An Extended Holiday

by Commander_Pensword

121 - The Marquis

Extended Holiday
Chapter 121: The Marquis
Act 18

Pensword sat at his desk working on a set of rather important documents. Taking a page out of Spitfire’s rule book, he worked feverishly, either stamping his hoof on or signing various photos of himself wearing all his medals. Three of these copies were to be donated to museums or historical societies, and two to be given to young foals, so they could win a bet. The rest were to be filed away to be presented to nations of his choosing on Earth the next time he and the others could visit the world. He also took advantage of the spare time to record updates in his files for the family back on Earth, with photos, accounts, and rough drafts for his autobiography. Some things were still a bit too painful to discuss out loud, so letting them read about it would allow them to understand better. One thing that Matthew and Pensword both agreed on was that family was very, very important. And that brought Pensword to his newest surprise. Fox Feather was going to be a mother as well. That just left Little Willow. He chuckled, and shook his head. He wouldn’t be surprised if she and Big Mac were ready to have a baby in the next few months. “The things time travel will do to a mare’s biology,” he muttered. He paused to look up as the handle to his office door turned.

Preston entered with a Gryphon Pensword had never seen in his life standing behind. The Changeling looked to Pensword, then back to the Gryphon. “Uh, according to this fellow here, he has something meant for your eyes only.”

Pensword nodded. “You may go, Preston. Thank you.” As the Changeling made his way out the door, Pensword waited patiently as he leaned back in his chair, and placed his hooves together.

“The clan leader requested you get this immediately, and then find him at the Gantrithor as soon as you have read it,” the Gryphon said as he thrust a scroll onto Pensword’s table. “He only just decoded it.”

“What is it this time?” Pensword groaned. He gave a tired, albeit wary look the Gryphon’s way. “My apologies, but I’m afraid I will have to ask you to wait outside.”

The messenger nodded his understanding, and made his way out the door. When Pensword was certain he was alone, he broke the seal, and began to read.

Dear commander,

It has come to our attention that one of our nobility has heard much about New Unity and your personal efforts towards such. He has also spoken of great admiration for your actions during the coup, and, as such, requested that we allow him to travel to New Unity in order to join your cause.

Naturally, it is a request we refused, though not lightly. Surely, you can understand that we cannot simply allow one of our court to up and leave. Unfortunately, the noble in question has recently vanished, along with his airship, which he had claimed to be stocking to send a gift to Clanleader Grif. Nearly his entire fortune and more than a score of his personal Gryphon-at-arms have likewise vanished.

We beg you, Commander. Should a Gryphon bearing the name Lafayette show up at your door requesting to join you, send him back to us post haste.

Yours in friendship,
His Holiness, Emperor Daedalus.

Pensword gaped at the letter’s contents. Matthew performed multiple double takes within their joined consciousness as he looked over the name. The silence was more than a little worrisome for Pensword. That is, until what can only be described as a high-pitched, excited squee filled Pensword’s consciousness, causing the Pony to wince as he tried to adjust to the sound only he could hear. He allowed himself an indulgent smile as he rolled the scroll back up, and tucked it under his wing. Then he made his way out the door and into the receptionist’s room, where Preston was busy at work, while the messenger from earlier waited patiently in a chair. He gave a curt nod towards the warrior, and motioned towards the door. No other words needed to be exchanged as the pair began their trek to the Gantrithor, or as Pensword still insisted on calling it, the Giant. Matthew continued to gush over the history of the name on Earth, and how he couldn’t wait to see what this Equestrian incarnation would be like. Something about history repeating itself, but he couldn’t make it out with how quickly Matthew’s thoughts were flitting past. He finally had to smack Matthew with a mental newspaper to get him to calm down enough for them to think properly. After all, they were about to enter the Gantrithor, and they needed to have their wits about them.

Upon reaching the bridge, he found Grif at one of the speakers.

“Gantrithor la grêle c'est réjouissance pour demander la permission d'accoster,” a voice crackled through the speaker.

“Veuillez tenir sur la fête, nous avons besoin d'un moment pour préparer plus de,” Grif responded through the microphone as he looked to Pensword.

“So, I take it the messenger found you?” Grif asked he looked to the commander with tired eyes. “You receive word about a Gryphon noble possibly coming in, and I have a Gryphon airship trying to land. Coincidence?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“I think not! Do you happen to know the noble’s name?” he asked excitedly. Clearly, this was Matthew. “Also, please teach me French. If he is going to learn our language like our original friend learned English in a year, I should try to learn his tongue as well. And, oh man … do you–?” He giggled almost uncontrollably. “This is going to be fun.”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t find out about Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette,” Grif sighed. “He’s a noble from the western lower kingdom, the last scion of a noble family eleven generations old. His family once ruled more property than the king; however, they’ve been liquidating their considerable assets for over a generation. They now own only a small villa near the coast. However, they have had a traditional spot at court for the last three emperors. The marquis is young, brash, and some would say a little screwy, but he’s known for humility and a great sense of purpose.” Grif put a taloned hand to his forehead, and shook his head. “Matthew must be squealing like a schoolgirl right now.”

Pensword simply responded by unleashing a high pitched squeal that only one being had ever made before in the Gryphon’s experience. If there was any doubt before, as to who was behind the wheel, they were thoroughly crushed. “And he wants to see Unity! I can hardly believe it.” He danced on all four hooves, which was incredibly uncharacteristic of the military leader, but a perfect fit for the historian that Matthew was.

“I take it you want me to give them the go-ahead to dock?” Grif asked.

The Pegasus nodded vigorously. “This is so incredible! I hope he likes New Unity. And, oh, Grif, I am so not returning him to the Gryphon Empire. No way.”

Grif sighed as he leaned into the microphone. “Cette Revelry, est Gantrithor. Clair pour votre dock. Venir à nice et lent.” He turned to Pensword as he cut off the connection. “Come on. Let’s get on the dock to meet them.”

Pensword grinned as the pair stood on the docking platform together. He was thankful that Shawn had designed it so that it could hold multiple ships at once. He’d have to remember to thank him later for the foresight. They watched as the ship glided into the open berth. Two large smokestacks towered out from the middle of the ship, belching black coal smoke, most likely to run things not attached to the storm stone core. The vessel had been painted a pristine white with gold trimming where the hull met the decking. A second tier the size of a good half the ship was divided into four equal parts with two long-barreled turrets stacked up in the front and the back. The sides rose to create what essentially was a citadel loaded with what had to be a veritable cornucopia of anti-flying weapons. The bridge stood above the second tier. While Matthew wasn’t able to judge the dimensions of the area too well, Pensword could say with some certainty that Layfette’s ship was just as large, plus half a length over the ship that had ferried them to the Gryphon Empire.

The bow of the Revelry had a large saker falcon figurehead all leafed in gold with gems for eyes and talons as its wings spread out to the place where the anchor chains would be. It was highly probable that the feathers could function as mooring lines. Two tall masts stood above the bridge, and had been painted a bright blue, rather than white. The combined flags of the southern kingdom, Gryphonia itself, and Lafayette’s personal crest waved in the winds generated by the ship as it slowly descended. Said crest stood boldly on a white flag with the same blue as the bridge. A falcon had been sewn into the material, holding a sword in its right talon. A book was held firmly in its mouth, while a heavy shield was clutched in its left talon. Beneath these flags, the banner of Pensword’s command waved brilliantly as its white stars shone amongst the blue background of the fabric.

Another mast on the back of the ship held a series of messenger flags for communication purposes, should the main systems fail. Sailors stood along the decks in fancy pressed uniforms as they readied the ship to dock. The doorways Grif could see were painted with various depictions of events from their country’s history ranging from their original home, battles from the clan’s history, and various religious imagery portraying the four Winds and their children. Gold trimming also surrounded the bridge, with extra glowing stones to help conduct lightning and increase the ship’s visibility as it passed through cloud banks. Pensword looked to see Kahn and the other Demon Slayers from the empire manning the dock to catch the mooring lines and help secure the ship in place. On getting a closer look at the sheer gaudiness of the airship, Pensword couldn’t help but wonder how much money went into maintaining such a thing.

“Perhaps Hammer Strike might like to have something like this. It would certainly be a good way to use up his funds,” he mused.

The doors slid open smoothly, and a long red carpeted gangplank was lowered with care. Several Gryphons in tinted blue armor marked by a white fleur de lis on each pauldron filed down in two perfect lines. Each drew his weapon, be it saber, rapier, axe, or otherwise, and held it in a salute to Pensword as they passed him to form a full column. When they were all in formation, they produced small polished brass trumpets, and sounded them as one. Another figure appeared, and moved slowly down the plank. He was surprisingly small for a Gryphon, even being on an eye level with Pensword. His head was that of a saker falcon with a smoothed-down crest, deep-set eyes, and a black curved beak. His feathers were a whitish grey with brown and black blotches here and there. The coloring seemed to melt into his white-and-black fur. His body was that of a genet, something smaller, but showing the right muscle for swiftness and maneuverability. Rather than armor, or even dress armor, he wore a simple blue dress uniform made from what seemed to be sturdy, yet fine material. A white sash covered his middle, and silver epaulets shone brightly on his shoulders. A deadly-looking saber with a curved guard hung close to his side. Unlike the tufted tails most Gryphons had, Lafayette’s tail was bushy, and completely covered in fluffy white-and-black-ringed fur.

“Ah, Mon commander! How long I have wished to meet the stallion who saved the emperor and spread the word of New Unity.” His accent was thick, and he pronounced Unity with a “teh,” revealing just how very Phrench he was. Then, in a very forward action, he walked up to Pensword, and hugged him.

Pensword was shocked, but Matthew was elated. Thus far, Lafayette was staying true to form. At the human half of his consciousness’ insistence, he returned the hug, albeit while feeling more than a little confused. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Marquis De Lafayette. Do you have any letters of recommendation you wish to present?”

The Gryphon presented a scroll with Princess Luna’s seal on it. “I only have this, I fear. I am not well liked back home for the sentiments I have shown so openly of late.”

Pensword nodded, and opened the letter, only for his eyes to widen in surprise as he discovered it was addressed to both Himself and Matthew. Luna spoke of how she had noticed certain similarities between the Lafayette she had discussed with Matthew on the dream plane and the one from Gryphonia. Considering the parallels that had been drawn previously from Earth, she figured it was a safe bet to give Lafayette a chance. As such, he and his troops were now under commission. Lafayette was to become a major general immediately, but it was up to Pensword to decide how much Lafayette would be able to invoke such authority.

“I understand that Luna has given you a commission within Equestria’s new military to try and lessen the sting of being stuck in Equestria for the time being. Unfortunately, there is a problem with this. You and I are both commissioned officers in no true military. So, until we can get everypony up to speed, I cannot give you any troops to lead. However, if you wish to teach military tactics to our recruits here, I would not be opposed to that.”

Lafayette nodded his understanding. “I may yet be able to help further the cause of Unity, regardless,” he said humbly as a blush rose beneath his cheeks. “I have made my insistence known to the princess. I will not accept payment for my services, only for my men. They are loyal, and have followed me here, despite what that may mean for them. If you cannot pay them, then I will see to it myself. Please, use us as you see fit, mon commander.”

Pensword nodded his head. “Very well. Your men will be paid on the same day as the rest of our men, which will be in two weeks’ time. Actually,” he looked to his right, “Kahn, see the quartermaster, and get this set up right away. Till then, if they need anything, make sure the Demon Slayers try to help first.” He spread his wings. “I hope that is suitable, Lafayette.”

Kahn saluted, and took wing to get it done, while Lafayette nodded and turned to Grif.

“Ah, Avatar. I have brought you a little something.” Lafayette smiled as he looked to his ship and signaled with a sharp whistle. A larger heron-headed Gryphon emerged bearing a small bottle and three silver goblets. He gave one to Pensword, the second to Grif, and the third to Lafayette himself, then popped the cork open, and poured each of them a small amount of a red liquid. The scent of cinnamon immediately assailed Pensword’s nose.

“This?” Grif’s eyes widened as he leaned in. “This can’t be.” He took a whiff, then a sip, then a gulp. A shiver of pleasure ran through his body. “Kal’levenah! This time of year?”

Pensword raised an eyebrow as he took a sip, expecting something similar to the guarkalah. It was thicker than it looked, and raced into the mouth like chocolate syrup, but the moment it hit his tongue, the spices struck. Cinnamon, peppermint, and chilli pepper rushed one after the other in a whirling medley of flavors. It was robust, but not enough to burn his tongue. When he swallowed, the heat flowed down his throat and throughout his body, removing the chill of the winter air.

“Wha–?” Pensword gasped. “You can bottle both the winter and a summer day?”

“Kal’levenah is a concoction made from several ingredients found within the empire, one of the few cases, if any, where we farm or harvest fruits and spices; however, to make it is tricky. Not all the ingredients are easily purchased. That goblet full alone is probably worth a few thousand beaks,” Grif explained.

“I have brought six barrels for your stores, Lord Bladefeather.” Lafayette grinned as Grif stood stock still, looking at the marquis as though he’d grown a second head. “I’ll take your silence as gratitude enough. My people will have them unloaded, and then your clansmen can move them at your convenience.” The marquis turned to address Pensword, leaving Grif to his bewildered stupor. “Perhaps I may request a tour?”

“Of course, Major General. While you may have a noble rank, a Thestral puts a military rank before any other, save one: husband or wife. If you would kindly follow me, we will begin our tour over here.” The pair walked casually along the dock’s heavy wooden planking as they prepared to take wing, only for the marquis to laugh happily as two darts struck the back of his head. He quickly raised his talons to catch the flailing bundle of blue fur and leathery wings. He plucked off the darts, and presented them to the little foal, before leaning in to whisper in her ears. Moon River giggled, and booped her hoof against his beak, before he found himself carrying the foal along for the trip. Neither seemed to mind.

In the cold crisp of winter, a lot of work could be done. There was still hunting to do, wood to haul, items to craft. However, a great many things also couldn’t be done. Food and flower gardens alike had to be left alone for the next few months, stone quarrying and most mining had to be put on hold, and most long scouting trips had been restricted to those with wings to reduce the possibility of getting lost. It was at this time that Grif decided to handle another matter that had reared it’s ugly head in the Bladefeather compound.

Grif had been liberal about the Bladefeathers’ resources. He didn’t worry if a few sheets of leather or some new buckles went missing, because a Gryphon needed to fix a sword belt or fashion a new pack. These things were easily replaceable, and with the amount the Gryphon clan hunted and the smiths nearby in New Unity, leather and steel could easily be replaced.

No the problem was the clan's own carefully maintained stockpiles of useful harder woods and stronger stones, which, while existent in the surrounding resources, were surprisingly rare. These items were held by the clan strictly for the making and maintaining of defenses, memorials, and important religious necessities. Unfortunately, he’d had to place the stockpile under guard when Gryphons began taking from these materials in order to make additions to their homes. It was not that Grif was against them making these changes and additions, it was that he was against them using clan resources to do it. Despite making it clear they’d need to acquire the materials themselves or actually buy them from the stockpile, Bladefeathers had still taken them, usually waiting until nightfall.

The other side of this issue was favors. Gryphons being Gryphons, even the formerly clanless could get a swelled head at times. When Grif sat down with the administrative council once every couple of weeks to go over necessary matters regarding the clan, he found himself bombarded for three hours with requests ranging from heavily unreasonable to utterly absurd. One Gryphon had requested to turn his house into a watchtower. Said Gryphon lived in the very center of the compound, and would not even be able to see past the walls, unless said tower was over forty stories high. Too utterly unreasonable. One actually demanded a massive library, and Grif wasn’t against that part. The issue was that this Gryphon demanded a compendium with all of Equstria’s knowledge to be included, no matter how secret or rare.

And then there were the public demands to know what special privileges clan members would receive in the developing city state that New Unity was becoming. It was this one that worried Grif, because it was a sign the Bladefeathers were forgetting where they had started, and what this clan was supposed to mean.

It was for this reason that Grif created the Court of Winter. the court was simplistic in itself, resurrecting one of their culture’s older and more visceral styles of living. If a Gryphon came with a request that was uncommon or ridiculous, then they would have to be prepared to support it through trial by combat against a representative of Grif, starting with Thalia. If the request pushed the envelope more, the representative would be higher ranked. If the request got really bizarre or grandiose, Grif himself would face the contender in the arena. The combatants would go to one of the large snow-covered outdoor sparring mats, remove their cloaks, weapons, and armor, and fight with beak and talons, until one party gave or was unconscious. Only killing or permanently maiming an opponent was forbidden.

If the challenger won, then they would either move up the ladder, should their request warrant further scrutiny, or they would have it granted. However, they had to accept that Grif’s representative in the battle held the right to add additional burdens, if they felt it was warranted.

At first, Gryphons had lined up to take their chance, but once the first dozen or so were sent to the infirmary for attempting to fight their opponent with large boulders tied to their back paws, the challenges slowed to a steady, more reasonable pace.

It was because of this practice that Grif found himself watching as Gilda got beaten for the third time that week by Thalia. He found himself musing that, while the Gryphoness had improved in her weapons training, Grif hadn’t really taught her much in regards to talon and beak. It was not entirely a surprise that he hadn’t. Few warriors taught pupils the style, because it was believed to be unrefined and feral, but the old bird had taught him. He still had scars from those lessons. And if Gilda really was going to be a proper representative, perhaps it was time for her to gain a few scars of her own. “Yes,” he mused, “I think it’s about time we stepped your training up a phase, Gilda.”

Vital Spark narrowed his eyes as he stared into the blue mare’s hoof and joint. “Hmm. Interesting,” he mused as he levitated his textbook, and flipped through of a few of the pages.

“What is so interesting?” Trixie asked as her brow furrowed with worry.

“Based on what I’ve seen in the book here, you’re one of the rarest cases out there. You are an individual who had a set destiny that has been rewritten. Your life line was broken right along here,” he said as he pointed to a particular portion of her hoof, “and then it branched off in a new direction. I’m guessing it had something to do with the incident when you were in the dungeons.”

“Is that bad? Is Trixie in danger?” Trixie asked.

“Asks the girl who’s a fortune teller.” Vital laughed as he looked on. “Frankly, I’m still getting used to all this reading magic lines and the like. The way the maps are shown, it reminds me more of chakra than anything else.” He shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe there’s a connection. But as for what I do see in your future, there appears to be a conflict of some sort. Someone dear to you will be threatened, and you will learn a dangerous family secret at or around that time.”

“Trixie doesn’t like the first part of that prediction.”

Vital shrugged again. “For all we know, I could be way off the mark. I’m still learning how to get divination right. It wasn’t exactly a practice that was well liked in the group I grew up with. We preferred revelation and prophecy through prophets and seers. It’s a bit of a different branch.”

“It still worries Trixie.”

“The future worries everyone. What really matters is how you choose to live in the now. We’re the ones who craft the future with our actions. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that it’s better to trust in yourself and live as best you can, rather than try to stop or undo a possible future. If you do try to stop it, you could easily cause the thing you’re trying to prevent, and often do.”

“Trixie supposes she understands,” Trixie said, before moving forward to hug Vital.

Vital chuckled. “You know, that’s still taking some getting used to.”

“Suck it up, princess.”

Vital Spark laughed. “Someone’s been spending a little too much time around Grif, methinks. C’mere, you.” And then he tackled her to the ground, before starting to tickle her.

“No, stop!” Trixie giggled as she rolled helplessly on the floor.

“Nevar!” Vital teased as he continued his assault with a roguish grin. “I shall make you rue the day you dared to cross the mighty, miraculous Vital!” He then ruined the evil impersonation by attempting a villainous laugh that turned out so corny, it bordered on the ludicrous.

“Oh, really?” Trixie laughed. “We’ll have to see about that.” She flared her horn, and, in a moment, the tides were turned as she began tickling him.

“Curses! Foiled again. But how could you have known my one true weakness? Curse you, Great and Powerful Trixie!” Vital wailed as he pitched his voice to make it as grating and unappealing as possible, cracking at multiple points.

Trixie just laughed as she continued to tickle him.

“It’s good to see you're taking your lessons so seriously,” a familiar voice spoke up suddenly. Clover looked at them with a deadpan expression.

“Well, we started out well enough, just, uh … got a little out of hoof?” Vital said as a blush rose in his cheeks, and he hastily rose back to his hooves, following Trixie’s example. “I [i[did make the prediction, like the assignment said, though,” he added.

“I look forward to hearing your detailed report on it,” Clover said in a tone that said she wasn’t going to be letting this go.

Vital chuckled nervously, and cleared his throat. “Well, you see,” he said as his voice cracked. He cleared it again. “It went something like this.”

Grif waited patiently on the padded mat he’d had set up in the training grounds at his instruction when the exercises had come to a close for the day. Training dummies had been dismantled, and all the training weapons and armor had been properly locked into their racks and put away in the weapons sheds. It was late. Everyone besides the night watch were asleep. These lessons would be far too intense for spectators.

Grif had informed Gilda to meet him here at midnight. He hadn’t told her the reason, nor had he given her any specific instructions, because he wanted to see the level of preparation the Gryphoness would make on her own initiative. The cold winter wind whipped through the air as sharp as a knife. It actually reminded the battleworn Gryphon of the winters back on the isles, except they had been full of rain and wet. In comparison, the cold, dry air of winter was refreshing.

The silent rustle of folding wings was the only indication Grif had as Gilda landed in the snow with a gentle crunch. A storm cloak fluttered in the late night winds as the Gryphoness narrowed her eyes, fingering her twin war axes as she looked about nervously. She tapped the clasp that held the cloak to her body, and the colors shifted to a weathered grey. Her golden eyes seemed almost to glow as she peered over the area, then looked directly at Grif. “So what’s the mission?” she asked bluntly.

“Disarm,” Grif ordered as he unclipped his harness and removed his other weapons, before tossing them into a makeshift pile.

Gilda nodded, and followed Grif’s example, adding her own weapons to the pile. On top of the two war axes, Grif was both surprised and elated to see the number of hidden daggers, garrote wire, and several vials of what could either be potion or poison, considering how carefully she handled them.

“Strip,” he commanded next as he pulled on the clasps of his armor without taking his eyes off of her. Metal plates clanged as they hit the ground beneath him.

“No dinner?” Gilda asked as she flicked her crest to the side, before undoing the clasp on her cloak to reveal a set of thin, tight leather armor for easy maneuverability and stealth. Two metal pauldrons shone dimly on her shoulders, and the sleek black well-oiled leather straps along her arms reflected the moonlight. The light jingle of tiny metal links hinted at the extra protection she wore beneath. As she took off each piece, her lithe muscles bunched and released. She’d gained in strength since joining the Bladefeathers, and a part of Grif couldn’t help but admire it to an extent. However, there were more pressing matters at hand, namely Gilda’s less than stellar performance of late.

“You’ve lost to Thalia three times in the last week,” Grif said pointedly. His face was an impassive mask. “I’d expect nothing less from a normal Gryphon, but you have been learning from me, and my father would find it disgraceful that you couldn’t hold your own in beak and talon.” Grif spread his wings, working the joints as he rolled his neck and spine.

“It’s not like there’s an exact style to it,” Gilda pointed out as her hackles began to rise, and she grit her teeth. It would seem a bit of that pride still clung to her. Still, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing in this situation. The right prodding could easily motivate the Gryphoness to push far beyond her usual limits.

“Oh really?” Grif growled as he got into stance. He crouched like a panther, keeping his head low to the ground, his motions slow and stalking. “It is more instinctual, yes, but without using your mind, you’ll soon find yourself in trouble. You need to merge instinct with cunning. It is in that mix that the true predator lies waiting.”

Gilda walked slowly onto the mat. Her muscles were tense as she crouched down low, and flexed her talons. Her face was a mask, but in those eyes, Grif saw something that nagged at him. He didn’t know why, but the way she looked at him seemed so familiar.

A second later, Grif removed his talons from the Gryphoness’ throat, and let her get off the mat. “You’re holding back,” he stated. It wasn’t a question.

“So what if I am?” Gilda shot back. Stubborn will shone in her eyes, but it wasn’t pure. This wasn’t the Gilda Grif was used to seeing. There wasn’t nearly enough surliness in that retort.

“What's the purpose of making a request so important that Thalia needs to handle it, if you won’t give it your all to gain it?” Grif had no idea what her request was. Only she and Thalia would know that, until Gilda managed to beat her.

“That’s not your business yet,” Gilda said as she licked at one of her cuts hesitantly.

He knocked her head away. “You treat your wounds when we’re finished. And what is my business is that if you are ever in a serious fight, where you're stuck with beak and talons, you’d better be giving it your everything. You disgrace our people when you hold back. You disgrace everything someone like you means for our species,” he growled as the flesh at the back of his beak curled to show his teeth.

“I won’t let it come to that,” Gilda growled in turn. “Never again.”

And then it finally clicked. He’d seen those eyes every morning after the war, once he’d destroyed the evokers. That mixture of fear, guilt, and self loathing was unmistakable. “What happened?” he asked. His eyes softened a bit, but he made sure to keep his face impassive as he approached her.

“No.” Gilda shook her head firmly. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That’s nice,” Grif said as he pounced her, knocking her to the ground and pinning her on her back, “but I didn’t mean that as a request. Tell me what happened, Gilda.”

To her credit, or perhaps to her detriment, the Gryphoness shook her head, even as she struggled to hold back the tears that were trying to form. “No,” she whispered hoarsely

“Gilda, listen to me.” Grif stared the Gryphoness down as he pushed his face into hers. I have done many, many terrible things. I have killed in all kinds of ways. I have disemboweled enemies, decapitated them, eviscerated them, skinned them alive, gave them death by torture. I took a Gryphon and tore him apart bit by bit, until only a fine red mist remained. There is nothing. You hear me? NOTHING you can have done that would make me think less of you. But if you can’t tell me, a creature far more fallen then you will ever be, what sin holds you back, then you will be forever nothing more than a coward.” He tapped her chidingly on the forehead with his beak. “Now tell me what happened to you.”

Gilda sighed as she went limp under the stronger Gryphon’s weight. “Okay. Okay,” she whispered. “I just … I don’t really know how to explain it. It’s all so hazy. Screaming, laughter, rage, pain, fear. It was all so scattered. I remember seeing the flames at the compound. I was just returning from a hunting trip at the time. The Dogs used a special kind of magic to burn into the stone and wood alike. The flames were so hot, and they were green, like Changeling fire. I ran to my family’s quarters in the hall, but when I got there….”

She gulped, and licked her beak as her tail twitched nervously, while her breathing came in shorter, quicker spurts. Grif still hadn’t let down his guard as he held her down. “Blood. Everything smelled of smoke and blood and burnt fur. They were already dead. I wanted to mourn, but I knew it wasn’t the time. Dad would’ve told me to get to the clan leader and his family. And besides, the stone was already starting to crack and give way. I could hear the supports groaning as they began to weaken. When I reached the clan leader’s chambers, I found more of the same. By then, the clan hall had well and truly begun to collapse.” She coughed as she swallowed again. “I barely escaped with my life. I couldn’t even give them a proper burial.”

Grif stared at her for a moment, and then, quite suddenly, her smacked her on the beak. “That was for lying to me about what happened,” he told her, before motioning for her to carry on.

Gilda took a deep breath, and sighed as she averted her eyes. “This is where the hard part comes in. I trekked into the forest for a couple of days. My kill from the hunt was enough to keep me going for awhile, and I had enough water in my skin to last me till I could get to the next territory over, make some arrangements to get to Griffonstone. Unfortunately for me, I was followed. I don’t remember how many there were to start with. I just know that they caught me unawares. I was stripped of all my belongings. They … they tried to–.” She shuddered, and gulped again. “Look, they tried to rape me, okay? And then I thought about Mom, and what they might’ve done to her, and … well, that’s when it went fuzzy. I remember coming to covered in blood. Their wings were torn, their throats cut. Their bowels were strung up in the trees like popcorn on a Hearth’s Warming tree. I don’t know if I can stomach telling you the rest. I just know I could taste it in my mouth. I lost my family, I lost my clan, … and I lost myself, Grif. I don’t think I could ever do that again.”

“Do you want revenge?” Grif asked her. “You feel wronged? You want to get that feeling of being in control back, of feeling like you're your own Gryphon?”

“I already killed them, Grif. I don’t need revenge.” She shook her head.

“No, you don’t, but you're trying to get it anyway. You’re trying to get it on the one Gryphon in the entire world you never will, and you’ll keep fighting and fighting, and the only time you’ll get what you seek is when you die, because the Gryphon you hate, the one you keep fighting, that Gryphon is you, Gilda. You’re fighting yourself, and all you're doing is making your wounds deeper.”

“I won’t give myself the opportunity to be that again, Grif. Why else do you think I acted so brusque with Dash’s friends the first time? It was for their protection.”

“Look at me, Gilda. Look into my eyes. Do you see those black rings?” he asked, leaning as close as he could, and forcing his eyes as wide as possible. “Those are the black gale within my very soul. I let it in, and I let it make me a monster. I didn’t trust myself afterwards. I was always on guard. But I learned. I forgave myself, and I accepted that the Winds forgave me. I will carry this mark forever, Gilda, but I will not hold back out of fear. I tell you now as their avatar, the Winds forgive you, Gilda. So forgive yourself.”

Gilda was silent for a long time as she pondered those words. “I don’t know if I can,” she finally said. “Is … is it okay if I just sort of take it a day at a time?”

Grif released the pressure on her chest, and suddenly, he embraced her in a hug. “We’ll work on it together,” he promised, “if you’ll trust me.”

Gilda chuckled. “You think I’d still be in the compound, if I didn’t?”

“Now get up, and stop taking it easy on me.” Grif released her, and moved to the other end of the mat. “Begin.”

What followed was the first of what would, doubtless, be many long training sessions ranging from late at night to blazing midday.

Hammer Strike couldn’t help but smile as he sparred against Twilight. Blow for blow, their weapons clashed, sending cascades of sparks flying through the cobble square that had become the main parade ground and training yard during New Unity’s expansion. Over the last several hours, Twilight had definitely shown some marked improvements. She was catching on to some of the lessons, and, unlike her former teacher in the last training, Twilight was much faster to learn and adapt. Rather than avoiding hits, she tended to pull up a small shield spell at the location. While it was risky to create single point shields, Hammer Strike nodded in approval. That kind of innovation was exactly the sort of combat adaptivity that would keep her alive, if she ever had to get into a real fight. And considering she was a princess, and one of the great defenders of the realm, the idea really wasn’t all that unreasonable. After every hit, the shield took most of the energy from Hammer Strike’s blows, and dispersed it appropriately.

Under normal circumstances, that would have been an excellent defense. What a shame that it couldn’t hold up against extreme attacks. Fortunately, Hammer Strike chose to hold back, but while the threat was there, there weren’t many beings who could pull that much power forth.

Twilight panted as she blocked yet another strike, before striking the ground with the tip of her staff, and sending a wave of flames Hammer Strike’s way. The Earth Pony shrugged his shoulders as the flames blew aside, and he struck her staff away. Twilight danced around, continually targeting the Pony, and either narrowly missing or compensating for Hammer Strike’s defensive interceptions.

Just as he was about to strike a decisive blow, Twilight’s eyes began to glow as a bright rainbow light flooded up from the ground beneath him, followed by a practically cataclysmic explosion that shook the grounds themselves. A cone-shaped barrier ensured the worst of the blast remained contained, not only assaulting the Pony lord with the heat and debris, but also the increased concussive force that had no vent for escape.

Twilight’s knees began to wobble as she alighted on the ground several yards away, and she leaned on her staff for support, while she waited for the scene inside her makeshift cone-shaped bubble to reveal itself.

A rhythmic beating, not unlike a drum, thrummed over the air. It took a while for Twilight to pinpoint its source, but her eyes widened when she heard the beat, followed by the sound of cracking glass. A large gash of light spidered out along the barrier. More cracks spread from the initial strike. Then the cone shattered, sending bits of hardened light and magic flying every direction. Hammer Strike took advantage of the moment to charge the mare. Before she could act against him, he had knocked her staff away, and tripped her, quickly placing a training blade on the back of her neck.

“Now that,” Hammer Strike started as he removed the training blade. “That was a good idea. Had I been an average adversary, I wouldn’t have anything left.”

Tired laughter cascaded out of Twilight as she smiled up at him. “Were you surprised?”

“The spell relay was well hidden, but I would suggest moving it a little lower. You can feel some of the energy as you travel over the surface of them,” Hammer Strike replied.

“I’ll … have to make some adjustments, then,” she said as Hammer Strike removed his sword, and she seized his extended hoof to rise. “Am I … doing okay, Hammer Strike? Be honest with me. I can take the criticism.”

Hammer Strike looked out over the rising sun. “Your combat magic could use some work. And while the shield spell is well done, you should be sure to adjust it for different weapons. If I were to come at you with, say, a rapier, the timing for some of those placements would be a bit much to keep up with. If you were to go against someone who is actually competent with a rapier, like Grif, then you wouldn’t stand a chance using those spells.”

“So you’re basically telling me I need to come up with a plan for every possible permutation of weapon and user?”

“Weapon type. It’s much easier to just classify it as, say, light, medium, and heavy weapons for the base. Then you add on smaller situations, but for the most part, think in a general sense. You can run into a hundred different weapons that are used in the same stance, and same style. There are some variations based on the user, but you get the general idea from the weapons alone.”

Twilight put a pensive hoof to her chin. “That does make sense. And I do like to prepare for most eventualities. This could be my next big project. To tell you the truth, it’s been kind of boring around the library lately, and all the bowing and ‘Your Highnesses’ have been getting on my nerves.”

“You’re free to visit New Unity every now and then, you know. You’ll certainly get a different set for interaction.” Hammer Strike gave a faint chuckle as he rested on his practice sword.

“Only if you promise to keep the Medics from examining me,” Twilight insisted. “I’ve read their files. It may have been an accident, but necromancy is still necromancy, and removing a Pony’s skeleton like that….” She shuddered.

“Trust me, they’ve learned the hard way that there will be little to no examinations, especially after the last incident.”

“Last incident? What happened?”

“All I know is that it involved a pigeon and the scouts.”

“I … guess that’s okay? Just as long as there isn’t any tree sap.”

“Honestly, I think tree sap would have been better.”

“Heh. Those kids are gonna do well,” Grif noted casually as he walked along the cobbled street. He and Pensword had been making their way through Ponyville to see about Cheerilee’s plans for the new school house, when they’d caught sight of the CMC in a clearing nearby. A convenient bush covered the two as they watched the four foals demonstrating their flag bearing routine to Rainbow Dash.

Pensword remained silent as he watched from his spot, but his gentle smile showed that he was enjoying the show.

“If nothing goes wrong, then I’m pretty sure they’re a shoe-in,” Grif chuckled. “I’ll have to step things up to make our show as good.”

“Oh, so you are working on this? Good. I was trying to come up with something, but I haven’t had much luck so far,” Pensword replied with a relieved sigh.

“Yeah, I had a few neat id–.” Grif stopped speaking. He lowered his body, and gestured towards an area not far off. Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon were currently spying on the Crusaders and exchanging worried whispers.

“What do we do? I say we intercept them before they move. You know they will be working on jealous feelings. Heck, if I was a foal, I would try that, too, sadly. That, or get involved in their set up.”

“And have to deal with Filthy and Spoiled Rich attacking us?” Grif asked. “We’ll need proof.”

“Proof?” I am the greatest strategist, and you are around Gryphon chicks. I think we can read body language. Besides, we could just walk up to them after they leave the bushes to ask if they have any ideas for their flag routine, just delay them till the four leave the stage.”

“I want to hear what they’re saying first,” Grif said as he started to slink closer.

“Did you see that?” Diamond Tiara asked, more than a little shocked, and, surprisingly, afraid. “I can’t believe I’m saying this. They could win.”

“But how do we stop them?” Silver Spoon asked, dismayed. “We already called them blank flanks!”

Grif rolled his eyes as he moved carefully to remain covered, while still maintaining a proper vantage point. What he saw bothered him. Diamond Tiara was staring at the CMC, more specifically at Scootaloo’s wings.

“We just need a new way to get under their skin,” Diamond said with a wicked grin. “Or under their wings.”

Pensword’s ears twitched. “I think that is actionable intel there,” he whispered. Thankfully, the other two still hadn’t noticed the adults. “I think it is.”

“I’m going to stick with this problem until it plays out,” Grif told Pensword. “Why don’t you go and pick up those reports? I’ll meet you back at New Unity.”

Pensword opened his mouth to object, but one look from Grif silenced him. He nodded, and crept silently out of the clearing to resume his journey to the schoolhouse. At the very least, he could alert Cheerilee of the danger, and tell her Grif had a plan. Considering what had happened with the cape debacle, he knew those two were on thin ice anyways.

Grif knew he’d catch hell from Pensword about it later but he needed to see this. He needed to know how depraved Diamond Tiara would be to accomplish her whims. More importantly, he needed to know how much of a self confidence issue Scootaloo had. He crept closer to the arena as the two bullies made their move, sticking to the shadows to better conceal himself. He barely managed to contain himself as the bullies stepped over a line no one had the right to cross.

“Well, have fun practicing anyway, even if your routine will never–how shall I say–take off!” Diamond and Silver Spoon finished as they turned smugly and pranced away.

Grif slowly released the breath he’d been holding as he’d struggled to maintain his cover. He looked down with some surprise to see blood welling from small cuts on his palm. He hadn’t realized how tightly he’d been clenching his fists. He shook his head. That didn’t matter right now. He’d seen what he feared. Despite Scootaloo’s quick mask of confidence and determination, there was pain, self doubt, and hurt behind that foal’s eyes. Two separate sets of memories sparked several different yet similar scenes: a young human and a young cub, both scorned and pushed around by their peers.

Grif did the one thing he could think of in the current situation. He did a swift about face and bounded along the road, until he’d gotten far enough away to take wing without being noticed. Then he made a beeline for Ponyville library. First, he needed to find a history book. Then he needed Rainbow Dash….

By all the four Winds, he would put this right.

“Spike?” Grif called as he slammed the library door with his fist. Technically the library had been closed until Twilight’s return, so the Gryphon was hoping the young drake was at home.

The door creaked open as Spike yawned into his claws, before rubbing his eyes. Clearly, he’d just gotten up from a nap. “Hey, Grif. What’s up? You sound kinda stressed.”

“Spike, what would you say your relationship is with the Crusaders? Would you consider them your friends?”

“Those girls? I don’t know,” Spike answered honestly. “We don’t really get to talk all that much. I see Sweetie Belle every once in awhile when I’m visiting the boutique, and I’ve bumped into them a few times when they’re running through town … or they bump into me,” he mumbled the last part. “But they mostly just hang out with Twilight for tutoring. And after the whole incident with everypony trying to use them to get to Twilight, they haven’t been over as much. Why do you ask?”

“Because, my young fire-breathing friend, I need your help to hunt down knowledge in order to prevent Scootaloo from spending all night attempting to achieve a goal she likely won’t, and then possibly developing a complex that will lead to her being as neurotic as Twilight in a free-floating curriculum,” Grif explained as he pushed his way into the library.

Spike shuddered. “That bad?”

“Two fillies who I’m sure I don’t need to name went after her about her wings and their inability to support her aerially.”

“They did what?” Spike’s voice was surprisingly calm, considering his previous types of reaction to surprising events. What made it even more unsettling was how, for the first time in Grif’s memory, Spike’s pupils narrowed into vertical slits as he clenched his claws into a fist, then unclenched it, after taking a deep breath.

“Yes, I know. But I’m more worried for what this will do to her than about justice right now. I know how it feels and what it can do to you, and I know you know, too,” he said as he began perusing the shelves.

“Tell me what you need,” Spike said. “They don’t call me Twilight’s number one assistant for nothing.”

“I need a book about Pegasi who couldn’t fly, preferably ones who accomplished something important,” Grif noted as he took the air, and began scanning the higher shelves. “Something with a lot of pictures, too, or I doubt we’ll get Rainbow Dash to look at it.”

“You take high, and I’ll take low,” Spike said as he pulled up on either arm like he had a set of sleeves there, before getting to work. It took them about an hour, but they’d finally narrowed it down to three candidates: Grounded Glory, Famous Pegasi Throughout the Ages, and Paving Your Way: A Grounded Perspective to Pegasi Lifestyles.

Spike was swift to shove the third aside. “Way too academic. Twilight might recommend it, but Scootaloo and Rainbow would probably just run off somewhere else to do whatever crazy stuff they usually do together.”

“What's this one?” Grif asked as he pointed to the middle volume.

“Based on what I saw in the index, it’s a book about big contributors to Pegasus history. Twilight decided to give it a read when she was cross referencing books on flight. Did you know some of the most advanced weather manipulation formulae were actually made by a weather Pony after he’d had his wings deadened in a rogue tornado?” Spike suddenly gasped, then smacked his face as he ran his claws down it. “And now I sound like Twilight. Great.”

“This definitely sounds like the book we want.” Grif chuckled as he opened it. “Wing lost in a war, lost to disease, weather accidents, crash landing paralyzation, and ... here we go! Born with underdeveloped wings.” Grif scanned through the page carefully, and a smile pulled at his lips. “Thanks, Spike. I think this will do quite nicely.” He placed a bag of gems on the table. “Just put it on my account, would you?”

“Uh, Grif, you don’t owe the library anything,” Spike said as he scratched his head confusedly. “And I don’t think Twilight has a tab system, like Joe does.”

“My file. Whatever. Just mark down that I have the book, Spike. The gems aren’t for a tab. They’re for you.” He chuckled good-naturedly as he turned out the door with a simple two-fingered salute. And then he was gone. Now he needed to find Rainbow Dash, and get her butt over to the CMC. He just hoped it would be enough.

Gnarl Fang smiled as Night Terror dropped the tomahawk again. His gray-streaked shale mane dimmed in the moonlight. His worn scarred coat had just a hint of green to it. “What's so hard? Most foals can pick this up.” It was more teasing than reproaching as he flourished his own small axe again, moving it fluidly between his hooves to strike the dummy with it twice in the head, and then once in the neck with the back spike, leaving the weapon there to emphasize the point.

Night Terror stared as she picked hers up once more with her hoof. “I’m sorry,” she said as her ears wilted behind her head. Her Canterlot accent was still quite prominent. “My father said my hoof magic isn’t exactly the best, that because I have wings, instead of a horn, my magic is unsure what to make of my body and how to operate.” She took a deep breath as she shifted a wing over to seize the weapon from her double-hoofed grip. The wings handled it just fine. When she tried to return it to her hooves again, the same problem occurred, and the tomahawk was earthbound once more.

“It’s not magic, young one.” Gnarled Fang laughed at the ludicrous idea, and the fang for which he was named flashed in the night. “It’s simply a skill mastered over time.”

“Right.” Night Terror nodded respectfully, even as she struggled to avoid the shudder of revulsion at the training thus far. She had been forced to wear only a single pelt of fur to cover her body. For the sake of tradition, they’d said. How anyone could choose to go in the nude was beyond her understanding, and yet, here she was, surrounded by sweaty Thestrals practicing with just their fur and manes to clothe them.

“Would you like to see a trick?” the old Thestral asked.

Night Terror sighed. “I highly doubt I could reproduce such a trick, but you may show me, if you wish.”

“I’m not asking you to reproduce it.” The old stallion chuckled as he produced two more matching tomahawks. From where, Night Terror didn’t know. He tossed one into the air. When it reached the apex of its rise, he tossed the second. The head of the second axe hit the first, sending it back towards the Thestral. He caught it in a flash, while sending up a third tomahawk with fluid, precise movements that proved quite surprising for a Pony of such advanced years to accomplish. Gnarl Fang juggled the axes faster and faster, until all Night Terror could make out were the deadly whirling weapons in a blur of motion.

She watched with calculating eyes as she took in the breadth of dexterity the Thestral had amassed. If these Thestrals all received the same training, then they were truly a force to be reckoned with in close combat. She would have to make sure she put this into her next report. Thankfully, the Ponies here had bought the story that Blueblood was still on speaking terms with her. And considering the extra homes the family had in its holdings, it was a simple matter to arrange to send them to one of those addresses, and then have it forwarded to the estate or one of Baron Blueblood’s many hidden retreats. Yet, despite the revulsion and the judgement she felt towards these creatures, she couldn’t help but feel a thrill of fear as the tomahawks continued their deadly dance. One misspoken word could easily break the warrior’s concentration. She didn’t need blood on her hooves, at least not this early in the game.

With a sudden twist, the old Thestral turned, and bucked each axe as it came down. The blades impaled themselves into the dummy, cutting deeply into both arms and the forehead.

“Ta-da!”

Night Terror gaped in utter shock at the deadly accuracy. Each blow would have landed on a vital point. Had that dummy been alive, it would have bled out in moments. She gulped as Gnarl Fang approached the dummy, removed one of the tomahawks, and tossed it to the ground at her hooves. She sighed, and moved a hoof to pick it up. This time, she let go. She could get a hooficure later, and then she would get her silk robes later tonight. She took the axe. She held it. She could move it freely. “I bet you want me to throw it now?” she asked darkly.

“Not until you can get three strikes without breaking your movement,” he insisted firmly.

She blinked. “Wait, what? So … to make sure I understand this right, in your terms, you want me to get up close to the dummy, to my ‘enemy,’” the world felt foreign and strange in her mouth, “and strike it in close quarters?”

“You won’t always have the luxury of distance in a fight,” Gnarl Fang said bluntly. “You need to be able to use this to defend yourself at close quarters as well.”

“And so, you teach the more difficult of the two first?” she asked in her more formal accent as she walked up to the dummy and hit it on the ear with the tomahawk. It was getting early, and she was loath to admit it, but her body had yet to adjust to a nocturnal schedule. She’d always had to work the day shifts in the mansion, catering to parties and the like.

“I was told to accelerate your training, because of how far behind you are,” Gnarl Fang explained.

“Far behind?” Night Terror sputtered in disbelief, before she regained control of herself, and shook her head to wake back up. She couldn’t afford to let her mask drop for even a moment. Too many instances like this would allow them to get a read on her, and that was something that could not happen. But perhaps that was their game. If that was the case, then she definitely still had much to learn about how Thestrals thought and worked.

“These are skills most foals learn before their tenth birthday,” the old warrior informed her. “Normally, a mare of your age would be skinning her own kills by now.”

Night Terror did her best not to look pale at the thought of skinning, let alone doing her own killing. “What of Fox Feather?” she asked with a sniff as she tried to pull the tomahawk out of the dummy, only to have it slip and fall to the ground, where she had to bend down and pick it back up. “I don’t see her here.”

“She isn’t expected to learn the tomahawk,” Gnarl Fang said. “She married into the family. She wasn’t born into it, and she’s skilled enough to handle herself in combat.”

Night Terror sighed. “It just feels like you expect me to fend off assassins. My father,” she made sure to put a little spit behind the word for the sake of her cover, “would never even bother. He’s too busy recouping from his setbacks, not to mention the hooligans who decided to, shall we say, redecorate his home.”

“These are your history, your customs. I would think you would wish to honor the mare who wielded the weapon you brought with you.”

“The dagger?” She asked. “What, that came from....” She jerked to a halt out of habit. It was taboo to talk about the first mother of the Blueblood line. She looked back to her belt and the knife that hung from it.

Gnarl Fang narrowed his gaze as he looked knowingly at the filly. “I think tonight, you will lodge with your kin. Perhaps it will give you perspective.”

“My kin? My kin is in Canterlot,” Night Terror replied adamantly. That look quickly turned to confusion when, instead of the stern rebuke she’d been expecting, Gnarl Fang actually laughed.

“No, no, little one. I meant your other kin, your Thestral kin.”

The tomahawk dropped to the ground yet again. “But … but that’s simply not possible,” the filly exclaimed. “The family records clearly state they either died out or deliberately didn’t marry to keep the Unicorn blood clean.”

Gnarl Fang’s face darkened like a thundercloud as his pupils narrowed to slits. “Do they now? We’ll have to have a talk with your family historians at a later date, then, little one.” His wings flared out behind him, and even as his shadow cast out to cover the filly, she shrank back. Seeing this reaction, the older stallion quickly checked himself, and took a deep breath. “My apologies. Honor is something we value very highly in our culture. For a person to disrespect their ancestry in such a way, especially after all that they did to keep this nation free, it’s despicable.” He snorted, and stamped his hooves firmly against the earth to vent his frustration, then looked on the filly with a pitying gaze. “Your family has lied to you, little Night Terror. Indeed, it would seem they have been for your whole life.” He spat at the ground at the thought, and though he had restrained himself, the disgust was still quite clear on his face. “The Whiteblood family produces some of our best hunters, and they are also direct descendants of your line.”

Night Terror gaped, completely blindsided by the sudden announcement. “Family?” Either a historian had deliberately removed the details, or someone had done a poor job ensuring the previous line carried out their duties. Whichever the case may have been, it was likely Baron Blueblood would appreciate the information. She had to learn more.

“A great deal of it, as a matter of fact,” the old Thestral chuckled.

“How big?” she whispered as shadows slowly emerged from the dark of night, and gathered around the scene. Her eyes darted around, frightened at first, but as the shadows were made real in the moonlight, all she could see were smiles and grins, kindly expressions, compassionate eyes. She felt the beginnings of tears stinging at her eyes, and her breath caught in her throat as the passage constricted. Her chest ached. Or did it burn? She couldn’t tell for sure. These looks … why did they make her feel this way? They shouldn’t. They couldn’t. Her father was supposed to do that. Not, not these … these…. “Why?” she finally managed to croak. “What have I done to deserve all of this?”

“The answer to that is simple,” Gnarl Fang said as he walked over, and gently picked up the tomahawk. “You have done nothing against us, child. You have never been shown there was another path. You are innocent, and you have been horribly wronged.” The old Thestral wrapped her gingerly in his wing. “Last I heard, the Whiteblood line currently holds eighteen mature mares and stallions, with forty eight healthy foals being raised.”

Another elderly stallion stepped forward as he leaned on a walking stick carved with a series of Thestrals, the phases of the moon, and depictions of the tribes’ major events in their history. “Come, little Night Terror. I think it’s time we ended your training for the night. You are tired, and it is quite clear that you have much to think about.” He chuckled as he looked on. “You appear as though the moon herself deigned to speak with you. We’ll teach you more tomorrow.” He motioned with a wing for the young mare to follow. “Come, come. And please, feel free to call me Grampy. The time it would take to explain the exact relation would take far too long.” He laughed good-naturedly as he led her away with Gnarl Fang on the other side to help with the escort. “It will be my pleasure to introduce you to the rest of your family.”

The Thestrals continued to talk jovially as they walked Night Terror out of the training grounds. She stared down listlessly at the ground, only barely keeping track of the discussion. She caught a few snatches here and there, but the majority of her focus lay in the struggle to identify this strange feeling. Her chest was tight, her stomach queasy. Even as they arrived at what, for all intents and purposes, appeared to be a wooden house about the size of the manor’s kitchen, she didn’t know what to say, let alone think. The dagger that was her family heirloom smacked against her side, and every time she looked at it, her stomach clenched. Even as she entered to meet the rush of excited young foals anxious to know a potential new playmate, she hardly recognized her surroundings. The intricate carvings, the simple fireplace, the doors leading Faust knew where. Everything felt warm, inviting, cozy. And then, as she looked up into the motherly eyes of a mare who insisted she call her Aunt, the feelings redoubled. When all was said and done, the Whitebloods left her be, attributing her lack of responsiveness to exhaustion, and got her settled in the sleeping quarters. As Night Terror lay on the soft sleeping mat, and pulled the covers over her body, she finally realized just what the strange feeling was, and she wasn’t sure what to think of it. For some reason, some incredible, impossible, inconceivable reason … she actually felt guilty.

“Rainbow Miriam Danger Hurricane Dash, wake up and get down here this second, or so help me, I will have Pensword throw you in the brig!” Grif thundered directly under the branch the Pegasus in question was sleeping on.

“WAUGH!” Rainbow cried as she flailed out of her afternoon doze, before falling off the branch. She quickly turned her body, and flared her wings to soften the fall as much as possible. As such, what might have been a hard crash turned into a more … awkward landing. “What is it?” she asked, immediately snapping to attention after a hasty dustoff. Her eyes flashed with irritation at the use of her full name, but she knew better than to talk back at Grif when he was in a mood like this.

“We need to talk,” Grif said in a quieter tone, “about Scootaloo.”

Rainbow Dash’s wings began to twitch nervously. “What’s wrong? Did she run somepony over? Get caught up on some big cutie mark crusade where we need to go rescue her? Is she in trouble? Do we have to break her out of jail?” Her eyes widened as she gasped. “Did she actually fly? And I missed it?”

“I think we both know Scootaloo will never fly, Dash,” Grif said in a sad, but serious tone. “The question is what her mentor is going to do to help her accept that fact and get over it.”

Rainbow Dash hung her head. “I should be, but she’s been doing so great with her friends. I mean, they’ve got this awesome routine that’ll blow the horseshoes off the judges. Last time I saw them, they were the happiest I’ve ever seen them.”

“Dash, Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon found them after you left,” Grif said flatly. “They hit her below the belt, or more accurately, below the wings. She needs you, Rainbow.” He opened the book to a marked page, and slid it in front of her. “Lieutenant General Charging Hurricane, the eldest and least known son of Commander Hurricane, born with shrunken wing syndrome. He never flew a day in his life, but because of that, he practically rewrote standard grounded Pegasus tactics still used today. He also invented cloudcrete. Of the Hurricane bloodlines, his was lost to history, due to Pegasus traditions forbidding him from inheriting his father's house. His bloodline produced some of the most important Pegasi in history, though only one known family can tie back to him today, one Bow Hothoof.”

Rainbow Dash opened her mouth, then closed it, thought a bit, opened it again. “Give the book to me. I’ll find Scootaloo,” she promised. Her eyes glinted with determination.

“You're a good pony, Dash. And that filly loves you like the sister she never had. I could take this book to her, and I doubt it would mean much.” He closed the book, and slid it over the ground to the mare. “But coming from you, it may change her entire outlook on life. We’ve both been on her side of the fence. We’ve both been tormented, and we both know the best karma for those two spoiled little brats is going to be when your sister stands out there holding the flag proudly. Just try not to give her too much pride.” He chuckled as he turned to walk away. “It would be more devastating when we kick your flank.” He took to the air just slow enough to catch her parting remark.

“I’d like to see you try!” Rainbow Dash shouted back. She smiled, but let it drop as she turned towards town. “Now to get this book to Scootaloo.” She tucked the book under the crook of one of her forehooves as she flapped her wings, then stroked her chin ponderingly. “I wonder if there are any other Pegasi that couldn’t–.” Her eyes narrowed suddenly as she took to the air. Wait a second. . ..”

Grif chuckled as a resounding cry echoed through the air, sending birds and other creatures scurrying for cover.

“Grif! You’re turning me into an egghead!”

The train to carry the foals to the flag bearing competition had been extended unnecessarily to carry the foals from New Unity; however, only Day Moon, Inigo, and Cristo had shown up, along with a large group of adults led by Pensword and Grif. They and their equipment had easily been stored in two carriages, making the extra one unnecessary. The Ponyville foals took up much more space by comparison. Grif scanned the crowds worriedly as he attempted to spot Scootaloo and the CMC. “I don’t see them anywhere.”

Pensword looked around. “I think I saw Rainbow Dash getting Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom. Dinky was following behind. I worry that Button Mash or Pip will try to delay the train,” he muttered as he turned his attention back to the platform
.
“You handle them. I’ll go see what's up. Don’t stop the train, if it has to leave. We’ll catch up.” Grif took to the air without a second thought. He flew around Ponyville, scanning the horizon, until he caught a flash of light from a familiar mane. He landed behind a bush, and listened closely.

“But that was me! You’re you! And it just doesn’t matter if you can fly or not. Your routine was amazing, ‘cause it represented what made Ponyville special. You do still know what that is, right?” Rainbow asked.

‘Friendship,” Sweetie Belle piped up.

“Three kinds of ponies living together as friends, like us. Earth Ponies,” Apple Bloom added.

“Unicorns,” Dinky chimed in.

“... And Pegasi,” Scootaloo finished hesitantly. “But Rainbow Dash, what if … what if my wings never grow? What if I never fly?” The filly wilted as she gave voice to the fear that had been festering beneath the surface for so long.

Grif chuckled silently as he heard the sound of paper rustling. “Listen, Scootaloo, maybe you’ll fly someday, or maybe you won’t. You’re all kinds of awesome, anyway! You see this Pony here? This is my great great however many greats grandfather. He couldn’t fly either, and he still found ways to be all kinds of awesome. This book’s full of Pegasi who didn’t fly, and proved they wouldn’t let it stop them. No matter what, we’ll find the way together. You have done, and will continue to do great things, with or without flying. Now who’s the toughest little Pony in this town?”

And then Grif heard the music filter as the girls started a heartsong. He stepped in carefully. “I’m sorry to interrupt, girls, but can you sing and move? The train’s already taken off. We’ve gotta run.” If they were surprised by the Gryphon, they didn’t show it as Scootaloo mounted her scooter. Apple Bloom and Sweetie boarded the attached wagon. Grif took Dinky on his back to help lower the weight Scootaloo had to carry.

“Give it your all. I’ll clear the way,” Grif told them as he and Rainbow followed the girls from the air. He reached with his magic, and moved the wind resistance away, using the air around them to push the filly forward. In the end, the six of them managed to just catch the train several miles outside Ponyville. They boarded through the empty caboose, and moved into New Unity’s passenger car. The Ponyville car had been sectioned off to keep foals away from the weapons and armor, so Grif decided they should stay, until they got to the empire.

Day Moon had been sitting and smiling when he looked out the window and saw a Pegasus pulling two fillies attached to her scooter on skis as it raced towards the train. His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. The sun reflected off her helmet and goggles as her wings buzzed to generate the speed capable of matching the train. He sat there in silence till they entered the car with a familiar Gryphon and a cute purple unicorn with a blonde mane and tail. Before anypony could act, he moved over and waved a hoof to welcome the four. He would have preferred talking with the orange one alone, but one look at how closely they stood to each other told him that wasn’t about to happen.

“I’m Day Moon,” he offered as he held out a hoof to them. “What are your names?”

“I’m Dinky,” Dinky introduced herself first.

“I’m Apple Bloom,” Apple Bloom followed.

“We already met, Day Moon,” Sweetie Belle giggled.

“And I’m Scootaloo,” the Pegasus filly said, panting slightly as she offered a hoof.

He took the hoof, and smiled baring a sheepish fang at Sweetie Belle's comment. “A pleasure to meet all of you,” he found that Scootaloo’s hoof grip was tough and strong. He didn’t care that she was sweating or panting. “Do you go that fast all the time?” he asked as Grif took the scooter and skis, and stowed them in an overhead compartment. Nobody noticed the knowing smirk curving the Gryphon’s beak as he watched the children out of the corner of his eye.

“Well, maybe not always that fast. We had a little help from Grif, but I can still go pretty fast most of the time.” She grinned proudly, and Day Moon felt a strange hammering in his chest. That only increased when Scootaloo jumped up next to him and got into his face. “What’s vampire fruit bat taste like?” she blurted out.

That broke the moment, and Day Moon laughed, liking that boldness as he began to engage the four in a conversation that would last the remainder of the trip.

Diamond Tiara smiled as she looked to Silver Spoon. “Too bad the Cutie Mark Crusaders couldn't make the train on time. They’re going to miss out on us winning,” she boasted. Silver Spoon nodded in silent agreement. “Such a shame, really. They were so good. I guess they just got stage fright. So many eyes, and not a cutie mark among them.”

Grif chuckled from on top of New Unity’s car, and gave three short taps with his talons. Two long taps responded from within.

“Company, attention! Form ranks!” he barked suddenly, startling not just the two fillies, but other Ponies going about their business at the station. Immediately, the door to the car slid open, and a pair of Thestrals exited in perfect symmetry, moving to face one another on either side of the door. Next, a pair of Gryphons followed, then a pair of Unicorns, a pair of Changelings, and finally, a pair of Pegasi. “Present arms!”

Each of the troops drew a halberd, lining them up in a perfect aisle.

“Mares and gentlecolts,” Grif addressed the onlookers, “it is my great honor to announce the arrival of Her Ladyship, Lady Apple Bloom, of the honest House of Apple of the Twilight Court, third of her name.”

Apple Bloom stepped from the car gingerly, looking somewhat blindsided as she made her way down the aisle. The nervous walk soon turned into a proud strut, however, as she grew in confidence. Each guard banged the haft of his halberd on the ground before her in respect as she passed.

“It is my infinite pleasure to introduce to you, Lady Sweetie Belle of the generous House of Belle of the Twilight court, as of recently, first of her name,” Grif announced, this time with a dramatic bow. Sweetie Belle exited the cart with a practiced grace that showed just who her sister was. As with Apple Bloom, each guard banged the haft of his weapon to respect her as she moved.

“It is my indescribable joy to announce Her Grace, the heir to the Dutchy of Doo, daughter of a hero times a thousand heros, Lady Dinky Doo Turner Whooves!” Grif waved his arm over the door below him as Dinky exited, the very image of her father as she walked, both bashful and proud at the same time. Her eyes burned with distaste at the titles, but pride at where she’d come from. Once again, the guards repeated their actions, as they had with the previous two fillies.

“And finally, it is my rare and tremendous exultation to introduce a Pegasus truly unlike any other. Born a commoner, like most of us, this filly has faced hardship since her first breath, and even mother nature herself has thrown hurdles in front of her. Still, in spite of all that has come her way, she has succeeded! I announce to you now a person of no great birth, no formidable title. I introduce to you a filly who is destined for greater things, so please let me hear you stomp for the squire of Dame Rainbow Dash the Loyal, for here she is, Scootaloo the Tenacious!”

Scootaloo exited with a blush as she walked out with her scooter. Despite the confusion, however, she had at least had the time to brace for Grif’s introduction, after hearing the others. As such, she held her head high, spreading her wings proudly as she walked through the aisle. The pounding resounded with greater force as the warriors looked with approval on the brave young filly, who, against all odds, was willing to face her fears and be her own self.

Diamond Tiara’s jaw dropped as her crown slipped askew on her head. Silver Spoon rolled her eyes, and groaned in dismay. However, other than that, the two remained silent. The look Grif sent their way told them far more than any words just how deep in trouble they were. They were going to lose hard, and Diamond gulped at the thought of what that loss would mean.

As the attention finally ebbed away from the soldiers and their display, Grif smiled at them, and nodded. “At ease, guys. Damn fine work.” He patted each soldier on the back.

Each one kept their military bearing, but the light in their eyes was enough for Grif to know exactly how they felt on the matter. When the crowds had finally dissipated enough to proceed, they began their march towards the fields and the waiting stadium.

Pensword exited the car having seen the entire show from his seat. He waited for Grif to fall back to his spot before speaking. “Grif, that was mighty fine work. You drew attention directly to Ponyville, and most likely drew some support from the nobles wishing to make it good with the Princess of Friendship.” He paused and lowered his voice. “Did you find her parents? When I listened she said her parents were out of town but trusted her to take care of herself.”

“Pensword, there are things about Scootaloo… let's just say it’s not my place to give up that kind of information,” Grif replied, his mood dampening slightly. “Now get the triplets ready. We’ve got a show to put on directly after Ponyville.”

“Will do.” He paused. “Boys?” He called. Inigo, Cristo, and Day Moon were immediately at his side. “Have you seen your mother and sister?” he asked. All three shook their heads.

“We’ll help you look for them, though,” Day Moon added.

Pensword sighed as he looked back to Grif. “We’ll talk later,” he said. “Come on, boys. Let’s find the others.”

“So you're the wolf.” Grif chuckled to himself. The New Unity group was preparing themselves for their demonstration, and Grif had volunteered to teach Day Moon about how to properly don armor.

Day Moon nodded his head. “Yes,” he replied, feeling humbled to play such an important role.

“Pensword tells me amongst your people that, means you're going to become something of a monster hunter,” Grif noted as he demonstrated the straps, and just where they needed to be on the body. The armor Day Moon had been given was a set made for a Pony’s body, but in a traditional Gryphon style.

“That’s right. And that means in a year or two, I’ll need to be apprenticed to a master hunter. The Wolf Clan is most likely going to ask you to train me, at least that’s what the rumors say.” He winked. “They also said I could pass along these rumors to you, if I wanted to.”

“Considering the next monster hunter licensed by any of the reigning princesses is somewhere in Whinnypeg, I expect they will. The question is whether you have what it takes,” Grif noted as he helped Day Moon with the breastplate and pauldrons.

“Won’t know till I try. Even if I fail, I’ll just keep going, until I succeed,” Day Moon replied determinedly. “Also, thank you for the help.”

“Well, you’re certainly optimistic.” Grif chuckled dryly. “Unfortunately, I can guarantee you’ll only get one chance to succeed. You either do or you die in that particular business, possibly more so than others.”

Day Moon didn’t even looked fazed. “So? If I die, then I’ll just guide whoever can see me. Uncle Pensword says his little brother does all the time.”

“Don’t lose that mindset,” Grif said with a chuckle, “but don’t rest on some kind of pre-promised destiny either. You’re going to have to show me the quality of your being in the next few years. And even then, you’re going to hate me by the time we’re done.” He quickly cinched up the buckles binding the breastplate and back plates together, with just enough of a gap for the young Thestral’s wings to fit through comfortably. “But that's the future. For now, you need to work on what's directly ahead.” Grif noticed the foal’s face as Day Moon’s gaze followed a certain orange filly with stubby wings across the grounds. He smiled knowingly as he grabbed the colt by the chin, and directed his gaze to face his beak. “Chase the filly later. For now, concentrate on what's at hand. I’m probably going to be demonized in the history books for letting you wear this, so let's at least make it look good, okay?” He chuckled again as he tested Day Moon’s wings gently, before nodding, and sliding the curved aerodynamic helmet over the colt’s face.

“Who by?” Day Moon asked curiously, but his thoughts inevitably drifted back to Scootaloo again, and before Grif could even answer, he spoke up. “Do you think she’d make a good honorary Thestral?” Then his ears twitched as Grif’s earlier words sank in. “Wait a second. ‘Pre-promised?’ Sorry, but promise or no, I plan to use my skills to help my brothers. We still have a score to settle.”

“Later.” Grif chuckled as he produced a single shortened spear. Below the point, a small plank had been nailed on horizontally. A blue-and-gold silk banner hung from it bearing the symbol of New Unity, House Strike, Clan Bladefeather, and Commander Pensword’s emblem, but all these were smaller and harder to make out. The main part of the banner was taken up by the large emblem of a snarling bear’s face. “Do you, Day Moon of House and Clan Pen, swear to bear this flag with the proper honor and decorum befitting it?” Grif asked

Day Moon moved his free wing to tap against his heart. “Upon the heart of my race and upon the code of warriors past and current, for those who shall look upon today and be inspired, I shall perform my duties with exactness and finality.”

Grif handed Day Moon the flag, and smiled. “Pensword’s taught you well.”

Day Moon took it and, placed it in a holster that had been designed so he could run or fly without the flag interfering. His expression hardened into a stern mask as he prepared himself mentally for the coming event.

As colts and fillies form Ponyville performed their routines, Grif worked to organize his troops, making sure they were properly armed and armored. He stopped briefly to watch the CMC’s routine, and to clap when they were declared the winners for Ponyville’s flag-bearers. Then he returned to his task with a focused determination. By the time he had finished, the combined troops found themselves in a single square formation near the entrance to the routine ground.

“So, as it turns out, towns can elect to name their Equestria Games representative team something else, rather then just after their town. I’ve registered New Unity as ‘The Ursas,” Grif explained to Pensword.

“You have something planned, don’t you?” Pensword asked with a raised left wing. “Because that is an oddly specific phrase to use on me.”

“You ready?” Grif asked

Pensword just nodded his head, watching and waiting for what was to come.

When New Unity's name was called out, Day Moon and his brothers were the first ones to march out. Inigo was dressed in traditional Thestral body armor. He held a shortened version of a guard’s spear and shield, and slammed the two together with every few steps. Cristo, meanwhile, was dressed in Royal Guard armor. He held a similar spear and shield set, and was mirroring his brothers actions. Between the two of them, Day Moon walked in his wolf costume.

After they had moved a few feet from the entrance, Grif nodded to Pensword, and the two marched out behind the triplets in matching step. Behind them, the troops marched out decked in there full armor. No species stood beside a member of the same species. Thestral, Pegasus, Earth Pony, Unicorn, Gryphon, Changelings, and so on, marched together. The front line threw up polished sabers, and caught them in elegant sword dancing.

"Everywhere we go!" Inigo called out. The amplification rune he wore around his neck sparked to life, causing his voice to echo boldly through the stadium as he turned to the left, and saluted with a beat against his shield, and an upward thrust of his spear.

"EVERYWHERE WE GO!"  the column repeated louder, following Inigo’s motions, and snapping a sharp salute to their left.

"People wanna know!" Cristo added as he turned to the right, beat his shield, and saluted.

"PEOPLE WANNA KNOW!" The column followed his example, striking a united salute to the right with each of their weapons.

"Who we are!" Day Moon said this time as he pounced forward. Since he was the wolf, the amplification charm had to be woven into the neck piece of his mask, but his voice carried just as well through the artificial blow horn that was his mask’s muzzle.

"WHO WE ARE!" The troops turned sharply to the front, following up with a united warrior’s shout as they brandished their weapons.

"So we tell them!" all three siblings shouted together as Cristo and Inigo closed in on their brother, and laid a shield-bearing hoof on his back with a grin.

"SO WE TELL THEM!" This time the column stomped their combined limbs without breaking stride as they all marched forward together, the sword bearers continuing their choreographed routine as the blades arced through the air, juggling between the the wielders without once touching their fellows.

"We are the Ursas!" The brothers clashed their shields over Day Moon’s back, while Day Moon stomped his hooves twice in rapid succession, triggering the runes that stored a sound spell to replicate Sylvio’s howl.

"WE ARE THE URSAS!” the troops mimed as they followed suit, emphasized by another howl.

"The mighty, mighty Ursas!"

"THE MIGHTY MIGHTY URSAS!"

They reached their destination shortly after, and the whole column, Grif and Pensword included, came to a parade rest, thrusting the butts of their spears into the ground and sheathing their swords in unison with the clanking of their armor, before unleashing one final masculine cry.

Off to the side, Kalima nodded her approval as she held Moon River aloft on her neck to view the proceedings. The foal cooed in delight as she watched with rapt attention, then cheered as the routine came to a close. Kalima clapped along with her and the other Ponies as she beamed at the sight. So many races and tribes, all working together as one cohesive unit. This was the epitome of unity, a true, new unity, one that she hoped would last for many generations to come.

The ceremonies were concluded. The towns had their flag bearers. The bearers’ names were now in the history books, and Pensword was proud to have his children among that list. Unfortunately, the events that followed the event were less than pleasurable. His eye still twitched in irritation when he recalled the memories of the days following the selection. The remainder of the journey had literally been little more than crossing swords with the Solar Court, mostly dealing with the Blueblood’s camp trying to get their hooks into the military bill.

He never thought he’d be so happy to see his desk again, a smaller replica of his original desk at Filly De Ys.Thankfully, he was back in New Unity now, and that brought a smile to his muzzle. He sat down with a groan, and sighed as he looked out on his personal office space. It was amazing what Clover could do with that expansion charm, and the office showed, having gone from a small unfurnished room to a four room complex, including a backup emergency war room and a personal study filled to the brim with books on military history and tactics. The fourth room had been hidden behind a bookcase; however, instead of the typical book latch, the mechanism had been hidden in a bust of Commander Hurricane. One simply had to lift the head and press a concealed button.

Matthew’s entire Titanic Collection, complete with a small flat screen TV, a DVD player, and a VHS player sat there, waiting for the electricity to power them. As an additional service, Clover had placed a preservation spell over the room and its contents, so nothing would degrade. He winced as he recalled her parting words: “You owe me, Pensword.” She would probably call that favor in at some moment he would least expect, and he was not looking forward to it. with help with some of his more construction-minded Gryphon children, a separate display case had been prepared to hold all the models Mathew had constructed back on earth. Books on Earth military history and tactics had been lain on glass-covered shelves keyed to his magical aura and layered with multiple protective charms and warding spells to prevent tampering or unauthorized access.

Two large maps hung along the walls, one of Equestria and its surrounding lands, and another of Earth. Flagpoles had been interspersed between the bookshelves and display cases, holding the historical flags Matthew had collected over the years. Last, but not least, a large rectangular case stood in the middle of the room with a gem light shining down on the surface. A closer examination would reveal that this particular case housed the American flag. A placard had been screwed into the casing below the flag, reading: In memory of Earth, family, ancestry, and the sacrifices they made to keep us free. You will never be forgotten. Pensword would visit that room from time to time, and stare at the placard, resting his hoof reverently on the engraving as he allowed the human side of him the chance to reflect and renew his strength, even as the two shared the stories and memories of Earth’s history, and more particularly, the history of Matthew’s family in the US Military.

The final stroke on this masterpiece of a colt cave came in the form of a series of enchanted windows that could generate any landscape Pensword wanted to see in Equestria. Currently, the one in his office was set to look out over the abandoned military port at Luna Bay.

The port structures were gone, but the docks had been maintained. They were more Roman in design, and had lasted the past thousand years without any real signs of degradation. That made the rest of the project much simpler. They would simply have to invest enough money to rebuild some of the key structures, like boathouses, lumber yards, barracks, an infirmary, that sort of thing. Pensword sighed in contentment at the thought.

A large tome sat on his desk, filled with hoof-written words. The most recent entry had only just finished drying. An inkwell and quill stood off to the side, waiting patiently for their turn. A previous abridgement of his time before becoming the Pensword of legend had already been included near the front. He had just gotten to his first great hunt, and the bear tooth he had claimed, when he looked up to find Moon River sitting in one of the chairs. Her eyes wandered over the room as her mouth dropped open in a familiar expression of awe that Lunar Fang had taken a particular interest in photographing every chance she could. Clearly, this was the fillie’s first instance of encountering a spacial expansion charm. He couldn’t help but chuckle. Of course his daughter would be the first one to discover his study. Nowhere was safe from that little Pony.

Shortly after this discovery, a knock sounded at the door. Pensword raised a curious brow. Most people would have passed that door without a second thought. After all, the room hadn’t been much larger than a small bathroom at first, hardly a place worth looking at, especially when everypony had already seen it.

He was startled yet again when he heard a knock at the door.

“Come in,” he called, and the sound of the lock disengaging filled the room. Moments later, the triplets came walking inside, looking with some surprise at the voluminous study and the doors at either end of the room. Pensword chuckled. “I am guessing you found Moon River escaped you?”

“Yes, Sir,” Inigo replied sulkily, fixing the filly with a frustrated glare that lasted a full five seconds, before melting into the natural curiosity all young creatures possessed.

“Well, she’s right over … where did she go?”

A squeal of delight echoed from the door to the study, followed by the familiar catch and grinding that heralded the opening of the secret passage. Pensword was on his hooves in a heartbeat as he raced to catch his daughter, before she could have the chance to get caught in the room alone, or worse, accidentally destroy some of the artifacts. Day Moon, Cristo, and Inigo followed close behind, making note of the exposed secret button on the bust as they raced into the hidden room.

Pensword was swift to grab his daughter just before she could rest on top of the flat screen television. She giggled in response, completely oblivious to just how close she had come to destroying such an expensive piece of technology.

“Uncle Pensword, what is this place? What are those flags? They don’t look like anything you’ve shown us before,” Inigo said. His hoofsteps echoed through the room, bouncing off the vaulted ceiling to reverberate in their ears.

Day Moon looked uncertainly at his siblings, but after a silent conversation after the nature of twins, he nodded, and turned to address his the Pony who was both father and uncle.

“Dad … are these gifts from the humans before they left?”

Pensword paused as he looked about the room, then at the triplets, and lastly at the little filly wrapped in his forelegs. He stayed there, hovering in the air for an agonizing minute as he quite literally debated with himself over what to do. He’d have laughed at the situation, were it not so serious. Finally, he shook his head to clear it, and nodded determinedly. “Cristo, please get your mothers, and bring them back here as soon as you can. I’ll make sure the door is unlocked for you.”

The colt was out of the room faster than Pinkie Pie on the hunt for a cupcake. Pensword sighed as he placed Moon River on his back and flew to one of the book cases. Once there, he pulled down a pair of large books, and lowered to the ground, handing one to Day moon and the other to Inigo. “It’s time I told you boys something, and Moon River, too. But first, let’s get back to the study. Once everyone is together, I can show you what lies in these books, and tell you about a ... let’s call it a special branch of the family.”

The two remaining triplets nodded as they made their way out into the study. A chorus of laughter greeted Pensword’s ears, and he turned to see a veritable swarm of spirits, both human and Pony. Uncle Cloud flickered between his human and Pony forms, smiling and nodding his head. Matthew’s grandfather and grandmother smiled knowingly as they gave Pensword playful winks. Many vikings, explorers, ship captains, and soldiers stood side by side with their Pony counterparts, all grinning in approval at what was to come. No words were needed. Pensword smiled gratefully, and nodded, before turning to join his sons.

It didn’t take long for the family to gather. Lunar Fang eyed the books nervously as she took her seat on a couch by the large coffee table, where the volumes lay. Fox Feather folded her forelegs expectantly as she tapped her hooves impatiently against the wooden floorboards. Moon River had climbed atop her mother’s head, and was busy nomming an ear in her usual playful manner, while Cristo, Inigo, and Day Moon stood at the ready by the table.

Pensword sighed as he looked to his children. “I must admit … I am not quite certain how to begin. I suppose the best way to say it is to just go forward, so I will start with this. It may take some time to help you children to understand what I am about to tell you properly. It is all right, if it does. You aren’t being tested here. A study is meant to be a place of learning and contemplation, and I am about to teach you a very valuable lesson.”

A timid knock sounded at the door, and all the family’s heads whipped to face it as Night Terror stepped in bearing snacks and tea on her back. She used her wings to offset the balance and ensure the tray wouldn’t topple over.

“Uh, I thought … that is–.” She cleared her throat and smiled nervously. “I made some food?” The fact that the sweet meats didn’t smell burnt or under-seasoned indicated she’d probably had help, but it was hopeful to see her trying.

Pensword nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Night Terror. This discussion will likely take some time. You can leave it on the table next to the books.” He motioned to the coffee table, then sighed. “Unfortunately, I do have to ask you to leave. This is a delicate business, a family business, and….”

“I know, I know,” she sighed back. “I’m not part of the family. Just … it’s not me, is it? I … I haven’t done anything wrong?”

Lunar Fang smiled gently as she laid a wing on the foal. “You’re not in trouble, little one,” she promised. “Why don’t you keep watch on the main door for us? That should help prevent anypony else from eavesdropping on our conversation.”

“Then … you may want to use this.” Pensword gaped as he watched the foal pull a large red gem from the pouch hanging on her side and place it on the table next to the tray. “I … thought you might want it, so I took it from your bedroom. They’re not very common, but a trained eye can tell a red herring from the average gem. Hiding it in your bed frame was very clever.” She tapped the gem once, and it turned a vibrant green, then winced as she prepared for the verbal beating she was certain would be coming her way.

Insead, Pensword grinned at her. “Clever girl,” he praised. “You may become an accomplished huntress yet, if you managed to sneak this out under Lunar Fang’s nose.” He picked up the gem, and looked at it closely. “A red herring, you say. Is that what they’re calling it now?”

“It’s the laypony’s term for it,” Night Terror explained. “Since its primary function is to mask the conversation you’re really having with a false one to confuse spies, it fits rather well.”

Pensword rubbed his chin. “I see. An interesting name, indeed. I may have to see what Grif thinks of it. He might find it intriguing. Thank you, Night Terror.”

“Of course.” Night Terror nodded, then gave a slight bow, before seeing her way out of the room and into the hallway. It was unlikely anypony would be interested in the door, and she knew placing herself in front of it was just asking for trouble. Parking herself outside the living quarters just across the hall, however, that was more believable. She smiled at her cleverness, before letting out a heavy sigh as she settled into her post.

Pensword waited until he was certain the doors had shut properly, before resuming his narrative. “Right,” he started. “Moon River, I’m not sure of how much of this you will understand, so I’ll just give you this talk when you’re older as well, just in case.”

Pensword was broken off as his two wives suddenly pounced on him, and kissed him on either cheek, while Moon River snuck in a kiss on the top of his head. Afterwards, they returned to their seats, and Pensword cleared his throat to clear the blush as he resumed.

“To put it bluntly, I’m not just your average Pegasus or Thestral.” He sighed, and took a sip of tea. In actuality, I am one of the humans who initially came to Equestria.”

“What?” Cristo balked.

“But how? Dad, you’re a Pony!” Inigo added.

“No way!” Day Moon agreed. Then his brow furrowed as he thought back to the hidden rom. “Wait, are humans military or peace minded?”

“Does that make you an alien? Does Luna know?”

Fox Feather and Lunar Fang giggled as the barrage of questions gradually changed from shock and denial to excitement and curiosity about the biology of Earth, its species, its cultures, and so very much more. The cacophony was intense.

Pensword held up a wing to signal for silence. “Easy, boys. Give me some time to explain.” He stopped as Moon River alighted on the ground, and slowly walked over to him, before touching a hoof to to his flank.

“Daddy,” she said firmly. “Still Daddy.”

This caused the other foals to blush over their initial reactions. Though still young, Moon River had a point. This Pony was still the Pensword they had known and loved, whether he had been human or not. “Sorry,” they chorused.

Pensword chuckled as he pulled all four into a winged embrace. “Not a problem. I would have been more concerned if you didn’t react that way.” He chuckled at the thought. “It’s only natural to have questions, after that kind of bombshell.”

The foals scrunched their faces in confusion, and Pensword facehoofed.

“Sorry. Sorry. It’s an earth term I can explain later. All you need to know now is that it refers to when big or surprising news is suddenly given to you. And now that we have that settled, it’s time for us to begin.” He used a wing to open the first book, revealing the picture from their visit to Earth and the family reunion therein. “The tall creatures in the back there are humans. These humans were my family, before I came to Equestria. Time passes differently between the two worlds, so the things I have to tell you about my adventures may be a bit jumbled.”

“And that’s not including the time travel,” Fox Feather added.

“Um … yes, that, too,” Pensword agreed a bit hesitantly when he noticed the children's eyes widening at the words. He sighed, then laughed. “Let me try to tell you the tale as coherently as possible.” He opened the second book, revealing the alien scrawl that was the English language. “It begins in a time not so long ago, relatively speaking, but a lifetime for me….”

As Pensword launched into his tale, Night Terror was busy writing onto some parchment. More than half the page had been scribbled over, and a tiny pyramid of scrunched up paper balls at her side showed just how many times she had struggled to get a proper beginning. She sighed heavily as she dipped her quill into the inkwell, and began her draft for what felt like the hundredth time in a row.

Dear Big Brother,

I am writing this letter to you, because … I need your advice….