//------------------------------// // 150 - The Ties that Bind // Story: An Extended Holiday // by Commander_Pensword //------------------------------// Extended Holiday Ch 150: The Ties that Bind Act 24 “As ends one chapter, so begins another.” Vital Spark sighed as he finished scrawling over his scroll’s surface and bound it up to join his other journal entries. “I miss computers.” He strode over to Aria and opened her cage to feed her. He allowed a brief nuzzle of affection, before turning to face the door. “I’ll see about getting you a proper perch soon. There’s not much sense in keeping you locked up, now that you can fly on your own power.” Aria trilled her agreement and bobbed her head. “Anyway, I need to go see Clover. She’s probably going to storm into my room, if I don’t check in on her soon, anyway, and I half expect she put some sort of tracking spell on me specifically to know if I ever get in trouble again. Then again, she might finally have thought I’m skilled enough to take care of myself.” He stroked his chin in deep thought, then shook his head. “Nah. That’s not her style. She’ll just keep saying I’ve got more to learn, possibly threaten to skewer me or worse, and maybe beat the pulp out of me, once she finds out I got myself in danger.” Aria whistled shrilly. “Right. Right. Sorry,” Vital said. He chuckled. “I guess now I’m just delaying. I’ll see you later, Aria.” The nostalgia was strange, to say the least. It had been over a year since he had walked these halls, and now he was passing through them yet again. The air was still cold here, and he found himself ill-equipped to handle it, after being in the savannah for so long. By the time he reached Clover’s laboratory, his teeth were chattering almost uncontrollably. He didn’t bother announcing himself. The door opened easily into a room that practically radiated with heat, blessed cuddling heat! A final tremor passed over Vital Spark’s body, and then he sighed in relief. “Finally.” “Have fun on your adventure?” Clover’s familiar voice asked from across the room. “You call fighting in a war an adventure?” he asked. The mare was seated in her customary armchair next to the fireplace, surrounded by organized stacks of books that waited to be reshelved. A second chair already waited for him to join her. “I’ve fought several wars in my lifetime,” she reminded him. “Then you know they’re not the type of experience one would always call an adventure. Though I will concede it is a growing experience,” he said as he mounted his chair. “So, you’re not going to threaten me with lightning or some other crazy tactic this time?” “I think you understand where you were stupid without my help this time.” “Speaking of which, I think we may need to hasten that possibility of a contract with Shiva. She seemed rather insistent back in Zebrica.” “You managed to invoke her power?” Clover lifted an eyebrow. “More like I sent out a general distress signal. She was the first one to pick up. I was about to be frozen to death by some windigos and I didn’t have any of my former memories of our studies together at the time. I admit it was a gamble, but since it was literally life or death, it was one worth taking.” Clover nodded. “I guess you’ll need to read up on contracts then.” “Agreed. By the way, Clover, she did something to these gems, too.” He levitated his necklace to her. “They’re baby fire heart rubies, and they were originally red. I doubt they’ll be useful for any kind of magic storage or channeling, but I figured I’d get your professional opinion on whether Shiva might have done something extra to them, just in case.” “I wouldn’t be able to tell.” Clover shrugged. Vital returned the gesture. “It was worth a shot. So, you knew I was going to go back. Was that as a result of adventures with The Doctor or just intuition?” “The Zebras have many tales about that war, contrary to those who call themselves experts. I know facts aren't always facts.” “Did you all figure out who was controlling the other house that arranged for my little accident or is that investigation still ongoing?” “Grif and Hammer Strike dealt with it.” Vital sighed. “I’d hoped you might have had some insight. Ah well. I suppose whoever is responsible will reveal themselves in time. Arrogance usually leads to a slip-up at one point or another.” “No, they won’t,” Clover said. “They won’t be revealing anything anytime soon.” “Just how far ahead have you seen into events?” “I saw the smoke in Canterlot from here,” Clover said. “I meant the future. And did that spell really have that large of a radius? I thought it only blew up most of the room I was in.” Clover sighed. “You’re being simple again.” “No, you just weren’t being specific. I assume there was a second explosion, then?” “Yes.” Clover nodded. “An entire noble house went up in flames. Only the children escaped.” “Yikes. I’m going to go out on a limb and guess the house was the one that supposedly arranged for my kidnapping?” “Now you’re thinking.” “That and I got some basics from the others, when they came back for me in the first place. So, one more question, since we’re feeling so candid with one another today,” he said as he stared into the fireplace. “When were you planning to address the elephant in the room with Twilight?” “Which elephant?” “The fact she’s your direct descendent.” “And what makes you believe that?” Clover asked. “Clover, the physical similarities were enough of a clue on their own. I’ve got shamanistic training added to it now. Do you really think I couldn’t link the two of you together?” “At best, you have anecdotal evidence,” Clover said, “which is essentially worthless in its own right. As far as history knows, I never had children.” “As far as history knows, yes. But as you said before, facts aren’t always facts.” “Maybe, but as far as you know, that is a fact,” Clover said. “You taught me to doubt history, because of how easily Ponies rewrite it, Clover. Your own protests and manner are confirmation enough for me. I’m not looking to publish it everywhere, and I’m not asking for details. I’m just asking when you plan to address it with her, because it’s going to come out eventually, one way or the other. You and I both know that is a fact, because this is Equestria. And let’s face it, these kinds of things always wind up coming out in one of two ways, and you already know what they are.” “You ever think that’s not just my story to tell?” Clover asked. “Even I can’t make life from nothing. A hypothetical child would require a father.” “Yes, it would. As I said, I won’t pry. I’m just wondering when or if you were ever going to tell her.” “Not my place to decide.” “Then I assume you’re saying it’s the ‘hypothetical’ father’s?” “There are some secrets everyone must keep.” Clover gave him a sad smile. “Not forever, though, Clover.” Vital smiled gently in turn. “You’ll see.” Clover rose slowly to her hooves and cleared her throat. “You’ll find information on contracts in the volumes at the back. I trust you know your way around by now.” Then she turned and left the room quietly. Pensword breathed the air of New Unity as he left the medical facility. He had heard rumors that they were planning to build a bigger hospital in the first residential ring, but he hadn’t expected them to have made such rapid progress. He looked to the plaster that now locked his wing into immobility. There had been no other option. The bone had to be rebroken to get properly set. This also meant he had to be on pain medication for the next two days, and a potion to prevent his wing from developing too much calcification as the bones knit together. He grimaced at his memory of the first dose. The taste reminded him only too well of the potion he drank when he first arrived in Equestria. The sun rose steadily over the castle’s battlements. It was late morning, and the commander began to hum to himself, relishing in the chance to enjoy music again. His ears reamined perked as he continued forward, and his body tensed. No rocks came this time, however. No angry bellows either. It was a colder day, and his wings were covered in goosebumps without the aid of the insulating down they had once possessed. That being said, it was also beautiful. He was free. He was alive. And now he would be able to spend time with his family once more, assuming the boys had been found. How did young colts always manage to get into such trouble? He paused as he saw a French Red Kite Maine Coon gryphoness land in front of him and raised a questioning brow. “Jacqueline, why do you have an Earth Pony stallion on your back?” He raised his other eyebrow at the blush that rose beneath the Gryphoness’ feathers. “Do I need to perform a wedding?” “If you don’t mind, Father.” “And what is your name?” Pensword asked the rather confused-looking stallion. “Hollow Ground. I’m a Painter.” “Very well. Then I expect you to spend time around here and at the Bladefeather compound. When Rainbow Dash shows up later, you are to attend the same classes she does. Assuming all goes well, come the end of the week, I will marry you and Jaqueline. Though you’ll have to wait in line, since Rainbow and Kahn asked for it first.” Hollow Ground’s jaw dropped. “I don’t have to, uh, ‘prove my military might?’” Pensword smiled knowingly. “What else do you think those classes are about?” Jacqueline gave a small squawk of joy as she pulled the stallion into a tight squeeze, before taking flight again. Pensword chuckled. After the week was over, three of his Gryphon children would marry. And to Ponies, no less. It seemed Melody’s prophecy was about to bear fruit. He wondered if Spring would be full of more such ceremonies. The Gryphons in his care certainly seemed to be moving quickly. “Well, might as well see about getting it all done in one swoop. I think I may need to call a family meeting. The more mare and colt friends I get through the training, the better.” “And so, as you awaken cloaked in darkness, you find yourself in a dungeon, chained to the walls and surrounded by the scent of dank and decay. “‘Ah, so the mighty heroes have awakened,’ a rumbling voice speaks from beyond the darkness behind the bars. ‘The squizard will be most pleased. He will reward me greatly.’ From out of the darkness, a tall figure shambles, cloaked in black and purple so that only a long cruel beak protrudes from the hood. You realize you have been captured by none other than Garfaud the Grypholich. He proceeds to inform you to enjoy the day, for come sundown, you will be executed for the glory of the squizard’s army and the dark empire. You are alone, chained to the wall. What do you do?” Grif looked to the table where Spike, Big Macintosh, and several Gryphons looked at him anxiously. They scanned their character sheets rapidly for options. It took several dice rolls and numerous failed attempts at magic and lockpicking before the group finally managed to remove their shackles and leave the cell. From there, Grif lea them along the winding tunnels in a slow smooth narration, throwing monsters at them with practiced timing. “Ha-ha!” Spike crowed in triumph as his fireball incinerated yet another monstrosity that barred their path. “Take that, you fiend!” “From the creature’s body, you find...” Grif rolled behind the screen and grinned. “You find a small golden brooch of familiar design. In the center is a thunder sapphire cut in the shape of a diamond. The royal seal elegantly carved into the back of the gem stands out clear as day.” Spike’s eyes widened as he stared up at the DM. “Y-you mean…?” “You find the brooch that you gave to Princess Schamarity the night before she was kidnapped. Roll a perception check.” Grif nodded. Spike shook the twenty-sided die. “Come on, magic, don’t fail me now!” He let the dice fly and it clattered over the table, bumping off Grif’s divider and finally coming to rest in the middle of their current field. The young dragon sank in his chair and groaned as he ran his hands over his eyes. “Eight. A measly eight!” “Unfortunately, you cannot tell how long the broach has been in the monster’s possession and therefore if it was taken by violence or not, and if the princess is still here.” One of the Gryphons who was playing a Kitsune had moved forward to scout ahead; however, at a junction a bright glowing pink mushroom drew his attention. At Grif’s prompting, he rolled a critical fail on his insight roll and the character began to eat the mushroom. By the time Spike and others reached him, he had eaten about half of the mysterious fungus. “Roll a D10 for me, Matthias,” Grif instructed the Gryphon. The Gryphon muttered, rolled his die and frowned. “I got a three.” Grif consulted a rulebook and chuckled. “So, for the next three hours in-game, your fur glows a bright fluorescent pink. Your stealth rolls are with disadvantage, as are your intimidation rolls,” Grif explained, accompanied by the group’s outrageous laughter. “Well another mark toward no intimidation. Stealth... I go back to the pack to act as mage, and be ready for healing,” he groused. Then he grit his teeth. “That’s the second time now. Seriously, guys, how could a rock make me cry?” “Hey, the dice don’t lie.” Grif shrugged. “So, is anyone else going to replace the scout or just move ahead as a group?” A Gryphoness snapped up the chance. Her character hadn’t seen much combat, due to the rest of the party killing the target before she had the chance. “I’ll use my Thestral Combatant.” “But you don’t have stealth,” her neighbor replied. “I don’t care. I want first blood next battle,” she snapped. Big Mac just moved his figure on the map to being there for backup. Lafayette smiled as he put his Abyssinian rouge to the front. “We must get the Commander for this game.” “Perhaps for another campaign, Lafayette,” Grif said. “Okay. You continue down the narrow hallways until you come to a massive chapel covered with dark tapestries depicting darker acts: the selling of souls, sacrificing of virgins, kicking puppies, that sort of thing. The area leading to the dais is lined with dark wooden pews filled with skeletons posed to look as though they’re praying. A dark altar made from obsidian sits on the raised dais at the front. A massive pile of gold, jewels, and other treasures rests on its surface. What do you do?” Matthias shouted before anyone else could say anything. “Detect Magic.” Another of the Gryphons spoke up. “Uh, I think I can still use this spell. Dispel Magic?” “Roll a D20, both of you,” Grif instructed. “I rolled an eighteen. With modifier, that’s a twenty,” Matthias crowed. The would-be-dispeller groaned. “I got a six, with my modifier of a two, that makes eight.” “You can’t tell what type of magic is in this room, but it’s very old and you feel faint just from the aura it gives off.” Grif turned to the other Gryphon “Your dispel magic spell does nothing, seemingly absorbed by the source of the foulness that's in this room.” “Whatever we do, we shouldn’t touch that gold,” Spike cautioned. “It’s obviously a trap, probably some sort of demon or worse.” The Gryphoness grinned. “Oh, I can so take that on.” Only to have in-game Big Mac use a restraining spell, free action, to keep her away from the gold. “Nnnnope.” Another of the Gryphons simultaneously rolled for agility to get ahead of the player and cut her off. Unfortunately, the player rolled a nat one and caused a whole pew of skeletons to topple over like a set of dominoes. Grif shook his head. Then he sneered. “For a moment nothing seems to happen, and then suddenly the creaking of bones echoes as, one by one, the skeletons begin to rise, picking up weapons as they do. Soon you are surrounded by the skeleton horde. Roll for ini–” Grif stopped as an alarm clock rang through the room. “Well, it seems our time’s up for this week, guys. Time to pack up. My other appointment’s going to be here in a few minutes.” “Aww, just as it was getting good, too. How and why is it you always manage to leave us with a cliffhanger, Grif?” Spike asked. “Because it keeps you anxious for the next game.” Grif smiled “Now come on. I need the table clear in ten minutes.” The group packed up and left Grif’s home. He smiled as he heard them talking enthusiastically about the session. As soon as their voices faded from ear shot, Grif put away his notes on the campaign and pulled out a second notebook. He went around the room turning down the lamps and making the atmosphere much darker. His next group, after all, were far more intense then his last. Twenty minutes later, he sat behind his screen once again, looking out at his current group. “Good evening, friends. When last we left off, the demon lord Thargarus had finished collecting the seven sacred scrolls that would unseal the gate to the apocalypse, and you stand at the precipice of disaster. Between you and him stands no less then one thousand horrors summoned from his own personal pits of Tartarus. To make matters worse, one of your number had recently been awakened to the fact that Thargarus is, in fact, the father she had been searching for her entire life. And now she must decide on her course of action. Now then, I believe we were starting your first encounter with a mind flayer. Please, my friends, roll for initiative.” The light illuminated his face hauntingly as he eyed the group. The CMC smiled back at him as they reached for their dice. Hammer Strike hummed as he thought to himself, eyes scanning over the surface of his mug of tea. He thought back several times to a few events and potential uses of his field that could prevent or otherwise obstruct such problems in the future. On the plus side, while it took some energy, he now had something connecting to his field that supplied him with power in a near-constant stream. He still had no idea what the stone was made of, yet at the same time he felt all right with that fact. If it kept him going, then so be it. If they were going to return to Earth once more, then perhaps this would keep him from suffering from the extreme negative effects of losing his thaumic aura. “You know, I could fashion a beautiful cravat out of that, darling. Then you won’t have to worry about losing it,” Rarity noted. “Or perhaps some other form of accessory, something designed to be useful for both forms?” “Perhaps something else, yeah,” he replied as he came out of his thoughts. “I can’t exchange this cravat.” He gestured to his neck. “It’s … special.” “You do realize it’s bound to wear out eventually, don’t you?” “I know it will, and I will have to figure out the next step afterward.” After a second, he placed a hoof to his mouth, signaling for her to remain quiet. Embers bled off him, as did the walls around them. “That’ll keep things at least a little more … safe.” “Safe from observers or from too much energy building up inside you? I hope you’re not in trouble again, darling.” “Safe from observers, in a way,” he explained. He reached a hoof up to the cravat’s knot. As he pulled his hoof back, a crystal began to form. It was bright, with no discernable color. It seemed to change every time Rarity blinked. “This is why it is special.” “What is it?” Rarity asked as she stepped closer to peer at the strange gem. “I’ve never seen its like before.” “Primal energy. Think of it like the lifeforce of gods in a way. It’s a force of creation and destruction, life and death, etcetera.” “And you’re walking around with it bound to your neck?” “I can’t hide it in any other way, and even then, I won’t hide it off myself.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “It’s dangerous in anyone’s possession. Yet, Wukong thought it might prove useful to me. It’s somewhat hard to refuse something of this nature from him.” Rarity sighed. “I suppose those are valid points. There are times where I really don’t like it when you’re right, though. You’re in enough danger without having to protect a potentially divine artifact.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile. “I mean,” he tapped his back hooves. “Technically got three on me now.” “That’s not exactly helping your case, you know.” “Yeah, and yet I keep gathering more over the course of time. It’s a strange feeling, to be honest.” The crystal disappeared once more from his hoof. “Well, we are in a castle in the middle of the Everfree Forest, right next to Ponyville, where a disaster or major problem always seems to strike on a Tuesday. At this point, darling, I’d say strange is relative.” “Danger of this nature is ... more than I like risking.” “It seems you have to face those kinds of situations far more than is healthy. Are you certain there’s no way we could have a talk with this Fate person and change her mind?” “Fate cannot contain this.” He shook his head. “This reaches beyond the embodiments.” “Then if she knows you have that, why would she have wanted you dead in the first place?” “She doesn’t like me, because I defy her.” “I see. Why do I get the feeling that’s going to come back to bite her, eventually?” “Only time will tell,” he replied, followed shortly by another, “Not you.” Rarity giggled. “You know, if anypony else were to see that, they would think you were going crazy.” She walked up and kissed him fondly on the cheek. “Now then, I closed down the shop for the day so you and I can have some proper alone time.” She brushed her flank against his side and nuzzled him, before flashing him with her big eyelashes. “What do you say we make the most of it?” Princess Celestia had had a very trying day. Not only were the various noble factions up in arms over the recent destruction of House Glass, but now the Historical Society was filing petitions seeking restitution for damages to be levied against the remainder of House Glass. While the artifacts they had watched over were far from the most precious among Equestria’s history, they had been history. She would have to search long and hard to find suitable replacements to stave off further legal action against the poor foals. She smiled weakly as she entered into the dining hall, where a well-rested Luna feasted on pancakes stacked high with whipped cream, powdered sugar, and syrup. The duties of the Princess of the Night would begin soon enough, even as Celestia’s own had just come to an end for the day. “Greetings, Sister,” Luna said as she engulfed a whole four of the flat quick breads in one go. “You look tired. Come, rest yourself and join me in my repast. Surely, some food will do you good.” Celestia sighed. “If only it would. I fear for the foals in House Glass. I’m certain another family pressured their parents into this farce with Vital Spark, but now they have to pay the price for it. And I am powerless to bring true justice to bear, without proof. I’m afraid this will require the powers of chocolate, the richest that can be found.” “Then you are in luck.” Luna smirked. “Lady Pie just recently visited with a special delivery, just for you.” She motioned toward the end of the table with her wing. A great rectangular white pastry box that defied physics towered above the table and cast a shadow like the spokes of a wheel under the influence of the bobbing torches. “She also asked that you read the card before you open the gift.” “How does she do that?” “Sister, if you would protect your sanity, it is best you do not attempt to delve deeply into the phenomenon that is Pinkamena Diane Pie. Let us not forget what happened to Princess Twilight when she attempted to figure it out.” “And have you?” Luna shrugged. “I know better.” Celestia smirked. “Cheeky.” “See? The gift is working already.” Celestia reached the top of the box with a few mighty flaps of her wings. She undid the bow and pulled the card out from beneath it before the box fell open and creaked to a precise stop just shy of touching any of the food on the banquet table. A leaning tower of chocolate pancakes stared back at her, and the fresh-baked scent flooded the princess’ nostrils, relaxing the tension in her body as she let loose a blissful sigh. White, dark, and milk chocolate chips created a starry pattern that speckled the midnight coloration of the coco-infused pancakes. Chocolate fudge cascaded in a beautiful glossy waterfall that ran artfully over buffers of strawberries, bananas, and other fruits. Frothy toasted marshmallow meringue and delicate whipped cream formed intermittent rings like the layering on a cake. A lone cherry rested atop a final carefully laid dollop of whipped cream nestled at the highest point. “It’s … beautiful!” “Remember, Sister. The letter?” Luna urged. Celestia quickly regained her composure. “Of course.” Dear, Princess, I hope this gift helps make up for all the trouble you’re going through. I don’t like it when my friends are sad. I know how much you like chocolate, so I made this Super Duper Triple Quintuple Chocolate Fudge Mountain Cascade for you. Just make sure not to eat any of it till after that special letter arrives. You and Luna are in for a big surprise! The letter somehow managed to snort in laughter. Your friend, Pinkie Pie. Celestia blinked. “Well, that was….” “Pinkie Pie to a tee?” “In a word, yes. Perhaps we should use her as a gauge for when war is on the horizon. That Pinkie Sense of hers could save countless lives.” “You know she won’t do it, Tia. Her talent is bringing happiness to Ponies, not watching out for war criminals or fiendish machinations.” Celestia sighed. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Still, it wasn’t a bad idea.” “Certainly not your worst,” Luna jabbed playfully. “Why, I remember a time–.” “Don’t you dare,” Celestia laughed. Then she raised a knife and fork in her magic and took a great wedge of a slice from the top six pancakes, making sure to get some of the meringue and fruit to balance out the chocolate. One swallow and she moaned in pleasure. “How does she manage to create such masterpieces?” “I would assume the same way she manages to sense everypony’s imminent fates and surprises them all with parties and gifts through meticulous planning and potential spy antics,” Luna said calmly as she partook of another three pancakes from her stack. By the way, didn’t she tell you to wait until after this mysterious surprise?” “I’ll take the risk,” Celestia moaned as she took another huge mouthful. Luna chuckled and a flash of green appeared as a scroll materialized, bound in a simple ribbon with no discernable seal. “A letter from Twilight?” Celestia asked. “Open it and find out,” Luna suggested. “That does remind me, though. We really should see about getting her a proper set of seals and signets.” Celestia smiled as she pulled off the ribbon and revealed the parchment within. The smile widened as she read, then passed the letter over to Luna. “It’s from Vital Spark.” To the Two Sisters who Rule over Day and Night, Princesses Celestia and Luna, Greetings. I am writing this letter to inform you of a most glorious event. You are cordially invited to the Wedding of Vital Spark and Trixie Lulamoon precisely one week after Spring begins in the Everfree. As close friends to the groom and rulers in the realm, it seemed wrong not to have you present at the proceedings. That being said, Trixie and I both ask you to return your reservations as soon as possible and to burn this scroll immediately after viewing its contents. We do not want or need any nobles getting wind of this. If we get any that try to butt in on our special day, we will not be held responsible for our actions. If you would kindly make contact with the ambassador for Zebrica as well, it is my request that a representative of the lines of Bayek, Hekima, and Mkuta from the time of the fall of the Ukata Mkubwa also be in attendance, along with the current chieftain of the Moyo Wa Roho. Likewise, it is requested that a direct descendant of Fjüra, the sacred cow who led the Longhorn tribe with her sisters in the same time period, be invited to attend in accompaniment with the current lead cow and bull of their nation and their mates. We have every confidence that you will be able to deliver these invitations in a manner that will be well received. Thank you for your assistance in this matter, and we look forward to receiving your reply. Sincerely, Vital and Trixie Luna grinned. “HUZZAH!” she bellowed in her booming Canterlot Voice. The force of her exuberance neatly blew everything off the table … and all over Celestia. Celestia sighed. “I suppose I deserved that.” Luna snorted. “She did try to warn you.” “Would you care to experience some, Luna?” “You know I would trounce you in a food fight, Tia,” Luna warned. “Now just a moment.” She quickly skimmed over the document, memorizing the pertinent information before blasting the scroll to ash and then scattering the remnants with severe flaps from her wings. “There. Now we may proceed.” Her horn ignited as the good plates rose and began to circle her protectively. “Do your worst, Sunbutt.” Celestia sneered as she levitated a mushy gob of condensed pancake, chocolate, and meringue. Her mane flared an unhealthy orange briefly as the shadows played across her face. “Oh, I intend to.” The foodfight that followed was truly to be the stuff of legends. “So Trixie and I agreed we don’t want to make this too big of a wedding, but we do want to make sure to invite all the important people we care about. I’ve already sent a letter to Luna and Celestia with their invites, so that just leaves our friends here in New Unity and Ponyville. I’m still a little iffy on if we should invite anyone else from Canterlot. There are a few good friends among the nobility there for Hammer Strike, but I haven’t really had the opportunity to get to know them that well, myself. What do you think?” Vital asked Black Rook as he peered across his desk. The piece of furniture had been shifted to the center of his room and was currently lined with a list of proposed names from both the bride and groom to be put under consideration. “Well, it’s not like the two of you are afraid of getting some of the big wigs angry,” Black Rook chuckled. “And not like you have a lot of other friends you could invite from other places in Equestria.” “Though we will be inviting delegates from Zebrica and the Stampede Grounds, so we may need to see about ordering some translation medallions for those guests, in case they don’t speak Equish.” “All the way from Zebrica, huh?” Rook chuckled. “Let’s just say I had a Hammer Strike moment and certain relations in that land resulted. They are relations I would like to renew, if possible.” “Gonna have to send that out quickly, if you want it to reach Zebrica in time for them to get here,” Rook pointed out. “True. I asked Celestia and Luna to take care of it. Knowing them, they’ll be able to deliver the invites a lot faster than any of us could.” “Have you two talked over the details? Seems to me you can’t leave a lot to question with things moving this fast,” Rook commented. “We’ve been discussing color schemes and the like with Pinkie. You know how insistent she is when it comes to planning events. We’ll be asking Rarity to help us with some of the more fashionable touches. Nothing too fancy, just something that says us. I was actually planning to stop by the boutique after we finish here, assuming Hammer Strike doesn’t have more errands for me to run. By the way, I intend to name Grif, and Pensword as groomsponies. Assuming they accept, they may be of assistance with some of the preparations, though I can’t make guarantees, given how busy their schedules can be.” “And how are you feeling about all this?” Rook asked. “Rook, I’m getting married. How do you think I’m feeling about all of this?” He sighed and shook his head. “Sorry, that was the Clover in me talking. I guess you could say I feel like most grooms: a little numb, sort of nervous, probably more than sort of, but I can’t let that stop me. She asked, and I said yes, and … well….” he blushed profusely. “She’s one hell of a mare,” he said sheepishly. “Pardon the language.” “I’m a soldier, Vital. Guaranteed, I could curse enough to make your coat turn red permanently. You never need to apologize for language around me.” Vital chuckled. “It’s kind of how I was raised.” He turned his attention back to the lists again and frowned. “There’s not much chance of getting all the Rohirrim there for the ceremony, is there? At least some of them will have to be on guard duty.” “Kinda how it works, but I think I can make sure the newbies are all working that day so the ones you know best can be there.” “If they can’t, I’m sure I can devise a means to ensure they can see it. Hammer Strike and I can probably put our heads together for it.” He pulled open a drawer with his magic and sighed as an explosion of coil-snakes sprang out into the room. “I see the Pegasi have been busy in my absence.” Next, he removed a new inkwell and a quill. “I know I probably shouldn’t ask, but how’s the speech coming along?” “Slowly.” “You could always talk with one of the others, if you’re stuck for material. Grif, Hammer Strike, Pensword, Clover. They’ll probably each have something for you that you can incorporate.” Rook nodded “That's true. Maybe I’ll ask them. But right now we’re here about you.” “You know, it’s weird for me to think like that.” Vital chuckled nervously as he ran a hoof through his bristly mane. “I’m not really used to being the center of attention.” “Yeah? Well I imagine Trixie would be pretty disappointed if the two of you weren’t.” “She’s not so self-centered as she used to be, you know. But then again, it is our wedding day. It’s funny, really. Part of me still wonders what it was she saw in me to begin with for us to take things this far.” He smiled ruefully. “Do you think Fate might have had something to do with it?” “Doesn’t fate always have something to do with it?” Rook retorted. “You know, I wouldn’t put it past her. Though I may have to send a letter to Murphy and ask him to give us a break that day. You think he’d be willing to give me a day off for the ceremony and reception?” Rook rolled his eyes. “So, plans for the honeymoon?” “Grif suggested a place off the south coast. He says it’s the best location a newlywed couple could ask for for privacy and intimacy.” “So then, what do you need my help with?” “Planning the bachelor party?” “I’m not supposed to tell you about those plans.” “Ah, so you are planning one. Just don’t go trying to get me drunk, okay?” “Don’t worry about that. Grif’s not much of a drinker either, so we’re going to find something else.” “Part of me is afraid to suggest this, but you might consider talking to Discord. He lives for a good party, and he might have a few ideas for some fun entertainment.” “No promises,” Rook said flatly. Vital laughed. “All right, then. Let’s get back to work. I need your help to make sure I haven’t missed anyone.” Pensword smiled fondly as he sat in the field of flags thinking over the past and the future. He could see the evidence of the workponies’ progress. Stone walls seemed frozen in their growth, and a supply shed lay off to the side waiting for the workers to return and resume construction. After a sufficient period spent in this relative calm, his ear twitched and he narrowed his gaze. “So, you’ve finally come to talk to me.” There stood Jorund, proud as he had been the day of his execution. His blood-red feathers shimmered in the evening mist. “I wondered how long it would take for you to stop moping and step out of the shadows. I’m surprised you didn’t approach when I was gathering messages before.” Jorund grit his teeth as he bit off a growl that threatened to rise in his spectral throat. “Much though it pains me to admit, I need you to give my daughter a letter. It is a message I should have given her before her wedding day, but as you know, it is difficult for a specter to be heard. I take no pleasure in addressing my adversary in this manner, but … you did defeat me. That is no small feat. I am prepared to pay triple your rate to have this missive delivered.” “And why should I help you now?” “Because I require this letter to be sent and read before I am able to move on. You may take it out of the beaks your princess won from me and my comrades in arms. She will be willing to pay for this one. Of that, I am sure.” Pensword’s eye twitched and he forced himself to take a calming breath. “It is my duty to assist the dead,” he said begrudgingly. “I take no pleasure in this visit, but if it is what you require to join your kin on the winds, then I will write it for you.” He pulled his satchel open and withdrew a sheaf of parchment, a quill, and an inkwell. He jotted an account on one of the parchments as a reminder of the payment, then laid out the second paper and primed his writing implement. “Speak.” He recorded the words dutifully as Jorund gave the message that he had been drafting and revising for the last thousand years. Other figures began to take shape on the edge of his vision as he continued to record word for word. None of his family came to sort the line, as they had in the past. It was strange, but possibly promising. The fact that the Gryphons had lined on their own between the flags showed they bore at least a modicum of respect. Perhaps they weren’t all such savages, after all. He sighed as he finished another line of prose. At this rate, he would take most of the night tending to these requests. Then again, it wasn’t like he had much better to do while he waited for his wing to heal. Hopefully, the service would help to ease the disquiet left behind by his imprisonment, until he was cleared to hunt with his family again. And the bits and beaks would certainly prove helpful in sustaining his family. Yes, the bits would be very nice, indeed. Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he observed the new trinket of his, still completely unsure of what to call it besides a ‘small orange sun gemstone that isn’t quite a gemstone.’ Which, admittedly, didn’t roll off the tongue well. He frowned as he listened to Grif’s movement. He had called for the mercenary in order to get his opinion on the object. An outside perspective would perhaps give him some more ideas as to what he could do with it. “Come in.” “You wanted to see me?” Grif asked as he entered the room. Hammer Strike wasted no time in passing the stone to his friend. “What do you think of this object? Be sure to look over it thaumically. See what you can note.” “It gives off an astounding amount of energy,” Grif said. “It seems to hold qualities not all that different with your own field in some areas, and there is some kind of link between you and it, not unlike my own sword. But yours is softer, more refined.” “Draw some of the energy from it.” Grif raised his hand and a small crystal formed in his palm. “The energy didn’t diminish,” he noted. “It’s not the case that it replenished itself faster than I could notice either. The energy I took made no difference whatsoever.” His arm quivered slightly, even as he kept his hand perfectly level to maintain the stone. “Exactly,” Hammer Strike said as he took the object back. “What’s strange is that while the vessel that yielded this object was similar in signature to the dice you found a while ago, it was different in coloration and felt … more natural, I suppose I could say. I found it underneath my coat, after I destroyed the labyrinth wall.” “Did it hurt when you picked it up?” “Nope. I felt absolutely fine. In fact, I felt refreshed.” Grif brought the katana out, which Hammer Strike realized he hadn’t been carrying when he came in the room and held it before him. “It burned when I picked it up,” he said grimly. “It burned right down to the soul. If what you say is true, can we be sure that these are even the same dice?” “Similar in nature, but as I stated, it felt more natural than the die you found, strange as it is to say that,” he hummed. “Gold in coloration, with white numbers. Twenty-sided, but I could occasionally catch the glimpse of twenty-one.” Grif reached into his bag and retrieved a small leather case. “I think we might need to study these,” he noted, opening the container to reveal a light green die with purple numbers and edges. “And possibly collect them, if we can. If it can provide things like that—” he pointed to the amulet, “—they could be dangerous” “They are dangerous, but I haven’t heard anything on them, which I find very strange. Even something of this rarity would have a legend of some kind, but this has absolutely nothing.” Hammer Strike hummed to himself once more. “I can’t even put a pinpoint on the energy that they exude. It shifts too much.” Grif closed the case and stowed it in his bag. “I think we should keep quiet about this, until we have more information.” “Agreed.” Commander Pensword looked at the four envelopes that lay on the stone bench next to him. A female Gryphon crept out of the mist and took Jorund by surprise. As it turned out, she happened to be Shrial’s mother, and she had come to give her blessing to her daughter and her son-in-law. He smiled as he recalled how easily she had swiped her wing or talons to smack her husband in a manner all too reminiscent of her daughter’s behavior with Grif. He would definitely need to tell Shrial that little detail when he delivered the missives. The real surprise came after a reproachful glare from his wife prompted Jorund to offer a final missive for Pensword. Then the Gryphons turned together and Jorund straightened to address the other spirits. “Only those who have business with the Bladefeather clan will approach. Otherwise, give the Commander his rest. Many of the gathered faded with mixed grumbles and rebukes. However, despite the thinning of the number, Pensword still spent another couple of hours in the field writing letters of encouragement and love to Gilda. There were … quite a few that wanted to speak to her, actually. As a courtesy, and to simplify matters, Pensword charged a flat fee of one hundred beaks to Gilda’s family. By the time they were through, he had seventeen letters to give her. He scanned his scrolls fastidiously out of habit and discovered just how much Gilda’s family had managed to get off with. The Pegasus winced. He would need to put his hoof down on most other messages. Otherwise, he’d have to deal with absolute bedlam and no profit to show for it. It took him a moment to recognize the sensation of two sets of wings, one downy, one leathery, wrapping around his torso. His body began to shake as the warmth seeped in, and he realized just how cold he really was. Fox Feather and Lunar Fang nuzzled him silently in a gentle reminder of just how important it was to be among the living and care for those living requirements. After he’d finally warmed enough under their ministrations, Fox Feather wordlessly presented a set of leg weights. They were for foals, but leg weights nonetheless. He accepted the gesture gratefully as they helped him put them on. He kissed each of his mates lingerlingly. No words passed, but no words were needed. All three knew Melody’s warning and Luna’s confirmation still laid heavily over them. They would keep a close watch to ensure no more of these misadventures would take place, but he had more preparations to make. He would be ready for the assault when it came, no matter the cost. He pulled himself reluctantly from the warmth of the moment and picked up his letters. “I have to deliver these to Grif. They’re important.” The two nodded their understanding. “Come right back,” Lunar Fang said. “You need your rest,” Fox Feather agreed. Pensword swallowed heavily, then nodded and started for the Bladefeather compound, buoyed and weighted by his wives’ unspoken blessings and chastisement. Pensword stood before his friend’s house and rang the doorbell. Grif opened the door a few minutes later. “Oh, Pensword, come in,” he said. “Thank you, Grif,” Pensword replied. “I’m afraid I’m here on more business than pleasure. Are Shiral and Gilda home?” Grif nodded. “Come into the sitting room and we’ll talk.” A cheery fire crackled in the sitting room’s hearth. A screen sat in front to prevent any stray sparks from spreading. A series of chairs and other furniture had been crafted with the Gryphons’ larger bodies in mind, though a few smaller chairs had also been included in the room, most likely to accommodate for Tall Oak and Little Willow on their visits. “Shrial? Gilda? Can you two come down here?” Grif called up the stairs. “I thought I was supposed to be grounded,” Gilda shouted back. “Gilda, leave the sass to Shrial. She’s better at it,” Grif returned. “But she is learning,” Shrial added. The pair arrived a few moments later. “What is it, dear?” Pensword had laid his saddlebags on the coffee table and stood by it with a grim expression. “Pensword needs to talk to the two of you,” Grif said. Pensword motioned with his good wing. “Please, take a seat. I have letters for you.” He opened the top of his saddlebags and handed two to Shrial. “These are from your Mother, Lenora, and your father, Jorund.” Shrial grimaced at the mention of the name. “So, he’s still around. I thought he would have moved on by now.” “This is to help do just that. And I assure you, he didn’t say anything mean-spirited. it is what he wished he could have said to you before your wedding day.” His lips crept up in a smile. “Your mother may have had something to do with that. She smacks your father almost as much as you do Grif, maybe more so.” “You don’t have to read it, if you don’t want to,” Grif said supportively as he laid a wing across her back. His other wing pulled Gilda in next to him. As always, he made sure to share his love equally. “It’s tempting,” Shrial admitted. “I loved him, Grif. I loved him and everything he stood for, until I met you. Then….” “But he hurt you.” Grif nodded. “The choice has to be yours.” “I hate to butt in, but she does need to read it to give Jorund rest and the ability to be with Lenora. I’m sorry, I promised I’d do my best to help him rest, for her sake, and because it’s my sworn duty as one with the gift,” Pensword said. Shrial’s answer came slowly as she struggled to keep her voice clear and level. “And did my mother express the desire for him to join her?” Pensword nodeed. “Yes. Jorund has paid for his crimes these past thousand years. He misses her, and wishes to have her to guide him. It took a few centuries for him to even consider change, according to your mother. He has no expectations for forgiveness now, but he does wish to progress. Viewing his words will allow him to take that step. As you know from your own fiery nature, your mother will be able to keep him in line as he works toward the rest.” Shrial took a deep breath and sighed. “Very well. Let’s get this over with.” “Please read it silently and share with Grif later on. I already know the contents. I had to write it.” He turned to Grif and pulled the other two letters from his bags. “These are for you. They contain an apology and a father’s council about his daughter. As I said for Shrial, you don’t have to read it, but do not burn it or I will have to write it out again. Jorund made me swear. The other is from Shrial’s mother.” Grif took the missives with a grimace and placed them in his pack. “Mind you, the mother’s is very proud of you, so please at least read that one.” He looked to Gilda. “The rest of the scrolls in this bag are for you. Your family wanted to give some last minute instructions, recommendations, advice how to raise cubs, and what to expect with giving birth.” His face burned red. “In great detail.” He cleared his throat and hurried on. “The others are various notes expressing joy over your achievements. Some pertain to hidden artifacts that are part of your heritage. They wish you to have them, along with certain buried treasures which you have claim to as the sole survivor of your clan, especially now that you are married into an exceptionally powerful one here. Any detractors in the empire would have to accede to the request to reclaim that which is your birthright. They also wished you to know of a legal loophole that was included when they were gifted their lands, so that you may reclaim your ancestral home, should you wish. He sighed. “The rest kept me up for hours. Teasing notes, gossip, that sort of thing.” “Is he serious?” Gilda asked. “You think I would be taking these letters otherwise?” Shrial countered. “I’m not one for sugarcoating things, in case you haven’t noticed, Gilda. If Pensword were deluded, I’d have woken him up very quickly.” She flexed her talons meaningfully. Gilda gulped. “I see. Then … everyone … everyone was okay? They … they don’t hate me?” Pensword stared at Gilda and spoke in a flat tone. “You are married to Grif, The Avatar of Winds. You are a successful huntress, you are raising and going to have cubs. They are happy on the wind, and that if any had been missed that bloody night of revenge, you’d have the Avatar to exact the remaining justice and a Demon to hunt for you. I also know your weak spot, thanks to your brother. In short, your family expect you to grow to become an Old One with Grif at your side. They’re proud, Gilda. And you should be, too.” In a rare instance, Gilda allowed the tears to flow freely down her cheeks and beak. She sniffled as she took the saddle bags. “If you tell anybody you saw me crying, I’m going to deny it,” she said. “It’s a start.” Shrial smiled gently as she strode out from her husband’s wing and laid her own over Gilda’s back. “No need to feel shame over this one, Gilda. We’re allowed to weep for loved ones past, even in the old laws.” “I wept for two days, after I set hoof into Mountainside Falls,” Pensword contributed. “I know I’m no Gryphon, but some things are just universal.” “You know, Pensword,” Shrial said pensively, “sometimes I think you have more Gryphon in you than you may think.” The winds whipped fiercely as frigid sleet raked across the stones of the castle and its outlying structures. Thick layers of ice formed in the cracks between, while the trees of the forest twisted and writhed in a wild frenzy. The sudden storm would have taken the castle by surprise under normal circumstances. But this was Hammer Strike’s domain. And as all Equestria knew, Hammer Strike was no normal Pony. The guards pressed on through the ice, wearing heavily reinforced horseshoes with a series of spikes designed to help with traction. While most Ponies would have gone without anything more than their fur and perhaps a scarf, the troops that patrolled the walls and borders of New Unity were garbed in thick fur coats courtesy of the Bladefeather clan. Reinforced metal plates had been included on key points of their uniforms to provide an element of protection against attack. Mingled with the howl of the gale was an exultant shriek not unlike a bird of prey. Only one creature at the castle could find such joy in the storm. Big Guns shuddered and folded his arms as he squinted up into the clouds. His rootlike mane had shriveled and hardened flat against his head and back to form a glossy polished layer that looked almost like redwood. “You’d think she was the cause of the storm, the way she keeps cheering about it,” he grumbled. “You call this storm? This is a flurry,” Heavy Set called out with a hearty laugh. “Perhaps Mama is powdering nose, yes?” the second Heavy snickered. This was followed by his receiving a heavy dose of waterlogged snow that slid off one of the slanted roofs at the castle above. His brother laughed. “Ha! Mama does not like bathroom humor. You know this!” He continued to laugh as Big Guns helped to dust off some of the excess from Heavy Set. “I’m afraid I don’t see the connection,” Big Guns admitted. “Mamma is one you call Mother Nature,” Heavy Set explained. “She is very strict, but good at spoiling when you are good to her.” “Hey, guys. Did I miss out on the fun?” The first of the Scouts had returned from patrol. Icicles hung off his wings and snapped as he shook himself to free his feathers. “The heavies were just talking about their mother,” Big Guns explained. “Oh, that. Yeah, I used to badmouth the whole raised-by-nature thing, but then stuff kept happening to me. Bees nests falling on my head, snapping tree branches, giant bears chasing me after the honey from the hive coated my fur. And don’t even get me started on the moldy bread. Better to just take their word and leave it at that,” he said in his thick accent. “Moldy bread?” Scout shuddered. “I said don’t ask.” “Still wish the weather didn’t have to be so bad,” Big Guns grumbled again. Scout shrugged. “Eh. After literally plunging into the depths of a fiery abyss to deal with an enchanted talking demonic book that turned our heads into bombs, this is a cakewalk.” “And dealing with a horde of mutated Changelings?” Big Guns asked. “Bonus level.” Big Guns shook his head in disbelief. “Just how many insane things have you people had to deal with?” “We don’t really keep track anymore. Doc’s got a system of some sort for it, but it’s still got a few bugs to work out.” “Scout!” one of the Heavies chided. “We all work for Hammer Strike. I don’t think he’d mind my telling a fellow employee.” The Heavies were silent for a time. Then Heavy Set finally spoke. “He has point.” The second one shrugged. “Just do not tell others. Is very special project.” Big Guns nodded. “So, after our shift is over, do you two think you could teach me that drinking game of yours?” The Heavies grinned. “We will make arrangements with Demo Ponies. Special game deserves special brew.” Vital Spark sighed to himself as the gates to the castle boomed shut behind him. “We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” he asked. A low cry followed by a light peck to his head alerted the Pony he still had a very insistent passenger. “Okay, I’m doing it. But you get my point. I mean, we haven’t seen each other or spoken in over a thousand years. I asked her to hide everything about us from me. Don’t you think I’m entitled to at least a little nervous breakdown?” Another harder peck answered that question quite firmly. “All right, all right! I get the message.” Vital flinched back from the onslaught. “Have you been spending time with Clover lately?” Aria whistled her affirmation. “Of course you have.” Vital sighed as he trekked through the snow. “How is she?” This time Aria’s whistle was more subdued. “Still carrying the weight of the world, huh?” Aria let out a series of whistles that sounded suspiciously like a certain machine. “Are you sure you haven’t seen Star Wars?” Aria flapped her wings and took flight. “Now you’re just dodging!” the Unicorn shouted, then sighed again as Aria ghosted away into the scudding clouds above. He shook his head, then closed his eyes and concentrated. The contact was slower, more of a struggle. The cold had frozen the earth solid and it did not want to be disturbed by the touch of a shaman. However, he knew he needed to find Zecora, and the fastest way would be to counsel with any spirits that remained in the area. Deep within the earth, he could feel the chaotic essence from the plunder vines. Even in the chill of winter, the effects of discord’s chaos magic lingered. Whispered threats, thrashing rage, promises of violence and consumption. Vital Spark turned his feelings firmly away from that presence and the wards that served as its prison. While it may have been nice to connect with Harmony again, he had a mission to accomplish. He stretched his probe farther, until a child’s voice echoed in his mind. A crystalline tone rang through its words. “H-hello?” it asked uncertainly. “Well, this is a surprise. I wasn’t expecting to find a flora spirit this active during the winter,” Vital replied. “What’s your name?” “S-snowdrop,” the voice tinkled quietly. “Nice to meet you Snowdrop. My name is Vital Spark. I’m looking for a friend of mine. She’s a Zebra. You might have spoken with her in previous seasons?” He flashed an image of Zecora through his mind for the spirit to view. “Oh yes. I know her. She’s really nice. She always comes to admire me in the meadow after the first snow.” An image opened in the Unicorn’s mind revealing a series of delicate blue flowers rimmed with white. Each bloom was unique, and all glittered under the light of a full moon. “Is she there with you now?” “Not right now. I think she said something about bringing some remedies to that place with all the thick stones. It’s not easy for me to grow there.” “Ponyville?” “Yes, I believe that’s what it’s called. The winds considered dropping some of my seeds there this year, and they mentioned that name.” “Thank you for the information, Snowdrop. If you don’t mind, I’d love to visit your clearing sometime and admire you properly.” “Anytime,” the spirit welcomed. “A friend of Zecora’s is a friend of mine.” Vital Spark smiled and slogged through the snow drifts, using his magic to help clear the way when it became too deep to traverse on his own. He was still hesitant, but the encounter with the spirit had filled him with a certain amount of confidence. It was time to see his sister again. “I’m coming, Zecora.” “How have your magic reserves been treating you recently?” Hammer Strike questioned as he looked up to Gilgamesh, who was currently sitting across from him in his office. “I-it’s flared up a few times in the last week, b-but it was still w-within my control,” Gilgamesh replied, quickly reinforcing that he was fine. “That’s good to hear,” Hammer Strike replied. “While I normally wouldn’t be worried, the aura in the Everfree is drastically different from most locations, and as noted, most Gryphons aren’t able to control magic like yourself. So nobody can be certain how your magic will respond.” “Why is the E-everfree so different, anyway?” Gilgamesh questioned. “If … you don’t mind answering, that is.” Hammer Strike gave a soft smile. “It’s all right. Let me think for a second.” he hummed to himself and furrowed his brow as he ran through it in his mind. “If I recall correctly, based off the order of events, it seemed to be a mixture of events, one after the other. The primary two were Discord’s initial stage reveal, and the second is probably linked to the deal with Nightmare Moon, and the technical separation between Celestia and Luna from the Elements of Harmony. It’s quite a lot of major forces of magic in play at once that lead to the forest being so unstable in terms of its aura.” Gilgamesh frowned as he thought to himself. “I-I’m sure significant magical events have happened e-elsewhere as well, but w-why is it so concentrated here?” Hammer Strike shrugged. “I couldn’t say. Most forms of magic act differently from each other, so perhaps it’s just the lingering effect of several different things.” “I … I see.” He smiled timidly as he looked down at the book he’d been studying. “Do … do you think you could ask Miss Clover to visit again? I’d like to ask her a few questions about this magical theory.” A hint of a smile pulled at Hammer Strike’s lips. “I’ll see what I can do.” Pensword watched from his window as Day Moon locked swords with Nanami. Her tails flared behind her as she braced against him. The colt had to learn the ins and outs of maneuvering his sword with his mouth. As such, the two had been working on building up his strength and endurance in his neck muscles while testing the strength of his bite. While his white coloration proved an advantage in the snowdrifts, his teacher had been swift to adapt, and warned in no uncertain terms not to rely on such tricks when dealing with an experienced enemy. Pensword smiled in approval. After much wheedling and some begging, he’d finally managed to gain his wives’ blessings to work with Day Moon, Cristo, and Inigo on their hatchet skills. An open invitation had also been extended to Night Terror, though he wasn’t sure if she would be able to make it. A series of tools and vessels had been included and laid on the edges of the arena. Crystal vials, herb pouches, scrolls, and various tomes all waited for the young foal’s touch. Training dummies stood off to the side, embedded with stake holes and other evidence of various instruments from dagger to dirk and beyond. One pouch lay open, filled to the brim with a series of what appeared to be sack cloths surrounding some sort of weight. One of each of these makeshift binders had been tied at his legs for the sake of his own protection. Pensword smiled again as he looked down to his own hoof, where a similar weight had been placed. He watched for a time, enjoying the memories that came with the struggle. Basic training had been brutal in some ways, but it was necessary. It would be of great use to his adopted son one day. The commander was soon interrupted in his musings, however, by a striking blue muzzle that pressed itself against his nose and a light weight against his torso. “Story!” Moon River demanded gleefully. Pensword chuckled and nuzzled his daughter as he raised the book she had placed on his back legs up and pulled her to cuddle under the covers with him. He began to read diligently. “Beth the Bat woke up in the warm cave....” An enchanted figurine leaped from page to page, simulating the action of flight as it glided on bat wings. It reminded him of the book his father once read to him long ago on Earth, before he had become a Pony. This would certainly become a family treasure. He chuckled as the bat jerked to a halt over the illustration of a great owl and Moon River let out a tiny squeal as she burrowed deeper into her father’s side. He held her close and whispered gently, “Don’t worry, Moony. I won’t let anyone harm you.” His tone hardened slightly. “Not ever.” Vital Spark hummed to himself as he passed through the last of the road and beyond the border to the Everfree. The snow wasn’t so deep here. The road had been cleared by Earth Ponies using plows to push the fluffy white substance aside. “You know, those Flim Flam brothers probably would have earned a mint if they’d just put a plow on that machine of theirs instead and offered it for road service,” he mused. The sky overhead was clear and bright, and a cold wind nipped at his nose and flanks as he trotted down the road to town. He made a beeline for Sugarcube Corner. If anypony might know where Zecora had gone, it would be a certain pink mare. The warmth was a welcome change from the ice and snow outside. Fragrant spices like nutmeg, coriander, all spice, and more mingled in the air with the overpowering scent of sugar and frosting to create that holiday warmth that only seemed to permeate a home during a certain time of year. The Pony he had come to see beamed from her place at the counter and waved him over. “Hiya, Vital Spark! Welcome back. How was the trip to Canterlot? Didja beat up some bad guys?” “More than I would care to count,” Vital said with a gentle smile. “It’s good to see you again, Pinkie. You wouldn’t happen to know where I could find Zecora, would you? Someone told me she was making rounds in town today.” “You just missed her. She came and bought some baking supplies from the Cakes about ten minutes ago.” “Any idea where she was going next?” “To see Octavia, I think. She caught a nasty cold.” “Thanks, Pinkie.” Vital smiled and raced for the door. “I’ll tell you about the adventure later!” he called over his shoulder, then was back into the cold. He raced down the streets as quickly as his hooves could carry him. Thanks to the year’s worth of training, on top of his previous fitness work with the Rohirrim, it was a simple matter to reach the curiously divided house. The carefully carved bush fashioned after an eighth note had withered into a husk of its former self, and snow filled the tops of each of the flower boxes. A stream of steam and smoke rose out from the organ pipes overhead. A quick knock on the door was all he needed to call Vinyl to the door. Well, a quick knock to him. A desperate pounding to everypony else. Vinyl opened the door and waved at Vital. “Sorry to be so rude barging in like this, but is Zecora here?” Vinyl smiled and nodded, opening the door to let him in. “Thanks. By the way, I love what you’ve done with your mane. You trying a new style?” The pair entered into the divided studio room, where Octavia lay on a couch and Zecora was busy measuring a warm bowl of broth that smelled suspiciously of herbs and spices. Octavia smiled gratefully at the Zebra. Her body was covered in a luxurious gray bathrobe trimmed in purple. Her mane was askew and her nose, surprisingly enough, a bright red that practically glowed in the dim atmosphere of the home. The warmth from the fire radiated through the cottage, and the Earth Pony’s beloved instruments had all been rearranged to avoid getting too close to the cheerful blaze. The Unicorn smiled and waited until the Zebra had finished administering her remedy to her patient. “Guess who’s back, old mare,” he said in Zwahili. The tin Zecora had been holding went soaring into the air, only to be caught by Vinyl’s magic moments later. Vital didn’t waste any time. He strode up an caught the Zebra in a hug. “I’m back, Zecora. I’m really back.” Zecora smiled. Tears swam in her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them fall as the two maintained their embrace. “This may just be the head cold talking, but you look … different, Vital Spark,” Octavia said. “Did you do something with your mane?” Vital chuckled. “Yes. Yes, I did. We can discuss it more later, Octavia. I think you should focus on resting. That remedy Zecora gave you should help clear your sinuses for a time, but you’ll need to take another dose every few hours. Zecora will leave you with enough of a supply and proper instructions for Vinyl to mix it up for you.” “Oh. Okay.” Octavia smiled sleepily. “That sounds—” She never got to finish her sentence. Her gentle breathing and the gradually softening honking that was the evidence of Zecora’s remedy at work soon assured the trio that she had drifted off to sleep. Vinyl Scratch smiled gratefully at Zecora, then winked at Vital Spark and gave him a hoofs-up. “Yeah, I suppose the style’s not too bad,” Vital said as he nursed the bristly mane. “Still kind of miss the gold, though.” “Still the tendency to whine. You used to do it all the time,” Zecora said with a knowing smirk. “Is that the way to treat a brother who’s about to get married?” “And what of the sister forced to tarry?” “I’ll give you ten freebies. Ten,” Vital finally replied. Zecora smiled knowingly. “You wish you were so lucky,” she said. Pensword smiled as he propped the titanic book up on a special pedestal designed to support the extra heavy tomes Twilight usually carried. The device hovered behind him to lessen any potential strain on his wings. The princess had been kind enough to loan it to him during his recovery. It didn’t take long to transfer the book and the portable pedestal to his office, where he settled in for a relaxing read. Ironically enough, he felt more comfortable in his work space than he did in his own bedroom. Lunar Fang and Fox Feather’s stiffness may have contributed to that for a time. Familiar paintings and illustrations for plans and dimensions flickered rapidly as his eyes drank in the contents. The words were so familiar, but that was exactly what he wanted. He draped a feather from his good wing down the pages, until he found the passage he was looking for and began to read. “Let’s see. The Titanic’s bridge as it appears just after the change of watch at 10:00 PM on April 14th, there was Quartermaster Robert Hichens’ location at the ship wheel, Quartermaster Ollier assisting, Moody was there, and Murdoch is here in command.” He smiled as he eyes lowered to the bottom of the column where a picture of the Titanic’s wheel stared back at him. The polished wooden control had been attached to a bronze telemotor. He continued to mutter giddily as he read up on his old human passion. Once more, the desire to build a luxury ocean liner for Ponies surged to the front, but he knew that would have to be left to others, maybe his children or grandsires, assuming Hammer Strike agreed to let them at that point. He leaned back and sighed as he swam in happy memories. He could almost hear the ocean waves, the thrum of the mighty engines, and the cold chill of the North Atlantic. Even he wasn’t sure why he was so obsessed with the vessel, but he always returned to the subject after stressful moments in his life. He opened his eyes and returned to reading Titanic: An Illustrated HIstory. He frowned at the knocking on the door. He looked around and realized that at some point in his reading he had decided to take the book from his Titanic room to his military office. He chuckled. He hadn’t done that in a long time. “Enter.” He put a bookmark in place and closed the book, leaving the proud painting of the ship visible to all. The glamour charm he’d had placed over it should keep others from peeping too deeply into it. Black Rook entered the room with a perfectly practiced three steps. “Sir.” He nodded respectfully. This was not a military meeting, and currently Pensword held no actual rank above Rook’s own, but the stallion had made a point of showing respect to the other stallion’s experience. “I hope this is not a bad time?” “Right now, all I have is time. What do you need, Black Rook? My help? Advice? A cup of tea? A babysitter for the troublemakers?” he added with a smrk. “I appreciate the offers, Sir, but between Grif’s reputation and my own growing one, the Rohirrim rarely have troublemakers. And if they do, the squad deals with them personally. No, I’m here on more personal matters.” Rook casually shut the door before turning to the stallion. “We have a bachelor party to work on.” “You want my help to plan it?” Pensword asked with both eyes wide as his head reared back. “Why?” “You, Grif, and Hammer Strike have worked with Vital Spark much longer then I have. Grif and Hammer Strike are busy with personal matters right now, so I thought you might be willing.” “I am willing,” Pensword allowed. “Just surprised is all. I’d like to hear what you’ve thought of so far, if I may be so bold to ask.” “Well, I was thinking…” And Rook began to outline what he’d thought of so far.