

“We shall, and they shall become as feared as the viper’s bite, vengeful as the serpent’s ire, cunning as the beast in its hunt, and lithe as its body, able to slip into holes and places impassable. They will be taught how to kill, and heal using what nature herself has to offer.” She grinned, baring her fangs at the children with warmth. When she looked to the nobles, that gaze became as cold and impartial as the snake that was her clan’s namesake.

“And the Bear. Will he shelter these cubs, and keep them safe from harm?” Luna turned to Lone Claw.

“Until they are old enough to travel, and journey on their own, confident that no creature would touch them. We will teach them to protect their own cubs, when they have them, and to forage for their futures as they venture through life. As one does not come between the mother bear and her cubs, so shall one not come between ours and our young.” He turned and looked, and his gaze was as ravenous and territorial as a bear after its hibernation, when the early frosts still clung to the ground. The Nobles shivered, and some would swear that frost clung to their expensive clothing, yet none of the Thestrals appeared to be fazed. Some few of the foals looked almost anxious as the tribes’ families looked on with loving concern. Others still clung nervously to their parents or guardians, afraid to leave what they had come to know, even if it had been more painful than good for them.

Finally, Luna turned her attention to the nobles themselves. Her face was impassive, but her voice was clearly displeased as she addressed them. “You approached us to take these foals from you, not because you could not care for them, nor because you feared for their safety, save some very few of you. I have seen into your dreams. I know your minds, and I am sickened by what I found there. As such, these children will be cleansed of your corruptive, nay, your toxic influence. Instead, they shall be bathed in love and power that is their heritage, and the family you have so long denied them for fear of scandal and disapproval.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Know this. When you leave these foals, you leave any claim you would have to them as well. You will not see them, nor will you attempt to visit them for the next twelve years. You will not be asked for anything, but neither will you be permitted anything in turn. By my right as Princess of Equestria, and my right under the sacred bear, I strike this bond from you. You will leave these foals here tonight, and be gone before dawn's light breaches the horizon.”

Even before she could finish, a count and countess used their magic to pluck a tuft-eared unicorn, and a number of Pegasus foals from the group, and ran. This action prompted three more noble houses to flee, with one even going so far as to pluck a full-blooded Thestral foal.

Pensword reacted immediately. “Guards, follow them, and make sure they reach Ponyville with their foals. Send messengers to Celestia informing her to expect some of her nobles returning with foals that need to be fully recognized. They will likely require a Thestral honor guard set to protect them as well.”

Two noble mares fainted outright. Others remained frozen in fear. Others still had looks of consternation. Any hopes at being able to infiltrate the Lunar Court or influence it in any way had been neatly broken in the bud. The majority of the lesser nobles gulped as their knees knocked, not from the cold atmosphere, but the knowledge that they would likely be stripped of their lands and titles within the next generation, now that they were being forced to acknowledge these additions. The older families would ostracise them for sure. Only a precious few clung to their young with tearful eyes.

“Pensword, have the foals rounded up, and sort them into equal groups. Make sure to serve them something to eat. I want to make sure they have pleasant dreams tonight.”

Pensword nodded his understanding as he snorted, and sneezed. A certain number of other clanstallions and mares each gave a surreptitious nod in return, and briefly flashed a flask from beneath their furs. The young foals would have a full night’s rest, guaranteed.

Luna smiled sadly. “In the morning, we will decide which tribes will take which foals.”

“As the High Chieftess commands, so shall her will be carried out. May I recruit my mates Lunar Fang and Fox Feather to help?” he asked.

“Take as many Thestrals as you need,” Luna said. “This will not be an easy transition.”

“I will not suffer my family to lose its estate, after fighting so long to earn our place!” In a flash of golden light, a larger Unicorn stallion, two Thestral colts, one Unicorn filly with tufted ears, and a single Thestral mare were gone.

“And that is the bottom line for withdrawals,” Luna said as she signaled to an older Thestral mare, who proceeded to tap a crystal with her spear. The air surrounding the tent rippled momentarily, before returning to normal again. “That was an anti-dispersion field. Teleporting is no longer possible in this tent, though anyone still trying to leave is welcome to attempt to get past the guards,” Luna offered as two of the Dragon Clan’s warriors covered the doorway, armed with curved knives, and heavy dragon scale patterned armor.

Jet Set’s voice rang out. “Why would we leave? Those that have left have burned their bridges, will find themselves without friends, and all debts will be doubled and demanded in full. Either that, or they’ll be on the streets, where they belong. If they wish to keep the tainted blood in their homes, they can live in the lower parts of the mountain.”

Upper Crust’s voice cut in. “If they’re so lucky. If I had the power to decide their fates, they would be cast out from Canterlot entirely. Those cowards will get what they deserve.”

“The only cowards present tonight are the ones in front of me,” Luna said as her eyes bored into Upper Crust, before she spat to the side. The chiefs joined her in unison. “Blitz Fang, your shadow stalkers will escort these nobles off the grounds, after their last goodbyes. You may use paralytic or pain-inducing compounds, but nothing fatal.”

“As you command, so shall it be done.” Blitz Fang turned on the nobles, but, to their surprise, rather than a furious rage, a gentle kindness bordering pity shone on her face. “Take the time you wish. Say your goodbyes, and know that the moment you leave that tent door . . .” She took a deep breath that hitched in her throat. “You shall not see your foals for twelve years.”

The sound of Luna’s warhammer gavel rang through the room, commanding attention. “If our business is finished, I will adjourn to my tent for the night. If there is trouble, make sure to wake me,” Luna ordered as she lowered her hammer, and picked up a thigh bone from some large, unnamed animal. She brandished the bone, then smashed it against the ground, scattering shards across the floor. “This council is now concluded.”

The Thestrals began to disperse, after High Chieftess Luna left the tent. Pensword was busy helping three foals who appeared to be triplets. He winced at the thought of the poor mare who had been their mother. While the young ones had the white fur typical of their noble Solar ancestry, the rest of their features were fully Thestral. Their eyes glowed silver, sapphire, and Emerald as they looked between Pensword and a Unicorn with a silver mane and green eyes wearing a silk vest with a pocket watch hanging from his breast.

The Unicorn cleared his throat meaningfully, and Pensword stepped back to give him the time that had been promised. The Unicorn dropped to his knees, covering the silk with the dust from the ground as the triplets drew near. He nuzzled each and every one of them in turn. “Be well, my children,” he said, even as he struggled to keep his voice level.

“Daddy, why do we have to stay with our aunts and uncles? Is it because–?”

“Hush, my son, don’t worry.” The Unicorn smiled as he pulled the three colts in for a close embrace. “If I could keep you, I would in a heartbeat. But as things stand now, this is the safest place for you.” He looked up at Pensword and the other Thestrals guarding the tent. “They can teach you how to protect yourselves, to be cunning, to shun treachery and deceit, to live and fight with honor.” He sniffled as he pulled out a handkerchief, and dabbed his eyes. “And while you learn how to fight here, I will be free to fight for you back in Canterlot. You will have your rights, and you will have the freedom to follow your dreams. I promise you.” He gave them one last squeeze, and a gentle kiss, before he finally rose to his hooves, and turned to face Pensword.

He pulled open a pouch on a small saddle bag he’d been carrying at his hip, and sparked his horn to life. Three artfully carved daggers hovered towards Pensword, each identical in its craft with black metal that licked like a curving flame with edges sharper than fangs, and a golden overlay along the hilts and crossguard. The only difference between them lay with the gems that had been mounted on each one: a diamond, a sapphire, and an emerald. A single pocket watch hovered out to join them. A crescent moon had been carefully overlaid in mother of pearl, and the metal cover had been dyed in its forging to give it the dark blue tint of night. Tiny gemstones had been mounted to form the stars of the night sky as the edges of the crescent rose up to touch the edges of a golden five-pointed star.

“When they reach the right age, give these to them. They are their inheritance, a . . .” his voice caught in his throat. “A gift from their mother.”

“You have my word.” Pensword took the daggers carefully, and placed them in his belt beneath the robes, before putting the pocket watch into one of his robe’s interior pockets.

“If you and the other clans remain true to your word, I will gladly split my estate four ways.” He sighed. “I was supposed to destroy those, you know, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.” The triplets’ father sighed. “My only regret is I won’t be able to see them again, until they’re nearly full grown.”

“Are you going soft in your old age, Duke Chivalry?” Upper Crust asked scornfully. “How many years has it been since she died, six now? Move on.”

Chivalry snorted as he grit his teeth. “I’ll thank you to stay out of my business, Upper Crust. My heart is my own, and it loves whom it will.” His eyes glinted dangerously as his horn sparked. “If you or any of yours dare to sully her name, or that of my children, I will not be held responsible for my actions.”

“Excuse me,” Blitz Fang interrupted as she walked up, “but this time is meant specifically for parents to say their last farewells to their foals. You are interrupting that time. I’m afraid that I must ask you to leave, unless you have unfinished business with your own foals.” Her face was calm and impassive as she scanned the noble lady’s form. Blitz Fang’s eyes retained the slits their tribe was so well known for, even as her slightly longer fangs poked out from beneath her upper jaw. Her camouflaged armor blended almost perfectly with the tent and its surroundings as she stared the noble down without so much as a flinch.

Upper Crust bristled. “Don’t tell me what to do, you upstart little tramp. You think that just because your precious demigod gave you a circlet and an empty title that you can be our equals? My family can trace their roots back to the first courts of the Unicorn Kingdoms! You will never have–.” She hissed in pain as a hoof snapped to staunch the bleeding from her left fetlock.

Blitz Fang hadn’t appeared to move so much as a muscle, and yet a dripping dagger now lay in her wing’s grasp, where nothing had been less than a second ago. Her eyes narrowed into a commanding squint. “I suggest you go drink some thistle milk, and get that cut looked at. After all, we wouldn’t want such a minor injury from such an insignificant house to prevent your journey home, Dutchess Upper Crust, let alone taint the glory of your most ancient and illustrious name with the scandal of stooping to such childish antics as name calling and tribalism in these modern times.”

Upper Crust glared at Blitz Fang, before turning, and shoving her way past some Thestrals that had surrounded the gathering, cutting off any possibility of outside interference, and insuring any fighting that might break out would be completely localized, and easily subdued.

Blitz Fang allowed herself a small smile. “Insufferable little burr, isn’t she?”

“I could think of far worse things to call her, and I would, were it not for the ears of certain impressionable foals nearby,” Duke Chivalry said as he glared after Upper Crust. “Thank you, Lady Blitz Fang.”

“You are one of the few who actually cares enough to love his children, despite the cost to your reputation. Your mate would, doubtless, be proud.” She laid a consoling hoof on his shoulder. “You have my sympathies.”

Fox Feather smiled warmly at the Duke as she flew down from above. “May I have the names of the nobles that took off? Their children should be offered sanctuary in Ys, if any signs of abuse be discovered, and I’m certain Princess Luna would like to offer their families aid in paying off those debts Upper Crust and her ilk mentioned. We will not stand idly by when the future of these children is at stake.”

“My mate is right,” Pensword agreed. “It is only fair that each should be given a way out, should unreasonable opposition mount against them.

Duke Chivalry nodded. “For all I know, I might wind up needing a little help myself by the end of this mess.” He sighed, and shook his head. “I’ll make sure to send the list by mail. I know of a particularly trustworthy messenger nobody would dare to intercept. I’ll help you as best I can, even if it costs me my life.”

“You need not fear, Duke Chivalry, nor need your children,” Luna spoke up, even as she stepped out of the shadows nearby to the awe and surprise of the triplets and their father both. “We have eyes and ears that will see to your safety in Canterlot.”

He bowed low, using his magic to create an ethereal set of Thestral wings that flared out to either side. Pensword, Blitz Fang, and the three foals mimicked the gesture as the princess of the night stood in her less formal regalia. “I am truly honored, Princess. Or . . . should I call you High Chieftess?” Chivalry asked uncertainly.

Luna laughed. “With one such as you, it does not matter. Would that all my sister’s courtiers could be such as you. Had they been so, we may never have come to this,” she said with a lazy grin.

“It is more that there is fear for reprisal from others. The nobles have dealt with their own little power plays under one princess for such a long time. Suddenly, there are three now, and many fear losing what power they’ve gained.” He sighed wearily, and gulped. “I have spoken much, perhaps too much. However, if I may be so bold to ask of your ear a little longer, there is a request I must make.”

Luna leaned down to meet his eyes, and smiled gently as she laid a comforting wing on his back. “If it is within my power, and the bounds of reason, I will grant it.”

Chivalry nodded. “Thank you, Princess. The request is a simple one. I would ask, nay, beg that the Commander of the Equestrian Armed Forces look after my three sons. Each of them has expressed a desire to one day become captains in the Royal Guard. It is my hope that he can teach them how to achieve that goal, and exceed it.” He stood up from his bow, and the ghost wings vanished as he cut the flow of magic from his horn. The pain of the sacrifice he was about to make shone clearly in his eyes, but, to his credit, he did not complain, even as his children clung to his legs, and fixed Luna with the awesome force that all young foals bear in their youth, the puppydog eyes.

Luna nodded. “If the commander agrees, I see no reason to object. And should circumstances change, Chivalry, we may find reason to relax our fifteen-year sentence.” She leaned in, and whispered, “but don’t tell anypony else, okay?” Then she gave him a mischievous wink. “The embargo is mainly to help foals cleanse themselves of the influence of certain other individuals who are less than noble, if you catch my drift.”

“Oh, Princess.” The tears flowed freely down Chivalry’s cheeks as he pulled his children out from under his legs, and lined them up. “Take care, Inigo. May you grow strong, and master any weapon you choose.” He nuzzled the foal, then ruffled his black mane, much to the giggling consternation of the child. Then he turned to the middle foal, who looked on with emerald eyes. “And I bear the same wish for you, my dear little Cristo. May your talents continue to grow. Use those brains of yours to plan in battle, and outsmart your enemies. Save your accolades and rewards, so that, if I cannot give what is rightfully yours, you may buy a title yourself from Hammer Strike.” He pulled Cristo into a tight hug, pinning his blond mane flat, and causing the foal to gasp for breath, before finally finding sweet release, and a healthy appreciation for the air around him.

He turned to his last foal, and his breath hitched as he took in the foal’s serious eyes and midnight bandana. “And last, but not least, Day Moon.” His voice cracked as he laid a hoof on the foal’s head. “Your mother named you, and you will truly do great things. You will shine bright as the day with a light as gentle as the moon. Your kindness will define you, and will help to shape your peers. May you be true to the gift your mother left you, and all that it symbolizes. You don’t need to hide it anymore.” He kissed them each on the forehead, then pulled the bandana off Day Moon’s head to reveal a shock of shimmering white mane. Were it not for his silver eyes, one could swear he was an albino.

“Yes. My wife feared what the court might do, if they found out. We don’t know which of the gifts he’ll receive, but we do know this is the best place for him to learn when it finally comes.”

“Yes. Now you see another reason why I asked that you be the one to raise them.”

Chivalry chuckled. “One other, but I think I’ll leave that to someone else to explain.” The duke rose, and his horn sparked to life again as the spectral wings returned. He used them to salute to Pensword, Luna, and the foals. Lunar Fang emerged from the circle of Thestrals, and the constellations on her robe swirled as she approached to stand by her husband with Foxfeather. “Duke Chivalry, while I would love to take in your sons, there is one who must give her approval first.”

She paused as they all heard a cheerful squeal, followed by a blur of motion as Moon River tackled into the boys, and immediately engaged in a wrestling match with them. Lunar Fang couldn't help but chuckle at the antics, even as Moon River gave each colt a run for his money, before collapsing into a hugging match filled with scattered laughter.

“It seems Moon River will have brothers to boss around and teach, after all.” Lunar Fang smiled as she bowed her head towards Chivalry, then approached him, and took him in a warm embrace. “We don’t have to worry about repercussions now that we’re both nobles.”

Chivalry was startled at first, but soon settled into the hug, and even went so far as to return the gesture as tears stood in his eyes. “You’re not upset, then?”

“Chivalry, you took every precaution to protect those boys. How could I be mad when you’ve done such a wonderful job raising them? My sister would be proud, and so am I.” She broke off the embrace, and handed him a glowing pendant shaped like the moon. A single drop had been carved at its bend. “As a Duchess, and as a member of the family, I wish to invite you to join us in a moon’s time to dine at the clan house. It’s only fitting to have her husband with us on her anniversary. Starry Night would have wanted it that way.”

“It . . . would be my honor, Moonshade.” Chivalry held the pendant close to his heart, before placing it gently into his saddle bag.

Pensword Whipped his head to gape at Lunar Fang. His eyes widened in shock as his jaw hung open in the breeze. “I’m an uncle?”

An Extended Holiday

by Commander_Pensword

109 - Knowledge and Secrets