Extended Holiday
Ch 142: There Will be Blood
Act 22
“And here is the noble Hurricane estate, where Commander Pensword had his birthright and adoption into the founding family recognized a second time,” the guide, a somewhat tall and lanky Unicorn mare with an overly curly blond mane and horn-rimmed glasses said. “It was quite the scandal, let me tell you.”
“Um, excuse me.” A white hoof shot up from the middle of the crowd.
“Yes?”
“What birthright are you talking about, exactly? Pensword was adopted into a family that was a mixture of Thestral and Pegasus. His father wasn’t even remotely related to the Hurricanes.”
The eyes of the crowd turned to stare at the Unicorn with a carefully coiffed mane, a leather holster at his waist, and a long white staff on his back.
The mare barked a single derisive laugh. “You must have gotten your facts mixed up, dearie. I happen to have this information from the highest authority.”
“You mean Pensword, himself?”
“Well, naturally not. You don’t really expect a Pony to air his own dirty laundry, do you? And as you said yourself, he was adopted.” She practically purred as she bore her teeth in a vicious smile.
“So who was your source?”
“A good reporter never reveals her secrets,” the mare chided.
The stallion narrowed his gaze. “You know, you remind me of a very unpleasant character I read about once in a book.”
“And you remind me of a knowitall apologist who isn’t willing to accept facts. Now then, moving on. Next, we’ll stop at the Third Gryphon War museum, where we’ll review an account from Pensword’s personal journals.”
“Oh, now that’s just bogus!”
“Excuse me?”
“I know for a fact that none of Pensword’s personal journals were recovered, after he disappeared from Equestria.”
“Just who do you think you are?”
“Name’s Vital Spark. I’m a close friend of the Commander. I work for Lord Hammer Strike on a part time basis, and I go running with Grif Grafson’s Rohirrim every morning. Maybe you’ve heard of me?”
The mare laughed mockingly. “And I’m Princess Celestia.” The whole crowd erupted into hysterics at that point. That is, until they all suddenly lost their footing and slammed their faces against ice-covered cobblestones that had been bone-dry just moments before.
“Did I forget to mention I study under Clover the Clever?” Vital asked in a cold voice. “And I don’t take kindly to people insulting my honesty.” He raised his staff in his magical aura. “Of course, if you’d like, we can settle this with a magical duel, Miss Mill. Clover trained me for combat, but I’m sure I can manage to tone it down enough to suit nonlethal standards.”
The mare continued to skitter along the cobblestones of the street.
“Ah, but I see you’re otherwise occupied. Let me help you with that.” One flash of light later, the ice was gone, and the Ponies rose shakily onto their hooves again. Vital Spark’s eyes narrowed. “Anyone else want to question my legitimacy?”
For some reason, nopony spoke up.
“Good.”
The guide was on him in a matter of moments, her eyes wide with delight. “Oh my Celestia! Vital the Virtuous in my tour group? I couldn’t have asked for a better scoop, if Celestia herself were to give me an interview! You simply must tell me about life at New Unity.” A notepad and quill flew from her pack to hover in the air next to her. “I want to know everything.”
Vital was gentle but firm as he pushed the exuberant mare aside. “I’ll take a hard pass. People like you give journalism a bad name, if your historical ‘facts’ are anything to go off of for your writing style. As for the rest of you, I’d suggest you consider doing a little research of your own, rather than taking a gossip’s word as gospel. And as for me, well,” he turned to glare at Mill. “I’d rather not listen to Rumor Mill spin another yarn to smear my friends’ good names. Good day,” he said curtly, before marching resolutely up the street and out of sight.
Rumor Mill glared after the Pony, but then smirked as she pocketed a single cylindrical paper package that smelled distinctly of gunpowder. “I get the feeling we’ll be seeing each other again very soon, Vital Spark.” She chuckled to herself, then raised her voice. “Well, come on. We still have plenty more sights to see, and you know the policy. No refunds,” she sang, much to the chagrin of many of the tourists.
Princess Celestia sneezed suddenly. She sniffled, before accepting one of any number of proffered handkerchiefs. When she’d properly cleared her nose, she returned to the pulpit and slammed the gavel home, calling the court to order. “Please, take your seats.” She peered around the room, satisfied to see everypony had opened the scrolls to reveal the bill more thoroughly. “Now that you’ve all had the chance to review the bill properly, we can begin discussion and deliberations. The Lunar Court will now have their chance to voice any opinions or dissents briefly, before opening the floor to general discussion. After a sufficient amount of time has passed, we will adjourn for another brief recess, and will open again with the Twilight Court. After that, we’ll open the floor to everypony to speak and deliberate.”
A surly murmur rose in response, but the crowd held their peace as a Thestral with a series of white diamonds tracing down his fur beneath his mane strode forward. “I am Diamondback, of the Viper Tribe,” he began. “It is clear that we Thestrals aren’t shy about a fight. However, while the language of this bill speaks of an assembly of military force, I can’t help but notice it says nothing about how we are to prepare this force for combat. What sort of training program were you intending to implement for this hypothetical military?”
“An excellent question,” Luna said as she rose to join her sister at the podium. “The test bed for the training has been conducted, and was started by the three humans in what is now New Unity. Until the military is large enough to start their own academies, we will utilize the training methods established by Lord Shawn, Monster Hunter Taze, and the attache Matthew.”
“Do you have documents showing how effective this training regimen has been?”
Twilight strode forward with a confident smile as she levitated an easel with several canvases and stacks of cardboard in her magic. “I can answer that,” she said as she laid one of the boards on the easel. Then she cast a spell to project a larger image of the chart into the air above for all the lords and ladies of the courts to see. “If you’ll kindly look at this chart, you’ll see a projection of the casualty reports from the first Changeling invasion compared to the second and third ones. As you can see, the number of units captured or killed are significantly higher in the first projection, whereas a well-trained force under the tutelage of the humans’ and Hammer Strike’s leadership has led to significantly less losses under far greater adversity.
“Please note that these losses from the first invasion occurred with my brother as the head of the Royal Guard. That is no longer the case. Without his leadership and attention, I project a sharp increase to a casualty rate that was already dangerously high. To be specific, eighty percent. That includes fatality and captivation statistics. If you look at the statistics from New Unity, the losses they endured were only one tenth that projection. If we were to continue and incorporate Gryphon and Thestral techniques into military training, I project that the strength and skill of our troops would have been able to cull and turn back Chrysalis’ first siege in a single hour at most.”
Luna smiled gratefully to Twilight, then turned back to Diamondback. “Does that answer your question, or shall Princess Sparkle continue explaining her charts and graphs?”
“No, there is no need,” Diamondback assured her. “The princess has displayed your case most effectively. If such tactics have led to this much difference in so short a time, then we would benefit having our young learn from these warriors.” Diamondback bowed in respect, before sitting down again.
The Solar Courts side were a buzz and one noble stood up. “House Jade wishes to make a comment.”
“House Jade may speak,” Luna said.
“We wish to standardize this meeting’s laws of conduct. The Lunar Court shows a more … open method of deliberation with less structure. It is a rather sharp contrast compared to how the Solar Court has often conducted itself for centuries. If it please Your Highnesses, I would like to make the motion that we remove the necessity to ask permission to speak and simply pose our questions as our fellows in the Lunar Court do.”
“That would be for Celestia to decide,” Luna said bluntly. “You speak of traditions and precedents set up in ages past to keep these meetings from devolving into pointless shouting matches. The Lunar Court has no such tradition, and has never needed it. Seeing as they are governed by me, they will continue in the way they are accustomed, unless, of course, you are moving that tomorrow's session take place at Filly de Ys, so that the territories these meetings take place at are also perfectly equal?”
Jade gaped a moment, then regained his composure. “We’ll speak with Celestia later about a potential compromise. All that we ask is that if the Lunar Court wishes to make a motion with the bill or amend it, they follow the laws of Canterlot.”
“Celestia?” Luna asked suddenly.
“Yes, Sister?” Celestia asked sweetly.
“Last time a noble referenced you informally in the middle of court session, I believe the punishment was banishment from court for seven years, was it not?”
She raised a brow. “That was over a thousand years ago.”
“Has the law been changed?” Luna asked.
“After I had to banish you, Sister, I … slowly let it go, but it is technically still on the books,” Celestia mused.
“House Jade, who has been attempting to push tradition, has just broken this law. Are you willing to overlook it, if he is to withdraw and stop wasting time picking over differences in the court, or shall I ask the Lord Protector to show him out?”
“I can do that for now, but the lords and ladies of the Solar Court do have a point. Tonight, you and I need to have a talk about a united set of laws for when we hold joint sessions. For if we are to be united as a nation, then should our council’s laws not also be united?”
“Agreed.” Luna smiled. “The three of us will set aside time at a later point to discuss the matter more thoroughly.” Then she turned to look pointedly at the representatives of House Jade. “Well, Jade, will you withdraw?”
“House Jade does not see why we must withdraw, when the issue we raised has been sufficiently addressed.”
Luna nodded to Hammer Strike. “You have been asked to withdraw, because despite the fact that not one, but two courts have made their way to Canterlot for these proceedings, in order to make things easier for the nobles of the Solar Court, you still demand more of the Lunar and Twilight courts and of our royal person in the medium of wasted time nitpicking over thousand-year-old traditions the Solar Court invented for themselves. Then you have the gall to criticize the traditions and means of government established by the Thestral clans long before your Solar Court even existed. This matter is too important to allow the usual song and dance that is dishonest politics. You and those who share your opinions on the matter are wasting precious time and money on searching for any technicalities that you might be able to exploit. This behavior will not be tolerated anymore. Lord Hammer Strike, if you would?”
Hammer Strike stood from his throne and proceeded to make his way towards the individuals of House Jade. “By royal decree, you are to leave immediately, either of your own free will or by my own hooves.”
Baron Blueblood stood. “Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, Princess Sparkle, may I say one thing, before House Jade is removed?”
“You have one sentence, Baron. Make it count,” Luna stated bluntly.
“Do we not need every house and noble to vote? The message was that all nobles in all the land must be here to vote on this bill. If House Jade is removed, does that not render this entire meeting void?”
“Should a noble house prove to be too disruptive, their presence is not required. If a vote were to take place, this would also prove to be a waste of time, as well as the fact that the allies of House Jade may cast a vote in their stead,” Hammer Strike replied simply. “This interruption will be added to the list of interruptions by the Solar Court as well.”
The Solar Court broke into an absolute uproar at that point, and Pensword banged his head against his desk in response. Finally, the newly elevated High Duke Fancy Pants cleared his throat.
“If I may be so bold, might I propose a recess, Princess Celestia? It seems that Your Highnesses’ sudden firmness has heightened certain tensions. I believe my fellow nobles may need some time to regain their senses.”
The Thestrals were busy pinning their ears back on their heads, while the members of Twilight’s court gaped in astonishment at the sheer level of contention in the room.
“Shall we make it for, oh, say, fifteen minutes?” Fancy suggested as he looked questioningly at Pensword.
“Yes, please,” Pensword agreed in an exhausted groan, before putting his head back down on the cool surface of the table.
Luna sighed heavily. “Very well. Fifteen minutes it is.”
Celestia banged her gavel, and the room emptied into lobbies and other areas that had been set up within the structure. Pensword stayed at his desk, while his wife ran a hoof down his mane and neck. His eyes shut tight as the cacophony from the halls hammered through his ears and into his skull.
“Less than an hour in, and I already have a headache,” he groaned.
Grif also stayed at his desk, but he was taking the time to go over the session in his head, taking note of the actions of the Solar Court and looking for any signs that they had either made or lost allies during the first deliberations.
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he ensured everyone but the selected party had left the room.
“Dreadful business,” Fancy Pants muttered. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll try to draw their ire off by making an appearance. I think I can sway a few to our side with my new status, but no matter what way you look at it, the Solar Court’s disgraced itself today.” He sighed, then shook his head, before striding past Pensword’s desk and up the stairwell to where Grif sat in thought.
“They’re used to Celestia's more passive style of pulling strings behind the scenes,” Grif noted. “Luna’s not a politician. She tends to handle things in the most direct way.”
Fancy Pants nodded his head as he passed the warrior. “Frankly, it feels refreshing having a Pony say something and actually mean it.”
Later that evening, the friends convened back in Grif’s house. Multiple Thestrals were busy nursing their heads after a long first day. The afternoon had gone civilly, at least until an argument over the amount the Solar Court would have to pay to sustain their troops came up. It had gotten so bad that Celestia and Luna had to dismiss the other two courts just to haggle with the Solar nobles behind closed doors. Needless to say, Celestia was not amused. She had made a special point of alerting the nobles that the next meeting would be in reduced light to cater to the Ponies the Solar nobles had harmed, albeit inadvertently, by their actions.
Pensword was currently laying on a couch with a cold compress over his eyes as he struggled not to move his body.The drapes had been drawn over the windows and everypony was doing their best not to speak.
“Well, I think it went quite well. Don’t you?” Grif asked as he lounged in a chair with a drink.
“Not so loud,” Lunar Fang hissed as a few Thestrals groaned in pain. Then she spoke in a whisper. “What makes you say that?”
“I didn’t have to kill anybody,” Grif said. “That's better than I thought it would be.”
“Though I wonder where Vital Spark is. It is getting late, and he still isn’t home yet.”
“I’ll give him another ten minutes, then I’ll go look for him,” Grif said.
“Look for who?” Vital Spark asked as he stepped into the room. “And why’s it so dark in here?”
The cheerful Pony’s question was met with groans, moans, and angry hisses as swears flew through the air like crossbow fire. “Shut up,” Pensword snapped. “We’ve got migraines, so either whisper or be silent.”
“Perhaps we should go to another room,” Grif told Vital quietly.
“Before we get torn to shreds by a legion of angry Thestrals? Yeah, I’d call that a sound plan,” Vital agreed as he eyed the Ponies warily.
Grif got to his feet and led the Unicorn out, quietly explaining the events of the day.
“Ouch. And suddenly, I don’t feel so bad about that encounter with Rita Skeeter,” Vital said.
“Politics is a deadly game, my friend,” Grif chuckled.
“Naturally.” Vital looked clinically at his pistol as he withdrew it from its holster. “Care to join me for a cleaning?”
“Might as well.” Grif shrugged. “It’s going to be a long week.”
The night was cool and crisp as the mist from the waterfall was spread over the city by an errant breeze generated by the Pegasi on weather duty. The night lamps had long since burnt out and the guard was en route to change. A tiny ladybug flitted through the air, fussing around one of the guards’ noses. The stallion promptly smacked his own face, causing his partner to laugh as he nursed his nose, while the ladybug flitted past once more. It flew along the ghostly breeze, letting itself be blown towards the lower parts of town, until it rode up to a rickety old shack by the waterfall’s base. Its dangling shutters creaked noisily as they waved back and forth on their last legs. Old rotten boards barely clung to the crumbling remains of window frames as the insect made its way inside and dropped to the ground.
The ladybug’s antennae twitched a few times as it took in the space. Then it flitted through an empty door frame to a hall situated on a rickety landing. It descended to the floor and peered around briefly, before fluttering its wings a few times to clear off any last droplets. Then the insect’s feelers began to glow at their tips. The light grew brighter and brighter, until it flashed and died. In the place of the ladybug, there now stood a Unicorn mare in a black trench coat with its collar flipped up to obscure her face and mane.
“Greetings, Miss Mill,” a silky voice whispered as a cloaked Pony stepped into the moonlight from beneath the stairs. “I take it your mission was a success?”
Rumor Mill smirked as she flipped open her satchel and levitated the cartridge she’d stolen. “You know I wouldn’t have come otherwise, Shadow.”
A muted green glow emanated around the figure’s horn, and a darker green aura began to circle Rumor’s yellow one, until the packet broke free, held firmly in Mill’s magical grip. “Not so fast,” she said. “You know the deal. I want my–.” She gasped suddenly and buckled down to her knees as the light from her horn buzzed, flickered, and then died completely. Her eyes widened as she watched gravity take control. “What…?” She didn’t have time to say anything else as the packet flared suddenly and then … disappeared.
Shadow stared wide-eyed at the pool of blood draining out from the mare’s lower torso as it thumped down onto the floor, spreading her bowels for all to see. There was no sign of the rest of her body. “By all the mothers,” he swore as a light buzz came into his voice. He ran as quickly as his hollow hooves could carry him. Translucent wings slit through the jacket’s back as he took flight, and a muted green flicker of flame quickly changed his form as he dove into the water and swam for his life.
Grif arrived on the scene a mere instant later. He had a knife clenched in either taloned hand and scanned the area carefully, before his eyes fell upon what was left of the mare’s body. He made his way to it, sheathing one of the knives, and bent to examine the wounds as he waited for Hammer Strike.
It took the Earth Pony a while, but he eventually made it to the location and sighed. “Seems like someone was looking into the flintlocks.”
“These wounds are definitely thaumic in nature.” Grif nodded. “Also, the air seemed gone for a moment. At least we know your contingency plan works.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he inspected the damage. “Based off the scale, it was the ammunition that was interacted with.” He turned his attention to the body for a moment. “Quickly. Check the area for any others.”
“No need for that,” Grif said as he traced the area around them. “There was another Pony involved. Stallion. A Unicorn, I expect. The explosion probably scared him off. I could try to track him, but by the looks of things, he escaped by magic.”
After a moment, Hammer Strike nodded. “They can at least spread the fear to others, I suppose.”
“At least we’d have known if they got more than one, right?” Grif asked.
Hammer Strike shrugged. “Even if they got more, let them try their methods. Perhaps, one of these times, it’ll create something for us to collect.”
“I’ll dispose of this.” Girf gestured to the body. “You probably should talk with Vital.”
“Correct.” He frowned. “Need to warn him once again to keep an eye on his possessions.”
“Shouldn’t be anything wrong with destroying the rest thaumically, right? I mean, the important stuff’s already gone.”
“I suppose not,” Hammer Strike sighed. “I’ll be off now. If you have need for me further, you have your ways of reaching me.”
“Yeah.” Grif nodded as he sheathed his second knife. Then he created a small wind thaumic crystal and placed it between the back legs of the corpse. He took several steps back, before snapping his talons. The crystal flared for a moment, and then it and the corpse were gone, leaving only the blood that was out of range and a small pit behind. Grif dug up a few handfuls of fresh soil and covered the blood. Then he turned back to the main portion of the home. There was still work to be done.
It was two days later, after lunch, that a Solar Court noble stood up to voice his next objection. “While this is fine, how are we going to produce the weapons for these troops? While we have the Lord Protector, I doubt that we could rely on him alone to outfit every Pony to join the force.”
“Until we have a stable budget for which to further discuss such bidding, we ourself will be heading the production of arms and armor,” Luna answered. “There is no point talking about bidding, until the military has bits and a commander to spend them.”
The noble looked agast. “Princess, I wasn't even thinking of bidding. I simply wanted to know how we would outfit them. An army without gear is just a gathering of bodies.”
Another noble stood, this time a confident mare with burning eyes. “I wish to add my voice to the gentlepony’s. It’s a legitimate concern What types of weapons will we have? The Minotaurs have their hammers, axes, and clubs. The Gryphons have magical cannons and powerful ships capable of devastating lightning attacks. Will we merely forge a hodgepodge of glass, wood, and mortar, or will we meet our potential adversaries with true quality?”
Luna’s horn ignited. In an instant, Meteor Impact hovered by her side. “Tell me, Lady, do you know what this is?” the princess asked casually as she approached the mare.
“Your weapon, one which history says was forged in the Third Gryphon War and connected to you. Does that mean you intend to perform a similar feat with each soldier’s weapon as well?”
Luna laid the hammer in front of the mare. “Examine it, please; its angles and its contours. Tell me, what quality would you say this weapon has? Be honest. There will be no consequences.”
She spent a good five minutes examining it, looking at small the various edges and grooves ranging from the gilding to the quality and condition of the material in the head. She even went so far as to pull out a magnifying glass. In all that time, not a sound escaped her lips. Finally, she pulled back to look her princess in the eye. “I see a weapon made by expert hooves. I have noted a certain amount of decay in the inlay that’s recently been recast. I assume that was to replace any portions that had become too corroded to salvage. That being said, the metal shines brightly, and I could detect the scent of the oils and polish you use to maintain its life. You clearly care for this weapon very much.”
“Can you identify the metal in its head?”
“I cannot, at least I don’t think I can. I certainly haven’t seen its like before.”
The Solar Court held its breath as they eyed the mare, wondering just what Princess Luna had in mind.
“Will she go back on her word?” one of them whispered. Pensword’s ears twitched in irritation as the speculation continued.
“Only if she backs her into a corner,” the fellow replied. “Soulfire always was a little too hasty for her own good.”
“This is moonlight, my dear lady.” Luna’s gentle voice washed over the room as she explained to the mare. “We live in a land where the ground sends us ores already imbued with powers that only our people can properly draw out. Silverite, mythril, oricalcium, brightsteel, volcanium. We can create weapons and armor with power that others cannot begin to fully understand. But if you require further proof of our ability, we have designs for airships unlike Equis has ever seen. We have plans for siege weapons that will reduce even the stoutest walls to rubble, and we have our battle mages, who will finally be mobilized in the rank and file, rather than living within the colleges and towers of our lands. We will let any enemy know that we and our Ponies will not be trampled.”
Soulfire looked at the hammer, and then at Luna. “I’d like to see these concepts at some point.” Then she cast her gaze on Princess Celestia, cleared her throat, and raised her voice. “Soulfire is an old name for an old house. In the past, we produced soldiers and weapons the likes of which few have ever seen. We held the only contract for building the trebuchets, after the engine’s invention, a fact that we are proud of to this day. We wish to be part of this future. Even if our role is so simple as cleaning casting molds, I would like to offer my services and that of my house to the cause.”
The stallion at her side balked as he swept his gaze to stare at the mare in utter dismay. He spoke through clenched teeth, even as he smiled to the rest of the crowd. “That part of our history is done, dear. Let history pick another solar house. We have such a rich business working gems. For Faust’s sake, why do you have to be so stubborn about this?”
Lady Soulfire fixed her husband with a cold glare. “Because, darling, I’ve wanted to enchant more than mundane goblets or bits of jewelry. I want a challenge. Besides, with the number of battles Equestria has faced in the last few years alone, do you honestly think this won’t be more profitable?”
Lord Soulfire cringed back from his wife’s implaccable gaze, and Lady Soulfire smirked.
“Good boy.”
“When the time comes, we will remember you, Lady Soulfire. You have our gratitude for your support.” Luna gave the noble a friendly smile as she retrieved the weapon. Then it vanished in a flash of starlight. “Few mortals have done so well identifying the weapon’s quirks and weaknesses. You have a truly skilled eye.” With that, Luna returned to her place.
Lady Soulfire beamed at the compliment, even as she heard the condescending comments from the other nobles. Threats, complaints, scoffs, the usual thing. They would see soon enough, however, that she knew how to play the long game better than most.
“Any other questions on this matter?” Luna asked.
On the Lunar Court side, a few of the families stood up. “May we help in the forges, High Chieftess?”
“We will gather smiths from all the courts for this venture. Any with pliable skill in weapons or armor crafting will not be turned away,” Luna clarified. “And we will do our best to compensate you from our own royal coffers.”
“No, Luna.” For a moment, the Lunar Princess gaped at her sister, and then her eyes slitted briefly as her temper began to flare. The Solar nobles clamored to their hooves to look down at the drama unfolding below. Some looked eager, almost hungry. Others were frightened. Celestia remained nonplussed as she laid a gentle hoof on her sister’s shoulder. “I will compensate them. If this is truly to be a joint effort, it’s only fair that we share the burden together.”
Luna’s eyes softened as her voice caught in her throat. “Thank you, Sister.”
“Pardon me, Princess,” Applejack said as she stood up, “but if there really is gonna be a refinery set up in New Unity eventually, how’s that gonna affect the surrounding land? I’ve seen factories and the like before. They put off fumes something’ awful.”
“Have the forges and refineries in New Unity currently caused any trouble?” Luna asked.
“Not really, but there ain’t so many folks working’ on ‘em either. I guess the real question is just how big are these refineries gonna get?”
“For now, we’ll be using the existing facilities beneath Canterlot, as well as my own facilities. Later, we will work on a way to produce with the smallest environmental impact possible,” Luna explained.
“How many are coming to Ponyville?” Pinkie asked. “I can’t plan a welcome party, if I don’t know how many guests I’m working with.”
“Dame Pie, I would ask you bring such questions up in a more private setting in the future. For now, I can only say we don’t have such numbers at this time.” Luna shook her head, chuckling.
“But you’ll get them to me as soon as you do, riiiiiight?” the pink mare asked as her neck stretched uncomfortably close to the Lunar Alicorn.
“You will be amongst the first to know.”
Pinkie’s head snapped back like a rubber band, vibrating rapidly, until she managed to stick both her hooves up to stop it. “Okie dokie lokie!”
“Um, the animals will still be able to keep their homes, won’t they?” Fluttershy asked meekly.
“Yes, Dame Fluttershy,” Luna nodded.
“Pardon me for sounding ignorant, but what about transportation? I assume some form of supply chain will have to be established to help get the products where they need to go, if the military really is being re-established throughout the kingdom as a whole,” Rarity noted.
“We will be endeavouring to create new railroad routes spanning the country from coast to coast to allow for speedy transfer of goods and equipment between locations.”
“And who will escort these goods, while training is taking place?”
“The crown will be hiring mercenaries to handle needed protection, until such time as troops are up to the task.”
“I assume these mercenaries will be from an organization other than the Bladefeathers?” Blueblood inquired. “The nature of your friendship with him and his lord both could prove as a conflict of interest. It is your money, of course, but I would personally recommend you employ the Sparra Clan. From what I understand, they specialize in that sort of service.”
“Clanleader Bladefeather has already suggested them, Baron. You would do well to consider your words more carefully, as Grif and his clan have refused all contracts related to the military to prevent exactly the conflict you described.” Luna couldn’t help but smile as she noted the baron’s ears flicker. It was the only outward display he showed, but it spoke volumes about his annoyance.
“Just to clarify,” Rainbow Dash said, much to the amazement of just about every Solar noble present, “this bill will allow for any Equestrian citizen to join, no matter what race, species, or tribe they may be a part of, right?”
“That is correct, Dame Dash,” Luna nodded.
“Good. Then I have another question. Does that mean we can stop putting so much magic into casting a glamour charm over guard armor? I mean, it’s pretty impractical, if we’re going to have that much diversity, and it’ll give the mages that much more energy to channel somewhere else, instead of constantly having to recharge the spells.”
“That is a great point, Dame Dash; however, that would be something to be decided by my sister, I’m afraid.”
“I believe you mean by all three of us,” Celestia corrected. This is to be the Equestrian military, after all. Though I think you can already guess where my vote would lean.” She winked at Luna.
“I’m guessing this is a policy we’ll have to go over later,” Twilight said. “How about we get back to the bill for now?” she suggested.
“Quite right,” Celestia agreed. “Were there any other questions somepony wanted to pose?”
A Thestral stood up. “We wish for one of the Princesses to answer. How will we feed our troops? The diets of all involved is varied. Or is that to be discussed at a later day?”
“You raise a valid point. However, for now, since we only have a limited area for training in the first place, we have enough time to devise a proper plan for how to accommodate those dietary needs at a later date,” Celestia said.
The Thestral nodded her head respectfully and sat down.
Pensword listened intently, ears perked and eyes forward, but as the questions drew on, he allowed his mind a brief time to wander. He pondered how things were going back at New Unity, how Moon River was getting by, and finally what Vital Spark might have been up to during the last few hours. He spoke when it seemed appropriate, but otherwise held his peace, waiting for the moment when the three monarchs might require his support. One thing was for certain. There were still nobles on the fence that needed convincing, and they only had two more days to do it.
Shadow stood boldly in front of a great red-furred minotaur with a black headband tied just beneath his horns. The dim glow of mushroom caps was their only light to see by in the thick boughs of the trees. The brook babbled off in the distance as the Changeling fluttered his wings to shake off any remaining water droplets.
“You say the cartridge was trapped, but it gave off no magical aura?” the great bull questioned in a rolling brogue.
“None, Sir,” Shadow buzzed. “I was fortunate Miss Mill broke my grip on it when she did, or I might not have been able to make it back here to report.”
The Minotaur stroked his chin ponderously as he gazed off into the trees beyond. “This complicates things, then,” he murmured. “But not too much, provided we take the proper precautions.” He snapped his massive fingers and a series of ragged Ponies in shoddy sackcloth clopped forward. “Report,” he ordered.
“The bribes are all set, boss,” the foremost Pony grinned as he stepped forward. His frazzled faded red mane was held back by a tight green headband, and a single tooth was missing from his upper gums. “One word, and we can have free rein.”
“And the rose colored spell?”
A sleek Unicorn with a dark glossy brown mane and a rich red coat strode forward. Her gown accentuated all the right places as she smirked at their leader. “Already embedded in the barracks mirrors. Give me the word and any guards that aren’t willing to look the other way won’t even know what’s happening.”
“Then that leaves us with one final task.” He turned his gaze back on Shadow. “Can you do it?”
Shadow shook his head. “Best to use plan B. If they tracked that spell, they may recognize my scent.”
The Minotaur snorted. “Artifice Facsimile, you know what you have to do.”
A meek-looking mare with a long purple braid running down her shoulder approached. Her eyes were soft and her smile timid. That soon changed, however, as that smile widened into a confident sneer and her eyes hardened like agates. “But of course,” she said in a thick Phrench accent. “I can do it tomorrow, while they’re eating breakfast. Just remember my side. I want my cut of the profit the moment I report back, and safe transport as far away from Canterlot as you can manage. Grif Grafson is not to be trifled with. And I, for one, would prefer to keep my delicate figure intact.”
“I haven’t forgotten. Do your job right, and I may even double your price.”
“My my, Monsieur. You certainly know how to flatter a mare.”
The Minotaur rolled his eyes. “Go.”
“Of course.” Facsimile curtseyed, then backed out of sight.
“As for the rest of you, ready your weapons, and no drinking. The target’s green, but he’s still not to be underestimated. We move the moment the houses are in session. Spread the word to the rest of the camp. Tomorrow, we hunt.”
“And what would you have me do, Master Herne?” Shadow asked.
Herne smirked. “What you do best. Watch, wait, then strike.”
Shadow bowed. “It will be my pleasure.”
Five days. For five days, the nobles had met. For five days, arguments had raged back and forth and sledgehammers of logic slammed against the basalt of stubborn will. Tradition battled progress, and historical references had been contorted and twisted in so many different ways that it seemed more like a bunch of taffy than a proper account. Finally, the time had come. A large round table had been added on the floor by the princesses’ thrones with four great chairs waiting to be filled.
Changes had come and gone throughout the deliberations. The longest holdout had been the amount that the solar court would pay. They finally agreed on fifteen percent of their joint funds, while the rest would come from the ninety percent projected to come out of Luna’s funds to start the venture. The Lunar Court committed fifty percent, while Celestia agreed to add twenty from hers for any extra fees that might be incurred. It also had been decided that, instead of all the courts being together to hash out the minor details on the bill, they would take representatives from each party to form a military council that would deal with the day-to-day matters for maintaining the militia as a whole.
It was also agreed that there would be no campaigning involved. The representatives’ names would be put forth by each court and then be put to a vote as to whether they were acceptable to all parties.
Pensword was busily looking over his notes on the powers the military council would wield. It had been agreed that they would advise the princesses on all things military. However, a joint three-way veto from the princesses would nix anything the council might propose, thus limiting their control and allowing the three Alicorns to maintain ultimate charge of leadership.
For the first time in session, the room was actually silent as the Princesses left to count the ballots. They returned thirty minutes later. Twilight held the ballot box in her magic as she approached the pulpit and cleared her throat.
“We’ll begin with the representative from the Twilight court,” she said. “By unanimous decision, we have chosen Wonderbolt Cadet Rainbow Dash.” She waited for Rainbow Dash to stand from her seat, before turning to face the other two courts. “All in favor of our first member of the Military council?” The Lunar Court voted with a vast majority and only two dissenting votes, who made it known they preferred Fluttershy.
The Solar Court had more dissents, but ultimately passed the nomination.
Twilight Sparkle ignored the outrage and nodded to her friend. “Please move to the council table.”
Rainbow Dash didn’t need further prompting as she zoomed to the table, leaving her famous rainbow streak behind and turning the hats and heads of many a noble in the process.
“Next is a proxy nomination to represent the Gryphons who are living under Equestrian rule and laws. If this person is voted in, he will be the go-to Gryphon to teach modern tactics to the next generation of soldiers.” Twilight took a breath, filling her lungs to the utmost capacity she could manage. “Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette.” She smiled as she pronounced the name perfectly. The smallish Gryphon walked from the shadows and descended down the stairs at a rigid pace, while the courts gaped, stunned.
Twilight’s voice soon filled the silence. “La Fayette is the crown’s first choice. He is unbiased and not connected to any of our courts here. He came here to teach, advise, and serve the concept of Unity. On top of this, his experiences and military knowledge and accolades are as long, if not longer than Grif and Pensword’s. As such, he is not a resource to be taken lightly.”
Twilight smiled as the Solar Court seemed to relax a small fraction. Then she dropped her second bombshell. “The Lunar Court, not counting those that wished to place High Chieftess Luna on the council, have nominated Commander High Duke Moonkissed Pensword.”
The Solar Court erupted with accusations of meddling, trying to dodge the retirement laws, and in one case, “deliberately pulling Equestria back into the stone age.”
Twilight waited for exactly one minute and ten seconds, before she took another big breath. SILENCE! She smiled as the room’s volume shut off like a switch. “Thank you,” she said, then cleared her throat. “To address anypony’s concerns, this election was performed via silent ballot. So if the Lunar Court wishes to place, as Count Ruby put it, ‘an old war pony who should be grazing on easy grains’ on the council, then that is their right.” For the first time in public, Twilight glared at the Solar Court, and most particularly at Count Ruby. “Considering this was specifically an election that could only be performed by and for the Lunar court, I believe it’s safe to say that your comment was out of line, Count.” She smiled then as she straightened her cue cards. “Or are you suggesting that the Lunar Court should have the right to debate over your nomination as well?”
Count Ruby gulped as he looked back at the other Ponies, particularly Blueblood. The baron nodded subtly, and the count turned again to face the princesses. Sweat beaded his brow as he let out a nervous chuckle and his voice cracked. “We … we’ll table our debate for now.” He adjusted his cravat to avoid the princesses’ gazes. “Just know that the Lunar Court is on thin ice with the Solar Court.”
“Like we were ever anything but,” a Thestral murmured.
Twilight and the Solar Court chose to ignore the comment.
“Right,” Twilight said. “That leaves the Solar Court, which is a little interesting, to say the least. We have three nominations for the one seat, said nominations being High Duke Fancy Pants, Prince Blueblood, and, finally, Captain Spitfire of the Wonderbolts.” She looked at Fancy Pants who raised a hoof.
“I wish to withdraw my candidacy, Princess. With my new elevation as High Duke, I doubt I’ll have the time, and I know next to nothing about the military, let alone of tactics. If it pleases those who voted for me, I would like to attribute those votes to Captain Spitfire.”
Twilight nodded. “Your words are reasonable, Fancy Pants, and we’d hate to push you beyond what you can handle. I only know too well what that’s like.” She smiled sheepishly. “As such, we hereby recognize and accept your words. However, the vote will have to be recast between the two candidates, after a proper debate between them.”
The room remained silent, a signal Twilight took to mean that the motion was accepted.
“Well, then, let’s get to it.”
Vital Spark’s ears twitched curiously as they pivoted about, searching for any sign of activity. For such a bustling city, the air had grown unusually still. Palace guards in golden armor tramped in their usual patrols through the streets, but the uniform trotting was about the only thing to disturb the otherwise perfect silence. What few stalls were open had little in the way of product, and were placed in front of various alleys and side street entrances. The mage had had enough training to know when to have his guard up, and his instincts reared at him, practically screaming to get the buck out of there as fast as his hooves could carry him.
However, Vital also knew that to run now would only garner attention, and would likely force a confrontation he may not be fully prepared for. Instead, he made his way casually to one of the many fountains throughout the squares of Canterlot and began to hum to himself as he used his magic to manipulate the water and freeze it into various shapes. Birds, rabbits, mice, and even the fragile Breezies soon sparkled in the midday light. The most curious creations, however, seemed to be what looked like some form of vessel, not unlike a perfume bottle. A circular pin attached to the stopper on top to lock the water in place, while a series of carved grid-like grooves offered the vessels a more utilitarian appearance. The occasional mutter would pass from his lips, while he pulled his staff off his back and began to run a cloth over its surface. As he did so, a dull blue sheen would shine from within the vessels, while the mist continued to wrap around him as he crafted.
“My my,” a sultry voice sounded as a Unicorn with curvaceous hips approached. She wore a stunning emerald satin dress, and her glossy brown mane shone in the afternoon light. Her eyes were a veritable kaleidoscope of color, shifting from gray to blue to green and all the colors of the rainbow. “And what have we here, an artisan at his work?”
Vital Spark smiled. “Would you care to purchase one of my goods, fair lady?” The light refracted off the mists, casting a halo of rainbows around them. “I hadn’t intended to sell, but if you really value them so much….”
The mare giggled. “Oh, you do yourself a disservice.” She clopped nearer, making some show of observing the figurines as her tail accidentally brushed past the stallion’s nose. “Such gifts deserve a … proper reward.” She batted her eyelashes at him as she grabbed hold of the Breezie and swayed her hips. “Don’t you think so?”
Vital Spark looked the mare up and down carefully, then levitated the vessels into his satchel. Lastly, he lifted the other figures into the air and clopped onto all fours. “I think we’ve about exhausted that line of conversation,” he said firmly. “I’m engaged, and while my marefriend may be all right with my seeing other mares, I’m pretty sure she’d prefer if I waited until after we got married.” He levitated a beautiful coiling snake over to her. “Keep this one, too, as an apology.” He nodded kindly to her as her horn ignited and she seized the figure in her own magic. “Farewell, madam.”
“W-wait! I don’t even know your name.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure you know it.” Vital chuckled as the fog that had been emanating from the fountain suddenly rose in a great curtain, then surged outward in a flood. At the same time, the snake he’d formed sprung to life, hissing savagely as it curled around the mare’s horn and began to squeeze, biting at her mane and face. Her scream of fear soon turned to one of outrage that echoed and rebounded through the square, but the only set of hooves Vital Spark could hear running were his own. As he had suspected, something was amiss.
He flinched as a flash of blue light told him his arrow ward had activated. He quickly channeled his magic into the ground, spreading a sheet of ice in front of him. A few seconds later, a set of ice skating blades materialized under his hooves, and he was off. Two rugged Earth pony stallions leaped out of the alleyways up ahead. One wielded a savage guandao, while the other held a stout lance. They leveled them at the approaching Unicorn. Vital Spark narrowed his gaze and sped up, then projected his magic to create a ramp. His momentum carried him just out of the ambush’s reach, and he smirked as he twisted and allowed one of the vessels to drop. It tinkled musically as it struck the ground. Then Vital pulled out the pin with his magic. An explosion of frigid vapor enveloped the space, leaving the two Ponies frozen up to their heads in a solid block of ice.
Vital Spark winced as two more shatterings detonated in his ears and his mane was covered in the snowy remnants of two of his figurines, while the broken remnants of the shafts that had launched at him dropped to the cobbled streets below. A dreadful creaking and the half steely half crystalline hum of a magical aura were the only warning he received, before the next trap sprung. He cursed as razor spines shot out from his staff, slicing through the leather straps of satchel and armor both, causing the pieces to flap and clatter weakly as they struggled to hold onto his body.
“You’re not getting me that easily,” Vital growled. He yanked at the staff with his magic, tugging it loose with a nigh-herculean effort as he wrestled control of the weapon from whichever magic user had enchanted the wood. He flung the weapon against one of the walls, and barely heard a sound like breaking pottery as a sudden shockwave blew him off his hooves and into the side of a building.
“That’s enough of that,” a deep grating voice rumbled. Vital Spark rose as quickly as he could, but he was still dazed from the blow. He’d just managed to bring the hulking red Minotaur into focus, when he felt a sudden pain in the back of his head. Blackness descended soon after.
The first thing Vital Spark was aware of was the smell. The familiar dustiness of worn pages and manuscripts tickled playfully at his nostrils, like an old friend. Then came the headache. He furrowed his brow and grit his teeth, stifling the groan he so desperately wanted to utter, before opening his eyes to narrow slits.
“I don’t care if they want him unharmed. Just look at what that mongrel did to my face!”
An angry snort filled the air. “I warned you he was dangerous, Mirage. You knew the risks.”
“Nobody spurns my charms. Nobody!”
“That’s because almost every resident in upper Canterlot is a blithering idiot who can’t even be bothered to pay attention in magic class. What else were you expecting from a student of Clover the Clever herself?” A heavy hoof slammed on the ground and Vital Spark heard the distinctive rattling of something tapping against glass.
Through his narrowed field of vision, Vital Spark could just make out the hulking shape of the Minotaur that had knocked him against the wall. The sumptuous Unicorn from before was now covered in caked blood that snarled the fur on her mane and left her face pockmarked with swollen red blotches that throbbed beneath her fur, doubtless a consequence of the ice serpent’s enchanted bite. A dark thrill of satisfaction ran through him at the thought, and he thanked his lucky stars for being alert enough to keep his mind guarded when she first approached. Not that it mattered much now. The end result was still the same. He was captured, and now they were waiting to sell him off to who knew what enemy. He clenched his jaw to prevent a frustrated growl from ruining his act.
“You got your trophy from him. Leave it at that.”
Trophy? What could he possibly have had on him to–? And then it hit him as he suddenly became aware of the sensation of air blowing across the bare fur of his upper left foreleg, while the creak of a door opening, then closing, sounded in his ears. They took his band. It took every ounce of his self control to keep his breathing steady.
“Report,” the Minotaur ordered.
“All’s quiet in the halls, Sir. We have the men working on cleanup as we speak.”
“And the twins?”
“We’re working to melt the ice. It’s taking more magic than expected, but they should be free before the deliberations at the castle end.”
“The civilians?”
“Will wake with no idea what happened. That sleeping draught you brewed was a potent one.”
The Minotaur grunted. “Had to take something with me, when I left the Stampede Grounds. Anything else to report, Shadow?”
“Nothing at the moment, Sir. We’re still on the lookout for the signal.”
“And you made sure the client knew?”
“It was a simple matter to slip in as an aide, with all the messengers going in and out. The rest of the party from New Unity won’t know, until it’s too late.”
The Minotaur smirked. “Excellent. You’re free to go, Shadow. Go feed on the relief from the twins. That should prove a nice snack for you, until we can muster up some proper food.”
Vital’s muscles tensed as he heard the buzz of insect wings. He cursed internally, even as he heard the drone drawing closer.
“Something the matter, Shadow?”
“Our prisoner is awake,” Shadow replied, “and very angry.”
“Is that so?” The Minotaur clopped his way over to the point where Vital’s muzzle nearly touched his hooves. “You might as well drop the act.”
Vital Spark glared as he opened his eyes fully and drew himself up. The clink of metal fetters filled the air as he struggled to stand, only to feel the unsteadiness as the chain binding the front and rear fetters forced his hooves closer together than the rest of his body, making balance far more difficult. “You hobbled me,” he noted as his legs wobbled.
“We can’t exactly risk another display, like the one you put on before,” the bull noted.
“Am I at least going to be allowed the courtesy of knowing the name of my captor?”
The Minotaur folded his arms as he met Vital’s glare of annoyance. “Since you heard the others, I suppose it’s only fair. You may call me Herne. As you can see, we have you effectively bound. As an extra courtesy, I would advise you not to attempt to perform any sort of magic, while you’re our guest. We have a dampener on your horn, and it’s a very good one.”
Vital Spark took in the skylights, the towering bookshelves, the many glass display cases as he looked around. The familiar tapestry of an Earth Pony surrounded by three Minotaurs made it only too clear where he now lay. “We’re inside the Historical Society, aren’t we?”
Herne shrugged. “It was as good a place as any. Nobody really comes here. Shame, really.” He shook his head. “Forget the lessons of your past, and you’re going to be in a lot of trouble.”
Vital allowed himself a wry smile. “Part of me wonders if that’s why Hammer Strike keeps popping up in history.”
“Perhaps. There’s a reason why he earned the title Unconquered from my people, after all. It’s no easy feat. But that is neither here nor there.”
Vital Spark continued to look over the room.
“You won’t find your reagents anywhere nearby,” Herne noted idly. A wry smile pulled at his lips.
“You do realize just how royally screwed you are right now, right?”
Herne shrugged. “There’s a reason we didn’t want to hurt you. We just deliver the package and take our payment. If your masters have a problem with it, they can take it up with the ones who paid us.”
“And you honestly think that’s going to work?” Vital Spark chuckled and shook his head. “You really don’t know my friends, do you?” A dull sparkle shone beneath his hooves as he shifted them gently.
Shadow hissed and lunged at the Pony, only for Herne to snatch him out of the air mid-flight. “Let me go!” he cried. “He’s planning something. He’s radiating smugness.”
“And there is nothing he can do that we can’t stop in time. You already hit him hard enough the first time. Are you trying to damage him?” Herne countered brusquely.
“Better him than us,” Shadow objected as his horn began to glow a sickly green.
Herne’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Try it, Shadow. See what happens.” His voice was terribly soft, but that was what made it so dangerous. “I warned you to let it go.”
“Let me knock him out, then,” Mirage demanded. “He won’t be so tough with his wardings gone. It’ll be foal’s play to put him into a trance.”
Herne looked back and forth between the now prone Changeling and the Unicorn sorceress. Finally, he snorted to vent his frustration. “Fine. Do it quickly, but nothing more, Mirage.”
“Please. It’ll be a piece of cake.” She tossed her mane to flick elegantly behind her ears, as elegantly as blood-caked can look, anyways, before sauntering up to the prone Pony. “Now then, you’re going to be such a good boy for me, aren’t you, Mister Spark?” she asked sweetly, even as her horn ignited and her eyes began to shift colors yet again.
Vital Spark raised a hoof, almost as though to voice a protest as a sudden look of fear crossed over his eyes. Shadow squirmed violently, but Herne just squeezed the Changeling’s throat tighter.
“There’s a good boy,” she said as she drew closer and her horn sparked to touch the ring at the base of Vital’s horn. The Unicorn’s head began to sway as he blinked blearily. He reached up weakly, as if to push her away, but the hobble kept him for doing so properly. “Oh, that’s so precious,” she cooed as she leaned closer to him. He raised his own head up next to hers, as if to nuzzle against her cheek, and she smiled triumphantly.
“Nah. I save precious for my fiancé.”
And the smile shattered with her ribs as four hooves bucked in unison, smashing into her barrel and sending her flying backwards. Four pale yellow crystal horseshoes followed after her in a smaller arc. Vital Spark quickly shoved his head against his foreleg and charged the magic into his horn, even as the ring fizzled and sparked in its effort to suppress him. A second later, four detonations sounded as a veritable tidal wave of light flared as bright as the sun, if not brighter. The lux crystals he’d summoned had done their job. A far smaller crackling sounded as the gem on the dampening ring broke apart and the ring itself clattered neatly to the floor.
“Thank you, thaumaturgy,” Vital breathed as he blasted his restraints, freezing them, until they creaked and finally shattered under the force of his strain. The second set were swift to follow, and he was back on his hooves.
An angry bellow spoke louder than words that Vital Spark needed to make his exit, but without any weapons, his chances of escape were close to zilch. The overload to his compound receptors would hopefully be enough to keep Shadow stunned for a time, but Mirage and Herne were another story. Vital dashed through the display cases, looking nervously at each one. The lowing sounded again, and this time, Vital could hear the heavy footfalls of a bull on the rampage.
“Come on, come on, where are you?” Vital muttered. And then he saw it. The staff was as beautiful as he remembered it, but his newfound desperation added a whole new sense of awe as he galloped at full tilt. He didn’t have time to worry about security charms, so he muttered a hasty, “Sorry,” under his breath, before rearing up and smashing down on the case. The glass cascaded in tiny bead-like shards as a great wailing cry filled the air. Vital Spark didn’t have time to worry what that could mean. He quickly seized the staff in his magic and levitated it towards him. The runic figures carved in intermittent circles down the length of the staff pulsed briefly, while images of various creatures became more prominent. Their eyes glowed with an inner light that shone white against Vital’s icy blue. The crystal pulsed gently as Vital Spark turned to meet the charge.
“Toro, toro!” he shouted as Herne bore down on him with berserk eyes and a massive war hammer. Vital Spark set his face in a grim line as he levitated the staff in front of him. “Come at me.” Then he seized the staff in his hooves. The crystal vibrated, the staff’s mouths opened, and a triumphant chord sang through the air in a manner that sounded like a chorus of voices accompanied by an overriding chime. Vital had just enough time to say, “What the–?” and then everything was consumed in a flash of brown, green, and purple as the crystal shattered.
“What the hell was that?” Grif panted. They had just returned to the house after a successful vote, and he was enjoying a drink, when something … popped in his senses. Something powerful had just happened, and the sensation caused him to stagger momentarily, causing his drink to spill on the floor.
Pensword froze as his eyes glazed over. He shook his head and blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head, while Lunar Fang ran a hoof down his mane.
“It’s not that bad. We can work with or around Spitfire. Blueblood would be a brute, forcing everything.”
“It's not that, dear,” Pensword answered. He shuddered. “Something … happened,” he said helplessly. “I don’t know what.”
Hammer Strike had a hoof to his chest, a confused expression on his face as his eyes shifted around, deep in thought. After a moment, he looked up to the group, giving a brief glance over every individual present, before stopping on the Gryphon. “Grif, where is Vital?”
“He’s not back yet,” Grif said with a shrug. “The maid said she hadn’t seen him yet, but expected him soon.”
“Start searching,” Hammer Strike ordered. “Immediately.”
Not needing to be told twice, Grif took wing and flew right through one of the windows. Glass sprayed onto the yard outside as he soared to the skies, charging ahead as fast as his wings would carry him.
“Mom, Moonburn, can you find Vital?” Pensword waited a moment, then frowned and looked to Lunar Fang. “Get the armor and weapons. Now. You’ll know where to find me,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument. He left, still wearing his dress uniform and ceremonial sword as he took wing to follow Grif’s trail.
Grif was already approaching the building the sensation originated from. Fear clutched his heart as he saw the condition of the structure. Debris littered the grounds, and the windows for several blocks had been shattered. The wall and a significant part of the floor in the structure had been blown outwards by some kind of explosive force. A minotaur lay sprawled on the cobblestones outside, and an undisguised Changeling lay not far off. A female Unicorn lay against the building’s far wall. The impression behind her back indicated she had hit the stone rather hard. There were several scorch marks of magical origin around the scene, and as Grif landed, he found the remnants of a magical circle burned into the fragments of floor that remained.
He checked the three figures for a pulse, then nodded grimly as he felt the steady thrum of life flowing through each. Determining they’d be out for a while, he unsheathed a dagger and headed further in. He found nothing but broken ice shards and the tattered frozen remains of cloth from a saddlebag in the next room. Swearing under his breath, he returned to the scene of the explosion.
Pensword stood in abject horror as he looked at the remains of the miniature museum. “Whatever they did, I want destruction of history on their rap sheet,” he said as he turned to stare a trembling guard in the eye. “And get a detachment up here for processing on the double.” The guard didn’t move. “Move, soldier!” Pensword barked. That seemed to startle the stallion into action. He raced down the hall in a bolt that was perhaps the fastest he would ever move in his life. The trio Grif had left were now safely laid in a corner and tied up. A pair of Unicorn doctors were already casting a spell to heal the mare’s broken ribs.
It didn’t take long for the detachment to arrive, and Grif was swift to address them as he stared them all down with the implacable gaze of a predator whose ire had been roused. “These three are coming with us,” he said bluntly. “As far as you all are aware, they were dead on arrival. Got it?”
“Rule one, section two, paragraph six. Any criminals found or seen forcefully abducting those who work with a noble house will face retribution from said house. I saw them with the Blueblood clone. I … I could’ve sworn everything was fine, but….” the guard winced. “My head.” He rubbed at it as he groaned.
“Happens when you’re recovering from a mental spell. Get inquisitors sent to every barracks in Canterlot. Have them search everything from top to bottom. Tell them to do it on Hammer Strike’s authority with Celestia’s approval. We need evidence. And if they stop, before they find the source, so help me….” Grif growled.
“We get the picture, Sir.” The guard gulped heavily. “The attack was mounted against a servant of House Strike. Y-you have full jurisdiction here.”
“Then why are you still here?”
The guards couldn’t run fast enough. Grif was swift to grab the slowest of the detachment and shoved a large pouch of bits into his grip. “Take this and distribute it among your detachment equally. Tell them I want you and them to keep the details of this incident out of other nobles’ hooves for at least the next day or two.”
The guard gulped. “A-and if we can’t?”
“Then once this is over, we’re going to have a nice, long chat.”
The guard trembled as his face paled even further than the charm would allow. “There are witnesses, Sir. We can cordon off the area, try to hold up the Ponies, but word is going to spread. You’ll need a cover story for certain, or we may have a full riot.”
“We’ll have one,” Grif said curtly. “You know what you need to do.” He turned to walk back to the corner of the room that was still intact, where Pensword was busy examining the remains. “Now get out of my sight.”
Pensword nodded his acknowledgement as Grif strode up behind him. He looked up briefly to watch the familiar bird-like motions that clearly spoke of the Gryphon’s mounting rage. His pupils would dilate and shrink telescopically every few seconds as he looked back to the prisoners and the healers tending them.
“I can say one thing for certain, Grif,” Pensword said grimly. “Vital isn’t dead. I would have felt it, if he were.” He ruffled his feathers, then sputtered. “But something is definitely different about this place. The magic here, it feels … off, somehow. Familiar, but different. And the floor smells like rain and fresh soil. This isn’t the kind of scent you’d find in a museum, at least not this one.”
“Do me a favor, Pensword. Go find Twilight. See if she can get us any information on the spell formula in those remnants or any of the magical traces,” he said, pointing to the edge of the magic circle that was still intact. “I’m going to go get our new ‘friends’ settled in. Once they’re nice and comfortable, we can discuss our next step.”
“The next step is to get Me-Me up into Canterlot,” Pensword insisted. “We have a Changeling here. I want her to get into that mind,” he said in an eerily calm tone. “Feed them as well, if you must.” He bore his fangs in an unsettling grin. “For tomorrow, we learn everything.”
Grif left Pensword to handle the details. With surprising strength, he grabbed the Minotaur by his bonds in one talon and the Unicorn and Changeloing in the other, then carried them off towards the house, leaving two flabbergasted and exceptionally pale medics behind.
Pensword flew down to where one of the guards was busy cordoning off a road leading towards the building. “I want a complete magical map of this entire scene, down to the smallest shard of glass. Once that’s finished, you are to ensure that copy is forward to Princess Twilight. As of this moment, this area of the city is to be cordoned off and sealed, until we or Princess Twilight says otherwise. Do I make myself clear?”
The guard gulped and nodded as he stepped away from the Pegasus. A darkness burned behind those eyes, and it was a terrible thing to behold.
Seconds later, a bright purple flash heralded the princess’ arrival, and Pensword turned with some surprise as he noticed Princess Luna standing next to her, carefully surveying the scene.
“Never mind, soldier. It seems the princesses are here to look into this personally. Carry on,” Pensword said.
“Make sure to keep everypony at a safe distance. And check in the houses that were affected to see if any medical attention is needed for the families inside,” Twilight ordered the medics. Then she and Luna both approached.
“Any ideas what happened here, Pensword?” Twilight asked.
“All we know is Vital Spark was here, Twilight. Grif is ‘holding’ certain suspicious individuals for questioning, once they wake up.”
Twilight frowned. “I … see. And the source of the explosion?”
“As far as we can tell, magical in nature. If our assumptions are correct,” Pensword swallowed heavily. “If they’re correct, then Vital Spark was in the middle of it.”
Twilight gasped. “Oh, Pensword–.”
“He’s alive,” Pensword cut her off sharply. “I would know if he were dead. He wouldn’t just pass on without saying goodbye.” He unfurled his wings with a taut snap. “Come. I’ll show you the blast zone. Grif wanted me to, before he left.”
Twilight moved forward, her hoof extended, as if to say something, but Luna laid a restraining hoof on her shoulder and shook her head.
“Not now, Twilight. Now is the time for action. That will be the best medicine.”
Twilight looked up at Luna with an expression torn between the desire to speak and the desire to follow the advice she’d just received.
Luna simply smiled kindly. “Come, Twilight. Trust me in this. Let us help our friends by figuring out what happened. There will be time for talking later.”
Twilight finally nodded her acquiescence and the two took wing behind the battle-hardened Pegasus. He landed them on what was left of the floor and motioned to where the circle’s edge had been burned into the floor.
“You can see the source there,” he said in a tight voice. “The air here feels different than most other places. It’s familiar to me, but I can’t identify it.”
“First things first. Let’s get a proper picture of this place,” Twilight said. Her horn ignited with purple light, and she raised her head as the light grew brighter. A purple ring of light surrounded her body as she rose up on her hind hooves and flared out her wings. The energy expanded to cover the whole block and, piece by piece, little projections of magic flew back to assemble into a fully restored room. Before their eyes, pedestals reformed and the ghosts of glass cases reversed their entropy to house the projections of the artifacts they once held. Tapestries fluttered and bookshelves reshelved themselves. When all was said and done, Twilight lowered herself to all fours, her horn still glowing to maintain the projection.
She strode along the floor, taking flight to avoid falling through the recreation as she stepped over the edge. “Hmm … that’s odd,” she murmured as she looked over the projection of a long perpendicular case. “This one’s empty.”
“What could have been here?” Luna wondered as she fluttered around it. “For your spell not to recreate the object means it wasn’t in the radius of your spell to begin with. That means it was either taken to be cleaned, is on loan somewhere else, or someone carried it away before the explosion.”
Pensword shook his head. “The cleaning is all done here. Lunar Fang and I stumbled across the caretakers once, when we came here looking for witnesses.” He looked at the case intently. “I saw what goes in here then. It was an old staff, covered in runes and carvings of faces, with a large crystal on its top. The caretakers said it belonged to Star Swirl once, but there was no real evidence to prove it.”
Luna sniffed the air. “There is a peculiar odor in this space,” she noted.
“Yes. I thought the same. We wondered if it might help to identify the magic that was used.”
“It is … feasible,” Luna murmured. “You said this staff belonged to Star Swirl?”
“Supposedly,” Pensword said. “If Vital was without his focus, he might have tried to use it, instead.”
“Possibly,” Luna mused quietly as she peered over the case once more. Her gaze had become distant.
“Don’t worry, Pensword. We’ll find out the cause of it,” Twilight promised. “I am the element of magic, after all.”
Pensword nodded. “I have every confidence in you, Princess. Please; don’t let us down.” He took one last look at Luna, then flew back towards the house. It was time to update Hammer Strike. And besides that, he had a few words for their new guests.
Grif had already sent the prisoners off by the hand of some Gryphons to be prepared. The remainder of their wounds would be treated, and then they’d be set on the rack for the night to simmer. “If I question them now, I’ll probably kill them,” Grif told Hammer Strike. His talons twitched with rage.
“I would as well,” Hammer Strike sighed heavily. “I need to figure out the full story, so ensure you take full lead of them,” he replied as his eyes scanned over everything.
“As far as the guards are concerned, they’re as good as dead. It’ll be just us and them. I’m going to write to Me-Me to see if anything can be done with the Changeling. As for the other two, well, I hope you don’t mind sharing the Minotaur. I’ll take the Unicorn.”
“Grif, this will be taking my full attention. Thaumic energy doesn’t just vanish like that,” Hammer Strike explained. “They are all yours, and you’re clear to use anything.”
“I live to serve.” Grif let loose a dark smile that he hadn’t used since the Third Gryphon War.
“That’s what I want to hear.” Hammer Strike turned his attention back to the environment. After a moment, he reached into his coat and did the one thing he had never done in public before. He pulled out the untranslated book of Thaumaturgy, the pages of the book opening on their own as they flipped through to what he was looking for.
Pensword’s anger was burning. He paced in his quarters, waiting for the new day. During the Third Gryphon War, as well as his time as a foal, he had grown his ability to control his anger, but he still had his limits. Grif’s anger was a raging firestorm. Pensword’s was a smoldering coal fire, burning hot with a deceptive appearance of dying. A grim smile pulled at his lips, a perfect mate to his friend’s. Tomorrow, he would attack their common foe and extract all the information he could get.
The sun shone harshly down on the dried grasslands of the savannah as a dusty Zebra trekked through the unwavering heat. The occasional puff of dirt from his hooves spoke of the drought with which the land had been stricken as he journeyed toward the great mountain in the distance. His water skin sloshed heavily against his side. A series of dark lines stretched out around his eyes, drawing any onlookers to peer deeply into the orbs. His tail flicked idly as he peered into the distance and eyed the huts that stood there. He smiled as the tiny stick figures that were the guardian totems became more distinct. He had finally reached the waypoint.
It took the better part of an hour to arrive. The village was abuzz as the traveler reached onto his back and pulled his staff out. The other Zebras were quick to give way as he strode toward the largest hut, where many a hushed whisper could be heard from within.
“Where did he come from?”
“Most likely a tour group of some kind. You know how the nobles often are in Equestria.”
“The poor thing.”
The stallion knocked gently on the wooden frame with his staff, before pulling the rough hide curtain aside to reveal the wizened face of the village chief. A great ceramic plate hung from his lower lip and a set of heavy golden earrings tapped gently against his cheeks as he looked to the newcomer.
“Ah, Mkuta. Welcome. We have been expecting you.”
Mkuta nodded his respect, then approached the lump that lay on the hut’s floor. A brilliant white muzzle was draped over by a shimmering golden mane. “And what is an outsider doing here, so far away from the comforts of his peoples’ hostels?”
“A detachment of our warriors found him not far from Mwokozi Cave.”
“What?” Mkuta whipped his head around to stare at the chief. “Did he…?”
The old Zebra shook his head. “All is as it should be. However, we did find this lying on the ground next to his body.” He nodded to a Zebra with a bladed spear, who reached down and flipped the cloth over to reveal the rest of the Unicorn’s sweat-crusted mane. A great chunk of wood was clutched tightly to his chest. “The moment we tried to take it, he latched onto it. Even in such a weak state, he refused to let go.”
“A fragment of wood is that valuable?”
“We believe it to be a result of delirium. If we give him enough time to rest, we should be able to hear his story.”
“Has the healer been called?”
“She is harvesting herbs as we speak and gathering salt from our stores to restore what the colt lost.”
Mkuta nodded, then turned to look on the young mare applying a cold compress at the base of the Unicorn’s horn. “Juadogo, you look bigger every time I see you.”
Juadogo batted her purple eyes and bowed her head. The many golden rings along her neck clinked briefly. “That would probably be because you only visit once a year, revered one.”
Mkuta frowned. “None of that now,” he chided. “We know each other far too well for you to address me so formally.”
A twinkle of mischief shone in Juadogo’s eyes. “Is this a command from the spirits?”
“Juadogo,” the chief grated warningly.
Juadogo sighed. “Sorry, Father. But I was just playing. It’s been so long since I was able to tease Mkuta. I thought he might miss it.” She smirked impishly.
The chief groaned. “If only your mother were still here.”
A low moan cut through the banter as all eyes fell on the Unicorn. He blinked blearily, then eyed the various Zebras slowly. “Where … am I?” he asked.
The chief looked at Mkuta helplessly and Mkuta sighed. “It seems the spirits may have had another purpose in my arriving so late.” He turned to look at the Unicorn. “You are safe,” he said in perfect Equish. “You were found unconscious, deep in the savannah. These people saved your life.” He motioned to the chief, his daughter, and the guards. “Tell me, do you remember what happened? What is your name?”
The Unicorn coughed weakly and croaked through his dry throat. A small bowl of water was quickly put to his lips, and he sipped gratefully. He heaved a great sigh as he finished, his eyes glassy as his head swayed in the air. “Vital Spark,” he said with a gentle smile. And then his head flopped onto the floor as the chunk of wood rolled out in front of him.
The chief furrowed his brow in concern. “Mkuta, are you all right? Your legs are shaking.”
Mkuta didn’t answer. Instead, he stooped down to pick up the fragment, examining it carefully. His eyes widened as he finally managed to decipher a burned rune and felt the shape of two hollows scrubbing against the soles of his hooves. “By the Moonweaver,” he breathed. “Is it possible?”
Mirage Glamour woke in a small stone room with all four of her hooves tied to two wooden beams, leaving her legs spread out around her. Light poured in through a small window at the top of the wall in front of her, indicating she was likely underground. Sitting in the corner, in plain view, was a very large black Gryphon with a green crest and chest feathers. He casually threw a stiletto upwards, catching it deftly at its tip just before gravity could cause it to fall too far.
The mare quickly took in her situation and decided to make the best of what otherwise could turn out to be a rather … messy situation. She hitched her breathing to make herself appear as frightened as possible, while her pupils began to contract. “Wh-where am I? What’s going on?” She put on a hint of a shrill. “Where’s my Pitty? Pitty? Honey? Gravel Pit!”
“You know, that's very good,” Grif chuckled. “Most people might actually believe that act, but honestly–.” He was in front of her. There was no other term for it. One second, he was in the corner. The next, he was standing there, leaning in with his blue swirling eyes contracted to perfect cat-like slits. “You’ve already made the worst mistake of your very short life expectancy; so drop the act.” There was a searing pain as he ran the point of his talon across the line of her jaw to the base of her ear, carving an angry red trench that welled with blood.
Mirage let loose a terrified scream. “Somebody, help me!”
“You honestly believe anybody would come help you, even if this room wasn’t sound proofed, Mirage Glamour?” Grif asked. He caught the brief flicker of surprise on her face and grinned. “Oh, I know who you are, or at least your current alias. You can’t do mercenary work in Equis without somebody knowing you. You’re a high beta level Unicorn with a penchant for illusion magic and charms, so how about we start with you telling me what happened, and then who hired you?”
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” she insisted.
With a casual ease, Grif lifted a talon and poked her shoulder. For a moment, that seemed like all he was doing, but soon she felt him putting weight behind it, and the claw pierced the skin, then the muscle tissue below it, sinking in up to the base with a blinding, searing pain. He made no attempt to remove it as he spoke. “Let’s try that again, shall we?”
Mirage ground her teeth together, but ultimately couldn’t hold back the scream as the talon scraped against bone. She put on a show of tears, sobbing as she lowered her head to drop her mane over her face. When she raised it again, her eyes were pulsing with color that seemed only to diffuse further through the liquid. “Why are you doing this? I’m just a magician.”
“You know, usually, I have to be careful, when I’m skinning someone to interrogate them. The brain will overload, and the pain will kill them.” His voice dropped so low, it was hardly a whisper. “But right now, this is a special case.” He smiled jovially as he pulled back a bit, before he began running the talon along the length of her foreleg, splitting the hide. “Rest assured, right now, I can do whatever I please, and you will not die.”
Mirage screamed again as the blood flowed freely, staining her fur, and Grif shuddered, half in pleasure, half in anger as he watched her suffer.
“You still going to play stupid?” Grif asked.
Mirage grit her teeth and turned away.
With almost surgical precision, Grif began separating the Pony’s hide from her leg. “Good. I’d hate to win this early in the game,” he purred.
Herne rose groggily to the sensation of cold stone and the scent of damp and mildew. A puff of fresh air would blow in occasionally from a window high above, too far out of reach, even if he were to try a running leap. There was no sign of light, so he could only assume it was night time. That meant a full half a day must have passed already. What had happened? How did that Unicorn manage to cast that high level of a spell? And … why did he remember hearing drums, before the light struck him?
He snorted in frustration as he took in the other surroundings. There would be time to worry about the how and the why later. Right now, he needed to figure out the where and plan an escape. A set of pale glowing stones pulsed gently in the walls, allowing just enough illumination to see ahead. He shifted his hooves and began to rise, when he felt the distinct weight of hefty chains tugging at his arms. He looked down calmly to notice the large throne-like chair he’d been bound to. He tested the chains’ anchors idly, keeping his senses alert as his ears swiveled around.
A shadow darted on the edge of his vision, but Herne ignored it. That is, until the shadow lunged into the circle of light to stand before him. A cursory glance told him all he needed to know. The Thestral was tall and lithe, with a long mane and a fox fur vest.
“So, you’re the one who targeted the friend of our moonkissed. How stupid.” Higher tone, richer timbre. Female. Definitely female. The Thestral hissed once, then smirked. “On the plus side, since you’re exiled, we Thestrals can do whatever we please with you, and no one will care.” She frowned. “That Pony has lost more than you could possibly imagine, and yet you still elected to cause him more pain. Tell me, Minotaur, do you know what we can do to you?”
Herne just stared the Thestral down. He knew better than to engage in what was likely to be a useless conversation. They would try to interrogate him, of course. Torture was likely on the table, among other possibilities. He would have to seek a means of escape in the meanwhile. It would be difficult, of course, but certainly not impossible.
“Not very talkative, are you?” The Thestral grinned as she reached behind her body with a wing and pulled out a long black serpent. It curled gently around her wing, as tame as a newborn puppy. “You know what this is, don’t you?” She smiled sweetly. “The black mamba. Such a curious species of snake. I hear its venom is quite potent. Just a few drops, and everything starts to shut down. Your arms, your legs, your lungs, your heart,” she said casually as she waved the wing about. The snake hissed its discomfort as it began to stir. “Of course, we haven’t actually seen the effects for ourselves. The Viper clan tells me it’s terrible to watch, but very quick.” The smirk widened into a sneer. “Of course, normally, those victims don’t have an anti-venom to help them survive.” She pulled out a bottle and laid it beside her on the floor. “We have plenty. I wonder, how painful must it be, to dance so near death, only to be pulled back at the last second?” She giggled as she fixed Herne with a wicked grin. “Let’s find out.”
“Come near me, and you will regret it,” Herne warned quietly.
“I don’t have to,” the Thestral returned. “I’ll let Slang do it for me.” She whispered at the snake’s head, then lowered it to the ground. It uncoiled and slowly undulated forward on its slick scales. The hiss of its belly against the floor echoed in the room, grating against Herne’s ears as the reptile drew ever nearer. It stuck its tongue out from time to time as it looked up at the Minotaur with dead eyes. It slithered towards his hooves, and Herene remained perfectly still as the snake drew closer and closer.
Then, with lightning speed, Herne struck, smashing his hoof down to crack heavily against the ground. A loud crunch sounded in his ears as he looked with a level expression at the Thestral. “I warned you not to come near me.”
“And I warned you I wouldn’t have to.”
Herne looked down, wide-eyed. Instead of a split head, the remains of a shed skin lay partially crushed beneath the keratin of his hoof. A sleek black band had wrapped itself around his leg, and his pupils constricted as he noticed the creature’s fangs sunk deep into the flesh of his thigh. A harsh rasp escaped the Minotaur’s throat as his mouth went dry. Already, the poison was taking effect. He couldn’t move his leg anymore. The site was numb. He snarled and lunged down to seize the filthy creature, but his arms yanked uselessly as the chains restrained him. It didn’t take long for him to lose his other leg. Then his tail went numb. The joints stopped swaying. He bellowed angrily as he strained to reach the creature with his teeth, if for nothing more than to earn some small victory. His arms slumped and hung limply at his sides, shifting as he hurled his torso back and forth, until even that wouldn’t move anymore. His eyes widened in horror as his breathing grew slower, slower, and slower still. Deep breaths became furrows, became labored gasps, became useless puffs that couldn’t even stave off the burning that had begun to build.
Finally, the mighty bull’s head laid limp against his shoulder, his eyes staring at the mare that had just laid him low. The burning became more intense. His lungs were on fire, begging for relief. And then, even that began to fade as a creeping coolness swept over his nerves like a rising tide. The world grew hazy as the field of his vision narrowed. Blackness slowly closed in, framing that mare’s wicked smirk as the last thing he would ever see, and then even that was gone. And so was he.
…
Herne gasped for breath as his body shook itself awake with a powerful tremor. His pupils dilated suddenly and his skin crawled with pinpricks as his nervous system ran a self diagnostic. He panted as he fought for control. He heard the familiar clink of the chains, felt the same restraints against his motion. He looked down at his leg, only to see no signs of the devilish creature that had struck him. The flesh was unbroken, with no sign of a scar. He narrowed his gaze as his head rose to behold an entirely different Pony. This one was a Pegasus with dark blue fur and a bright white mane that seemed almost to glow inside the cell.
“So, you’re awake.” The grin on the Pony was unsettling as he bore his fangs. “How was your nap?” The grin widened into a wicked sneer as he approached Herne.
“I take it that was a dream walker,” Herne noted calmly as he fixed the Pony with a level gaze. “And judging by your mane, you must be the famous Pensword.”
“So, you’ve done your research,” Pensword replied. “You certainly are smarter than others of your kind I’ve met. But, you see, that’s one thing that’s been bothering me. This question just keeps fluttering around in my brain. What, in all of Equis, would possess you to accept a mission to go after the personal friend of three of the most powerful and feared warriors in Equestria? Surely, you weren’t planning on getting away with it. Grif and I have a network that would have tracked you down faster than a trapdoor spider springing from her nest. Even the dullest of your species knows better than to cross us.”
Herne shrugged. “Money is money. If you want to take your anger out on someone, direct it at the nobles who hired us. All we did was make sure he would be at the drop off point unharmed.”
“How interesting,” Pensword spoke, scrawling down the Minotaur’s words in his notebook. “So, you’d be willing to give us the name or names of these nobles? Right now, I have information that’s already been given by your co-conspirators, so I don’t know if you’d really have much more to offer as leverage. Of course, if you do happen to have any new information, then we might consider being more lenient. Might.”
“If you already had the information you needed, you wouldn’t be standing here telling me you had it,” Herne said pointedly. “If you want to deal with me and my men, then do it honestly.”
“Oh, it’s honesty you want, is it?” Pensword replied as the left side of his lip twitched, exposing more of his teeth. “I’ll give you honestly, you miserable hunk of beef. You’re our prisoner. I’ll give you a minute to let that sink into your thick skull. Have you got it now? Good. We hold all the cards. You and your fellows have none. Even as we speak, what little remains of your gang is being hunted and captured by our finest special ops units.
“To say that you’re screwed doesn’t even begin to cover where you sit right now. I haven’t felt this angry since I lost my family in the war. I think we both remember where that led to. Congratulations, my friend. You just woke The Demon, and The Demon is very, very angry.”
Pensword flew dangerously close to the bull, hovering just next to his horns as he whispered into an ear. “I will make your every day a living hell. I will torture you in your waking hours. I will find you in your sleep. We will drive you to the brink of insanity, if need be, to find out what you and your lackeys did to Vital Spark.” His voice had become icy, his eyes hard as glaciers. “Then we’ll peel back whatever is left of your mind, like a we would a dead carcase, to claim the names of every noble you have ever had dealings with, before I send you personally into the afterlife to face judgement.” He thrust his hoof into the Minotaur’s pec. “Make no mistake. I know you harmed by friend, despite your protests to the contrary. You’ve done something to him, performed some kind of spell we have yet to identify. We know he’s not dead. We know he isn’t anywhere to be found in Canterlot. Not even the souls of the dead can find him.”
Pensword trailed his wing blades over the Minotaur’s cheek and down his arm gently, leaving a trickle of blood to flow out into the great bull’s fur. “So, let’s start off with the easy questions. Start answering those honestly, and I’m sure we’ll be able to come to an amenable arrangement. Well, for me, anyways.” Herne’s fingers twitched as the wound began to itch and sting. “Now let’s start from the beginning. Where was the drop off?”
The first thing Shadow became aware of when he woke was a dull ache through his body. That was quickly followed by a veritable tornado of rage, anguish, frustration, hatred, … and a terrible patience. He gasped as his survival instincts kicked in, flaring his wings and buzzing for all he was worth. Except his wings wouldn’t move. His limbs couldn’t shift. And with every shake of his head, he heard the clink of chain against chain as he rocked ever so gently back and forth. His breathing became short and ragged as he searched around the room for something, anything he might be able to use to escape. Perhaps he could transform into something else. Yes, that would work. Then he could escape. Then he could run.
The green flames rose around him. He could feel them licking against the chains, against his chitinous body. And then came the screaming as the chains flared to life, each link engraved with a blue flame that flickered in the shape of a rune. The rest jerked out of him, flowing in the darkness to a comfortable high-backed chair, where a single Earth Pony sat with crossed hind legs. His foreleg was extended to seize the energy as it coalesced over his hoof. A blue-and-gold coat flowed comfortably around his waist, and a heavy thick brown leather tome covered in alien script leaned against his hind legs as he read from some obscure page. Shadow didn’t need to wonder who this Pony was before him. All he needed to wonder was how long it would be before he died. The rocking changed to shaking as the jingle of chains clinked jarringly against the walls, reverberating over and over in their ears.
“Please, keep going. I can always find a use for this extra energy,” Hammer Strike commented idly as he looked up from his book.
Shadow rasped as he struggled to get his breathing under control. The depth of the emotional barrage was overwhelming. His eyes began to roll in the back of his head, even as he struggled to remain conscious. Conscious, his captor might deem him of use, give him a chance to escape. Unconscious, he would surely die.
“Now, we can go about this in a multitude of ways. Right now, I want to know what happened yesterday. What happened to Vital Spark?”
“H-happened?” Shadow furrowed his brow. “How the buck should I know? He’s the one who blew us all up.”
“Perhaps, but that’s not all I want to know.” He pocketed a crystal in his hoof, before letting it ignite suddenly. “I want to know everything about what was going on. Who hired you, and what reason did they give?”
Shadow shrugged. Well, he tried to. It was rather hard being trapped in a literal cocoon of chains. “No idea. I just do the stealth work for the party. You really think they’d trust a Changeling with that kind of information?”
A pressure suddenly appeared against his throat. “That’s not the answer I want to hear. I want the answers straight to the point. Do not be coy with me.”
“You’d better ask Herne, then,” Shadow said bitterly. “My loyalty’s to my survival first. If I knew, I’d have offered you a deal the minute I saw you. No Changeling is his right mind would actually deny you, if it meant they might live.”
“And yet you worked alongside your companions against me,” Hammer Strike frowned. After a moment, he waved his hoof, followed by another him stepping out of the shadows in the room. “Do you really think I believe they would tell you nothing of what you were doing?”
“No. Herne and the others were banking on you being willing to let us go, since we’re just mercenaries. You employ one of the best. You know how it works. You want the key info, talk to him.”
“I’m positive my friend has already dealt with him accordingly,” Hammer Strike commented as he looked back to his book, allowing the second one to take lead. “If you aren’t able to talk about those bits of info, tell me about the events that led to this outcome.”
“I assume you’ll torture me or worse, if I don’t?”
“There have been methods I am curious about.” Hammer Strike gave a faint chuckle.
“And will you let me go?”
“I’m sure you know the answer to that.”
“So, suffer terribly or make it quick, with you getting what you want either way.”
“Correct. So start talking.”
Shadow sighed. “The job was supposed to be an easy one. Grab the target, pass it off to the clients, get paid, and get out. We started by following your activities, your habits, that sort of thing. A few plants was all it took. Tourists have been flocking to Ponyville ever since Twilight became a princess.
“Once we knew how you thought, it was easy to plan the abduction. We knew it would have to be when you three were all occupied, and the bill was the optimal moment. Our employer or employers agreed. I dropped off a message to our contact in your meeting to alert them the deed had been done.
“As for the how, we started by taking stock of the materials he had. It would be a simple matter to make facsimiles of most of his gear, but that strange weapon, the one with the lever, was … unusual. Our contact gave us the intelligence that it was a form of propulsion-based weaponry. We needed to neutralize it, to prevent casualties, or at least minimize them. We hired a mare to help us with getting ahold of one of the packets of paper to analyze for the sake of making an effective, albeit harmless copy. It … didn’t turn out well. How did you manage to trap it so efficiently, anyways? We didn’t detect even a wisp of magic on it.”
“Because I studied every form of trap detection,” Hammer Strike replied, rolling his eyes. “Continue.”
Shadow deadpanned, then sighed as Hammer Strike leveled him with the dreaded eyebrow of doom. “All right, all right. Don’t break out the torture tools just yet. From there, we had a spy we planted in your townhouse replace all of Vital Spark’s weapons with clever copies, including a boobytrapped staff to restrain him, should the need arise. We left the packets and their weapon alone. After what happened to Miss Mill, we weren’t about to take any chances.”
“Where did you put the originals?”
“Back at the camp, I would assume, if they haven’t already been taken and picked over by the rest of the band. Then we had Mirage go after him to try to charm him into following her. Like I said, the goal was capture, not torture. She charmed the rest of the guards to ensure we wouldn’t be interfered with. From there, it was just a matter of running the gambit. And we did catch him, with minimal losses. Then he woke up at the drop point, and all Tartarus broke loose. He used some sort of artifact to blind us, then broke his bonds. I can’t tell you what happened after that. My senses were too overloaded by the flash, and then a second brighter one outshone the first. The next thing I knew, I was here, facing you and your other self. What are you, twins or something?”
“Not really. The real me just determined that you’re not worth him stopping his study on finding Vital.”
“The … real you?”
A third Hammer Strike pulled itself from the shadows. “Torture goes easier when you have multiple individuals working on it. So, you have nothing left to tell me freely?”
“Can’t exactly tell, if you don’t ask.”
“I said I wanted everything you knew. Every little detail stuck within that head of yours.”
“You are aware of how much concentration I have to put into my mental capacities just to function properly, correct? To give you every little detail is impossible.”
“You’d be surprised what someone can remember, when they become desperate,” the third commented as he studied the thaumic nature of the Changeling.
“I can only give so much. So, you’re going to torture me, after all, then?”
“More like … test some things,” he commented as his eyes flared briefly, and he noted a thin thread coming off the Changeling’s head via his thaumic vision.
“Why does that not reassure me?”
“We’ll just see how it goes,” the doppelganger said calmly as he took hold of the aspect. It took a moment before Hammer Strike realized just what he was dealing with. He detected hints of cognito, among various other minor pieces. It took him a few moments of analysis, but suddenly, his eyes widened as he understood. This was the tattered remains of a hivemind link. This, this would be … interesting. The first test was the simplest and most direct. He preferred working that way. It made things so much easier in the long run. He simply imposed his own will over the link.
He watched and felt as the thread snapped taut, and the Changeling suddenly jerked to a halt, tensing rigidly as it struggled to move its mouth, its tongue, its jaw, anything. Muscles tensed and pushed in its neck near to bursting as its eyes rolled from the strain of trying to move.
“Now that’s an interesting response,” Hammer Strike commented as he tried different methods of the same force. He twisted and yanked the string in various directions, testing how it influenced the insectoid’s mouth and other body parts. When he felt confident enough, he seized on the string again, forcing the Changeling’s mouth open. Slowly, excruciatingly, he finally got the Changeling to utter a series of garbled chitters, hisses, and vocal ululations. It took about a half hour or so, but finally, he managed to get a cohesive message out of the Changeling.
“Chrysalis is a daft cunt.” For some reason, it came out with a heavy Irish accent.
“Close enough,” Hammer Strike shrugged. Once he got a handle on that, he ensured a heavy presence of his will remained on the Changeling, forcing his control over it. After a few minutes of working the thaumic nature of the thread just right, he stepped back, and both the copies vanished as the real Hammer Strike put his book away. “Now let’s see how you fared. Tell me your name.”
Shadow jerked in place. He panted heavily as his eyes flashed and his tongue shot out. It was difficult to tell whether these were the throes of agony or ecstasy. The Changeling’s voice had a curious echo to it as it answered. “I am Szzztinger,” he buzzed. “What is your command, my queen?”
“What other orders do you follow?”
“Other orders? I … do not understand.”
“Do you follow any other orders other than my own?”
The Changeling’s head jerked and twitched from the influx of energy and the sudden connection to what at least accounted for a facsimile of a hive mind. “I s-s-serve the h-hive. Your will is the h-hive’szzzz will.”
“Good. Did you withhold any information in your explanation?”
“There izzzzz a safehouse, where otherzzzzz may be hiding.” The image of a great waterfall snapped back along the connection to Hammer Strike’s mind. The image zoomed in along the body of water, then down the river that sprang from it to a shore several leagues downstream. From there, it was a simple jog through a patch of poison joke to the boulder that marked the cave’s entrance.
Hammer Strike smirked as he let out a dark chuckle. “Good. Now then, I believe I have some tasks you can do for me….”
“If your theory is correct, Mkuta, it bodes ill for our lands, especially given the treaty the council of chiefs signed with Equestria. The whispers of war echo through the earth. Conflict will soon erupt once again, and now a herald of disaster to our own people arrives at the same time.” The wizened chief shook his head disbelievingly.
“Kiongozi, we’ve known each other for many a year. Can I trust in your discretion?”
“Warriors may be braggarts at times, Mkuta, but we know how to keep a secret, when the need is there.”
Mkuta looked gravely at the Zebra. “The colt is no herald. The stones have been whispering to me for some time. The outer fringes of our land are beginning to dry out. The stones are thirsty, yet there is less and less to drink. The symptoms are subtle for now, but if I am correct, then our nation will be in drought within a year’s time, if not less. Something is terribly wrong.”
“And is this why you journey to the Moyo Wa Roho?”
“The spirits call me there. If I am not mistaken, all the shamans across the savannah are receiving the same summons.”
“A conclave? Mkuta, we haven’t had a conclave in centuries, not since the last great war.”
“The spirits don’t lie, Kiongzi. And if I am not mistaken, the diviners will come as well. They have their own ways of reading the signs.”
“Should the other villages be warned?”
Mkuta shook his head. “No. Not until we get to the bottom of this.”
“And the Unicorn?”
“I will stay here long enough to see him restored to health. After that, he is to come with me.”
“Just what are you planning, old friend?”
“I plan nothing. I am merely taking precautions. Besides, without our help, he’ll be dead long before he can find his own kind. It is a kindness and a duty to assist him.”
“An outsider at the conclave?”
“He will be watched. And there are certain questions that need to be answered. The least we can do is provide them to him with the aid of our best diviners.”
Kiongozi chuckled. “You seem to have an answer for everything.”
“I have the spirits to thank for that,” Mkuta returned with a gentle smile.
“Father.” Juadogo stood meekly with her head bowed as she addressed the pair. “The Unicorn is awake. We’ve done our best to assure him, but we can only do so much.”
“Of course,” Mkuta agreed. “I’ll go to him at once.”
The Unicorn was sipping gently at a shallow bowl, when the three arrived. Four armed warriors stood guard at various points around the portion of the hut where he lay, along with an older wrinkled Zebra with more white than black and a longer mane that bent back, before waving down her shoulders. She was busy pounding some herbs to mix with the water. A younger foal with the mark of what appeared to be an incomplete black rectangle broken by four white patches, one located at the center of each line, worked busily to sort through various bundles of herbs and jars of powders. Two more black lines were housed within the rectangle, divided by another white line down the center to complete the symbol along his flank.
“And how is our patient?” Mkuta asked.
“He will recover, though it was a close call. He’ll be somewhat feverish for the next few days as his body recuperates. He’ll need plenty of water and a controlled diet, until everything returns to normal,” the old mare responded.
“And why the herbs?”
“He took a rather heavy blow to the back of the head. It’s to ease the pain and help speed recovery.”
Mkuta nodded as he looked to Kiongozi. The old Zebra nodded in return, then looked sternly at his guards. “Very well. In that case, the outsider is to be our guest, at least until he recovers.”
“It would be best to prepare a bed at my quarters. That way, he’ll have access to me, should he have need of any explanations,” Mkuta said.
“My men will see to it,” Kiongozi said. “But for now, it might be best to explain things to our guest, wouldn’t you say?”
Mkuta turned to look back at the Unicorn, who had lowered the bowl in favor of confused observation. There were still dark circles under his eyes and his face clearly had a paler cast to it than the rest of his coat, but there was life there and a sense of will behind that tired gaze. “I suppose it would be best,” he agreed. Then he shifted over to Equish. “I am glad to see that you are safe now, Vital Spark. How are you feeling?”
“In pain. My whole body aches,” he complained.
“You are fortunate we found you when we did. A few more hours in that sun, and you wouldn’t have been here to complain in the first place.”
“Where … is here, anyway?” he asked. “I thought I was dreaming, until I woke up again and got that water.”
Mkuta clopped over to sit next to the Unicorn. “You are in a village called Jihadharini. In your tongue, it means Guard Post. Tell me, what is a Unicorn like you doing here in Zebrica?”
“Zebrica?” the stallion blinked for a moment. “What’s Zebrica?” he finally asked, albeit slowly.
“By the Earth Mother,” Mkuta swore.
“Mkuta!” Kiongozi chided, his face aghast.
“He just asked me what Zebrica is, Kiongozi. Every Pony in Equestria knows about our nation.” Mkuta turned his attentions back to the Unicorn again. “Tell me, Vital Spark, what do you remember, before you woke up here?”
Vital Spark furrowed his brow in concentration. “I … remember some sort of a cave. I … think I woke up there. I knew I couldn’t stay forever, so I left to look for help, find someone who could tell me what was going on. The sun was so hot, but I thought I could maybe chance it. I … don’t really know what I would’ve done after, since I don't remember much, but … it felt right to leave.”
“You were found holding something, a chunk of wood. It appears to have once been a part of something greater. Can you tell me anything about that?”
“Other than the fact that I woke up with it, not much. I thought it was important, so I held onto it.”
“And that’s all you remember?”
“Pretty much. The stallion shrugged. “I think I’m supposed to be upset, but I feel too tired to be. Is that normal?”
Mkuta smiled sadly. “Rest for now. You’ll be staying with me, for the time being. We can resume this discussion another time.”
Vital Spark let out a tired sigh as his eyelids began to droop again. “If you say so.”
As the Unicorn lowered himself to the floor again, Mkuta turned to face his friend once more. “We need to talk.”
Pensword looked up from his clipboard as he eyed the Minotaur. An extra set of chains had been tied around his torso to keep him rooted against the chair. The bull’s eyes were bloodshot and baggy from lack of sleep. His mane was disheveled, and his head lolled back and forth ever so slowly as he looked at the Pony with a glazed expression.
“Now, Herne, from what we can gather out of your file, you’ve had a rather nice career here. You came to this nation just a little over two years ago, long enough to gain a loyal band, long enough to be competent, but I must say, either your skull–.” He smacked the minotaur's’ head with a swagger stick, adding a new cut to the series of lashes that criss-crossed on the sides of the bull’s head. “–Is so thick that other bands’ warnings never touched your tiny brain or you got so full of your success that you thought you could handle us.” He let out a furious hiss as his pupils narrowed to slits.
“Because no sane merc would have ever gone after Vital. You’re lucky that Clover isn’t here. She’d have broken you faster than I can snap a twig. You would have been dancing her tune in seconds.” He looked at the Minotaur’s tired, haunted eyes. “So, let’s begin again. From the top. What happened in that room? We know you picked the wing for a reason. And thanks to a pair of old friends’ cross referencing, we discovered a very old, very mystical Zebrican artifact is missing. Tell me what happened, and I might let you sleep.”
Herne huffed and snorted as his head began to droop towards his chest. A sharp smack to the other side of his face snapped him back to wakefulness again. “I don’t pay attention to Zebra magic,” he lowed, and it was almost a moan.
Pensword smirked. “So there was Zebra magic at the site. Dare I even say that it was the cause of the explosion?”
Herne shrugged.
“So, the staff did cause the destruction. That’s some information, at least.” He turned toward the corner of the room, where the specters of his family awaited him. “See if you can find any leads,” he instructed them. “If it was Zebrican magic, then maybe the shaman diplomats can be of assistance.” The family nodded as one, then disappeared.
“So, Herne,” Pensword said as he turned to face the exhausted warrior with narrowed gaze, “at least tell me this. Was it a single noble or a group that hired you?” He stared grimly at the Minotaur as he drew forth his hunting knife from its sheath and ran it across a whet stone that had been set on the table. The steely hiss forced a slight tremor down the Minotaur’s frame as his fur stood on end. A series of bloody bandages had already been tied tightly around one forearm. “And let’s try not to repeat our last session, hmm? I really don’t like torture, but I’d do anything for my friends. Tell me the truth, and you don’t have to suffer. Don’t tell me the truth, and that good arm of yours is joining the first,” he said flatly.
“Y’know, you could’ve just asked nicely,” Herne coughed, then chuckled, before throwing his head back in a deep, throaty laugh. His eyes rolled unsteadily in their sockets, and his tail whipped wildly behind him. “Would’ve avoided a lot of unpleasantness that way.”
“I did, but you didn’t answer.”
“No, you just wouldn’t deal. That’s a,” he puffed as he struggled for air, “whole nother story altogether.”
“You wanted full amnesty and a lot of money. I am sorry,” Pensword’s eyes narrowed, “but one does not simply mess with house Strike and come away smelling of roses.”
“And would you say I’d be walking away smelling of roses now?” Herne countered.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“You didn’t give me my guarantee.”
“That’s the thing. With questions like that, I feel like you’re trying to avoid problems from your employers. Now tell me, you coming out of this interrogation, like you are now. If I had been the one to pay you, what would I do here?” He didn’t wait for an answer, “I’d think you blabbed. And while I may end up going into hiding afterwards to avoid retribution, I’d have you eliminated in a way to show I had at least some control. So, you see, we have a problem here. You’re dead, if you walk out those doors. However, if you stay here, I can absolutely guarantee you won’t be killed by some faceless assassin.”
“I’d rather take my chances.”
“And I’m not letting you go or stopping the pain, until I get to know what I want. Or do you want to be hoofed over to the Silent Death? Or perhaps Celestia’s Ghost?”
“I’ll tell them the same. Let me go, you get what you want.”
Pensword looked at the Minotaur. “Let you go. Hmm. I might be able to do that, but it’d have to be someplace of our choosing and our timing. After all, we’d hate for you to lose what you have coming to you.”
Herne mulled that over for a time, which pretty much equated to about ten minutes, with all the times Pensword had to wake him up again. “Sounds reasonable,” he finally said. “Got a blood contract handy?”
“You really do not know who you speak with. I, Pensword, Commander of the Equestrian forces of the Third Gryphon War, Moonkissed upon my birth, he who strides the path of Thestral and Pegasus, the Patient Warrior, have never signed a single blood contract in my life. My word is my bond, and one who has studied me should know that.”
“You weren’t known for torture either. Look how well that research turned out,” Herne spat.
Pensword chuckled. “That is because I didn’t need to, nor did I want to. If I had done that back then, I’d have killed my captives at the first sign of resistance. No, I fought, and you know one thing? I only let one Gryphon live from my campaign out of thousands, perhaps millions. Were it not for Grif, even that one would have died. I promised that I would kill every last Gryphon that crossed me. And I did. If I say I’ll do something, I’ll do it. Rest assured, my promises will be fulfilled.”
“Call me old fashioned,” Herne grunted. “Honorable or not, I want that assurance.”
“And I will never sign a blood contract. I can give you a contract in ink, but not blood.”
“Then we are at an impasse. A blood contract is one you cannot break. Ink and paper is worth only as much as the money it cost to buy them.”
Pensword frowned. “I will withdraw for now and pass your proposal on to Lord Hammer Strike. He will be the deciding factor.”
Herne shrugged. “Surprised he hasn’t come sooner, all things considered.”
Pensword paused at the door. “Be grateful he hasn’t.” Then he left, leaving the Minotaur to the dark and a restless sleep.
“So, let's go over it one more time,” Grif said, sitting across from the Unicorn mare. Her forelegs had been completely and expertly stripped of hide. A simple glass of salt water was held casually in the Gryphon’s hand. Every time he thought she was lying or holding back, he would dip his talons into the substance and flick it onto the exposed flesh, causing Mirage to endure terrible pain. “You say that you had Vital Spark in shackles with a magic dampening ring, you got close, and he proceeded to break your ribs. There was a flash of light, and in the ensuing chaos, he escaped and proceeded to arm himself with one of the exhibit pieces, a staff. Is that right?”
Mirage glared at him with bloody eyes. The strain from Grif’s methods had long since caused several of the vessels to burst, literally turning her gaze red as she fought to maintain her consciousness. She grit her teeth as the air danced over bare muscle and tissue, constantly reinforcing the pain. And no matter how many times she tried to pass out, she woke up almost immediately, and the process would start all over again. She’d lost count how many times the torture had occurred. “For Faust’s sake, yes! How many times do I have to tell you?”
“Lady Faust forsook you the moment you accepted this job,” Grif chuckled. “She’s not about to hear you now.” He dipped his talon and held it poised above her leg. So, there was an explosion, and then you hit something hard and woke up here?”
“Herne charged him. Vital Spark shouted something I’d never heard before, some sort of battle cry, I think. Or maybe it was the words that triggered the spell. I don’t know!” She instinctively flinched, drawing her head as far back away from the talon as possible. Unfortunately for her, her forelegs had no such capability.
“You know, I don’t enjoy torture,” Grif chuckled. “It was one of the things I only did because I had to, during the war. I personally always believed in mercy being important to life. But every once in a while, people like you come along, and mercy just flies right out the window.” He closed his talons over her horn and pulled her close. “You know who I am. You know my reputation, what I can do. But rather than taking it as a warning, you seemed to take it as a challenge. So, now you’re going to tell me who hired you.” He chortled wickedly as licks of black flickered along his talons and eyes. “Lie to me, and I promise you I will make your death last so long that the date on your tombstone will be a question mark.” His voice began to reverberate, even as he whispered in her ear with a special kind of relish. “The text below your name will read, ‘Here lies the fool who played with the wrath of Grif Bladefeather.’ Now tell me, little Pony, who paid you to do this?” His pupils narrowed to slits as the colors of his irises swirled in an angry maelstrom. “Who?” he roared.
In that moment, Grif’s face seemed to twist into the shape of a great shambling horror. Its eyes burned red as gobs of black puss dropped hissing to the floor, reeking that sickly smell of rotting flesh. Its horrid beak opened in a silent shriek, and its breath was cold as the grave, even as a series of cuts slashed over exposed tissue on her face. Mirage screamed, wrenching at her forelegs as she struggled to free herself from that terrible visage that was and yet wasn’t Grif. Grif’s grip held her fast, until she had no choice but to either respond or go utterly mad at the sight before her. “Glass House! It was Glass House!”
“Good.” Grif released her horn. “Now you stay here and think on what you did, while I go talk with the others.” As Grif spoke, the room warped around her. The monster in front of her vanished and a similar Gryphon sat casually on a stool in the corner of her cell. Her forelegs were fine. The pain was gone. She was still tied up, but everything was back to normal again. It … it had all been an illusion? Grif eyed her with that same ruthless gaze and paired it with a sneer, then turned to leave.
“Wait!” Mirage cried. “Gryphons can’t use magic. H-how did you do that?”
“Buck you. That’s how,” Grif said casually, before he swept his wings back around to rest on his sides and closed the door behind him.
“So that is the short of it. We need a blood contract that is worded in a way that makes him feel safe. He spills his knowledge, and we then give him justice. He will not move forward without a blood contract. I’ve already ended his mercenary career. It’s a little hard to wield a weapon properly when the nerves in your hands have been damaged. And the beatings I’ve given him will have him deaf within a year or two, assuming we let him live that long. I’m not exactly the best when it comes to being sneaky with words, so I was hoping one of you might be able to help me craft it.”
Hammer Strike rubbed at his jaw. “Contracts like that aren’t easy to make. Given enough time, I could perhaps come up with a near perfect contract with loopholes in it to our advantage, but, as I said, that will take me a little bit.”
“I guess we’ll keep up the nightmare assault in the meantime,” Pensword shrugged.
“Be sure to measure it well enough, Pensword. Too little sleep, and he’ll start having problems functioning mentally,” the Earth Pony warned.
“I will. Don’t worry. My apologies for being so slow on the extraction, though.”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “Stuff like this takes time. It’s all right, Pensword.”
Pensword sighed. “I feel better hearing that. Thanks.” He shook his head. “Just where on Earth is Vital Spark?” Pensword muttered. “I was able to confirm the item missing is Zebrican in nature, thanks to the caretakers. I sent my family out to check for any potential leads, just in case the explosion that took place was a type of long range teleportation. They should hopefully be reporting back soon.” He frowned. “And frankly, he’d better be, because if this is like when we got sent back to the Third Gryphon war, then it’s going to be a whole other pain in the flank to find him.”
“I haven’t been able to place a mark on where he is. I’m working on trying to find him thaumically first. Afterwards, it’s just a matter of getting to him.”
Pensword nodded curtly. “Good. Assuming we’re done here, if you all don’t mind, I’m going to find Lunar Fang, spend a little time with her, maybe ask if I should do anything to Herne for her, and I’ll leave that contract in your hooves. You’re the head here, after all, since they kidnaped one of your best friends and head of your supplies.”
“You’re his friend, too, Pensword.” Hammer Strike hummed to himself. “But yeah, I can see to working on the contract.”
“I know. It’s just that by the letter of the law, you’re in charge of all our interrogations. I know I didn’t like what my shadow did, but frankly, after what these people did to Vital, I might reconsider that policy,” Pensword growled. Then he sighed. “So, this is going to be another Flame situation, isn’t it?” he asked. “With whoever hired these mercenaries, I mean.”
“I had hoped not, but it’s beginning to look like it,” Hammer Strike agreed.
“Well, I’d like to lay claim to any military equipment they may have and to place any Thestrals they might have in their employ in clan custody. Luna’s going to want to put them on trial herself.”
“I’ll send Luna the paperwork,” Grif spoke up as he approached the pair. “I take it you two came across similar information, including house Glass’ involvement and some sort of staff?”
“The staff was Zebrican in nature, and was the cause of the explosion, not Vital,” Pensword reiterated. “And I was hoping to get the house name first, but I suppose you win again, Grif.” He furrowed his brow in concentration. “House Glass. That’s one of the newer houses, isn’t it? They only came into being in the last two hundred years or so.”
“From what I’ve heard,” Grif shrugged in acknowledgement, then looked to Hammer Strike. “Anything we’re missing?”
“You get the information on their hideout?”
“Well, just that if he could, he’d tie my wings together and drown me in the waterfall out back,” Pensword answered, “so it has to be near a waterfall.”
“It probably is somewhere rocky. Her hooves don’t show any signs of exposure to mud or foliage recently,” Grif noted.
“That’s narrowing it down a bit more,” Pensword chirped.
“I know exactly where it is,” Hammer Strike commented.
“Well then, if there’s no other info needed, I’m going to go take care of my guest.” Grif chuckled darkly.
“You’re free to do so,” Hammer Strike said.
Grif sneered. “Excellent.” Without another word, he turned around and walked off.
“And I’ll go take care of other things. Also, I need to talk to you or Grif. My crystals are getting to be about the size of oranges now, before the strain starts to show. I think we’re nearing the point for me to move on in my lessons. After we finish cleaning up this mess, of course.”
“We can look into that later, yes,” Hammer Strike agreed.
“I’ll be back in a couple of hours to check up on the situation. Send a messenger for me, if you need me sooner, okay?”
Hammer Strike nodded simply and Pensword departed.
“So, until I can learn how to speak your language, I have to stay as close to you as possible?” Vital Spark asked as he ate from the bowl of fruits that had been provided for their meal. The air was dry and musty in the shade beneath the hut’s thatched roof, but at least it was cooler than the unforgiving sun outside.
“I’m afraid so, Mkuta explained. His lower legs were folded and his eyes were closed as he held his forehooves together and breathed in meditation. “The possibility for miscommunication is too great, and while the village is willing to trust you based on my word, they aren’t so trusting as to let you wander without a proper escort.”
Vital furrowed his brow. “I … don’t know if I’ll be able to learn your language very easily.”
Mkuta shrugged. “You might not. But easy or not, you will have to learn it, if you wish to survive, at least until we can find a means to get you back in contact with others of your own kind.”
Vital Spark nodded and pushed the bowl aside. “Then I suppose we’d better get to work.”
Mkuta cocked an eyebrow as he opened his eyes to look at the Unicorn. “Just like that? No complaints? No whining?”
“Am I supposed to?”
“Apparently not.” Mkuta chuckled “Very well, then. Let us begin. This is how you say hello.”
The session lasted for the next hour, until Vital Spark let out a heavy yawn. Mkuta smiled knowingly and handed the Unicorn another vessel full of water. “Drink. The nature of your ailment is well known to us. Assuming you keep a healthy diet and remain hydrated, you should be back to your full strength in about a week or so. At least you will be strong enough to travel.”
“Travel where?”
“To the home of all shamans, the Moyo Wa Roho. In your tongue, it means Heart of the Spirit. Those who bear the gifts of divination or the power to commune with the spirits go there to receive their training at the base of the holy mountain, before spreading across our land to the villages where they are needed.”
“What makes it holy?
“It is the place from whence all life flows in our land. Without its gifts, the savannah would be little more than lifeless dirt and sand.”
“Seriously?”
“We don’t joke about that sort of thing here, Vital Spark.”
“You know, for some reason, that makes me feel relieved.” Vital furrowed his brow and tapped his chin in thought. “I wonder why.”
Mkuta chuckled. “Perhaps your answers will come in your sleep.” He motioned over to a blanket and a thresh mat made from interwoven grass fronds.
Vital Spark yawned, despite himself. “Do I have to?”
Mkuta did his best to suppress the mirth in his eyes as he smiled at the Unicorn. “Yes, you do. Rest well, Vital Spark. We’ll resume our lessons in the morning.”
Vital sighed. “Yes, Sir.”
Mkuta couldn’t help but chuckle again as he stepped out into the evening light. The colt was so very much like a foal in so many ways. The road ahead would be a challenging one, but hopefully one that the Unicorn would be able to rise to face.
The stars had just begun to emerge over the horizon as the twilight slowly faded. Off in the distance, Mkuta could just make out the shadow of the holy mountain. He closed his eyes and opened himself up to the ebb and flow of the voices beneath the earth. Once more, he felt the powerful pull, almost like a compulsion, stemming from the mountain. He took an unsteady step forward, even as he quickly cut off the connection. The spirits were growing more insistent. At this rate, he knew he didn’t have long, before they overcame him entirely. Something was most definitely afoot. He sighed and turned towards the healer’s hut. If the spirits did, indeed, overcome his body, he would need the means on hand to continue Vital Spark’s treatment as they traveled. “May the spirits preserve us,” he whispered, then clopped resolutely towards the healer’s hut.
Grif eyed Mirage as he entered the room. “I just double checked the info you gave me. It checks out,” he told her.
Mirage decided not to engage, maintaining a stalwart silence that she knew would prove futile, but pride demanded.
“I applaud your willpower, but really, it doesn’t matter. You’ve told me all I need to know, so I have no further use for you.”
“So, what’s it going to be?” she finally asked. “Bloodletting, decapitation, poison?”
“Too slow, too quick and too subtle,” Grif shrugged.
“And?”
“And what?” Grif asked tepidly.
“You clearly want to gloat. Might as well get your monologue out of the way now.”
“Is that so?”
“I’m dead, if I struggle, and I’m dead, if I don’t. So, yeah, I figure I might as well delay the inevitable, assuming you’re that sort of Gryphon.” She shrugged. “I don’t really care either way anymore.”
“No fear of death?”
“Does it matter either way?”
“It may be your last chance to have your opinion heard.”
“Will it change the outcome?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“Then there’s not much point, other than to say you’re an idiot for killing us off, instead of hiring us.”
“Why would I hire you?” Grif asked, chuckling. “Nevermind me. I could have sent a squad of fledglings to do the job and they’d have pulled it off. The spectacularity of your failure is something I might use as an example for training from now on. So, tell me, what makes you so valuable?”
“That depends. Are you referring to infiltration, enthrallment, illusion magic, or something else? My talents are varied and quite … satisfying.”
“Were those the same talents that killed the guard I assigned to tail Vital Spark?”
“That would probably have been Shadow. He’s a very good assassin.”
“Well, Mirage, you make a good argument. I must admit, I might even have considered it, except,” Grif casually turned around. She didn’t even see his arm move, just a brief flash of light and a searing pain in her throat as a foot long stiletto stabbed cleanly through with a metallic ring as it struck the stone on the other side. Mirage sputtered and gurgled as blood flowed out her lips and down her neck through the wound. “Then that happened,” Grif continued. “You attacked a friend of mine, Mirage. And no manner of clever words could have saved your life. Don’t worry, Morning Glow. I’ll make sure your remains get back to your mother in Trottingham.” Grif’s voice began to blur as the world faded around the mare. “And when you get to hell, tell the devil who sent you, will you?”
Grif eyed the body as it slumped forward and let out a last pitiful gurgle. He had a thought to retrieve the stiletto, but decided against it. It was soiled now, dirtied by dishonorable blood. He’d let someone else dispose of it later. Without bothering to close the glassy eyes, he made his way to the door and exited, looking to one of the two Gryphonesses he had guarding the room. He smiled casually. “Could one of you do me a favor and clean that up?”
“With pleasure, Sir.”
Leaving that to be handled, Grif decided to see what was going on down in the Changeling’s cell. He was curious to Hammer Strikes own method now. Without knocking, he slid into the room as silently as he could.
He was surprised to find a completely unfettered Changeling sitting quietly across the room from Hammer Strike. Hammer Strike turned for a moment to acknowledge Grif with a faint smirk. “Hey. Did you already finish up?”
“Yes. I decided to make it quick.” Grif looked between the two. “What did you do?”
“I may have learned how to fine-tune a hive mind on Changelings. Though I only tested it here with a singular subject,” Hammer Strike turned towards the Changeling. “Real name?”
“Stinger,” the Changeling replied promptly.
“You basically hacked his brain?”
“Pretty much. Stinger, orders from Grif are to be obeyed, unless conflicting with my own. Understood?”
Stinger nodded mutely. “Whatever you say.”
“So, what's your plan?” Grif asked.
“After some thought, I realized that an efficient way to deal with our threats is to leave them unsuspecting. After all, the contract was taken by the team. To get a follow-up report from the them wouldn’t set off any alarms.”
“So, our friend here is going to become a sort of sleeper agent?”
“Correct.”
“You know, during the last attack, Trixie used this spell, while fighting Chrysalis. I didn’t see it, but I got a report later on. It converted her entire body into unrestricted energy. According to Clover, it’s not that difficult of a spell. It’s just generally avoided, due to being completely fatal. What would that kind of energy do in the center of a noble’s mansion?”
“It would make a spectacular light show.” Hammer Strike started to grin. “Ah, that can work wonders.”
“Should I get a book on the spell?” Grif asked.
“Yes. I’ve still got to alter the link a little more, so I’ll be here.”
“See if we can program him to seal off any rooms containing foals. I don’t want that kind of blood on my hands,” Grif noted as he opened the door.
“Of course.”
Pensword stood holding the contract in front of the Minotaur. Its letters had that peculiar sheen that only wet blood could grant, and they seemed almost to glow with an inner light. “One blood contract, as agreed. This is your only offer, Herne. If you don’t take it, it’s very likely that you’re going to die. I wouldn’t know, since I’d be handing you over to Grif or Hammer Strike, but I think you can guess what they can do.”
Herne snorted. “New Unity?”
“We have a Minotaur there who could use some training in your culture. Treat him well, and you might be allowed a limited amount of freedom. And I do stress might.”
Herne grunted. “Fine. You got the needle?”
“I thought you might prefer something more ceremonial.” Pensword produced a dagger and held it out for Herne to use. “I’ll handle the paper. You do the rest.”
Herne held the dagger easily in one hoofed hand and dragged one of his massive fingers along its edge. A few moments later, a trickle of red flowed up over the fur. Pensword quickly laid the contract underneath and caught the drops on the parchment, before thrusting it up against Herne’s finger. The script glowed as the droplets flowed into the letters and a new name was inscribed at the bottom. When the deed was done, Pensword removed the parchment and seized the dagger.
“Right. Now it’s your turn to deliver. Let us start at the beginning. Are you working for a single noble or an alliance?”
“We were approached by a representative from a particular house, but it wouldn’t surprise me, if they were simply a pawn.” Herne shrugged. “Most major houses act through proxies that way.”
“That is the way of the Solar Court, it seems,” Pensword agreed. “So, who was your proxy, then? Did they say anything they wanted?”
“Other than your friend, they wanted nothing of value from us. All we wanted was the coin, and then to leave afterwards. As I said, no harm would have come to him under our watch. I would have made sure of it.”
“Yes, but you seem to be withholding names of your proxies and contacts. Part of the agreement was that you would give us all of the names,” Pensword replied. “And as for no harm, you had him tied up, and carried him in unconscious. And let’s not forget the heavy duty dampener you had on his horn. This wasn’t a noble kidnapping. This was an outright capture and hand over, while making sure the Pony is alive but not comfortable.”
“The hobble was to make sure he couldn’t run in the event he woke up. The bindings were only tight enough to ensure they fit snugly without causing harm. As for the dampener, you, of all people, know better than to allow a prisoner access to magic. It wouldn’t have harmed him in any way. The blow to his head was unfortunate, but proved necessary, and was the only damage he received at our hands. As for proxies and contacts, those have nothing to do with the job or the noble that contacted us.” Herne snorted angrily. “What do you take me for, a savage?”
“I know mercs. I employed one during the war, but you, yourself, told me that the noble house you were to deliver Vital to was part of something bigger. What noble house did you work with? Who was going to pay you?”
“Glass House was his name.”
Pensword looked almost … disappointed. He sighed. “Very well. I suppose we’ll move forward from there. Do you have anything else you would like to give us? Information, tidbits, warnings, that sort of thing?”
Herne shrugged. “Not really. Just that he must be a very passionate gamer. He kept talking about newbs. That … is the term young foals are using nowadays, isn’t it?”
Pensword nodded. That would be something to give to Hammer Strike. Though, for some reason, he felt like he’d heard something like that somewhere before. “Very well. Until we can make arrangements for your armed escort, you are to remain here. Once we do, you will be moved to New Unity, where you will work for the rest of your life, however long that may be.”
Herne snorted. “So, are you going to untie me now?”
Pensword nickered in frustration, but finally moved to the side of the room and pulled a lever. The chains clanked and clattered as they gradually lengthened their give. When the wheel finally locked into place again, the manacles clacked open and fell to the floor. Pensword didn’t look back to see Herne’s reaction. He didn’t trust himself to. Instead, he closed the door and locked it behind him, before looking back over the contract. “Just a while longer,” he muttered. “Just a while longer.”