His name was Gerritt, and Rainbow didn’t like him from the start.
Maybe it was that casual smile of his, one corner of his beak always smugly pulled up as if he were remembering a joke at your expense. Maybe it was the lazy way he spoke, like he’d never had to try at anything in his life and he didn’t expect he ever would. Maybe it was the long-barreled revolver strapped to his vest, hidden under a silver shoulder cape and only revealed for brief moments when he raised a foreleg, flaunted just out of sight like a casual, unthinking threat.
Most likely, it was his habit of always disappearing into Rainbow’s blind side.
She was safe for now at least, relatively. The whole crew—minus Sunfeather, who had elected to stay back and watch Princess Luna and the Argo—were hemmed in on one of the interior trams that ran the length of the Orichalcum. Rainbow kept her blind side close to the railing, Applejack’s warmth against her left flank lending her some comfort, and that allowed her to keep her eye trained squarely on the strange new griffon, watching for any sign of aggression.
The tram line raced across the ship at a quick pace, ruffling Rainbow’s mane with the wind of their passage and filling her ears with the loud racket of the gears that propelled it along. The tunnel was dark, lit only by a pair of lanterns dangling from the thick bars that served as a roof and the intermittent flashes of sunlight from the little portholes spaced on one side. Just a quick ride from the hangar to the living sector, Gerritt had said. Rainbow hadn’t been counting, but even one second near him felt too long.
He glanced over, catching her eye, but she didn’t look away. She wanted him to know that she was onto him. She knew what he was. A griffon. And she’d never met a griffon that didn’t turn out to be bad news.
He stepped closer, weaving around Star Trails and Flintlock so he could be heard over the din of the gears. “Is that real?”
She didn’t blink. “What?”
“Your mane.” He raised a talon and pointed. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Is it—”
Rainbow’s lip curled back as she cut him off with a ferocious snarl. “It’s not a dyejob!”
He didn’t flinch, but he did arch a brow. “This your first time seeing a griffon up close? I’d understand if you were nervous, but I don’t bite, y’know.”
Everyone on the tram was looking at her. From the corner of her eye, Rainbow saw Sea Sabre give a subtle shake of her head. Instead of spewing one of the dozen biting retorts that came to mind, Rainbow looked away, her wings hovering a few inches off her back. She forced herself to take a deep breath and keep her gaze forwards. Sabre didn’t want her to stand out, and that meant not picking fights. That meant keeping her head down and her mouth shut. For once, Rainbow was determined not to let the other pegasus down.
Gerritt opened his mouth to say something, but Star Trails came to the rescue. “Hey, bud, just drop it, alright? Don’t take it personally.”
Rainbow’s tail flicked about behind her, and she let out a quiet sigh of relief as the griffon finally got the message. With a shrug, he stepped back to the center of the tram.
Thankfully, the ride didn’t last much longer. The tram slid to a screeching stop, releasing its passengers into a pristine white hallway with a long window running along one side. Glancing through it as Gerritt led the crew deeper into the ship, Rainbow realized they were walking along the top of a long, cavernous room of drab grey metal.
Ponies trotted across the floor below in small groups, boarding or disembarking from longer, dirtier versions of the tram she had just taken or streaming through hallways labeled with scuffed paint. They all wore jumpsuits, similarly color-coded, though many of them sported simple shirts, coats, or skirts on top, and some had their jumpsuits rolled up and tied around their barrels like belts.
“Yep, that’s airship life.”
Rainbow jumped, head snapping around to see Star Trails walking on her left with an apologetic smile.
“Sorry. I was raised on a ship like this is all. Brings back memories, y’know?”
After a moment, Rainbow nodded. She turned back to the window. “What do the colors mean?”
“That tells you where they work,” Trails explained. “It’s different in every fleet, but you can usually tell a few of the common departments. Those guys in red, with the goggles and dirty faces? Engi. I’d bet the sweaty ones running around in yellow are Maint, and you can always tell the Nav crew from their attitude. That mare in blue, strolling around like she owns the world? She’s probably Nav.”
“Huh.” Rainbow pursed her lips in thought as she followed the other mare’s pointing hoof. “What were you?”
“They slapped me in Nav as soon as I was old enough to get a suit. Believe it or not, I used to be as pretentious as she is.”
“Really?” Rainbow shot Trails a skeptical sideways glance. “Somehow I can’t imagine you being stuck-up like that.”
She shrugged. “That’s how they raise us. But one day I got to leave the fleet, and it turned out the world wasn’t exactly what they taught me.” She smirked, turning her green eyes forwards once more. “Guess that’s why I like to see things for myself these days.”
The window ended as Gerritt turned them down another hallway towards a thick, silver-embossed hatch with a pair of ponies in black jumpsuits standing to each side. Each one wore a set of heavy steel shoes trimmed in silver, the tips sharpened into deadly points, and Rainbow could see the stiff shape of armor plates hidden under their uniforms. They didn’t offer any challenge for Gerritt, though they did sweep the ponies following him with suspicious stares. Rainbow glared back at each in turn, daring either of them to say something.
The hatch was already open, and Gerritt led them through without breaking stride into a small foyer. Rainbow’s ears twitched as she noticed a slight hollow sound to the floor underhoof here, and looking around she saw that the solid white walls had given way to thin silver plating over layers of gears and piping reminiscent of the bare machinery visible throughout much of the Argo.
Three hallways split off from the foyer, and they continued straight down the central one towards a wooden double door engraved with a blue-and-silver compass rose. The swinging song of brass instruments could be heard playing a gentle, jazzy tune on the other side.
Gerritt knocked once, lifted a talon to each handle, and paused for a brief moment before pulling them open. “Your guests are here, sir.”
“Ah, finally!” Prince Silverblood turned to face them with a smug smile, his body framed by the daylight streaming in through the wide window behind him. Layer upon layer of silken robes were draped over his pale yellow coat, held up by silver ribbons and adorned with matching jewelry. His white mane hung down his neck in a series of thin braids, each one swaying with the weight of the colorful baubles tied into the hairs. “I was beginning to worry you weren’t interested in breakfast.”
Rainbow pursed her lips, concentrating every bit of willpower she had into keeping her mouth shut and her face straight as anger flared up inside her. She instead cast her eye around the room, taking in the blue and white sitting cushions and the long, oval-shaped table they surrounded in the center and the spread of soups, bread, and salads atop it. Paintings of airships and city-islands adorned the walls, the Orichalcum itself prominent in many of them, framed in thick, engraved silver that seemed to twinkle in the light of the three chandeliers hanging above.
But the room was shaped like a triangle, and no matter where she looked her gaze was always pulled to where Prince Silverblood stood behind a weighty wooden desk embossed with even more silver highlights. A single curving window was set into the wall behind him, forcing her to squint into the bright sunlight after the passage through the far dimmer interior of the airship. After a moment she realized that the room was perched at the very top of the ship, the white of the hull stretching out behind the glass.
Sea Sabre stepped forward, her tone level as always. “We apologize for the delay. We came as soon as we could.” She dipped into a bow, muzzle almost to the wood-paneled floor, and shot a meaningful glance back towards her crew.
Rainbow’s eye widened as she saw Star Trails and Flintlock follow suit, and then Applejack a moment later. She was expected to bow before this moron?
“Discipline.” Sea Sabre’s voice echoed in the back of her mind, recalled from so many training sessions. “That’s your weakness. Overcome that, and you’ll be the most dangerous mare in Equestria.”
She had to do it, for both Twilight and Sea Sabre. She was done with losing control and letting them down. Biting her tongue hard enough to draw a trickle of blood, Rainbow forced her body down into a stiff bow.
“Ah, understandable. But do not fret! The food is still warm, and so there’s little damage done.” Silverblood’s voice was rich, swinging from word to word as if every sentence were a game. “Won’t you sit? My chef is experimenting with a new aioli, garnished with truffle shavings from Ambrosia. We’ll have to risk it together, though I expect it shall be as marvelous as anything he makes.”
“We’d love to,” Sabre said, straightening up. “You’re very kind.”
Star Trails spoke up. “Isn’t Ambrosia under Platinum’s control? I’m surprised the family would sell to you after all the trouble they went through to colonize it.”
Silverblood’s grin widened at the comment. “The Platinum Estate has been disbanded in the wake of… internal conflicts. But thanks to their work taming the natives, I’ve been able to invest in the creation of a small colony, and they send shipments ahead to my major stops. But enough about business! Sit, please!”
It was all Rainbow could do to keep her hooves from shaking as she carried herself over to the nearest cushion. She focused on taking deep breaths, her eye staring intently down at her empty plate. A dozen mouth-watering scents tried to tug her gaze upwards, but she ignored them all out of concern that even seeing the conceited pony hosting them would drive her into a frenzy.
The Prince barely paused to take a breath. “You know, Crazy has told me quite a bit of your accomplishments. Your success in Old Canterlot has been on everypony’s lips ever since that party of his. Though I see a couple new faces here.” He let out an exaggerated hum. “Whatever happened to the pilot and the historian? Off to other opportunities?”
“Sunfeather is watching the ship. Dusty Tome lost his life on duty,” Sabre said. “These two mares are recent additions. I’d be surprised if you’d heard of them.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” the Prince said, and Rainbow was certain that he didn’t mean a word of it. “You know, I always told Crazy that stallion was a bad hire. I said, ‘why hire four Gifted and one common pony? You’d might as well go all the way.’ But of course he didn’t listen!” The Prince let out a heavy sigh. “Sweet Celestia, I’ve never seen a mare regard an empty plate with such intensity! Hello, are you here?”
Rainbow looked up, hoping the revulsion inside her wasn’t making it through to her face. “Hey.”
“Oh, a quiet one. Not what I had expected considering those marvelous colors you’ve put on your mane!” The Prince laughed, slapping one hoof against the table. “What is your role aboard Miss Sabre’s vessel, my dear?”
Rainbow didn’t answer. Her hooves shook under the table as she focused only on keeping her mouth shut, for she knew that if she opened it she wouldn’t be able to control the words that flew forth.
Luckily, Sabre came to her rescue. “She’s security.”
“Security, really?” The Prince turned to Sabre with a smirk. “So Crazy digs up a mare from the past, a mare he claims to have legendary ability beyond imagining, and he assigns her to security on a salvage crew led by Sea Sabre, the Butcher of Berchninny?”
Sabre’s eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch. “You can never have too much security.”
Rainbow’s gaze flicked between the two ponies as she came to the sudden realization that she was witnessing a play in a game with far more context than she knew. Prince Silverblood and Crazy Rich might have been peers, perhaps even partners, but they were far from friends, and with Sabre speaking as a representative of Crazy she had to be careful to measure every word. Now she understood why Sabre had put so much emphasis on her keeping her head down. Was Silverblood sizing them up even now behind that flamboyant façade of his, weighing two legendary Gifted under his control against the potential of a burned bridge with an old trade partner? Or was he just probing Sabre for information that might be useful at the negotiation table months or years down the road?
At last, the Prince looked away with an appreciative hum. “Yes, I suppose you’re right, and you would know! There’s no telling what might accost a ship out in the open sky, after all. Better safe than sorry!” He clapped his hooves, and Rainbow’s ears twitched at the sound of doors opening to either side. “But we mustn’t let the food sit any longer! My chef would be heartbroken to hear that we let it grow cold while we busied ourselves with small talk. Let’s eat!”
Rainbow looked to either side as a pair of ponies wearing the polite pouts of servants entered the room. They circled the table from opposite sides, one pouring drinks while the other served food, and she took the opportunity to scan the room for Gerritt. The griffon, annoyingly enough, had installed himself in a corner near the back of the room, out of sight from all the guests unless they craned their necks around to spot him.
Applejack, seated to Rainbow’s immediate left, nudged her with a hoof to get her attention. “Hey, ya good?” She offered up a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry ‘bout him, alright? I got yer back.”
Rainbow answered with a hollow smile of her own. “Right. Thanks, AJ.”
Sabre waited for the servants to back away, each plate and glass freshly filled, before clearing her throat. “As much as I’d love to sample your chef’s cooking, our cause is urgent. It would be easier for me to enjoy the food if we could negotiate the terms of our stay first.”
Silverblood raised a hoof. He leaned back as one of the servants speared an olive on a fork, swirled it about in a small dish of aioli, and held it up for him to pluck free with his teeth. After taking a moment to rinse the morsel down with a drink from his glass, he let out an exasperated sigh. “Very well, very well. But I have a stern policy of not mixing business with pleasure. We may discuss terms in my office.” He stood abruptly. “Bring your new crew with you, Sabre. The rest may stay and eat.”
Sabre frowned as she stood. “I would’ve thought you’d want to keep the discussion more private.”
“Well, of course.” Silverblood grinned as he walked to the side, beckoning to Gerritt with a hoof. “But what is a deal without witnesses? I shall have my dear Gerritt and Sassie, and you will have your, er—” he paused, squinting up at the ceiling “—I’m afraid I can’t recall their names just now, but I’m sure that can be remedied shortly. Follow me, please!”
He trotted out of the room without waiting for a response, Gerritt following behind him. Sabre turned to Rainbow and Applejack. “Let’s go.”
Applejack stood with a sigh, but Rainbow raised a hoof to hold her still. “Are you really gonna let him push us around like this?” she asked.
Sabre pursed her lips, but Star Trails answered for her. “Do you want to get off this ship quickly, or do you want to stand up for yourself?” the unicorn quipped between bites of food. “Cause you’re not gonna get both, so pick one.”
“What—but—Flint!” Rainbow waved a hoof. “Back me up here!”
Flint pulled a bowl of soup away from his mouth with a belch. “Don’t ye look t’ me, now. I’m here fer th’ food, and I’m gettin’ it!”
“C’mon, RD,” Applejack said. “Let’s just buckle down and get it over with.”
“Ugh, fine!” With a frustrated growl and a flick of her tail, Rainbow stood up and stalked towards Sabre. “But I don’t like this!”
“Neither do I,” Sabre said. “You’re doing well. Keep quiet, and we can be out of here within a couple days.”
Rainbow grimaced as she followed Sabre and Applejack down the hall that Silverblood had disappeared into, the jazz music fading away as they left the dining room behind.
It was a short walk. The hall ended in a small elevator large enough for only a few ponies, already half-full with Prince Silverblood and Gerritt’s griffon bulk. A mare with a soft pink coat and a curling green mane leaned against a terminal next to the elevator, chatting quietly into a brass tube. She wore her black jumpsuit rolled up into a belt, revealing a cutie mark of two white stars circling each other on her flank.
Rainbow suppressed a grumble as she squeezed into the elevator besides Sabre and Applejack.
Silverblood turned to the pink mare and gave her a quick nod. “If you would, Sassie?”
She leaned into the tube, pressing a button on her terminal with her magic. “Sassie, Prince and four coming up for you!”
With the click of machinery, the elevator lurched upwards. They came out into a small foyer with an identical terminal, brass tube, and—Rainbow did a quick double take—an identical mare, cutie mark and all.
“I’ve got them, Sassie!” she said. The magic faded from her horn as she turned to Silverblood with a warm smile. “Welcome back, sir!”
“Thank you, my dear. Come along, if you would.” Silverblood led the little group across the foyer, past a short hallway lined on one side with doors, and into a room dominated by a hefty wooden desk laden down by stacked folders. There were no windows in this part of the ship, but the room did have a wide painting on each wall that seemed to try and fill the same purpose; they were framed in silver, and depicted the type of ocean landscapes that one might see from aboard an airship in flight.
He sat behind the desk with a sigh, while Gerritt and Sassie—the second of two Sassies, Rainbow assumed—stood in opposite corners behind him. There was only a single seat on each side of the desk, so Rainbow and Applejack were left to stand behind Sabre.
“So!” Silverblood smiled a toothy, lopsided smile. “Let us discuss business.”
The conversation was dull on the surface, and trying to parse the doubletalk and implied meaning under every word did little more than give Rainbow a headache, so she was quick to tune it out. With one ear open to the back-and-forth between Silverblood and Sea Sabre, she turned the rest of her attentions elsewhere.
Gerritt kept his eyes pointed straight forward, ignoring her pointed glares and suppressed scowls, and after several minutes of the griffon remaining still as a statue Rainbow turned her eye onto the strange pink mare standing in the opposite corner. Sassie’s horn was glowing a faint white as she muttered something under breath, her hooves gesturing animatedly as if she was in the midst of exchanging some juicy gossip. She’d pause every minute or so, ears twitching, and then raise a hoof to her muzzle before letting out a subdued snicker. And all the while her eyes remained glassy and unfocused, only occasionally clearing whenever she did a quick scan of the room before returning to her phantom conversation.
It was impossible to tell how much time passed. There were no windows and no clock that Rainbow could see, and soon her hooves were fidgeting with boredom instead of irritation. When Silverblood finally began to clear the papers he’d pulled onto his desk and Sabre finally rose from her seat, Rainbow didn’t even bother trying to hide her sigh of relief.
“I assume there’s a thaumagram onboard?” Sabre was saying. “I’ll need to contact Mr. Rich.”
“Of course. I’ll let the operator know to expect you.” Silverblood opted to remain seated as he spoke. “And about the funds…”
“Speak to Star Trails,” Sabre said. “The unicorn. She handles the finances.”
“Excellent.” The Prince leaned forwards with a wide smile, extending a hoof to shake. “A pleasure doing business with you, Miss Sabre.”
“Likewise.” Sabre’s voice was steady as always as she took his hoof and shook. Maybe Rainbow was imagining it, but after so long living with the other pegasus she thought she could hear a trace of annoyance. She turned away, beckoning to Rainbow and Applejack with a nod. “Let’s go.”
“No, let them stay.” The Prince leaned back into his seat. “I’d like to talk to them.”
Sabre looked back over her shoulder with a frown. “You have no business with them.”
“Not true!” The Prince gave an exaggerated shake of his head. “I’m always on the lookout for new talent, after all, and it isn’t every day you come across miraculous young talent like these two.” He turned to Rainbow and Applejack in turn. “Tell me, how much does Crazy pay you, and how long are your contracts? I’m sure we could come to an agreement.”
Rainbow’s lip curled back in disdain, and she was just about to tell the overbearing stallion off when Sabre stepped in front of her.
“We aren’t to disclose the terms of our contracts,” she said, pushing Rainbow back with a hind leg. “You’ll have to ask Mr. Rich himself for that information.”
“Oh, how mysterious.” Silverblood steepled his hooves under his chin, narrowing his eyes with a playful smirk. “But I suppose it would kill the fun if there wasn’t any chase. Very well, then!” He popped out of his seat, smile widening. “Let us return to our meals. But remember, fillies, I pay well for unique talent, and I’m willing to negotiate a fair contract. Negotiation is, after all, a useful skill to have in an employee.”
“We, uh, appreciate y’all’s offer.” Applejack dipped her head. “But we’re happy where we are.”
“Fair, fair. Would you lead us out, Sassie?”
“Yes, sir!”
Rainbow could feel Silverblood’s smiling eyes boring into the back of her head as she followed Applejack and Sea Sabre out of the room and back to the elevator. She ignored him outwardly, but there was a cold pit of worry forming in her stomach as she walked.
Most of the conversation had gone over her head, but she didn’t need context to know that she hadn’t heard the last of Silverblood’s offer.
Wow, Ana thought as she shut the window closed behind her. Bureaucratic espionage is foal’s play compared to corporate.
The Commoner’s Guild’s security would have been laughable—if it existed. After a few minutes casing the building inside and out, Ana had decided to try the easy answers first and, much to her surprise, it had worked. A few flaps up to the guild master’s window, a few seconds with a thin blade, and she was in.
The guild master was busy downstairs—she could still hear the muffled voice of him speaking to the petitioners—so she expected she’d have some time to herself to search the room. Just in case, she trotted up to the door and ensured it was locked. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d been caught in some office by another sleuth sneaking in from an alternate route.
She didn’t have all day, however. She had a ship to catch, and so she went from cabinet to cabinet and folder to folder with the steady beat of a practiced spy. Her amber eyes skimmed the pages at a quick pace, searching for the key phrases and patterns that she knew from experience led to the dark secrets of ponies in power across Equestria.
It didn’t take her long to find what she was looking for. A hidden compartment built into the bottom of the desk concealed a collection of letters. From the broken seals left on the scrolls, it looked like correspondence between the Commoner’s Guild and the many trade guilds that dominated everyday life in Friesland.
One in particular, from a couple months ago, looked to be addressed to an organization called The House of Guilds. Ana wasn’t too familiar with Friesland politics, but if the gaudy seal and trim on the paper was any indication, it was important.
“From the Desk of Mr. Cart Marks, Master of the Commoners' Guild.”
She narrowed her eyes, skipping past the formalities that rich ponies loved to thicken their letters with.
“The laborers grow restless. I recognize that it is a hard time for us all with the sudden influx of Straterra goods, but a temporary period operating at a loss may be necessary to prevent unauthorized strikes or, worse, a riot. I recommend allowing some victories for the laborers. They only need a few ‘wins’ to feel as if they’ve shown that they still hold some power over us, and then we may return to business as usual. It may hurt in the present, but a small loss now can lead to greater profits in the future.”
Ana arched a brow. That didn’t sound like the advice of a pony who had the commoners' best interest in mind. She rifled through more of the hidden papers, a small grin pulling at her lips as she found a response. This one was far less verbose, opting to get straight to the point instead of flaunting a long line of honorifics or pleasantries, something which Ana had come to understand meant the writer was speaking from a position of power.
“From the Desk of Mr. Robber Baron, Speaker of the House of Guilds.
“Let them have their victories. The Lumberjacks' Guild and the Smiths' Guild has fared well despite the disruption; we will allow some reforms in these areas. Do what you must with the dockworkers to keep them in line; we cannot afford any trouble with our shipping.
As this is your suggestion, we trust you will not protest if we deduct the damages from these reforms from you regular stipend.”
Ana shook her head in bemusement. Of course the Commoners' Guild master was on the take. It was the same story she’d seen just about everywhere across Equestria: those in power were in power absolutely, and those without were only allowed the illusion of being able to influence the world at the convenience of their master’s priorities.
She flipped through several more letters, confirming her suspicions. The Commoner’s Guild as a whole was a sham bought and paid for by every other guild in the city, a false bulwark of popular power that the guilds used to manipulate common sentiment. When the grumbles from workers grew too loud, they were allowed some minor victories that made them feel as if they’d won, but otherwise they held no power. For a trivial fee—or trivial compared to the cost of safe factories and extra days off—the Commoners' Guild could gather your every complaint into one place and make them quietly disappear.
Ana’s ear twitched at the clatter of hooves on the stairs. She grabbed a few of the most incriminating letters and stuffed them into her jerkin before carefully replacing the hidden compartment. She took a few long, silent steps to the door, wincing at the quiet click as she unlocked it—even a pony as security-lax as this Cart Marks might think to check his valuables if he found his door suddenly locked for no reason—and slipped out the window.
She had just finished closing the window behind her when she saw the doorknob twist, and she wasn’t interested in meeting her mark face-to-face. Tucking her wings in tight, she dropped down into the damp alley in a flutter of dark cloth.
The thunder of cannon fire rolled over the city, and Ana smirked as she imagined the wall garrison applauding her agility. The relaxed gait she might normally use would be more out of place in the face of the stiff wind that blew through the shadowed afternoon streets, so she ambled out into the street at a hurried pace. With her hood pulled low and her cloak drawn tight, she set forth.
It was a quick walk to the run-down part of town where Ana and Gava had been renting their room. She still wasn’t sure what the inn was actually called—the innkeeper didn’t seem to have any interest in fixing the sign, and the closest Ana ever got to talking to the surly stallion was a nod in the mornings and at night when she came down to fetch a meal—but part of her liked it better that way. She gave the barkeep the traditional nod as she bustled past two lonely patrons, up the stairs, and into the dimly-lit room she’d been calling home for the past week.
Her nose twitched at the heady scent of blood as she shut the door behind her. Gava was leaning over the cheap tin cabinet they’d been using for a table, her talons stained the same red as the little carcass draped over its surface.
Ana licked her lips. It had been a while since they’d had cat, and variety was always enticing. “Tame, or feral?”
Gava shrugged, keeping her eyes on her work. “What’s it matter to you?”
“Feral cats are all stringy,” Ana said. She reached into her saddlebags and pulled out her stolen letters. “If you want good cat, you need to get a nice, fat one.”
“Fat cats can barely run, Ana. Stringy or not, the meat on a street cat tastes better after a decent chase.” Gava glanced back, arching a brow at the papers Ana had tossed onto the bed. “What’s that?”
“I met with Whitehorn.” Ana stepped over to the old wooden chest holding her father’s skull, the well-oiled hinges silent as she lifted the lid and peered inside. “He wanted some dirt on some guild pony, so I got it for him. Aside from that, I’ve got good news and bad news.”
Gava paused. She turned fully, licking her talons clean. “Good news first.”
“Good news is I’ve got something for you to do.” Ana jerked her head towards the papers. “I need you to drop these at a print shop. It’s Kerner and Sons, over by that distillery near the south gate. Very hush-hush, code phrases and all. If you’ve ever wanted to live a couple thrilling hours between my wings, here’s your chance.”
“That’s the good news?” Gava asked.
Ana looked back with a wry smirk. “Sis, you’re chasing cats through alleys for fun. It’s better than torturing popular barkeeps, but you’re obviously bored out of your mind.”
“I’d been hoping we could do another raid like we did with that airship.” Gava’s talons clicked against the stone as she stepped up to Ana’s side, brow furrowed down at the smaller mare. “I’ve got some ideas for new targets. Scoped them out just like you showed me.” Her beak twisted up into a hopeful smile. “It was pretty fun last time, with just the two of us again.”
The memory of a stallion on the ground, begging for Luna to save him from a monster, flashed through Ana’s mind. Her gaze flicked over to the barely visible splash of dark blue mostly hidden under her father’s bleached griffon skull—Rarity’s gift to her.
“Yeah. That was nice. But Whitehorn didn’t like it.”
“So what? Since when do we do what ponies tell us?”
“Since you made a messy contract.” Ana shot her sister a pointed look. “And the pay’s not bad, either.” Gava opened her beak—no doubt to make a snappy comment about how they’d been squatting in an inn so cheap they could catch breakfast without getting out of bed—but Ana cut her off with a good-natured slap from her wing. “We’re making airship money here, sis. Once this is over we can hitch a ride to Baltimare, find something good to replace the Screech. We just need to hold out a bit longer.”
Gava grimaced. “We could never replace the Screech.”
“You know what I mean.” Ana sighed, leaning into her sister’s plumage. “But our family’s still together. That’s what matters.”
“Heh. You sound like Dad.” Gava wrapped her big wings around Ana’s shoulders, pulling the thestral tight against her chest. “So. Bad news?”
Ana didn’t answer right away. She’d been mulling over this conversation ever since meeting with Whitehorn, and now that the moment was here she found a knot of apprehension forming in her gut. She closed her eyes, taking comfort in the sound of Gava’s heartbeat. “Well, uh… Whitehorn wants me to steal some things from Castle Urtica.”
“What?” Gava stepped back with a sharp scowl. “We aren’t supposed to mess with armies!”
“Now who sounds like Dad?” Ana quipped. She sighed as Gava narrowed her eyes, clearly not appreciating the joke. “Look, I can handle it.”
“That’s four siege lines. And then you’ll have to come back!”
“I can sneak onto one of the troop transports. They fly in at night, and you know nobody ever checks the bottom of an airship for infiltrators.”
“But what if you’re caught? They’ll kill you!”
Ana cocked her head, arching one playful brow. “Me? Caught?”
“Ana, this isn’t a joke!” Gava growled. Her talons flexed, scoring pale scars into the stone as she stood. “I’ll come, to protect you.”
Ana was always a little touched whenever her sister’s protective streak showed. She couldn’t stop the warm smile from creeping onto her face. “Sis, if we ever find ourselves in a world where me sneaking into a place is a joke and you doing it isn’t, then we may need to find a new line of work.”
Gava’s tail lashed, but she didn’t bother with a response. Instead she narrowed her eyes and stared Ana down in silence.
Ana’s smile faded as the seconds stretched on. Without more words to riff off, there was no way for her to twist the message that Gava was sending: the job would be difficult, and it would be dangerous, and she wasn’t an invisible, immortal shadow above the perceptions of ponykind. It was an odd idea coming from the typically headstrong griffon, but then Gava had been noticeably more cautious about them splitting up ever since that disastrous assault on Titus’s estate. They’d both thought they’d lost each other at one point or another that night, and Gava had taken the lesson to heart; they weren’t invincible, and every time they split up might be the last time they saw each other.
But the job had to be done. In much the same way that Gava was trying to protect Ana by protesting now, if one of them didn’t help Whitehorn get what he wanted, Gava would be the one he punished for it.
At last, Ana broke the silence. “You know you can’t stop me from leaving, right?”
“And you can’t stop me from following.”
Ana frowned. “Sis, I appreciate it, but I know you won’t do anything really stupid until you see my body with your own two eyes. And I need to be going soon if I want to catch the next ship out, so how about we agree it’s dangerous and just enjoy a meal together, huh?” She offered up a small smile. “I don’t really care if the cat’s stringy.”
After several seconds, Gava turned away. “Fine.” She stalked over to the cat carcass, tail flicking stiffly from side to side. “You wanna go downstairs and cook this thing, then?”
“Sure.” Ana stepped up and leaned against Gava’s side. “C’mon. With luck, maybe we can scare off the last dregs of this dive’s business.”
When Twilight awoke, she was surprised to find a smile on her face.
How long had it been since she’d been able to get some proper sleep in, instead of the quick naps snatched in cold ruins half-buried in the seafloor, disturbed by the constant fear of attack or concern over her shield spell failing? The rocks were still no replacement for a proper bed, but here she could let her magic go and truly relax, lulled into the warm abyss of slumber by the mountain’s gentle breath.
A high-pitched yawn escaped her as she stretched her legs and rolled onto her belly, blinking the bleariness from her vision. The cold stone had been warmed by her body as she slept, fueled by the fish she’d caught and cooked. She ran her tongue over her sharp teeth, catching the lingering taste of blood leftover from her meal.
Looking around, she saw Midnight lying down next to the little portal in the ground that they had swam in from, the tips of its front hooves drawing slow circles in the water. It looked up, peering at her over the book hovering before it. We are refreshed.
Twilight gave it a little nod. She couldn’t see the book’s title from this angle, but her mind supplied her with an answer anyways. The Art of Invisibility Spells. She scrunched up her muzzle in thought. That’s from my library.
Yes. It frowned as it turned the book’s pages toward her, revealing the blank paper inside. You never finished it.
Well I was rather distracted with trying to save Equestria!
If our memories are correct, Midnight mused, the book turning to ashes before blowing away in an invisible wind, you were imagining a crisis at the time.
Twilight let out an exasperated sigh as her peaceful mood was chipped away at by her dark passenger’s comments, but resolved not to let it get to her. Rather than get baited into another pointless argument, she shifted tracks. How can you even read those books from my memories? I don’t have perfect recall. She paused, eyes widening. Wait, do I have perfect recall?
You do not. But perusing your flawed memories passes the time nonetheless. It stood, beckoning towards the pool with a cracked hoof. Come. The Frozen North awaits.
You don’t waste any time, do you? Twilight’s horn glowed, bringing Celestia’s tiara and Shining’s saddlebags—now restocked with fresh fish—back to her. She refreshed the weatherproofing spells she’d placed on each before walking up to the water hole, taking a deep breath, and jumping inside.
The cold water shocked her groggy mind into clarity, and she grinned at the rush of exhilaration it brought with it. She turned in a circle, searching for the tunnel she’d taken from outside, only to realize that there were at least a dozen similar passages leading away—and she hadn’t left herself any hint as to which one she had come from.
A foalish mistake.
Twilight pursed her lips. You didn’t think of it either.
It said nothing, but she could still feel its bristling annoyance in the back of her mind.
Okay. What do we know? Twilight summoned a small shield around her head, opting to magically filter the water into breathable air so she could focus on the situation. With a simple compass spell she found north and, knowing she had entered from the south side of the mountain, turned to see only two of the little tunnels on the south face of the pool.
But just because these tunnels came from the south didn’t mean that they led south. The passage she had taken had twisted and turned several times, and between her hunger, her nerves, and Midnight’s pestering she hadn’t even thought to keep track of them.
She sent a ping into each tunnel, muzzle screwing up in consternation as they returned with little useful information. Perhaps she could find a way to modify the spell to bounce the ping off the stone, mapping out the entire path? But how could she get it to recognize what it was and wasn’t supposed to bounce off, and how could she guide it back to her once it reached open water? No, such a modification would require study, some creative thinking, and at the very least a pen and some paper for working through the mechanics. It would still be useful though, so she filed the idea away for later.
What the ping had told her was that one tunnel went generally up, and the other went generally down. Swimming closer and holding the frog of her hoof up to each one, she felt a steady current sucking water in. Had that been there before? Perhaps it had, but she hadn’t noticed it through the shields she’d used to protect herself from the water pressure.
Wait a minute. Twilight blinked, brow furrowing. Where is the water pressure?
We’re next to an air pocket, little flower. Midnight scoffed. There would be no crushing pressure at this depth.
Twilight shook her head. No, but there would be. Unless the mountain is open to the surface, the air should be trapped inside, and the water should pressurize it until it’s equalized with the pressure of the ocean.
Midnight paused. When it spoke it did so quickly, as if trying to brush past its mistake. And if the mountain is open to the surface?
Then the water would push the air out. There shouldn’t be any unpressurized air pockets below sea level. Her eyes widened as another thought occurred to her. And it should’ve been that way in Canterlot, too! How is this possible?
For a long moment they hovered there, considering the question with only the faint breath of the mountain to break the silence.
I expect we will learn nothing more in this cave. Midnight tugged their hooves into motion, pulling them towards one of the tunnels. We shall try the upwards path.
Although Twilight was annoyed at her body moving without her request, there wouldn’t be any point to protesting it. She’d been thinking the same thing anyways, even if she hadn’t taken the initiative. She went along with the motion without complaint, following the current into the little tunnel.
It was a little easier to traverse the tight passage with the water buoying her up, and they made a good pace. Every several seconds Twilight would send a ping out ahead of her, checking for danger, and she was ever conscious of the pressure—or lack thereof—around her barrel. It was stronger than it would be at the surface, yes, but it was hardly the deadly, crushing embrace of the ocean depths. It felt more like swimming along the bottom of a pool than anything else.
The mountain’s breath grew louder as they swam, and over time Twilight began to make out little details that had previously been lost to the whole. The clicking began to sound like the ticking of gears, and the muted rise and fall of every breath was joined by a steady buzzing sound. The water began to vibrate harder against her coat, growing in sympathy with the strange sound, and soon her hooftips began to feel numb from the constant stimulation.
Was there some kind of machine inside this mountain? A sufficiently powerful network of pumps might be able to push water out of the interior faster than it could flood back inside, but what would be the purpose? And what could have been maintaining such a machine for so many centuries?
At last the tunnel opened up. Twilight found herself swimming along the bottom of a frothing underground river, the water having reached a bone-shaking hum as the mountain’s breath turned into a steady roaring. The current pulled at her insistently, and she was forced to enlarge her air bubble around her whole body in order to keep from being dragged away.
With a curious frown, Twilight sent a wide ping out around her.
Her breath hitched. Her chest grew tight, and for a moment it felt almost like she had let her spell fail and was drowning under a dozen leagues of crushing water.
Is that… a pony?
Twilight pushed herself higher at a snail’s pace. Releasing her magic so as to avoid giving herself away, she latched onto the rocky side of the river and poked her eyes up past the white froth of the rapids.
The cave widened out here, forming a little cavern with the river coursing along one side. Twilight’s ears twitched at the loud grumbling of the machine set up on the bank, churning the water with its efforts. A trio of pipes sprouted from the base of the machine, disappearing into the darkness of a tunnel that led further upwards, the rock damp with the water leaking from the seams in rhythmic spurts.
And crouched down in front of the strange pump, illuminated by the pale light of a lantern resting on a little rock, was a pony.
He was a regular unicorn stallion, unmarred by any sign of mutation, though admittedly most of his body was covered by a rough, stiff suit with rigid bands around the joints. He had the suit’s hood down, a breath mask hanging limply from his belt, allowing Twilight to see his smudged green coat and short, ragged mane. He had some tool gripped in his muzzle, though it was impossible to identify it while he poked it about around the base of the pump, and a pair of stiff metal saddlebags rested on the ground beside him, the silhouettes of wrenches and hammers and screwdrivers sticking out from within.
The pony leaned back, spitting the tool out of his mouth and running a hoof through his mane. His lips moved as he muttered something under his breath, but it was impossible to hear it over the chugging roar of the pump.
Twilight took the scene in with her eyes wide and her jaw hanging loosely open. What is a—what is—who—how can—
Breathe, Twilight.
But he—what if— Twilight gasped as she plunged back into the water, scrubbing a hoof furiously against the bloody tears stained into her cheeks. I haven’t brushed my teeth!
A second passed. What?
My teeth are still all bloody! She ran her tongue frantically over her fangs, groaning in frustration as it came back tasting of fish blood again and again. I can’t be seen like this!
Her body suddenly stopped responding. Her eyes darted up to see Midnight scowling at her. What are you doing, you foal?
Let go of me! That’s a normal pony! She grimaced, hooves twitching as she strained to retake control. I can’t let him see me like this! I look like a monster!
Midnight narrowed its eyes. But we are not a monster.
Well if I suddenly saw myself climbing out of an underground river with blood on my fangs—which I’m not supposed to have, by the way—and all this red gunk around my creepy Nightmare Moon eyes, I would definitely think I was a monster!
What does it matter what some mongrel pony thinks? Midnight snapped, its lip curling back. Do you think he’s a threat to us?
He might run away!
He couldn’t escape us if he tried!
Shut up! Shut up! Twilight jabbed an accusing hoof at her twisted doppelganger. I haven’t spoken to anyone but you since Canterlot, and by Celestia, I want to make a good first impression!
This is ridiculous. Midnight shook its head in disgust. If you’re so concerned about your appearance, you seem to have forgotten your horn. Twilight winced as it flicked her horn with a hoof. An illusion will suffice.
Twilight blinked. Oh. Right. That… would be a lot easier.
Ignoring Midnight’s judging glare, Twilight began to channel her magic. Illusions had never been a specialty of hers, but just about every filly at Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns had at least dabbled in the field. Makeup was expensive, and took a long time to apply, and no matter how much coaching she’d received from her mother Twilight had never quite felt confident in her ability with the strange chemicals. A quick spell to hide the bags under her eyes after a sleepless night of reading or to keep her smile clear when she was running late and had no time to clean up after breakfast was far easier.
The eye color spell had been fun, too. She shook her head as she thought back to the brief phase where she’d changed her eye color every week.
She knew the spells well, and though it did take a little more power than usual to hide all of her mutations, soon she was ready to show her face. Taking a moment to steel herself, Twilight climbed out of the cold water and up onto the river bank.
The stallion didn’t notice. He remained focused on the task before him as Twilight walked stiffly closer, shaking with something between excitement and anxiety.
She came to a stop a few steps behind him, unsure of what to say. She lifted a hoof to tap his shoulder, thought better of it, and put it back down. Midnight watched from the stallion’s side, leering down at him like he was something disgusting she had just stepped in.
After some thought, Twilight cleared her throat. “Ahem.”
He didn’t turn around.
Twilight frowned. Maybe he couldn’t hear her? It was understandable, considering how loud the pump was. She could try shouting something, but she didn’t want to startle him and make a bad impression. She was just starting to think she should try getting back in the water to circle around and climb out in front of him, shifting her weight from side to side, when she accidentally leaned in front of his lantern.
The pony jumped at the unexpected shadow, and her heart skipped a beat. He whipped around, a weighty ratchet clutched in his jaw like a weapon, and they locked eyes.
He blinked. Twilight offered up a nervous smile and waved a hoof. “H-hello. My name’s Twilight Sparkle. How are you doing, uh, today?”
He cocked his head, ears turning towards her, and leaned down to drop his tool. “What?!”
He had to shout to be heard over the pump, and with a start Twilight realized that she should probably do the same. “Hello! My name’s Twilight Sparkle! How are—” No, wait, that’s a stupid question. “What’s your name?!”
Twilight hadn’t thought it was possible for the stallion to look even more confused than he already was, but he found a way. “Who are you?!”
She grimaced. “My name! Is Twilight Sparkle!”
“Yes, I heard that!” he shouted. “I don’t recognize you! What’s your position?! Do they need me up there?!”
Twilight’s heart was pounding. With a whimper she realized that she had no idea what he was talking about and, worse still, the conversation was spiraling towards disaster. Midnight shook its head behind the stallion in clear disappointment. “I don’t take us where your leader is, mongrel!”
The stallion reached a hoof up to his head, scratching at an ear. “What?!”
What are you doing?! Twilight demanded, staring wide-eyed at Midnight.
I’m helping! Midnight snapped. He’s clearly part of a larger group, and your pitiful attempts at an introduction are going nowhere!
You called him a mongrel!
He is a mongrel, and if he thinks otherwise then he is free to challenge us!
The stallion glanced over his shoulder, following Twilight’s furious gaze. “Are you okay, miss?!”
“No!” Twilight spat, stomping a hoof. “I’m not okay!” Her horn glowed, and the cave took on a purple hue as she swathed the pump in a silence spell. The cave fell quiet in an instant, the roaring of the pump replaced with the relative quiet breathing of the mountain and the chugging of the pipes. “My name is Twilight Sparkle! What’s your name?!”
The stallion jumped, ears twitching at the sudden absence of sound. His eyes remained focused on her glowing horn as he tugged a pair of plugs out of his ears. “Name’s Bag End. Guess you’re new?”
Twilight grinned, reaching out to grab one of his hooves and shake it. “It’s nice to meet you! I was actually wondering if you could tell me where we are?”
Bag End cocked a brow. He jerked his head back towards the pump. “Pump 12. Can I help you, Miss Sparkle? I have two more pumps to get to today, and I dunno about you Gifted, but I don’t get paid overtime.”
“Oh. Uh, I’m sorry!” Twilight stepped back, dropping the stallion’s hoof and dipping her head in apology. “I’m actually... lost.” A nervous giggle escaped her.
“Lost, huh?” Bag End rolled his eyes as he turned back to the pump. “Whatever, Miss Sparkle. You can follow me till the end of my shift, long as you don’t get in the way.” He popped the plugs back into his ears. “And could you take that spell off? The sound is important.”
“Oh! Of course!” Laughing her relief at successfully navigating the conversation without inspiring fear or violence, Twilight looked up, muzzle screwing up in concentration as she focused on canceling the silence spell without also fizzling her illusory makeup.
The ground suddenly lurched beneath her, and Twilight yelped as she stumbled to one side. She hadn’t dispelled the silence yet, but a deep, crackling rumbling was coming from below them, growing louder at an alarming pace. A loose pebble fell from the ceiling, and she flinched as it bounced off the tip of her muzzle.
Bag End’s eyes shot wide open as the stone began to vibrate underhoof. “Oh, fuck! Spider!” Sparing only one moment to scoop the lantern up off the ground, he broke into a dead sprint, bounding towards the tunnel at the back of the cave.
He made it four steps, and then the cave floor exploded underneath him.
He screamed, the lantern casting panicked shadows on the walls as it spiraled freely through the air and splashed into the river. A giant spider, twice the size of a pony, burst free from the rock, its body made of a hard crystal that looked almost like steel in the washed out greyscale of Twilight’s night vision. Its twitching legs scraped against the rock with a shrill screech as its razor sharp fangs squeezed around Bag End’s barrel, held back only by the hard ring of iron reinforcing the center of his suit.
“No!” Acting on instinct, Twilight’s horn burst into lavender light. The loud cacophony of the pump filled the room as she dropped every other spell to teleport the screaming stallion out of the crystal spider’s jaws and back to her side.
The spider screeched its frustration, scuttling out of its burrow and leaping up onto the ceiling in a burst of motion. Its claws dug into the stone as its body coiled like a spring, and in the bright glow of Twilight’s horn she saw the jagged red lines that zig-zagged across its otherwise shimmering blue body like bloody scars.
The moment was gone as fast as it came. The spider pounced, its bulk filling Twilight’s vision as it closed on her with all eight legs outstretched.
Twilight shrieked as she summoned a shield just in time to catch the monster’s weight. It slammed into her protective dome with a hiss of fury, its long legs wrapping around to almost completely surround her.
She could feel Midnight pulling at her magic, and she didn’t put up any resistance. A lance of energy jumped from Twilight’s horn, the lavender light tinted with a deathly red. There was a sharp crack, and the beam bounced away as the spider was sent flying backwards.
Twilight blinked, and the spider had already bounced back off the ground. That didn’t hurt it!
It must be resistant to magic. No matter. Midnight stepped forwards, snarling at the monster. Come to us, worm!
What are you doing?! Twilight fell onto her rump as the spider crouched down, bracing itself for another jump. We should run!
We will run from no stupid beast! Midnight spat. This foe does not deserve our respect!
The spider jumped. Twilight’s horn glowed brighter without her input, and she flinched at the ear-ringing crack that echoed off the stone.
The spider had been caught mid-air by a jagged spear of rock, pulled up from the ground by her own magic. It wheezed, legs wriggling faintly as it tried to pull itself free, and with a flash of purple a second stone javelin fell from the ceiling, embedding itself into one of its glowing gemstone eyes.
The cave was still. Twilight sucked in deep breaths as the ringing in her ears gave way to the uncaring grumbles of the pump.
Midnight looked back with a triumphant sneer. You see, little flower? No contest!
Twilight blinked. R-right. Thanks.
We should never have bothered speaking with that pony. Midnight scoffed as it turned to admire its kill. He was a worthless ally.
Twilight gasped. She whipped around, zeroing in on where Bag End lay groaning on the ground in a little ball. She collapsed at his side with shaky hooves, uncertain as to whether or not to touch him. “Oh, Celestia! Are you okay?!”
He moaned, and she had to lean in close to hear him over the pump. “T-take me back.” He paused, sucking in a shuddering breath. “B-back to the c-colony.”
“Okay! You’re okay!” Scooping him up in her magic, Twilight skirted around the spider’s twice-impaled corpse and broke into a gallop. She wasn’t sure where the colony was, but she guessed the water pipes would lead her to it.
This is a waste of time. Midnight hovered in the corners of her ashen vision. He was only good as a distraction, and he’s served that purpose.
“Shut up!” Twilight spat. “I don’t care what you think, I’m saving this pony’s life!”
Midnight didn’t offer any response. Spurred on by the pounding of her heart, Twilight raced through the darkness, screaming for help all the way.
Friesland was a city built on the assumption that it would always be surrounded by enemies. Like many settlements, the first structure finished was a tavern. The second was a wall.
It was a philosophy that shone through everywhere Ana had looked. Old walls or keeps, converted into civilian buildings or demolished to bolster other constructions once the town outgrew them, were a common sight in the center of the city. Every citizen was expected to drill in the firing and reloading of a rifle four weeks of every year, and even though it was forbidden for civilians to wear blue coats, nearly every house had at least one old militia uniform tucked away in dusty chests or closets. Watching over it all was the great wall, a behemoth of architecture that brought students from around Equestria, crowned by cannons that could demolish a trebuchet from a hundred meters beyond its range. It was a masterpiece of military engineering, a bulwark that clung stubbornly to the coast no matter how hard or how often the local nobility tried to scrape it free, and were it not for the lurking fear of saboteurs within the walls the citizens of Friesland would scoff at the idea of baronlanders destroying it from without.
Castle Urtica was not quite so well off.
Ana looked down upon the battlefield from on high, balanced on one of the support struts attached to the troop transport ship’s rear propellers. She had discarded the loose-fitting cloak for this mission and stained her jerkin black with the scrubbings of charcoal. With the sun long gone and the half-moon hidden behind the clouds, she was all but invisible in shadow. Her only weakness was her amber eyes; a pony that shone a light in her direction might see her pupils reflecting it back at them. She had acquired a pair of goggles for this purpose, wrapping the lens with a thin cloth film that should help to diminish the effect.
Anypony looking up would find it all but impossible to spot her as her airship of choice skirted along the coast, a difficult target for any baron ballista crews, but she was treated to a bird’s eye view of the carnage below.
The castle itself stood guard at the mouth of a shallow valley that ran perpendicular to the rocky island edge, a thick stone wall curving inwards between two uneven towers. At the deepest part of the curve the gatehouse leered down over the bodies abandoned before it, the corpses of ponies and siege engines alike testifying as to its fortitude. The wall was dark—anyone carrying a torch at night would likely only make themselves a target for the besieging forces—but Ana’s thestral vision could still see the gunners and siege crews huddled up to the stone, cloaks drawn tight against the wind.
Behind the wall, set apart so as to ensure no easy approach should the first line of defense be taken, was the keep from where Duchess Nettlekiss was sure to be commanding the conflict. It was a single triangular column of massive stone bricks, each corner of the triangle reinforced by a square tower. Rapid-firing mangonels had been built on the top of each tower next to piles of stone ammunition, and between all three a single trebuchet had been erected on the keep’s roof, the crew working even in the dead of night to fling flaming balls of peat into the assailants’ siege camp.
Most of these attacks would miss, flying wide to burn away patches of grass before fading away, but sometimes one would plummet into the widespread tents of the attacking army, the cloth flaring up like tinder while soldiers rushed to keep the fire from spreading. The attackers returned the favor with their own line of trebuchets, hurling craggy boulders across the gap between the two lines. Many flew long or short, throwing up plumes of dirt as they fell, but others struck true, chipping away at the wall before bouncing to the ground.
But the siege was far more than just the castle. The ridges that framed the valley were lined by a smaller, thinner wall, just wide enough for a pony to stand on the stones and shoot down at attackers, ensuring none could bypass the main entrance with determination and climbing skill alone. This weaker wall had been breached in many places, its integrity compromised to the point that the defenders had fallen back to hold in simple trenches. The attackers had dug trenches of their own, and so the two sides engaged in a bitter back and forth, constantly digging through the cold soil to create new avenues of attack or fallback lines, giving ground one day only to take it back the next, the little stretch of land changing hooves so frequently that there was often not even a chance to clear the dead from underhoof.
Ana was glad she’d come up with this plan. With Friesland employing airships to spot for and support its forces, simply flying over the armies would have been risky. Every pony within and around this valley would be high-strung, ears twitching at every sound, ready to jump into action at a moment’s notice.
Getting close to the wall from either direction would be dangerous, and the civilian farmers protected within the valley would likely be easier to evade, but she needed to steal from Nettlekiss herself. A noble’s seal was a valuable trinket; stealing an authentic copy would allow you to impersonate the original owner in any writing, and by the time the message got out that the seal had been compromised it would probably be too late. Nettlekiss would keep it close to or on her person—most likely within the heavily defended keep itself.
Although there was an old stone pier jutting out from the edge of the valley, neighbored by silos and granaries filled with vital grain, the airship veered away. It and the two ships accompanying it instead made for a skeletal metal tower near the middle of the valley. A thin plume of smoke billowed from a small shack at the base of the tower.
The lanterns swaying in the wind at the top of the tower illuminated a few ponies readying docking chains to accept the new arrivals, and with a small nod to herself Ana decided it was time to take her leave. Though they would be distracted by their work, it would still be too easy for her to be given away by a casual upwards glance as her airship came in to unload its cargo.
“Well,” Ana muttered, checking the straps on her arcata for the tenth time that night, “let’s get this over with.”
Taking a deep breath, she allowed herself to fall.