//------------------------------// // XIV: Of Hearts // Story: Sunken Horizons // by Goldenwing //------------------------------// There was a mountain ahead of them. This was not in itself unusual; even before the floods the ocean floor had been home to much of the same swelling terrain and twisting features that one might find on dry land. Twilight had once spent days perusing the ocean atlases in the Royal Archives as a filly, comparing them to the older records kept in dusty, packed up collections and marveling at how the maps changed as ponykind’s knowledge grew as wide and deep as the ocean itself. Still, it took her somewhat by surprise. They’d been following the fish for hours now, and Twilight had neglected to scan her surroundings with magic. She first saw it as a silhouette in the distance, a barely visible black against the endless gray that waited just beyond the light of her magic. It had grown larger as she’d followed the school of fish further north until it towered above, and she was reminded of the first time she’d seen an island crest the horizon. A small smirk tugged at her lips as she thought of how she had reacted. How would that younger, more naive Twilight have reacted if she was told what the future held for her? Denial, most likely. Twilight rolled her eyes. Way to kill the mood. Midnight’s eyes appeared in the ocean before her as two bloodshot white orbs, the purple of its irises catching the light of her magic. You said we would eat. And you said we could wait.  It’s been hours. Why are you so fascinated by these dancing fish? How can you not be? Twilight brought herself closer to the school again, peering into the swirling mass. This is the first time I’ve seen anything down here with any semblance of normalcy. They’re worth studying. They’re worth eating, Midnight countered. As you agreed to. Twilight’s stomach growled its agreement, drawing a grimace from her. There was a familiar ache in her horn, the same pulsing soreness she’d felt when dragging herself through Canterlot desperately searching for anything besides meat to sustain herself, and she knew she couldn’t put this off much longer. Without magic, the ocean would crush them without thought. They both knew it, and there was no need for an explicit acknowledgment. Twilight would eat when she was ready, and it would have to be soon. Twilight busied herself with other thoughts. Stalliongrad was one of the northernmost cities in Equestria, and now after hours of travel further north these mountains loomed before her. Had she reached the beginning of the Crystal Mountains already? It had only been a week since she’d left Canterlot, though admittedly her stream of teleportations had probably cut the travel time to Stalliongrad by a significant factor. Was Equestria really that small? Perhaps every land would feel small when you only saw a small fraction of every mile. A budding apprehension flowered in her chest as the fish reached the side of the mountain and turned east, swimming along its length. There had been little hint as to the exact nature of the mission Princess Celestia had sent Cadance on. Would she find Cadance’s rusted regalia in the lair of some fearsome ocean monster, all written records of her purpose long lost to the waves? What if she didn’t find anything, and she was left without any leads once again? What if— Calm yourself, little flower. Twilight jumped. She looked up to see Midnight watching her with concern, and she realized that she was feeling short of breath. She sighed, inhaling deeply to calm her nerves. Thanks. It nodded before turning away. Our meal is escaping. Twilight gasped, looking around just in time to catch the tail end of the last few fish disappearing into a hole in the side of the mountain. She rushed after them, leaving swirling eddies of water in her wake. The tunnel was narrow, too narrow for her to even stand at her full height, and Twilight was forced to shift her protective shield from a dome to a pair of rounded walls as she wiggled into the crawlspace. The stone was slick underhoof, and there were a few times she lost her grip and had to scramble for fresh purchase, but she grit her teeth and pressed onwards. It didn’t take long for the fish to outpace her, but luckily the tunnel didn’t split off. For a moment she was back in the ruins of Canterlot, scraping past dry rubble in the pitch dark while changelings keened in the distance. The illusion was broken by a deep, rhythmic thrumming that came from further into the tunnel, swelling and fading like the breath of the mountain itself. She paused, ears swiveling as she tried to identify the gentle thunder. Any idea what that might be? Does it matter? Midnight appeared in the tunnel before her with a harsh frown, blocking her sight. Those fish are our meal. We can handle any creature that might try to stop us. Twilight set her jaw and pushed herself forwards, shivering at the chill as she crawled through Midnight’s illusory form. Soon the tunnel grew tighter, curving upwards into a sharp angle, and her horn grew brighter as she began to push herself higher with magic more than muscle. She’d read stories about cave divers before. She’d toured the Crystal Caverns under Canterlot with Celestia and listened to her tales of ponies who squeezed themselves into holes too tight to escape, how some of them had waited alone in the darkness for days until rescuers were able to pull them out—and how some of them were never found at all. Twilight let out a grunt of exertion as she pushed herself further still, the comforting weight of Celestia’s tiara against her chest. Shouldn’t she be scared? Nightmares of drowning alone had been common since she awoke in the ruins of Canterlot; yet when she paused to catch her breath, sitting still in a tunnel barely big enough to fit her head and horn through, surrounded by water on both sides, with the silence broken only by the strange humming of the mountain, she was calm. She was determined. And even if she did fail, at least she wouldn’t be alone. The humming grew louder as she climbed, and soon it was joined by an orchestra of lighter sounds. Sharp clicks and a staccato thumping were faintly audible behind the constant bassy rumble, and Twilight could even feel it in her hoof if she set it against the stone. For a moment she fantasized that she was crawling through the arteries of some enormous monster, listening to its pulse as she crawled ever closer to its heart. It felt like days, but Twilight knew it couldn’t have been more than an hour when she finally pulled herself past the final lip of the tunnel and into open water once more. She was floating along the bottom of a wide cavern, jagged columns of stone silhouetted by a pale green glow from above that was barely visible past the lavender light of her magic. Glittering gemstones jutted out from the rock in scattered pockets, catching the light and reflecting it back into the water in rainbow hues, and as Twilight drifted further into the cave she saw those lights playing off the scales of the fish idling past. Looking up, Twilight gasped at the sight of the tiny flickering shadows of waves on the water’s surface. She was under an air pocket! With cautious hope she closed her eyes and felt at the impact of the water against her shield. With a blink of surprise she realized that the ferocious pressure of the ocean depths was strangely absent. What are you thinking? Midnight’s question was more mocking than curious; it knew exactly what she was thinking. Our prey is right there. Sucking in a deep breath of air, Twilight let the magic fade from her horn. The cold water against her coat was a refreshing shock, and she threw herself into the sensation with a wild grin. As much as she’d been surrounded by water lately, she hadn’t had the opportunity to wash herself since she last left the Argo. The water was softly vibrating in sympathy with the breathing of the mountain, a barely visible current tugging her deeper into the cave. Twilight took a moment to simply drift, eyes closed, losing herself in the silent peace of the water. But she couldn’t hold her breath forever. She swam upwards, the rush of the water between her hooves tickling at her belly, and broke through the surface before taking in a deep breath of cool, natural air. Dim, green light illuminated her surroundings, cast off from glowing mushrooms gathered around her pool like a halo of students leaning in to hear a lecture. The light turned the water trickling down the stony walls to silver and the drops falling from the stalactites above to jewels, and the soft shadows it cast against the rocks blurred between each other in gentle curves that somehow made the hard rock feel warm and inviting. Twilight shivered, the cold air sharp in her lungs, and she laughed. The laugh echoed back, and for a moment she found herself turning in a circle, searching for the happy, relaxed mare that had made it. Surely it couldn’t have been her? She could barely remember the last time she’d felt that way. Midnight came into view. It watched her in silent disapproval, and Twilight answered with a tentative grin. This place is amazing. It didn’t answer for several seconds. The ragged, rhythmic, clicking breath of the mountain seemed to come faintly from every direction, joined by the quiet dripping of water into the pool and, eventually, the rumble of her stomach. Explain. Twilight blinked, her smile faltering for only a moment before coming back. Explain what? What is it that entrances you so about this little cave? Midnight looked around, regarding the soft darkness with a furrowed brow. Is it the light? The air? The fish? I feel something in you; I do not understand it. It turned back to meet her eye before repeating, Explain. It’s… Twilight hesitated, pursing her lips. What was she feeling? She leaned back, letting the water take her weight, and her ears dipped down into the water. The soft vibrations tickled at her like the fluttering pages of an open book, drawing a smile back to her face. There isn’t a word for it. You know the feeling when you find something beautiful? Beautiful? Midnight scoffed. What is there to find beautiful in this desolate cave? What isn’t there? The water rippled as Twilight righted herself, taking in the cave once more. The patterns the lights make in the water, the shapes the shadows make on the rocks, the rhythm of the fish as they dance, and the song made by the mountain’s breathing and the drops falling. She shook her head in wonder. I didn’t think beauty like this still existed. This is not beauty, little flower. Midnight was lying in front of her, the tips of its forelegs dipping into the water. Beauty is the still corpses of everything that threatens you. Beauty is the sound of a rival’s last breath after it threatens to steal everything you have. Beauty is standing in a room filled by hundreds and being the only one who feels no fear. It curled its lip as its blood-framed eyes passed over the stones. This is just a cave. Twilight frowned. Who taught you what beauty is? No one taught me anything. Midnight’s bitter voice echoed in the back of Twilight’s mind as it spoke. But this thing you feel when you look at this cave—the peace, the contentment, the safety—I feel it when there are none left to oppose me. It flicked its tail in irritation, almost like a student annoyed at a difficult question. They invoke the same response, so they must be the same thing. Twilight cocked her head, her brow furrowing as she mulled over the words. Finally, it clicked. She gasped, her eyes widening. “You’re afraid!” I am not afraid! Midnight reared up, its voice loud enough to draw a wince of pain from Twilight, and for a moment the shadows around the cave seemed to grow long and sharp, like daggers waiting to plunge into vulnerable flesh. I am strong! We are strong! And if anything threatens us, we will kill it! “Okay, okay! I’m sorry!” Twilight raised a hoof up as if to fend off the words, but it did little to silence the shrill ringing in her ears. “You’re right! We’re strong. We’re safe.” She shook her head, blinking away the blurriness as the ringing finally faded, and looked back to meet her doppelganger’s furious gaze. “We’re safe here.” At length, Midnight sat back down, its cheeks stained with blood. The shadows softened once more. “You understand, right?” Twilight pushed forwards through the water. She raised a hoof out of the water and brought it to rest against Midnight’s, ignoring the harsh chill. “This cave is safe. That’s why it’s beautiful.” It cast a haughty eye around the cave. After several seconds, it answered. I can see this beauty. Twilight breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good.” She leaned back into the water and offered up an encouraging smile. “So… fish, right?”  Yes. Fish. Twilight took a deep breath before plunging under the water once more, the locks of her mane swirling in her sight. The glow of the mushrooms didn’t reach very far under the water, but her magically enhanced vision pierced the darkness with ease, and it only took her a moment to find a small group of fish lurking near the bottom of the pool. They were hovering around a pile of little round orbs tucked into the crevice between two rocks, and with a start Twilight realized why the fish had swum so far to come here. After so long living in the ocean above the ruins of Equestria, these fish had chosen this mountain as their breeding ground. She reached out with her magic, plucking a larger fish from the group. It wiggled about in vain, causing a pang of sympathy in Twilight, but she didn’t hesitate for long. With a stern set to her jaw she shut her eyes tight and squeezed, snapping her prey’s spine with a barely audible crack. A trio of shrill calls pierced through the water, and Twilight’s eyes shot wide open as she whipped around to see three seaponies drifting along the far side of the pool. A thrill of adrenaline rushed through her, and she was just about to summon her shield spell when something gave her pause—these seaponies weren’t attacking. They weren’t even looking at her. They were swimming around each other in circles, tails flicking out sharply behind them as they pirouetted through the water and batted at each other with their hooves. Her heart pounded against her chest as she floated frozen in the water, hooves twitching with energy that suddenly had nowhere to go. Are they… playing? Don’t be ridiculous. Midnight appeared in the water beside her, its eyes narrow with scorn. Monsters such as these think only of destruction. We should strike first, before they take note of us. No, wait! Twilight clamped down on her magic, drawing a growl from Midnight. They aren’t hurting anything. The seaponies, oblivious to the potential doom floating just a short distance away, continued to flirt around the cave, each one leaving a thin trail of red in their wake. They nipped at each other’s tails, shrunk down to hide in the shadowed corners of the cave, and then jumped back out with playful warbles. The soft green glow from above painted them in a far different light than the harsh white lines of a flashlight or the ashen greyscale of Twilight’s night vision, and for a moment Twilight wasn’t looking at the warped monsters of ponies long gone. For a moment she was looking at animals like any other; dangerous carnivores, perhaps, but no more worthy of destruction than a bear watching from the other side of a field. Only because they have yet to sense us. Have you ever known a seapony to show any sign of mercy? Twilight frowned as she looked to Midnight. It was strange to see her own face contorted with so much fury. If we attack first then we’re no better than they are! Have you gone mad, little flower? Midnight rounded on her with its lip curled in disgust, bloody fangs on full display. Why are you defending these monsters?! They’re not monsters! Midnight’s eyes widened, and Twilight found herself looking back with equal shock. She shook herself before swimming for the surface, her catch floating at her side, and pulled herself up out of the water. Midnight was waiting for her, its head cocked. Not monsters? Twilight gave a shaky nod as she drew in deep breaths of air. Her pulse was starting to slow now, but her body was still tingling with the lingering effects of the adrenaline. They’re just like me, aren’t they? She looked down at the dead fish lying on the rock beneath her. Numbly, she pulled Celestia’s tiara and her big brother’s saddlebags off, laying them to either side. They need to kill to survive. If they’re monsters… then what am I? She looked up. Midnight was watching her with a deep frown, but offered no response. Twilight looked around, listening to the mountain. This place is so peaceful. I don’t want to disturb it anymore than I absolutely need to. Killing those seaponies there, when all they’re doing is playing… I think that would make me a monster. Midnight looked away. Perhaps you’re right. Twilight blinked. You agree with me? It narrowed its eyes, tail flicking behind it. We shall leave them, as long as they leave us. We should eat. Twilight looked down to the fish, realizing with a start that her mouth was already watering. She licked her lips, horn glowing as she levitated her little frying pan out of her saddlebags. You said you liked it better with the blood in it, right? Yes. Midnight shot her a sideways glance. What of it? Twilight met the suspicious gaze with a small smile. I was thinking we could try it that way this time. Several seconds passed, the mountain rumbling quietly around them. At last Midnight gave a curt nod. That would please me. Twilight’s smile grew a little wider as she cast a spell to heat the pan, and she settled down into a small curve in the rocks. Together, the two of them watched their meal cook in silence. Slowly, like a dock worker struggling past last night’s hangover, the Friesland market came to life. It started just before dawn, when the hungriest and most desperate peddlers came to set up their stalls. They pulled their carts themselves, unfolding the side panels and propping up sun covers with the quiet urgency of those self-employed ponies that knew laziness would not earn them a long lecture from an employer but instead a long night without food. Toys, pottery, hats, glassware, little stone trinkets and art in cheap metal frames. The military did not need these things, and the ponies who made them were forced to work harder and longer to make up for the flagging business as the city turned more and more to war. Those merchants who came with the rising of the sun were better off, strutting about with colorful clothes that caught the daybreak sunlight like birds displaying their plumage. They had workers to pull their wagons, but they didn’t sit idly by as the day’s goods were prepared for business, for even they understood that one’s own labor was worth far more than the work of a hired hand. Tailors and smiths, cobblers and coopers, and of course the oil renters with their great boiling cauldrons, they had found valuable new business from the Friesland military, and those able to bear the more expensive imports and the demands of the city might even say they preferred wartime to peace. Last were the customers themselves. Dock workers rushing to purchase the day’s breakfast before their shift started or foundry ponies using their one day off to restock their supplies walked almost like the dead, stepping gingerly around the well-dressed aristocrats that ambled between stalls as if a trip to the market was an adventure instead of an errand. Soldiers in bright blue coats milled through the crowd with stern frowns while foals ducked around corners, plucking fruits from the stands of distracted hawkers. Ana watched the scene in silence, her distinctive wings and ears hidden beneath a plain brown cloak. There was a chill wind in the air, and that made it easy for her to disappear in a crowd of similarly cloaked Frieslanders, but for now she was seated on a stone bench just beside one of the open-air cafes that circled the plaza. It was just before noon, and the cathedral cast a long shadow over her. She’d been trying to get in touch with Whitehorn since the bombing, but the Frieslanders had been understandably diligent in guarding him. They had at least one pony stationed on either side of his residence at night, and even during the day there were only brief gaps between the patrols walking the streets. He was escorted everywhere, and he never seemed to try and give his guards the slip. Gava had offered to make a scene, to distract the escort or even attack them. Ana couldn’t help but smirk at the thought. Her sister had a somewhat limited imagination when it came to these things. And so she watched. She waited. And when Whitehorn and his escorts were swallowed up by the bustle of the market crowd, she moved. The crowd would be her best shot. It was easy for a pony to get separated from their watchers with so many bodies around, and Whitehorn was easily capable of lying about the intent behind any such disappearance.  He drifted from stall to stall without fuss, purchases piling up in the basket begrudgingly held by one of his escorts. Sugar, milk, butter, and eggs had all risen significantly in price since the bombing of the granary. Flour was more expensive as well, but the steady supply from Duchess Nettlekiss prevented things from spiraling out of control. Ana frowned as she watched him buy a sizeable can of baking powder. Was he planning on making a cake? Considering the sheer volume of ingredients he was buying, it would be quite the creation, but she couldn’t quite picture him humming a tune and mixing batter in a bowl. A small smirk pulled at her lips as she realized the answer. Pinkie Pie must be making a cake. It was a shame she wouldn’t get a taste. A colt bumped into her, and Ana was so lost in her thoughts of cake that the foal almost managed to get away with it. She turned sharply, stepping on the hem of his coat before he could disappear into the crowd. The colt barely missed a beat. With a quick wiggle of his shoulders the coat came free, and if Ana were another pony he might’ve gotten away. But she had spent her share of years in his shoes, and she knew all the old tricks, and she was already leaning forwards to snap her teeth shut over the colt’s scraggly mane. “Ah! Leggo a me! I ain’t done nothin’!” “Sure you haven’t.” Ana reached one hoof into the rucksack that had been tucked under the colt’s coat, pulling out the bag of bits he’d just stolen from her. Of course she had also stolen those bits, but after a lifetime of casual thievery she tended to take it personally when anyone tried to upstage her. “What’s this, then?” “Thas a friend a mines!” The colt spoke in a rush, each word tumbling into the one before it as if it had somewhere else it needed to be. “Yeah, try that on someone else, kid.” Ana looked him over with a thoughtful frown. Between the ragged clothes and the sloppy language, he’d probably been on the streets for years. He was a pretty good thief, too; several innocents had bumped into her already in this market, and she almost hadn’t noticed the slight brush of his hoof inside her saddlebags. A small crowd had started to form, bored shoppers ogling the commotion in search of excitement. Time to get out of here. “C’mon, kid,” she growled, dragging him along behind her. “Let’s have a chat.” Nobody bothered to follow. A caught thief wasn’t that exciting after all, and none of them wanted to get involved just to see a misbehaving kid get his flank bled. He put up a valiant fight, pulling and kicking all the way, but she held firm until she could find a shadowed alley on the edge of the plaza. She threw him up against the wall, glaring a challenge for him to try and escape again. “Didn’t nobody ever teach you that stealing was wrong, kid?” “Whadda ya care ‘bout stealin’?” the colt shot back. “I’ve seen ya liftin’ all over town! Ya can’t talk down on me!” Ana arched a brow. He’s better than I thought. “Well, here’s a tip for you: ponies like me tend to take it extra personal when someone tries to pickpocket them. Don’t try and pickpocket a pickpocket. It’s disrespectful!” The colt pulled back and spat at her hooves. “Like I care! Do yer worst!” Ana sat down, rubbing her forehead as she sighed. “Whatever, kid. Hey, you want to make some money?” He narrowed his eyes, looking her over as if seeing her for the first time. “Whatcha playin’ at?” “I’ve got a friend in that crowd I’m trying to meet, but he’s got a couple blues biting his tail.” She jerked a hoof in the direction of the marketplace. “Blue unicorn, but with a white horn. You can’t miss him. A clever colt like you should be able to give them a run for their money, right?” The kid’s suspicion was clear as day, but he’d quit his fidgeting. “How much?” “Half this bag.” Ana pulled her bits bag back out and tossed it up, the coins jingling as she caught it. “Oh, and I don’t punish you.” “How can I know ya won’t turn on me instant I move?” the colt asked. “Ya could say I stole them bits, and then I’m done!” Ana rolled her eyes. “Kid, I can already say you stole my bits, and there’s nothing stopping me from spanking you myself. I admire your confidence, but you’re really not in any position to negotiate right now.” She turned the bag over and poured roughly half—or maybe a bit more—of the bits out onto the cobbles. “Just take the bits and do the job, alright? And don’t even think about running off without following through.” She grinned, showing her fangs. “Or I’ll eat you.” The colt stiffened, his eyes nearly popping out of his head before he dropped to scramble the bits up into his rucksack. “Alright, alright, don’t eat me!” “Good boy.” Ana felt bad about threatening the kid, but she knew all too well that he’d probably run off with her bits if she didn’t do something to make him think twice. “Now get to it.” The colt wasted no time, scrambling back out of the alley and across the plaza the instant he finished stashing his new bits. Ana let him get a few seconds head start before following at a more relaxed pace, a slight frown on her lips. How long had it been since she was in his shoes? Hard nights on the street, filching fruit from busy sellers, and the burn of a lawpony’s whip on her flanks made for some of her earliest memories, beaten only by the scant, fleeting images of the sad excuse for a family that had left her to that life. She shook her head, blinking the strange faces away. Whatever ran in her blood, the only parent she knew was the Dad that had raised her and her sister. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder how the colt was faring, fending for himself in a city under siege. He didn’t even have the option of hunting rats. She pressed through the market crowd at the fastest trot that wouldn’t gather attention, and it didn’t take her long to find Whitehorn once more. He was standing in the open space between two neighboring stalls, looking through the basket held by one of his escorts and comparing it with a note held in one hoof. A second later, Ana located her little hireling; he was watching from behind one of the stalls, sizing up the scene. The kid darted out in a burst of motion, bumping into Whitehorn with far more force than he had when pickpocketing Ana. Whitehorn flinched back, eyes wide, only to watch the kid scamper between the legs of his escorts, raise a bag of freshly stolen bits up in a triumphant hoof, and blow a loud, mocking raspberry. Whitehorn blinked, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and offense. His first escort exchanged a glance with the second, who wasted no time in dropping the grocery basket and stepping forwards. And like that, the kid was off. He slipped through the busy crowd in the way that only a foal could, with both flustered bluecoats charging after him with shouts of “Stop!” and “Thief!” Whitehorn was still staring after them in shock when Ana came up to his side. “Hey.” He jumped, one hoof flying up to straighten his vest almost as if by reflex as he turned to face her. “Ah, Anatami.” There was a moment of silence, and his confusion turned to suspicion. “Did you put that foal up to robbing me?” Ana shrugged. “I told him to distract your escorts. That being said—” She smirked, glancing sidelong towards the fading sounds of the commotion “—I’m developing an appreciation for his work.” Whitehorn sighed. “Well, I suppose we’d best use what little time we have wisely. I’ve been trying to make an opportunity for you, but I’m afraid the Frieslanders have been very diligent since you bombed the city.” “Ah, yeah. That was Gava’s idea, by the way.” Ana grinned as she turned back to Whitehorn, but the frown on his face gave her pause. “Did you not like it?” Whitehorn gave a curt shake of his head. “I very much did not. The city is more united against the baronlanders than ever, and surrender is the last idea on anypony’s list. What exactly were you thinking?” “Hey, you told me to apply pressure,” Ana said. She couldn’t quite keep the disdain out of her voice. “Just because you spend every night laying awake putting together plots and plans doesn’t mean I can tell what you want just by looking you in the eye.” Whitehorn’s brow furrowed and his lip curled back, and for an imagined moment Ana thought that she was seeing a flash of real fury on his face, but it was gone as quick as it came. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and when he spoke it was with the same courteous manner he always used. “Yes, you’re right. I wasn’t specific in my request. In fact, I had been hoping a hooves-off approach would lend to better results. It’s wrong of me to chastise you for that.” Ana blinked. She’d been expecting a bit more of an argument. “Okay.” He nodded, face relaxing into a polite smile that seemed so natural it was difficult to imagine anything else ever occupying the space. “That being said, the fact remains that we’re in a poor position, and steps must be taken to rectify it. I have two tasks for you, specific ones, to be accomplished as soon as convenient.” Ana arched a brow. “Well, let’s hear it.” “First—the Commoner’s Guild has its hall near the north gate, in an unmarked repurposed tavern. I have some suspicions about the guild master there, and I’d like you to see if you can find any evidence of activity unbecoming of his position, and especially anything that might turn his guild against him. Understood?” Ana answered with a dismissive nod, turning to watch the ponies milling past. “Yeah, you want dirt. What’s the second?” “Second—and this is the main one—I will need to forge a document written from Duchess Nettlekiss’ desk. I will need a copy of her seal, as well as several instances of her writing or the writing of her scribes.” Now it was Ana’s turn to frown. “Nettlekiss isn’t even in the city right now.” “Correct.” Whitehorn’s smile widened, almost like a teacher expressing pride for a student. “She is commanding the defense of Castle Urtica, under siege by baronland troops under command of Duke Titus. Will that be a problem?” A problem? She’d never had to infiltrate a siege before. She and Gava had always tried to keep their distance whenever war broke out, following Dad’s warnings concerning such conflicts. Getting into the castle would mean sneaking past not only one or two, but four siege lines; she’d have to pass two just to get out of Friesland, and then another two to get into Castle Urtica. And then she’d have to do it again, she realized, to get back. A shadow passed over her, and she glanced up towards the round-bellied patrol ship floating high overhead. The cannons on it were small, with little vertical traversal, as befit a boat unlikely to leave the airspace of the city or face more than rowdy merchants. It was nothing like the larger ships that pulled out of port every evening, laden down with belly guns meant for bombardment and a fresh load of supplies for the siege. She narrowed her eyes as the plan took shape in her head. Sneaking onto a troop transport, though not the easiest task, would be far simpler than running four siege lines. “I can handle it.” “Exquisite.” Whitehorn gave a quick nod. “And one more thing. I’d rather avoid having my wallet stolen again for the sake of conversation, and I’ve arranged a drop where you can deliver anything you find.” He reached into his vest pocket, pulling out a small slip of paper. “There’s a printer at this address. She won’t ask any questions, even if you send Gava. Just tell her you have a delivery for the table, and she’ll make sure it finds its way to me.” Ana took the paper, glancing down at the address with a bemused quirk of her lips. “Anyone ever tell you you read too many thrillers?” If Whitehorn heard the jab, he didn’t show any sign of it. “I may also leave messages for you with her. Now then, unless you had any questions for me, I believe our business here is concluded.” His ears twitched, and he looked off to one side. “And with no time to spare, it would seem.” Ana followed his gaze. Barely visible above the throng of shoppers, the sharpened helmet horns of Whitehorn’s escorts were bobbing steadily closer.  “Yep. Guess I’ll take my leave then.” With one last wink, Anatami lowered her head, slipped back into the crowd, and made her way towards the edge of the market. She had a busy day ahead of her. “This is such a waste of time.” Rainbow paced across the ceiling of the Argo’s rec room, muzzle twisted in irritation. It had taken nearly an hour for the inquisitive inspection team to search the ship to their satisfaction, poking their heads into every room, poring over crew and cargo manifests with Sea Sabre, and towards the end even walking around with crowbars and peeling up seemingly random wall panels or grates in search of “paraphernalia.” They had left with little ceremony, leaving only their mess and a promise that they would send a tug boat out at their earliest convenience. That had been yesterday. The sun had set and rise, and no tug had come. Sea Sabre had hailed the fleet control on the radio and been told that although yes, they had been approved for docking, Prince Silverblood wanted to be there to greet them. Prince Silverblood also, apparently, was very busy sleeping, and then he was very busy fulfilling those parts of his morning schedule that absolutely could not be moved to another time, and then he was seeing to an unexpected issue that absolutely demanded his immediate attention. And so they had waited, floating along in the wake of the merchant lord’s ship as it chugged steadily eastwards. It hadn’t been so bad at first. The Orichalcum dwarfed the Argo in size, and whenever Rainbow looked in its direction she was struck with the humbling sensation of being a seagull that dove underwater only to find a great whale looking up at it. Even without her depth perception she could tell it was at least five times the height of the Argo and maybe over ten times its length. A single massive propeller twisted lazily through the air at its rear, the blades throwing off great winds that could blow smaller ships out of the sky if they weren’t cautious, and a trio of leaning smokestacks lined the top of the ship like the spines of a dragon, each one trailing acrid black smoke so thick that it stretched all the way across the horizon before completely dissipating. Stubby wings poked out of the bottom, appearing almost uselessly small until one of the fleet’s other ships hovered close and one realized that each one could be a hundred feet long in its own right. There was no visible balloon—Star Trails had mentioned that the gas envelope was probably held within the thickly armored hull. The ship was sleek for its size, floating through the sky like a long-tailed bird with its wings tucked tight to its chest. The hull was painted a dazzling white, and the tall line of glass near the top that Rainbow assumed to be its control center was flanked by embossed silver carved into the shape of sharp-feathered wings running the entire length of the ship. On the front of the ship, shadowed by its own bulk, were statues of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, standing proudly upon pedestals carved into the shapes of writhing windigos. This had been enough to leave Rainbow awestruck for maybe fifteen minutes. Hours later, now it just annoyed her. “We should’ve just kept going,” Rainbow groused. “We need to be heading north, not east!” “Luckily, that thing’s built for just about everything but speed.” Star Trails screwed her muzzle up in thought as she leaned over the pool table off to one side of the rec room. “We can retrace our flight path in a third of the time once we’re all fixed up.” “And the fixing will take time too!” Rainbow’s tail whipped behind her as she completed another lap of the ceiling. “Probably days!” “Not many days.” Flint was standing on the opposite side of the table, his cue leaning against one shoulder. He didn’t bother to cover his yawn. “Envelope’s a quick fix, ’n traders move fast when ye’re buyin’.” “I don’t care! It’s stupid.” “It’s politics,” Trails corrected. She smirked as she stepped back and lined up her pool cue. “Which means, yes, it’s stupid. But rich ponies can often afford to be stupid in expensive ways.” Her hoof twitched, the tip striking a ball with a sharp crack. The ball raced across the table, bounced off the opposite end, and came to a stop without hitting any of its neighbors. Flint laughed. “But what’s the point?” Rainbow landed so she could get a better look out the long window that ran the length of the rec room. The Orichalcum was big enough to block the rising sun altogether, casting the room into shadow. “Doesn’t he understand that we have somewhere we need to be?” “That’s exactly th’ point, Rainbow,” Flint said. She could hear the sound of him lining his cue up to shoot as he spoke. “Th’ rich bastard wants us t’ know that we ain’t important. Probably gets off on th’ idea of us stewin’ in here, missin’ sleep so we can be ready fer his fancy breakfast.” Rainbow’s ear twitched at the crack of his cue striking a ball. There was a bounce, another crack, and the clatter of two balls falling into the pockets. “What the hay, Flint.” Trails let out an exasperated sigh. “How is it I was raised on an airship and somehow you’re better at playing pool on one?” “Cause ye were raised on a big fancy airship, Traily. And ye’re shit at pool.” Rainbow let out a frustrated growl as she spun on her hooves. “I’m gonna go take a nap.” Trails gave a little wave as the pegasus passed by. “See you in ten minutes.” “And bring some coffee when ye come back!” Rainbow ignored the quips, stomping through the steam vented from the opening door without a word. What right did this Prince Silverblood have to leave them hanging like this? What if they’d been in serious need of immediate repairs? No, they were in serious need of repairs. Twilight might be all alone in the Frozen North that very moment, in need of their help and wondering where they were. What if they took so long to arrive that she thought something had gone wrong and left without them? What if she was looking for them right now, or what if that monster Midnight was about to take over unless someone intervened? Rainbow shook her head, dislodging the useless thoughts. Worrying wasn’t going to speed things up. Nothing she could do was going to speed things up. The door to the cargo hold opened with a puff of steam, and Rainbow entered just in time to catch Applejack stepping out of her room with an unstifled yawn. The groggy smile on her face turned to a frown as she took in Rainbow’s expression. “Land sakes, gal. Y’all lose a race while I was sleepin’?” “Not in the mood, AJ.” Rainbow prowled towards her cloudhome, wings twitching as she splayed them out. “Hey, hold on, now.” Applejack trotted up to Rainbow’s side, nudging one wing closed with a gentle hoof. “Don’t ya fly off and sulk all alone. Why don’t we talk about it?” “Sure you don’t want to go talk to Flint instead?” Rainbow snapped. “I’m sure he makes for compelling conversation behind closed doors.” “Rainbow—” Applejack sighed, taking her hat off to brush a hoof through her mane. “Why are ya so upset about that? A mare’s business is her own.” Rainbow rounded on her with an angry snarl. “I’m upset because—” She groaned, stomping a hoof against the ground as she tried to put her racing thoughts in order. “Why am I just now hearing about this, AJ? We’re supposed to be best friends, but you don’t care enough to even mention that you’re going out with Flint?” Her lip curled up in disgust as she gestured with a hoof. “And Flint! He’s a total plothead!” “First off—” Applejack held a hoof up “—we ain’t datin’. Second, it’s not like I’ve been plannin’ this or anythin’. It just happened!” “It just happened?” Rainbow echoed. “AJ, what would Granny Smith say?” Applejack blinked. A sad smile crawled onto her face as she cocked her head. “Ya never really got to know Granny that well, huh?” Rainbow frowned. “Uh, what?” “Well, not goin’ too detailed, but ya didn’t think the Apple Family got so big through careful plannin’, did ya?” Rainbow blanched. She looked away, taking a sudden interest in one of the pipes running along the wall. “Uh.” Applejack let out a low chuckle. She placed a hoof on Rainbow’s shoulder, guiding her towards her room. “Alright, fine. I promised y’all I’d explain myself, and I guess I’m a bit late on that. Let’s sit down, okay?” “R-right.” Rainbow kept her gaze carefully averted as she followed Applejack into her room. It was as sparse as ever, with the same plain mattress and desk they’d all been given, though it was kept so clean that it was hard to believe that anyone actually lived in it. Applejack set her hat on the desk before settling onto the bed with a sigh. Rainbow, not quite sure how she felt about sharing a bed with the other mare just then, remained standing. Applejack spent a few seconds looking down at her hooves, her mouth working side to side as if considering what to say. Finally, with a little nod to herself, she looked up and caught Rainbow’s eye. “It’s been hard, Rainbow.” Rainbow didn’t need to ask exactly what ‘it’ was to understand; they’d been through the same trials ever since Canterlot, and the terse statement carried far more meaning than the words alone. In that little room in the back of a salvager’s cargo hold, Rainbow suddenly found herself really looking at Applejack for the first time in weeks. There were shallow bags under her eyes, and thin, hairless scars across her neck and barrel carrying the legacy of wounds inflicted by talon and bullet alike. Somehow these little details were easy to miss when one wasn’t looking, when there was a homely country smile to distract and the shadow of a worn-in hat to conceal. But now, with the smile gone and the patched hat separated from its owner, Rainbow could see the weight of the world pressing down on her friend’s shoulders. “Y’all know I love you girls,” Applejack continued. “Hay, y’all are all the family I got left in this mess. But y’all tend a bit towards the, uh—” she paused, offering up an apologetic smile “—eccentric.” Normally Rainbow would’ve taken the comment as a challenge, but she knew it was meant in the kindest way. “How do you mean?” “I mean ya never settle down,” Applejack said. “One way or another, y’all mares are all in. I’m just a small-town farmpony, nothin’ special there, but y’all gals are somethin’ else. When one o’ y’all gets an idea in yer head, there ain’t nothin’ that can stop ya, and I’m usually the one that’s gotta be there to rein ya in. I’m the—” she pursed her lips, brow furrowing in thought. “Look, when the other ponies in town had an issue with our little group, I’m the one they always came to. Ya get what I’m sayin’?” Rainbow frowned. “I… think so.” Applejack let out a breath of relief. “Oh, that’s good, cause I’d hate to offend ya with my clumsy wordin’.” “But what does this have to do with Flint?” Rainbow cocked her head. “Well like, all y’all have some way ya get through things, y’know what I mean?” Applejack gestured vaguely with a hoof as she spoke. “Twilight can lock herself up with some books, and Rarity can put together some kinda dress or somethin’. ’Shy’s fine as long as she’s got some space and somethin’ to take care of, and y’all just buckle down and sweat yer stress out. And Pinkie—” Applejack shook her head, eyes wide “—that gal just don’t stop. “Now back in the day, when I was still a farmpony and life still made a lick of sense, all I had to do to set myself straight was head home, put some honest work into the land. Leave somethin’ for the Apples that come after me, y’know? Make some pies with Granny, or run a delivery with Big Mac, or tell a story to Apple Bloom, or even just buck trees ’til my legs ache. And, uh...” She looked away as she spoke, her eyes growing distant and her voice growing wistful. “We’ve all lost ponies, but y’all got ways to deal without ’em. I don’t.” “But you have me.” Rainbow stepped forwards, resting a hoof on Applejack’s forelegs. “The other girls might not be here now, but we can still talk.” Applejack hung her head with a tired sigh. “I know, Rainbow, and I appreciate that, really. Maybe it’s part my fault that I’m feelin’ this way. But when I see y’all spendin’ so many hours practicin’ with them blades, lookin’ so angry, or when I see Twilight strugglin’ just to keep her own body under control, well—” she looked up, meeting Rainbow’s eye “—somethin’ tells me that if I don’t keep us anchored, we’ll all be lost at sea.” Rainbow grimaced as she looked into her old friend’s green eyes. She’d always seemed so confident even when things were at their worst, and Rainbow would be lying if she said that that steadfastness hadn’t helped her cope with her experiences. Still. “That’s not fair.” Applejack’s lips quirked into a little smile. “It’s fair enough I reckon, considerin’ the circumstances. I may not be able to handle politics or duel a griffon, but I can do this. I don’t mind doin’ this so much.” Rainbow wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she leaned forwards and pulled Applejack into a firm hug. Applejack hugged back, her hooves steady and strong like always. At length, Rainbow stepped back. “So I guess Flint is to help you…” “Flint’s my Applejack,” Applejack said with a wry grin. She held a hoof up to Rainbow’s muzzle, stemming her response. “Now let me explain before ya go rattlin’ off again, alright?” Rainbow’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t fight the interruption. Instead she leaned back and gave a quick nod. “Thanks. Now, then.” Applejack tapped a hoof to her chin as she let out a thoughtful hum. “It ain’t like I’ve been pinin’ after him ever since we met or nothin’ like that. In fact, I found him straight unlikeable at first, treatin’ us like foals and with no respect for just about anythin’.” “Exactly!” Rainbow blurted. “That’s what I’m saying!” “Hush.” Applejack gave Rainbow a disapproving glare before continuing. “Thing is, I felt like I could relax around him. Whenever it all got too much, when I got tired of worryin’ after y’all gals, I could sit down with Flint and a couple mugs of cider and just talk. Not about wyrds or bounty hunters or anythin’ crazy like that, but just life. He’d tell me about his family, and I’d tell him about mine, and we kinda…” She shrugged. “It almost felt like sittin’ on the porch at sundown.” Rainbow snorted. “Hard to imagine him having a family.” “Well, he’s got one,” Applejack said. “They live in a baronland village on an island east of Heighton, and they grow apples. Apples!” She let out a breathy chuckle. “Can ya believe it? I ain’t even seen an apple tree in this Celestia-forsaken world, Rainbow, but I can sit down with Flint and trade stories about applebuckin’. They make their own cider, and he checks everytime the ship makes landfall if there’s family cider bein’ sold anywhere. Sends most of his paycheck back home, too.” “Huh.” Rainbow looked back towards the rec room, recalling Flint making fun of Trails for being bad at pool. “I guess I kinda assumed he just, like, popped out of the ground one day with a gun and a bad attitude.” Applejack let out a hearty chortle at that. “Yeah, I reckon that’s how most ponies see him.” “But you guys being friends isn’t what confuses me.” Rainbow turned back to Applejack with an arched brow. “I’ve seen you two hanging out all the time. What I wasn’t expecting was to find you in his room with the smell of cider on your breath.” She blinked, cocking her head. “Where did you even find cider? I thought Flint’s whole stash was, uh, gone.” “Well he’s got a reserve under his bed, of course.” “Oh, totally.” Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Of course.” Applejack grinned, but the expression didn’t last long in the face of Rainbow’s stern gaze. “I admit it took me by surprise, too. Woulda called ya a madmare if ya told me last week we’d go for a roll in the hay. But that dive to Canterlot?” She pursed her lips, taking a deep breath. “RD, when I saw that green dragonfire comin’ my way, I thought I was dead as a chicken crossin’ a fox. Probably would be, too—I froze up real good, out in the open—if not for Flint. “Let me tell ya, Rainbow, when that stallion tackles ya, armor and all, he hits like a train. He brought me down into that fountain bank and took the brunt of the blast on himself. I thought it’d cost him his life, too—y’all know how damn hot that fire was—but when I finally managed to push him over and threw his helmet off, there he was. And y’know what he said?” Rainbow leaned in, ears forward. Applejack had fallen into the same swingy tone she used when she was telling Apple Family stories late at night, and she had to admit that she was getting invested. “What’d he say?” “Fuckin’ lizard.” Applejack pushed the words out in a rough impersonation of Flint’s deep, gravelly voice. A moment later she rolled onto her side and collapsed into a deep guffaw, straining to speak through it. “Hay, Rainbow—snrk!—y’all shoulda seen his face! Smokin’ an’ everythin’!” The laughter was contagious. “And that—” despite herself, Rainbow couldn’t resist cracking up as she spoke “—that worked? That’s what did it?” Applejack’s laughter finally died down with a wistful sigh. “Whew. Not exactly. But I guess that was the moment where I realized that, well, any day I have could be my last, y’know? And with all that business goin’ on with Twi, and then that changeling sneakin’ aboard and killin’ one of us in the middle of the night, in a place where I thought we were safe?” She shook her head, one eye still hidden by the bed beneath her. “We were all a bit shaken after that, and when we got together to toast to Dusty, I found myself wantin’ somethin’ only he could provide. And he did.” “Yeah, I get it.” Rainbow nodded, looking down at her hooves in thought. It still felt a little weird to her, but she understood now. But there was one thing still nagging at her. “So are you two, like, a thing now?” “Hay, I ain’t got a clue.” Applejack picked herself back up with a shrug. “I ain’t sure if I could see Flint as a father, but I could see him as a farmer. Not like I’m lookin’ for anythin’ serious in the middle of all this mess, but it’s hard to keep a friendship a friendship with a pony you’ve been intimate with.” She leaned down, catching Rainbow’s eye. “I hope I ain’t upset you.” “No, it’s alright.” Rainbow offered up an apologetic smile. “I’m… sorry for how I reacted. I’m glad that you guys have something.” Applejack grinned. She swung her hooves around, popping out of bed. “I know he’s rough around the edges, RD, and he’s got an awful lot of edges, but there’s more to him than just that. That’s somethin’ I do know.” The Argo lurched underhoof, and Rainbow’s ears perked up at the sound of the engines spinning up as she swayed to keep her balanced. “Oh, finally!” She took to the air, throwing her hooves up with a whoop of celebration. “We’re moving!” “Only took, what, twelve hours at least?” Applejack stepped over and placed her hat back on her head with a quick wink. “Guess we’d better get up front then, huh?” The two mares made their way to the flight deck at an energetic canter to confirm that, yes, they had finally been given permission to dock. A little tugboat had floated out from a bay nestled along the underside of the Orichalcum, and Rainbow could barely sit still as she watched the ponies on its deck scramble to fasten the Argo’s docking chains to sturdy metal rods. The Orichalcum grew steadily larger until it cast the entire Argo in shadow. They were tugged beneath it, and when Rainbow flew forth and pressed her muzzle against the thick glass of the flight deck she was able to see the line of hangars built into the great ship’s belly, and her mouth hung open in awe as she watched the tarnished doors of the rearmost hangar slowly swing open with twin bursts of steam. Two more tugboats—not in use just then—hung from hooks towards the stern, swaying lazily with the wind of motion.  They were pulled under the open hangar, a door boxing them in on each side. More steam vented from the hangar, clouding Rainbow’s view outside, and she jumped in alarm at the unexpected scraping clanks that echoed through the hull. There was a pause, an upwards lurch, and then the Argo was pulled up into the bowels of the larger ship with a steady, ratcheting click. By the time the steam cleared enough to see again, they were inside. Catwalks and scaffolding lined what Rainbow could see of the hangar, a pair of ponies in worn out jumpsuits regarding them from above with the narrowed eyes of seasoned workers sizing up the day’s job. “Ye done gawpin’?” Flint chuckled as Rainbow jumped again, rounding on him with a flick of her tail. “Impressive engineerin’, aye, but ye know those mechanics can see ye starin’ at ’em like a filly at th’ circus.” “And you shouldn’t be flying,” Sabre added. “Remember, you don’t want to stand out.” “Fine, fine.” Rainbow let out an irritated grumble as she landed next to a grinning Applejack. The crew made their way back to the cargo hold as one, Rainbow using her wings to adjust her uniform as they walked. Shaking it out and hanging it up for a few hours had done little to straighten out the wrinkles, leaving her looking like she’d just rolled out of bed. How does everyone else look so crisp? She narrowed her eyes in thought. Is there even an iron on this ship? With the six ponies all assembled in the cargo hold, Sea Sabre reached up and pulled the heavy lever on the rear wall with both hooves. There were two heavy clangs, the hiss of the steam venting from either side of the bay door, and then the steady clicking of the gears as the thick bay door lowered itself to the floor outside. It came to a rest with a heavy thud, and now only the lingering steam swirling around the ramp blocked Rainbow’s view of the hangar. She could see the obscured shadow of a single pony waiting at the bottom of the ramp. Wait. Rainbow narrowed her eye, pulse quickening as she picked out more details. The shadow had long, swept-back wings, and the tips of its feathers poking up to either side like daggers, and it stood with a lithe, cat-like stance that seemed out of place compared to the bulk of its body. And when it turned its head to the side, she saw the hard, cruel curve of a beak. Gava! Adrenaline flooded Rainbow’s body as time seemed to slow. Her wings flared open painfully wide, almost throwing her off balance without the weight of her blades attached to them, as she dropped down into a ready stance. She winced as the lingering wounds from her fight with the changeling cried out in complaint, but she didn’t spare them any thought as her mind raced from one question to the next. What was the bounty hunter doing here? Was the Orichalcum a trap? None of her friends had their weapons with them; could she get to her room, strap on her wingblades, and return before anyone was hurt? Would they be able to escape the hangar? Her eye darted around the room, straining to pierce the veil of steam enough to spot any potential controls. She might be able to dash out fast enough to release the Argo, then stall and buy some time for the others to get back inside to safety.  All these thoughts flashed through her mind in a scant second, but when the steam finally cleared from the ramp, it wasn’t a sneering bounty hunter waiting for her at the bottom. This griffon was thicker around the chest and legs—a male—and instead of the stark black of Gava’s feathers his plumage was a ruddy gray. Strangest of all was the expression on his face; his beak was curved up in a casual smile, his head cocked to one side as if he was listening to an old joke. “My employer extends condolences for the long wait.” His voice was deep but relaxed. His half-lidded eyes looked between the stunned ponies before him with an intent disinterest. “If you’ll follow me, you can discuss your business in his suite.”