I didn’t fall off during the trip into the sky.
There was more than a little reason to be afraid—with no walls and only a thin wooden platform to separate me from certain death by falling, I wasn’t exactly confident. But despite her protests of its speed, Radiant Dawn seemed to know exactly where to stand so it wouldn’t tilt too far.
Lifting up gave me a great view of the city, one that made me wish I’d brought more than my notebook and questions for the emperor. Seeing everything from so high—well, I know it’s a view that shouldn’t be strange for a pegasus. But it certainly was for one like me who never bothered to learn to fly.
There were more than just birds living here, that much was obvious. The further from the aerie district I looked, the more friendly to land-creatures the city became. There must’ve been hundreds of ponies living here, maybe thousands.
They weren’t like Equestrian ponies, though. Those creatures that lived in ancient servitude to the empire, who refused to leave to Equestria when given their freedom, and who returned to their ancestral lands—I could see a distant square filled with ponies. Their coloration reminded me of Saddle Arabians, much more subdued and natural. Maybe it would help them blend into the environment, and avoid getting foalnapped into servitude?
“Hey, Dawn, how much do you know about them?” I asked, pointing out with one wing. I didn’t move, not even an inch. If this thing tilted too far, I’d slide right off, and I didn’t know enough to land in one piece.
“Serfs?” she asked, tilting her head slightly to the side. She was criminally adorable when she did that. “Enough. But why would you care? You know more about ponies than I do.”
“I thought I did,” I admitted. “But looking at them, there are… so many differences. I know they have cutie marks like we do. Do you know anything about the history?”
She winced, glancing up over our heads to see if we would soon be arriving. The ship was close, but the loading platform moved so slowly that it might as well be miles away. “Only what every bird learns in school. They probably came to live with us the same way Griffionstone came to be in Equestria—our long history of wars against each other. The noble families liked earth ponies—unicorn magic was too hard to control, and I don’t think they understood the benefits of weather magic very well. Earth ponies like them grew food and did lots of other boring stuff. And since most birds didn’t like living in the valleys, they had their own space. So long as they delivered the food on time.”
Even that much looked like it was pulling teeth for her. When we finally slid into an opening in the bottom of the ship a few seconds later, Dawn hopped off with relief. That made the platform start to swing, and I wrapped both forelegs around the rope, holding desperately to it until it slid into place.
The Hammer of Gaius—Celestia this was an impressive ship. Most of it was made of metal, the silvery reflection of aluminum finished with rivets instead of nails. Wood had only been used on railings, or anywhere else where looks were more important than strength. Not so much on the open deck.
There wasn’t a single other pony up here—just an annoyed pair of griffons who had been working the winch. As the larger of the two slotted the wheel back into place, the smaller one ignored all semblance of personal space, walked right up to me, and pulled my left wing open roughly. “Hold up. Why did we do all that work if you’ve got these?”
“Look perfectly good to me,” said the other bird, his voice even slower and lower. It would be the lowest I’d ever heard, if I hadn’t met minotaurs before.
“He can’t fly,” Dawn said, sympathetic. “I signed him up for lessons tomorrow, don’t worry. We’ll teach him.”
“Toying with another one, princess?” The first bird turned away. “Don’t seem right from where I’m flying.”
“I am not!” Dawn landed beside me, gripping my foreleg. “Come on. My father will be near the helm. He never flies these himself, but he likes to be there.” I followed along beside her, hopping up uneven steps and into the airship’s interior. This external loading deck proved to be unremarkable—the ship barely had enough room for the few of us out here without passing through a metal door into spacious hallways. It was hard forgetting just how huge griffons could be when walking inside their airships. Hallways obviously built just large enough for one of them could easily fit two ponies walking abreast.
We traveled through the strange interior of the vessel, past tubes and pipes and other things I couldn’t name. Are Equestrian ships this advanced?
Eventually we reached the bridge—a massive space near the front of the ship, with huge glass windows around three sides. The inside had five stations for controlling the Hammer of Gaius’s mostly automated functions, though I didn’t care enough to investigate any of those. I was here to see the emperor.
Velar wasn’t old as birds got, though he was distinctly into middle age now. But where I’d seen plenty of portraits of birds that got fat and slow and lost most of their flight-feathers with indolence and alcohol, he apparently wasn’t the type. He wore a military uniform not that different from the officers around him, except that the trim was gold instead of black.
I expected all the birds on this bridge to get indignant as we wandered in, but it was exactly the opposite. None of them so much as turned in our direction. A few looked briefly towards Radiant Dawn, saw her, then returned to their work.
But she didn’t slow down, dragging me past all stations to where Velar stood over a tactical map.
This time the map wasn’t covered with dozens of enemy airships, but instead a recent map of Caesarea and all the surrounding settlements and farms. Most prominent on the map was the section on the upper left, holding what I could only guess was once a city prior to Ignis’s eruption. The former capital, maybe?
“Father, this is the one I told you about. He’s the male scholar from Equestria, who came to make a record of the Migration War.”
“And also the expert wraith-hunter who can’t fly.” Velar looked up, his eyes narrowing. But he wasn’t even looking at me, thank Celestia. “Honestly Radiant Dawn, you should be kinder to your guests. He has no idea what you’ve brought him here for. Just look at his face.”
The emperor wasn’t wrong, though I didn’t feel afraid until he said it that way. My eyes widened, and I bowed suddenly. “Emperor Velar, It’s a privilege to—”
He cleared his throat. “That’s enough, pony. I’m not an immortal princess, I don’t need you bowing and scraping for me the way you would to them.”
I rose quickly, though I wasn’t able to meet him in the eye. This bird was everything I’d heard about griffons and more—towering, mighty, and intimidating. I could see at least one jagged scar in the soft feathers on his face, and I knew there were probably more. This bird’s own claws had fought in that war. “You’re right that I’m not a hunter, of… any level of expertise,” I said. “I’ve never even heard of wraiths before. But I assume hunting them must not be too dangerous, if the emperor himself is up here.”
Velar laughed, loud enough that it boomed through the bridge. A few of the other officers joined him, though I had no way of knowing if it was out of loyalty, or something more sincere. “You haven’t been here long, I take it?”
I nodded. “A day, Emperor.”
“I can tell.” He patted me on the shoulder with one massive claw, then pointed out the window. “Look out there, at my palace. Tell me what you see.”
I obeyed, walking to the massive sheet of glass and looking out. This alone was an accomplishment—a single perfectly clear sheet, strong enough to survive the rigors of flight.
From above, the strength of the castle was even easier to see. The exterior walls, even those high on the mountain, were several feet thick. Though the gates were wide, the castle’s actual entrances were all thin. The windows were thin too, so much so that even a pony wouldn’t have been able to fit inside. Slits more than anything. There were no balconies, though I knew birds enjoyed views as much as ponies do. Just apparently not from inside their own homes.
“A fortress,” I called back, lowering my head to the emperor. “I’m not a military pony, but it looks strong.”
“Military pony,” someone whispered from behind me. “Any other jokes for us, male scholar?” I ignored the cruel chuckling. I wasn’t here for their approval. I didn’t really care what the emperor’s other officers’ thought.
“It is,” Velar said, a few traces of annoyance entering his voice. He glowered at the creatures beside me, and they quickly fell silent. “If you’ve seen Canterlot Castle lately, you’ll know it isn’t. That is a palace of comfort, built by a creature who is secure in her superiority. She has no need of little defenses, no need to fear an invading army. In the earlier ages of your civilization, power constantly turned from one family to another just as with ours. But the princess herself was sacrosanct. And why shouldn’t she be? What madman would raise a blade to the one who raised the sun?
“I have no such protection. I am not immortal, or even ageless. My family is not sacred and immune from danger. In the Republic, we continue to lead from the front. Such as in hunting down wraiths, which make taking and maintaining Accipian land a nuisance. Few other creatures are brave enough to fight them, and I have my father’s Voidsteel.”
He pointed at the map with one wing, apparently for the benefit of the bird beside him. “This sighting seems the most credible. It’s the only one with a death attached, so this monster is most worthy of our cannons. Set a course.”
The bird—covered with almost as many medals and fancy patches as the emperor himself—nodded, then hurried over to the helm. From behind, engines began to roar, and the ground outside began to fall away. We angled upward as well as forward, and soon even the outskirts of Caesarea were long gone. I could already feel myself missing the smooth, comfortable Daughter of Wintergreen.
The Hammer of Gaius was neither, but a warship. It ripped up the air in front of her, its engines so loud that they shook the ship. Not thaumic impellers, as in pony vessels. But I wouldn’t be asking about how they worked.
“Father, I didn’t know you knew about pony history.” Dawn settled in beside him on the comfortable couch. Sitting there, it wasn’t just the family resemblance that was obvious, but her choice in outfit. It was tailored like a military uniform, with the same buttons and frills and places for patches. But while it looked like a uniform, there wasn’t any ranking insignia to be seen, not even a private’s pin.
“Military history,” Emperor Velar corrected. He nodded towards a chair to one side of him, where I would have a good view outside the side window, as well as be able to see the map. “I don’t think I ever studied it in the same way our guest probably did. But knowing how your enemy fights is the most important part of any war. Accipio has been planning an Equestrian invasion since before Virtue took the throne.”
“I was hoping…” It was either now or never. An opportunity to be near the emperor like this probably wouldn’t come again. “I was hoping you might be able to answer a few questions for me, Emperor Velar. I promise to be brief, but I want this book to be—thorough, complete, honest. Ponies have a tendency to… sugarcoat. But I don’t think you will.”
“I will not,” Velar said solemnly. “But I will answer your questions—anything you ask before we see a wraith flying outside that window, anyway. How quickly can you write without claws?”