//------------------------------// // Chapter 6 // Story: Fire on the Mountain // by MongolianFoodHoarder //------------------------------// “It is with strong resignation that Her Majesty Princess Celestia take leave of your stead,” Celestia’s chancellor declared days later. Tor was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He and Maia were chatting before Hollyhock arrived, whose appearance jarred the normally stalwart Maia. He was a middle-aged and very stern looking stallion, with a permanent scowl stuck to his face, adding to the dread to his news. “I don’t understand, Mister Hollyhock!" She exclaimed after recovering from a surprised stupor. "If there’s anything we can do to give Her Majesty a more favorable time here —” Hollyhock shot up a stern hoof. “You're right, you don't understand. The demonstration of your firearm” — he regurgitated the word with vitriol — “is not only the antithesis of Her Majesty’s goals in our relationship, but it exposes one of Equestria's greatest secrets! You have to understand the effort Her Majesty exerted to keep this from the world at large!” Maia recoiled, scowling. “Mister Hollyhock, please! This was an agreement made between private citizens of both our nations. The Confederacy was not complicit in this arrangement.” “But your patronage defies that defense, Consul. Our trade agreements state explicitly that sparkpowder is to not be manufactured.” Hollyhock tilted his head to look over the golden spectacles balanced on the ridge of his snout. “You would be wise to distance yourself from this and align with Her Majesty’s recommendations. Forget this discovery and you will no longer find yourself in jeopardy of a possible embargo.” “Embargo?” Both gryphons exclaimed. Maia’s frustration diffused first. She raised a soft talon to Tor, patting the air. She continued: “Those are serious words, Mister Hollyhock! This weapon could spell years of security for both of us. When — and it is not if — when King Sombra returns from his exile and rises to conquer Equestria again, what will you have? Hope? Love?" Maia clenched a fist in front of her. "It was determination and will that birthed the Confederacy, and has kept our flame alive!" “It was love that helped unite the Confederacy, Consul,” Hollyhock replied, pulling his snout back up. “It was the hope for a better tomorrow that inspired your generals and your soldiers. If you don’t understand this, then you have seriously misunderstood that which makes Equestria a much different place! If the basics of magic elude you, then so can the magics of friendship.” He straightened himself. “I’m sorry, Consul. But this is how it is. The ball is in your court.” Maia bristled, crossing her arms. Tor advanced towards Hollyhock with a friendly talon outstretched. “Sir, perhaps we can reconvene here in a few hours. Cooler heads will prevail.” Hollyhock furrowed his brow. “No, My Lord. That’s not going to happen. This weapon is dangerous, and the Princess does not see this as a stabilizing entity. Your people have endangered the balance” — He stamped a hoof for emphasis — “of the eastern hemisphere.” “On the contrary!” Tor rebuked. “We're defending ourselves and our way of life. We need the upper-talon against the minotaur — If anything, we'll be forging a better future for all of us!” “You can’t be serious,” Hollyhock said plainly. “You don’t see the repercussions here? If this gets out, the blood of millions will be on your talons!” He paused to steady himself, taking a breath. “Her Majesty may be a pacifist, but she is not ignorant to war — Nor is she ignorant of your conquests of the minotaur.” Tor's feathers began to fluff as his mouth twisted into a frustrated frown. “Then, it seems we’ve come to an impasse.” “So it seems.” Hollyhock nickered. “Good day, milord, milady.” He nodded to each respectively and then bowed. He trotted with expert cadence to the door, sliding it open with his gold magic. He walked out without another word. The door slid shut with an angry snap. The air’s weight hung heavy on the gryphons' shoulders. Maia, her frame stalwart just moments prior, grew limp as she clambered onto her chair. She idly reached into her coat and dug out a small cigarillo case and naphtha lighter. She popped the case open and silently picked out a smoke, nipping the tip off its top. She expertly lit the end of the cigarillo, exhaling a bellow of smoke with a sad sigh. Tor approached, placing a talon on her shoulder. She simply looked ahead, her face neutral. “I’m ruined,” she muttered flatly. "Absolutely ruined." Tor sported a lopsided grin. “I think I would call it a minor setback." “Give my soul to Toke Gün!" She wiped a talon over her face with a groan. The talon landed on a twisted gold torc around her neck and started fondling it. "The forum is already on us for our fraternization with the lower classes — And after this, who knows what they’ll do?” She rested her cigarillo on a delicate ceramic ashtray and then pulled on a drawer next to her. Inside was a bundle of crinkled newspapers, their headlines huge and bombastic. Slamming them on the table, Maia sifted through the pages. “Naturally, the forumite papers lambaste me — and by extension, you — but even those in our camp point their pikes at us. ‘A Folly Most Fowl!’” — She turned another page — “‘The Sun Sets!’” — Another, with Tor’s soft demeanor failing — “‘Weakness of the Senate!’ We didn’t win with our spat, Tor — And with this, we’re nothing but rich fledglings in the eyes of the forum!” More headlines passed to hammer the failure. Tor looked away in thought, keeping his talon on her shoulder. “This will be..." Tor hesitated, finding his words. "Well, it’ll be a tough move for Celestia to make. Honestly? I think she's bluffing.” “Bluffing? She’s…” Maia drifted off momentarily. She then gave Tor an incredulous look. “Tor, you can’t be serious!” “Oh, I'm very serious!" Tor chuckled mockingly, his tail wagging as he remembered Celestia's face. “You should have seen her, Maia. The further we advanced into the exhibition, the more she grew in uncertainty. She squirmed like a fledgling on its first hunt — It was as if she knew that the future was set in stone with us, and that we had strode unhindered with the winds on our wings!" “We opened Pandora’s Box.” Maia stood with a sigh, popping the cigarillo back into her beak. She made her way across the room to a small bar that lay nestled in a corner. Smoke lazily drifted while Maia poured amber from an ornate bottle into a tumbler. There you go, Tor admonished. Thinking of her before us — Not even Maia has broken herself from Celestia's command. “You said it yourself, Tor,” she continued after a sip. “The weapon blasted a hole through mino armor effortlessly. You could stick a couple of fingers into it! If that gets out to the rest of the world..." She sighed, her face contorting with uncertainty. "Hollyhock is right. We would shift the balance of power.” "Is that a bad thing?" Tor asked. "In doing so, we would be creating a far more equal playing field. The weapons themselves are a huge force multiplier. However” — Tor gestured with an erect digit on his talon — “the weapons aren't the key to this. It’s sparkpowder. There are two nations that have access to the secret” — He then grinned wickedly — “and we're one of them.” "You are correct, Tor." Maia shook her head. "But why is it worth changing the game? We've had unprecedented stability, and I don't feel comfortable leading the charge." "The equines invented the steam engine. But it was gryphons who incorporated steam engines onto rudimentary balloons, beginning the age of the airship. If it weren't for that, we wouldn't have the trade networks we possess, nor the speed to visit the rest of the world. But from sparkpowder, we can fight the minotaur in ways we'd never considered, and we can bring the fight to them! They couldn't imagine an airship, let alone a firearm." This gave Maia some pause. She gently puffed smoke while idly rubbing the underside of her beak. “The minos aren’t capable of such feats. They don’t understand industry or mechanization…” Tor finished: “But they have us beat by their tenacity and strength. Which is why we need to act — we have the capacity to end our conflicts, once and for all!” He approached Maia, his eyes bright. “Imagine, being the consul who steps into the capital of the ancient republic after seven hundred years.” Maia was starstruck from the idea. “Not only would the homeland be safe, but we can unite our lands, finally, under one banner!” Maia’s fascination with the far eastern border of the Confederacy was well known. Its history was diverse as any other part of gryphon history, but this fascinated her in particular. The ancient texts that were recovered over the years described a beauty and splendor that begged to be recovered. She, much like Tor, had ancient holdings where the minotaur’s influence now reigned. Though Tor was more passive in his interest, Maia was driven to see her ancestral lands before she died. But with the stalemate on the frontier, there would never be a chance. However — “With sparkpowder, we can drive back the cur and claim our birthright.” Tor narrowed his eyes and a savage grin grew. “Your birthright.” Without saying, he added: And become the next Great Power. Maia hesitated. She looked to her tumbler with a girlish grin, struck by wonder. But, she shook her head, laughing with disbelief. “You had me, Tor!” She sighed. “Six bless, you had me. But we can’t do this — never!” Can’t do this? Tor asked internally. Is this how we’ll be seen until the end of time? Adherent to a foreign hegemony? He wanted to snatch the tumbler from Maia’s grasp and smash it into the fireplace. For all the power we have, we are still subservient to Celestia! “You're already in hot water with the forum,” Tor warned, changing tactics. “If you acquiesce to Celestia’s demand, that shows weakness. So, aside from incurring her anger, you would be seen as groveling to her. That’s not what I want from my consul.” Maia scoffed. “Now you’re just being unreasonable.” “Unreasonable?” Tor’s voice rose. Maia cocked her head, casting a weary gaze at Tor. Tor continued: “Unreasonable would be bowing to Celestia. The forum, with all their griping, would sooner turn this around and make a wider wedge between us and the plebs. Answer me, Maia — Are we a free people, or pawns of a hegemon?” “I won’t hear any of this!” Maia waved a talon. “Equestria is an ally of the Confederacy, and unlike what your little conspiracy likes to say, we are not her servant." “Yet Celestia finds the want for cooperation as a mere fancy.” Tor began to gesture enthusiastically. “We tread in waters she dares not go — Let us be the first to chart them!” Maia shook her head, dismissing Tor with another wave. “And if the world turns against us, Tor? Everyone on this planet looks to her for guidance on the order of things — And why should we not? She advocates peace, why should we go against the grain?” “It's a noble goal,” Tor admitted. “But that nobility is squandered when her goals put her as the head of this movement. She keeps her people ignorant as a consequence, so why not censor us as well?” He pounded a talon in the other emphasize. “If we adopt this weapon, it shows strength and self-determination. We will have friends, and, perhaps, we’ll finally have respect from Equestria.” “I won’t hear more of this, Tor!” Maia clenched her free talon into a fist. “How could you even suggest a fight with Equestria? Just so we can bolster your pride?" She pounded the tumbler onto her desk and approached Tor. “We won't dismantle years of stability, not while I'm consul!” Tor scowled, gesturing with more fury. “If not against Celestia, then who? The forum? When they draw guns from their holsters, you’re going to remember the moment you could’ve stopped them.” A growl began to rumble from his throat. “What happens during the next mino invasion? What if a slug could’ve saved a poor gryph’s life? Would you allow the bloodspill of a kinsman as an acceptable loss for a little wink from Celestia?” Smack! Maia’s talonstrike knocked Tor off balance. A silence followed, only the snapping of firewood and the ticking clock echoed off the walls. As Tor recovered, a standoff began, its tension liable to break, and alongside it, the room. Their chests bellowed, their stances became aggressive crouches, and they looked at each other from behind heavy, scowled brows. Tor’s talon itched for his sword. Maia’s silhouette in front of the fire reminded him of an advancing minotaur brandishing a terrible hammer. But as harrowing as her figure looked, he forced his body to slow down and ease. He mentally counted, pacing his breathing. Maia straightened herself and crossed her arms. A menacing tone accompanied her disappointment. “Are you done, senator?” Another long pause. “Yes, My Consul.” She turned her back on him. “Then, you are dismissed.” I could get drunk. Tor thought to himself, sifting through his bar. He shut it defeated — As if the drink would ease your tension, fool! He paced behind his desk, his mind busied. I may have been out of line, but I feel it in my bones. Rub shoulders with Celestia she'll do, but Six forbid she takes some initiative. He scowled, leering at nothing on the carpet. We have our problems, and we're not perfect — goodness knows the Veronian Code is the least of my worries — but at least we could try and work past them! It's almost as if Maia likes the status quo, playing Consul like another fledglinghood game. Doing things to benefit our class, nothing else. He then gazed at his desk, piled on with parcels of the day. I'm growing weary of playing, too. What help am I here? The plebs are my pawns, and only I reap the rewards of victory. He briefly stared at the stenciled ceiling. Were this another life... He mulled over to his desk and slumped into his chair with a sigh, reminding himself to work. There was little he wanted to do but to keep himself planted in his seat. With some effort, he managed to straighten himself out to snatch up the correspondence on his desk. In fashion, he laid them out before him, counting out the five letters addressed to him — And a newspaper? I don’t remember asking the post to be sent directly… Tor hefted the newspaper, thick like the Sunday editions always were. He wasn’t unfamiliar with reading a newspaper in his office, quite the contrary; It was imperative that he was caught up on the latest within the Confederacy and beyond — But he picked up a copy of the Post an hour before joining session, every day. But being sent to his office? Surely a mistake! Before he unfolded the paper, Tor spied a handwritten note on it: You won’t believe who I found! Turn to page A3. You’ll be in for a surprise. -Gaius Tor humored Gaius with a grunt and unrolled the paper. He glanced past many of the current events: a surge in strikes across the country, concerns over the proposed iron trade agreement, and of course Celestia's botched visit. He passed the article about the strikes with some interest — There had been a long string of them, including in his hometown Rasorgi, which headquartered the Metal Shapers Union. He grimaced. The third strike this year! What in Tartarus are we even doing about it? I've told Gareth to bring up some sort of measure to address worker's rights, and yet nothing! A pang shot through his gut, only to be reminded again of Gareth's desertion. Damn it, lad... Their demands were always the same — improved working conditions, a shorter workweek, better benefits, the list goes on — but local militias were being called more and more to guard factories and mines from their workers. Just a month ago, the United Mine Workers of the Confederacy came to blows with the mining companies in the Hyperborean Mountains. It may have been a simple skirmish, but... It could get a lot worse. Tor was sympathetic to the unions — a sympathy rooted from debating his subordinates while enlisted. Many lads who served with him came from salt-of-the-earth type families, who all worked in the unions. Tor had a stand off-ish relationship with the concept, what with the idea that they should be happy to even be employed at all — But with enough time at the pub, and many drinks, he was convinced of their necessity. If I can live an easy life, then surely my comrades should be as close to that life as possible! He looked off to the side briefly. Though collective ownership, I still have a hard time wrapping my head around it. He shook his head and sighed. The fight had been years long, and it seemed that their voices were eventually to be choked silent. He had no power over the economic side of the Confederacy, only a hope. There we go again with hope, he mused. Maybe Hollyhock had something there. He turned to page A3, and his eyes widened at the headline: The Lion Roars! An image of a stern zebra stood at the head of a giant crowd, his features coarse and rough like the mountain that peered above him. He was scarred and gruff, with a gold hoop hanging from his left ear, and his right ear was barely a nub. His photo was captured in mid-sentence, and it was like he was yelling a deafening war cry. Tor couldn’t mistake him: It was Colonel Ibhubesi, or as how Tor remembered by his title, the Lion of the Athenian Valley. His image evoked the terrible roar Ibhubesi’s Battalion: “Ukafa!” Death! He had gained acclaim after they last met, coming from his officer's post to eventually rising to the rank of chapter president of the UMWC — Only to be stripped of that title after leading the wildcat strike the article had mentioned. Tor chuckled. He was always known for taking his foes by surprise. As Tor read the article, his vision grew hazy and unfocused. The print shifted in his vision. It fell like mino arrows, devil hail forged with the hate of Toke Gün and the ferocity of Tartarus. He could smell the sweat that stuck to his gambeson, how it glinted from his face and onto his breastplate. His jinbaori surcoat was in tatters, barely hanging from his shoulders. His jingasa’s cheek plates were pulled tight, secured on his head. The world's noise echoed dull metallic from under it, muffling voices and the clank of steel. Blood smeared on his face from Tuulikki's terrible, hemorrhaging gut wound. He tried to stem the flow, but it wasn't going to help. Not with a hole that big. She reached up to him, her beak dropping soundless words into the earth. She reached up to Tor — But, Six bless, we have to form up for the defense! He looked up to Gaius, pointing his crossbow at a stretch of wood on the other side of the road. It, and the rest of the world around them, was bathed in harsh reds of hellfire from the burning settlement to the east of them. The blaze was contained behind its stucco walls, but those walls were bound to fall. Tor shouted to Gaius, which was nearly drowned from the other voices yelling around them. Gaius looked to Tor with a nod, but not before he loosened a bolt. As it whistled past, Tor directed Gaius to aid the dying Tuulikki while he rose to his company. She would not see Tor again. Just beyond the road, the faint, hulking silhouettes of muscle and horn began to show. Passing through pillars of daylight, the minotaur were like wisps floating through the wood, only their angry eyes and warpaints a sign of their approach. The group of civilians behind the company yelled in fear, nearly deafening Tor. His body was hypersensitive to the world as he focused himself: The warm wind blew the sickly-sweet scent of singed flesh. The grass crunched below him as he stepped forward towards the road with his troops. His backsword glistened in crimson and silver, and was his terrible instrument of command. He turned to his trumpeter, Stajno, for the command Form rank. His skirmishers drew up in line, stepping through the blood, moving around the bodies. They were careful to keep their grim expressions subdued, to not give much hope to the mino ahead — Much good that would do. The mino kept their distance for the meanwhile, beating their shields and shaking their weapons. They chanted a guttural song in unison, causing Tor's skin to crawl. It felt like a funeral dirge. Tor’s gryphs came together like a living bulwark. They had just their bucklers, backswords and crossbows, of which they were maybe sharing a handful of bolts. Their pikes all snapped hours ago, unable to hold back the terrible tide. There were so many of them, Tor thought. Six hundred at the least, maybe eight hundred at the most. My two hundred struck hard, but we were wheat to the scythe. Damn the mino — every last one of them! Tor looked behind him, the civilians shaking and praying. Last count was seventy five, maybe eighty, from a town of a thousand. Tor stood next to Kama, his standard bearer, and looked down the ragged line of Echo Company. They weren’t line infantry, but they were all that was left. He let out a defiant yell to counter the mino war chant. He was echoed by sixty other voices, the chorus of the damned. Are you ready to die? Because we are! From the shadows the hulking form of the mino war party emerged. Thick, bronzed bodies shielded their flesh, and blood dribbled from their weapons. Their horns were adorned with ribbons of every color, and flitted in the breeze. Were this another world, beauty could be seen in their advance as the sun’s warm rays glowed around them in sick, heavenly juxtaposition. Behind him, Gaius pulled Tor’s attention. He stuck his hand out onto a tree wordlessly, and Tor did the same. A different vibration shuddered through the trunk. Its cadence was fast, steady, and fluctuated like his heartbeat. His ears perked. Who else approached? The mino roared again. Tor didn’t bother to look for the rumble's source, instead to counter-roar with his comrades. It’s time. Time to fight. Time to find his home in the cliffs of Sarmma. Tor stood in Zornhut stance, buckler up and sword raised just above the shoulder. The line joined him and took a step forward. Behind him, the remaining townsfolk began to retreat. Fledglings cried as their mothers tried to hush them. Their fathers rushed beside, their weapons rugged as the clothes left on their backs. Whoever could fly could. The few zebra here were escorted by willing volunteers. They would be lucky to escape alive. A step forward, ready. Then, the mino began to move. Their cry was bloodcurdling. The closer they moved, the snarl on their snouts curled into arrogant smiles. To compound it, their shields were left down just to reinforce their dominance. What fear is there to have when the game has been won? It was checkmate — A tap at Tor’s left. He looked over to tell Adrasteia to shut up, but there was more to be seen. The terrible rumble became clearer, and a cloud of dust bellowed toward them, accompanied with a shining of polished, blue steel. Banners and flags whipped violently, obscuring any insignia. They were maybe a kilometer off, maybe a little closer. How did I not see them? If I couldn’t notice... Then he wouldn't give the minotaur a chance. They’d keep their attention until the last moment. He shouted the order to charge. Then the trumpet blared. Tor could smell the scent of fear in the air as the unit advanced, mixed with the acrid taste of sweat and oil. Another step forward, and his whole body began to stand on end, every hair and feather pressing against every fiber of his thick gambeson. The line moved as one unit, a continuous line of cobalt and flashing metal. At first, their advance was a coordinated march, but quickly devolved into a wave of steel, crashing headfirst into the uncountable mino war party. Their yells echoed thunder, drowning out the fear that boiled in Tor's gut. Like clockwork, his drilled training moved his body like a gruesome machine of war. Cut — a miss. Thrust — a quick nick on the horn. Block — twenty pounds of steel stopped by Tor's quick movement. Riposte — A howl of pain! Anything to keep their attention until the last possible minute! Tor moved as fast as he could, his numbed mind only focused on his drilled movements. He deflected a sword stroke with his buckler, and within that movement cut through the tendons of his opponent’s arm. A tide of blood rushed from the wound, coating Tor's blue, enameled armor. The minotaur’s warcry turned to a roar of pain, swiftly cut silent with a return of polished steel through the neck. A terrible torrent flowed down the side of his backsword and over its basket hilt, washing his talon with a terrible stink of copper. Just a minute more, Tor yelled in his head. Soon, soon! A beleaguered cry rang next to Tor, Adrasteia at the mercy of a mino spatha speared through her gambeson. The spray of blood from Tor’s minotaur caused the stabbing minotaur to flinch, which gave Tor enough time to reach over and jab his sword through a thick, coiled thigh. Even with a sword through her, Adrasteia punched her shield’s edge straight up the minotaur’s jaw, blasting teeth from his mouth. “Ukafa!” A terrible cry rang. The clanging of steel stopped for a crucial moment. The combatants looked down the road. A steel bulwark charged, quaking the earth. Steel-tipped lances gleamed like a thousand stars, and pointed straight for them. Tor could finally see it: Confederate Chargers — Zebra heavy cavalry. “Ukafa!” Cried out again, shouted by what sounded like a hundred thousand voices. Their collective being tore through Tor's body like a hammer to the gut, shaking him to his core. The minotaur all tried to adjust, but were too busied with Echo Company when Tor pressed the attack. They bounced off each other to gain better footing, or were beginning to break. Tor, in a moment of respite, saw a striking white plume whipping from the top of the leading helmet, standing out among the sea of blue steel. Under its helmet drew the beginnings of the battle cry once more. “Ukafaaaaaaa!” The zebra shouted. Their gallop thundered across the valley, the chant echoed with the strength of millions, the cloud of dust obscuring what could be the only instance of living sea come to devour its prey. Just as the world was about to fall apart, the first lance struck with a power of a thousand terrible thunder— Clap, clap clap! Tor shook himself. He looked to his talons, no longer encased in steel gauntlets. His shoulders were light without the clasp of steel. The newspaper he held was scattered, blanketed on his lap. He tried to steady his breathing while cleaning up, but his calm betrayed his shaking talons. He rubbed his wrists, the subtle roughness of his callouses gone, like the time long past. One. Two. He told himself. He felt his pulse slowly beginning to subside. One. Two. One. Two. Tor placed a talon on his desk to steady himself. He shook his head, shaking off the haze. He wiped his other talon over his face, but surprised himself when he felt dampness. He was crying. I visit the frontier and back in under — He looked up to his clock — It was only five minutes? It took almost an hour to the fighting to start — Stop. Tor placed his talon over his heart to steady himself. Clap, clap, clap! Came the noise again. Tor perked his ears and realized his door was being knocked on. He wiped his eyes and finished getting his mess in order. “Come in,” Tor said, making his way to the bar. The door slid open as he poured blue liquor into a shaking tumbler he tried to steady. Just a haunting — You can get through it again! He looked away from the door, trying to choke his sobs. His tumbler shook harder in his talon, and could only suppress it with a quick gulp of his liquor — He squeezed his eyes tight as the liquid fire soared through his body. That’ll straight you, he reprimanded himself. With a quick deep breath, he placed the glass down and turned about to see Golden Sunshine walk in. “Miss Sunshine,” he greeted with a smile. He hoped she didn’t read tails very well, because his was fidgeting, trying to wrestle with the swirl of feelings. “Please make yourself comfortable.” He gestured to a chair before his desk. “It’s a wonderful surprise to see you.” “Thank you, Lord Razorwing.” She unbuckled the saddlebags on her and placed them near the door. She approached the chair, and scooted herself up, taking time to adjust to its height. “I hope I’m not bothering you, sir?” “You’re only keeping me from looking at a few documents,” Tor said, approaching his desk. Before he took a seat, he stared at the space in front of Sunshine. “Can I offer you a drink, miss?” “Well…” Sunshine hesitated. “You wouldn’t happen to have any sirrahlah?” Tor cocked his head, surprised. “You must be the first equine I’ve ever met who’s even heard of sirrahlah!” He smiled at her, and she replied with her own. He strode to the bar, his mind growing distant from his haunting. “Well, when Ren realized he wasn’t going to get any closer to the Princess after the demo, he decided to treat me to a few drops of the stuff,” Sunshine chuckled. “Didn’t do him any favors, but I think I found a new favorite import.” “I have a few friends from thereabouts the Pleagian Trail.” Tor pulled on the bar’s pearl handles to reveal the plethora of colored bottles within. With a fair amount of digging, he pulled out a rectangular bottle, flawlessly transparent, and a bit dusty. He popped its cork after dusting it off, pouring a pink, cloudy liquid into a free tumbler. The scents of cherry flowed freely with the wine. “Damn good stuff, I must say, Miss Sunshine,” he continued. “This particular batch is from a winery north of Talon’s Reach. Look up the Brasti Winery once you have a chance.” He brought the tumbler to eye level, inspecting the wine. The swirling clouds coursed like fog rolling across a river. He began to breathe faster as his mind started to race. C'mon, lad, steady yourself. He paced his breathing. “I will,” Sunshine replied, helping pull Tor back to reality. “As unsuccessful as Ren was, I guess I can only thank him for the drink.” Tor walked back to the desk and placed her drink down. With a nod of thanks, the unicorn pulled the glass to her lips effortlessly with her telekinesis. Always enamored with the art, Tor took time to see her perform it. “I suppose that’s the only thing you’ll thank him for, considering.” Tor took his seat, leaning back in the chair. “I’m sorry, My Lord. Regardless of my opinions, I can only ask the princess to respect whatever decisions the Confederacy makes in the future.” Sunshine also looked at the glass, amused at the fogginess. “But, I’m not here to talk politics today, sir. I just wanted to say my goodbyes.” Tor nodded. “It’s a shame that we have to part due to such unfortunate circumstances, miss Sunshine.” Sunshine took another sip and sighed. “Incredibly unfortunate. I was hoping to stay a little longer, even after Celestia had left, but she’s forbidden my stay — especially since I've poked my nose into the Purge. Leaving will be a little tough for me.” She stared to the side, her brow furrowed. “Stoneanchor is lovely, My Lord, but I had wished to see the Black Beaches, or maybe even Castle Gryphonstone; It had been a fillyhood dream to finally visit, but…” She sighed again. “I’m not blaming you, sir. It’s just the circumstances have —” “It’s politics, miss Sunshine,” Tor interrupted. “It is tiresome and does not always smooth the feathers.” His features softened and he leaned back in his chair with a grin. “But you honor me with your love of our history and culture — even if we may not always agree with one another, I am happy I can speak to you as a friend.” Sunshine’s ears perked up, and a small smile grew on her muzzle. “I didn’t think I’d cultivate a friendship with a gryphon senator! Filly Sunshine would probably lose her mind.” “Being the student of Celestia wouldn’t have done that alone?” Tor asked. “Well… yeah, probably,” Sunshine shrugged. “But my dad used to be a bit of an adventurer, you see. He was a merchant marine long before I was born. He would love to tell me about the Black Beaches and the port city of Losagi, and oh! So much more.” Tor rested his head on a talon, smiling at her story. Sunshine continued: “He always said there was a kind of ancient weight to gryphon society. It felt older than Equestria, much more nuanced and elegant, like an old marble pillar. Echoes through the steepest valleys, secrets stashed in the deepest caves.” Her ears flopped back and grinned bashfully. “I was a very excitable young filly.” Tor chuckled. “Your enthusiasm is infectious, miss Sunshine.” Sunshine smiled, swirling the wine around in the glass. “I’d joke saying that I worked my way to being her student just for the chance to join her on her diplomatic trips, but there is some truth in it. I always tell myself that once I leave her stead, I’ll ask to join the diplomatic corps — But I really don’t know what students do after they’ve left her.” She paused, tapping a hoof to her chin. “The Princess doesn’t really speak about it much…” “Well, whatever your choice, miss Sunshine, you will be welcome here in the Confederacy. If you ever need a place, my door will be open.” “Thank you, Tor — oop!” Sunshine shot a hoof to her mouth. “It’s alright,” he assured, patting the air with a talon. “I think we can forego the formality. ‘Tor’ is just fine.” Sunshine giggled. “Well, when in Canterlot, and all that.” Though the afternoon was shadowed by the overhanging cloud that was the Equestrian departure, it did not deter Tor and Sunshine’s time together. More glasses of wine were poured, and tales of the world were told. Tor’s spirits were lifted with her presence, happy to sit down with someone who wasn’t so intertwined with politics and statecraft. Sunshine proved to be a delightful conversationalist, counter to stories Tor heard about Celestia's previous students. It was wonderful to share wine with Sunshine — perhaps a little too much — but it made the words flow even better. Tor wished he could have more afternoons without politics. But, he lamented. Such is the way of the senator. “—And so,” Sunshine finished some time later. “I told her, ‘No, mademoiselle Sweetwater, this barn door doesn’t swing both ways!’” The two shared a boisterous laughter. Tor took a final sip from his glass, painstakingly nursed to sustain a light, gentle buzz. “Aye, the Prench — They look at the world in a far more unique way, do they not?” “They do! With some of the ways they look at relationships, I think my mother would go four shades of red by some of the things I’d tell her!” They laughed again. Sunshine finished off her glass with a satisfying ahh! “Tor, I must take a bottle of this with me. It might be the last bottle I have for a long time.” “For a long time?” Tor mused. "You sound so sure." “If this stupid embargo starts, then it will be.” Tor reached into his purse, fumbling with a few coins. “Color me skeptical, but I think she's bluffing — and we're going to call her out on it.” He pulled out handful of pieces and placed them on Sunshine’s side of the desk. “Here, Sunshine — This’ll pay for a bottle. Hold on, let me write down Dureessa’s city address.” He opened a drawer for his blank parchment, only for him to see Rovena’s letter. He felt warmth fill his cheeks, smiling. Aye, she'd make a good secretary, I think... not to mention good company. He made a mental note to bring it home with him, as her mailing address was attached. Sunshine nodded in thanks, and magically placed the coins into her saddlebags. “Please, Tor. Don’t underestimate the princess. She was… well, I’d say rather alarmed after the demo. She’s begun to reassess the capability of the Confederacy.” Tor was hoping it was because of their friendship that she was dropping such information, instead of the drink. Hiding his surprised reaction, he kept his head down as he wrote his supplier’s address. “Reassess,” he said plainly. “She described the Confederacy as a sleeping dragon: It would take one development to push it into having an advantage that could change the balance of power, and how it's distributed. She thinks this is it.” Sunshine gestured with a hoof. “She's okay with you keeping your mechanized military, your industrial capacity — but it can’t really affect power, just deployment. But with something as explosive as this, and using sparkpowder as its building blocks, it could lead to a lot.” We can keep our — Celestia, that bitch! Tor smouldered. He pressed down on his pen, causing ink to splatter on the page. He swore under his breath. “I thought she’d be willing to share in its use,” he said, reeling in his anger. “An offering of our friendship.” “As impressed as I was,” Sunshine admitted. “She sees more power in economic and diplomatic means. Soft power, you’re familiar.” Tor grunted in response while dabbing the page with a small handkerchief. Sunshine continued with channeled hesitation: “She’s also afraid.” Tor looked up from the page, genuinely surprised from the admittance. He suppressed his smile, cocking his head. “Afraid?” “Perhaps some context is necessary: A few decades after the establishment of the Third Era — after the defeat of Discord — the old republic had begun to expand in earnest.” Tor was familiar. It was almost a thousand years ago, where the republic decided that it wanted to incorporate the other disparate gryphon tribes under one banner. Though it led to a period of frequent warfare, it did its job, and unfortunately led to a wider set of campaigns. But it seems to Celestia that old habits die hard. “She doesn’t want that to happen again,” Sunshine said. “She’s afraid that if you expanded rapidly like that, it would involve the whole eastern hemisphere, and quite possibly, the rest of the world.” Tor was taken aback. “A global war?” He asked. A war of that magnitude was hypothesized to occur, but, it was only just a hypothesis — Why would we even want to fight anyone else but the mino? “That’s a bold claim, Sunshine,” Tor asserted. “I can assure her that our wars are defensive, or on legitimate justification — not to mention primarily against the minotaur.” Sunshine challenged: “Yet you still war?” Tor nodded sagely. “That is the nature of things, Sunshine. Most beings do not enjoy war, but like the setting of the sun, it is a mechanism of the world we live in.” He sighed and shook his head. “But we are not the warlike republic of old — Even if we use this weapon, it is just to recover that which was lost.” Sunshine opened her mouth to respond, but Tor silenced her with an erect digit. “The minotaur swept in from the far eastern seas and decimated the republic. They drove us from our homes, our lives, and broke the republic’s back. It caused the shattering of the republic and the warring states period. After four hundred years of that, we recovered. We have old families, old holds, old histories, lost in minotaur paws. They refuse to talk, and only care about fighting us. That is our enemy — and we have a right to our home.” “You may have casus belli, Tor, but that doesn’t keep you from wanting to go elsewhere. If you don’t mind me playing Discord’s Advocate — What’s stopping you from moving to other parts of the continent? “Quite simply, our record.” Tor laid out his argument with sincerity: “Aside from our frequent diplomatic envoys to our neighbors, we have done what we can to foster dignity and respect — especially to Equestria. Notice our first intention with the gun was to share it with Equestria. Not to mention the fact that we've never engaged in any international war. All of our wars have been domestic, from the Great Resurgence and our wars with the mino." Tor shrugged. “With the mino, Sunshine, bad blood is just bad blood.” Sunshine nodded, processing the information. “Perhaps her fear is a little unfounded. Maybe her thoughts have been clouded because of the past.” “My thoughts precisely.” “But you can’t ignore her — nor should you disregard continuing diplomatic relations with the minotaur.” Tor grumbled at that. Sunshine continued: “Living over a millennium is no small feat, and that includes a wealth of wisdom. She has seen the world in ways you and I can't comprehend. She has seen nations rise and fall, including yours, to a multitude of factors.” Sunshine rose from the chair, securing the saddlebag to her flanks. “I may be frequently skeptical of my teacher, but I'm always going to consider her words first.” “That's an understandable point of view,” Tor agreed, rising as well. “But this is not that greedy republic. We are different.” They made their way to the door, and Tor slid it open for Sunshine. “Just whatever your people do, Tor," Sunshine warned. "I hope that it leads something good. I want you to prove Celestia wrong.” “We will,” Tor assured. “I have faith that we will use our own hope in the future. We are a resilient people." Tor then bowed. "Merry meet and merry part, Sunshine.” “And merry meet again, Tor,” Sunshine replied, with a soft smile. Tor's tail wagged, happy with her familiarity with the old farewell. Tor laughed. "Best of luck on your way home.” She left with a bow, and trotted out the door. Tor shut it with an approving nod. Yes, Tor thought, his smile growing. A hope.