//------------------------------// // Chapter 7: The Spark // Story: Wings of Iron: The Sphigyptian Affair // by TheGMan //------------------------------// “Sphigypt is the mightiest kingdom the world has ever known. For you see, you try to destroy it from the outside just as we try to destroy it from the inside, and yet it doesn’t collapse.” -Pharaoh Khaf-Hor, Second of His Name, emeritus, on his deathbed. Kingdom of Sphigypt, Thebanus, Palace of Luxor … “Allow me to be perfectly clear,” Sebak stated, visibly trying to keep his anger in check. “My answer is no. It was no when you first asked, it still is no, and by Anat’s Blade, it will remain no as long as I draw breath!” Grand Vizier Golden Tusk frowned but chose to remain silent. The earth pony stallion merely took a sip from his porcelain teacup, before turning his attention back to the shimmering crystal ball standing on his desk. It was an old model, and the years of use were evident to the naked eye; its surface had long since lost its sheen, the image within now marred by a constant opaque shade rippling through it. He had reminded himself to buy a new one more than once before. After all, money was not really a problem for a pony in his position. “Ferik Rilet Sebak Yilmaz,” he addressed the sphinx by his full name. “I think you’re taking this too personally. Why don’t you try to examine the proposal more carefully, with a cooler head? I say you should take yourself some time to think about it.” The stallion smiled politely, but it had the only effect of making Sebak’s displeasure even more evident. The sphinx flashed briefly his teeth at him, just before remembering who he was speaking with and thus backing down from the hasty challenge. “Trust me when I say that I’ve already given the matter more thought that it deserved,” the sphinx said. “And it does not matter how much I think about it. Whether it’s a day or a week, I’m not changing my mind on this.” Golden Tusk sighed. Dealing with Sebak, especially when he set himself on something so doggedly, made him forget sometimes how fruitful their collaboration had been up to that point. “Can you at least tell me why?” “You already know why.” Sebak’s mouth twisted into a deep, ugly scowl. “Tauk is a political animal!” “Yes, he is. But so are you,” Golden Tusk pointed out, the tranquil smile never leaving his face. “And the same can be said just as easily for me, won’t you agree?” Sebak said nothing, his only reaction being a venomous glare. The crystal ball flickered, the sphinx’s scowl appearing frozen in place before flickering back to normality. Still, Golden Tusk had to keep himself from chuckling at the sight. The Vizier leaned forward from his high-backed, cushioned chair. “Look, I’m perfectly aware that he’s an ambitious, self-centred asshole, but Letzis Clan -his clan- has a long and venerable history here in Thebanus.” “I’m not saying that I like them, mind you. Far from it in fact. They may have remained loyal all those years ago, but that hasn’t stopped them from trying to slip into the Pharaoh’s ear like sly maggots. And they don’t seem to have any intention about getting out of there any time soon.” Sebak raised an eyebrow. “Then why you don’t do something? I mean, you’re his Vizier! I thought he listened only to you!” “Oh, I wish it was so, trust me.” The stallion chuckled ruefully. “But Lak-Hor listens always to his Inner Council. He may not follow their advices nearly as often as his father did -and Cion be praised for that- but he has still not decided to outright ignore them.” “In all honesty, though, I really can’t understand why you get all foamy at the mouth with him,” Golden Tusk said, now trying a more diplomatic route. Predictably, Sebak opened his mouth to spat an answer, likely a venomous one. The stallion preceded him though, quickly forestalling his incoming objection with a raised hoof. “I’ve read his military records multiple times in the last few days, and I must admit they are quite something. He still remains a glory-seeking bastard if the affair at Zetios is any indication, but he’s no incompetent fool. He knows how to inspire the troops and get the job done.” Ferik Sebak shook his head. “I never said that Tauk was incompetent. But fighting is all its good for. He’s a lunatic, a hungry jackal going from one prey to the other, killing and killing for the sheer thrill of it. And make no mistakes, he always leads from the front because he loves to get his paws bloody.” His tone hardened. “Tauk might have been a great warrior some decades ago, but as of now he’s nothing more than a wild card. He’s utterly incapable to see beyond his own personal goals, and he’s more than ready to rush headlong into them, caution be damned.” “Good then,” Golden Tusk shrugged. “If what you’re saying it’s true, he’s going to get himself killed anyway. The problem will solve all by itself.” Sebak stared at him in disbelief. “Are you even listening to what I’m saying? Do you seriously think is going to charge straight into a kill-zone all by himself?” He grimaced. “Of course not! He’s going to drag my soldiers in the Grey Realm with him.” “I can understand politics up to a point, but I’m not letting him, nor you, toy with their lives.” The Vizier’s eyes narrowed. Whether it was anger or just frustration he felt, the stallion couldn’t quite tell. One thing was certain though; his patience has reached the limit, and they were done discussing the matter any further. “Yes, Sebak. I am listening to you. Believe me, I am. The problem though is that you don’t seem to be doing the same with me, so allow me to be perfectly clear with you too. I’m not letting you to screw this up.” The stallion rose from his seat, leaning with his forelegs against the oak desk. His voice was now ice-cold. “You cannot even begin to imagine the time and energy I’ve spent on this. What may understandably seem to you as a mere military matter, has required from my part almost two decades of political manoeuvring, favour-curbing, planning, and a not small amount of sheer luck to prepare.” Ferik Sebak opened his mouth to speak for a second time, only for the brown-furred stallion to stop him once again. “Twenty years, Sebak. Twenty fucking years. I’ve spent almost half of my life on this, working tirelessly only to bring Sphigypt back together. And the only thing separating us from that goal is a small vote in the Inner Council, so that we may finally formalize the ultimatum for Akhri.” “I need Letzis Clan support for the thing to go through smoothly.” Golden Tusk was grinning now, flashing his teeth not too dissimilarly from the way Sebak had done some time before. “And what they’re asking is, in my modest opinion, quite reasonable.” He slowly sank back into his chair, his jaw’s muscles set. “So, once we end this conversation, you’re going to call Tauk. You’re going to show him curtesy and, most importantly, you’re going to give him command of one of your bloody regiments!” Free Republic of Akhri, Kaska, Tushi Quarter… Blackwing dug into his pockets and pulled out a couple of glistering silver coins. He handed them over to the coach-mare. “We won’t take long, so just wait here,” he said in the local tongue. He decided to add a little extra. “If we’re not back in thirty minutes, you’re free to leave.” The mare just nodded at him, wasting no time in stuffing the coins in her saddlebags. She wasn’t a slave, although that did not mean she was in fact free. Mosk used to own quite many of them, until he had caught up on the fact that a liberated slave meant in no way an actual citizen of the Republic, much to his relief. Besides, that way he was no longer responsible for feeding them. When most of your clients were Owlstrian military personnel, some appearances had to be maintained, and showing more liberal views on the matter of slavery could certainly help your business. And Mosk had proven, if nothing else, to be quite the pragmatic sphinx regarding business. “And now you can speak Sphigyptian too. When did you learn that, by the way?” Greenquill asked from behind. “Throughout the years,” he said, glancing at the griffon over his shoulder. “I took a couple of classes, but most of it was on-duty practice.” Greenquill nodded, clearly impressed. “I didn’t know that. I mean, I’ve only managed to pick up a few words here and there in all this time.” “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, it seems.” His words came out harsher that he would have liked. Greenquill frowned. “You’re still pissed about that, aren’t you?” He sighed with some discomfort. “Look, Eddy, I didn’t know about that problem with your wings. I swear, had I known it before-” “I know, it’s fine,” Blackwing said, careful to maintain his neutral visage. “I’ve already told you to forget it. We’ll have plenty of time to talk about it later.” He waved with a claw towards their destination. The address indicated on the letter was a three-storeys building at the end of Hadret Al Kazis Street, overlooking a small plaza. There was a neighbourhood market going on there, and thus the surrounding streets bustled with creatures moving one way or the other, the racket of on-going businesses filling the air. In the ongoing ruckus, the two griffons earned barely more than a curious, passing glance. The building was hardly distinguishable from the many white, sun-bleached tenements standing nearby, except for the address. Even though time and exposure had partially eroded it, the number fifty-four, engraved in stone beside the door, could still be somewhat read. Greenquill cast a single, unconvinced glance at it. “You still haven’t told me why you needed to come here, Eddy.” “I did actually, but you were too busy asking about the wings.” “I wasn’t!” he protested. “And no, you certainly did not tell me why we’re here!” There was a brief moment of silence between the two griffons as they exchanged stares, broken only by the sound of Blackwing’s own amused chuckles. “Wow. You weren’t joking. You really suck at lying.” “Really funny, Eddy,” Greg said with a shrug. “When this thing is over, perhaps you could teach me some of your tricks to get away with things.” He nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. And stop calling me Eddy. I hated when you did that at the Academy and I still hate it now.” As soon as those words left his beak, Blackwing froze, the realization that he had made a huge, tremendous mistake hitting him on the spot. He tried to correct it, but by then it was already too late. He glanced to the side, just in time to see Greenquill’s own beak split into a most vicious grin. “Really? Oh, sure thing, Ed.” “Wake up, you idiot!” a voice snarled from somewhere. “We’ve got troubles!” From her makeshift sleeping coat on the floor, Anneke stirred herself awake, the sleepy sphinxess’s eyes slowly creeping open. They went wide enough just in time to register the pillow flying in her direction and landing squarely on her muzzle. With an angry snarl, the sphinxess shot to her paws and kicked the projectile away. She instinctively rubbed her nose to check, only to remember that it had been just a cushion with an irritated growl. “Stiol!” she hissed. “May Sobek eat your liver! Why did you do that?” Her sphinx companion said nothing. He was too busy peering through the half-closed shutters in the living room with a pair of binoculars. As a matter of fact, all windows in the house were closed, the only light being the one filtering through cracks in the wood and the light curtains. After all, no creature was supposed to be living in that apartment, so better to just keep that illusion for now. With a tired sigh, Anneke moved to join him near the window. Her wings's muscles and her head still felt a little dizzy, no doubt due to last evening’s many bottles of beer. In hindsight that had not been the greatest idea, but she really didn’t feel like complaining. And judging how the night had gone, Stiol wouldn’t complain either. The sphinx glanced at her. “Rise and shine, Anneke. Are we having problems getting up?” He was wearing the closest thing the Civic Cohort had to an official outfit, a collection of working and every-day clothes, with the addition of a bandolier and a satchel, both slung over his shoulder. He also had a pair of googles hanging from the neck, probably scavenged from old mining equipment somewhere. His bold-action rifle leaned on the wall by his side. The only official thing about him was the pair of green and blue armbands. “Go fuck yourself.” “Already done that but thank you.” He grinned. “Now, get dressed and get ready.” Stiol went back looking through his glasses. “A cab has stopped right in front of the building and two griffons just came out.” Anneke’s ears perked up in curiosity. “Griffons?” “Yeah. One has a fancy uniform, definitely some kind of officer. The other one’s a-” There was a sudden pause. “Fuck, that one is armoured!” he breathed. Anneke dashed for her weapon, a bolt-action rifle with a hunting scope mounted on top, lying now on a table in the living room. “Keep looking! What are they doing?” She run a quick check, grinning in satisfaction as the loading mechanism and bolt worked smoothly in her paws. No matter how old or outdated, a sphinx warrior always kept his personal weapon in perfect condition. “They are talking,” Stiol said. “The officer just said something at the armoured one and I think he’s laughing. Shit, that body armour looks expensive, and I bet it’s enchanted too. Our guns won’t even scratch it.” “Stiol! Focus!” “Yeah, yeah, I know. Give me a sec.” He put his binoculars down and glanced at the sphinxess over his shoulder. “There. They’ve just entered. I’ve lost them.” Anneke nodded. She pushed a loaded magazine into its slot and snapped the bolt close. “Good then. Open a window and fetch me a support. It means the bitch is there.” Just like its outside, the building interior proved to be utterly unremarkable. A pity, Blackwing thought, for a few well-place frames could have easily hidden the cracks in the walls. The only thing worthy of notice was the small desk located in the main hall, just beside the staircase. A zebra mare sat there with a pen stuck between her teeth, writing down on the large, leather-bound register. Just behind her, perched on top of the highest wooden shelf, a small radio played music. “Can I help you?” the mare asked as she set the pen down, her amber eyes never leaving the ledger. Her mane was cut so short to be almost non-existent, the outline of a mohawk barely visible. A set of three piercing rings stood out on her left ear. Blackwing opened his beak but no sound came out. He hesitated on how to proceed. Had she been the one to send him the letter? Or was she just some kind of intermediary? Hell, for all he knew this zebra might not know anything at all and just work there. The message had not been very specific about what to do once he’d reached the meeting spot. “Maybe,” Blackwing finally said, switching to Sphigyptian. “You’re the owner, I presume.” She shrugged. “Something like that. Are you here for a room? I’ve got a couple free at the moment.” “Thank you, but no. I was actually here to meet somepony.” The mare finally looked up at them with a raised eyebrow, her eyes drawn by their uniforms -or body armour, in Greenquill’s case. She glared at the two before snorting loudly. “Owlstrians! You really are dense as mules, aren’t you?” “This is fifty-four. The brothel you’re looking for is forty-five.” She sighed and went back to work. “For Menhit’s sake, get a map or something, ‘cause I’ve lost count of how many times this has happened. I have a respectable establishment to maintain here, you know!” “Actually, it-” Blackwing cleared his throat, trying to hide his embarrassment. “It’s not that kind of meeting.” He wanted to sound serious, but it proved to be nearly impossible with Greenquill visibly breaking down in a fit of giggles right beside him. The zebra mare shot the Vanguard captain a quizzical glance before turning her eyes on him. “I see. And who are you supposed to meet exactly?” Blackwing shrugged as casually as he could. “A friend,” he lied. He moved closer to the desk and leaned forward. “I’ve been told that the stars would aide her escape,” he whispered in her ear. It was a bit of a risk, but he reasoned that part of the letter had been put for a reason. A few tense moments passed as the mare simply did nothing but stare him dead in the eye, her eyebrows furred. Her gaze drifted for a moment towards Greenquill before snapping back onto the griffon. “And I’ve been told that you would come alone,” she said softly. “My apologies,” Blackwing said with a grin. “I couldn’t find a nanny for him.” “That’s really funny.” There was not a single hint of amusement in her tone. She sighed. “Third floor, second door to the right. They’re waiting for you.” Blackwing nodded. “Thank you.” “Don’t try to knock though, or they won’t open. Here.” She quickly pulled open a drawer, taking out a small piece of paper. “Push this just under the door and they’ll know it’s you.” Blackwing gave the thing a closer look. “That’s a laundry’s bill,” he deadpanned. “Just take it!” she hissed between her teeth. “Now, get going. Walls have ears too and you don’t have much time anyway.” He nodded his thanks a second time. Then, turning back to Greenquill, he gestured him to follow him upstairs. They had barely gone past the second floor before the griffon turned to Blackwing and grabbed him by the shoulder, urging him to halt. “Alright, Eddy. I’ve remained quiet so far, but this is getting really shady. I can’t follow if you don’t start talking to me.” He kept his tone hushed. “What is going on? Who exactly are you here to meet?” Blackwing didn’t answer immediately, taking a moment to check whether or not the corridor was clear. Thankfully, there was no creature in sight. “It’s complicated,” he said. “No shit, that was clear already. At least give me something.” Blackwing sighed. “There isn’t really that much to begin with. Look, all I know is that I got a letter a few days ago asking for a meeting here. No name, no indication whatsoever, but the address.” “Just that? An absolute stranger sends you a letter and you still decide to come anyway?” he asked, utterly astonished. “Eddy, I don’t think you need me to tell you that’s a stupid thing to do.” “I did not have a choice,” Blackwing hissed, causing Greenquill to raise an eyebrow. “Whoever wrote it knows about-” The griffon stopped, thinking carefully for a moment on what he was about to say. Could he actually tell Greenquill about Akhri? The whole affair was supposed to remain classified, and the Ministry of Special Operation didn’t like to have too many witnesses lying around. But despite the all the years apart, Greenquill was still his friend from the Academy. And right now, he needed a griffon he could trust to watch his back. “Let’s put it this way. You heard about the Summer Riot, right?” The griffon nodded. “I was there.” Greenquill’s eyes went wide open. “What? You … you’re serious?” Blackwing nodded back at him. “I really can’t say much. It was a messy affair and then those spooks from the MSO came round, telling us not to let a single word out about what had happened.” “Hold on a moment. Does that have anything to do with, you know-” “Yes, it does.” He tried to hold back his discomfort from showing. “And can we please stop talking about my wings for a moment?” “Righ, sorry. My fault.” He frowned. “So, you’re telling me that some creature spilled the beans out? Is he blackmailing you or something?” “I don’t know. I’m here to find out what they want and, hopefully, put an end to this before news of this get to the MSO. You-” His voice faltered, and he hesitated. “You’re still in time to get down and wait for me at the cub. You don’t have to come along if you’re having seconds thoughts.” Greenquill cackled, his armour clinking softly as he did so. “Oh please! I’ll inform you that I’ve been involved in my fair share of shady business in the military over the years. This seems a bit weirder than the usual, but I’m pretty confident I can handle it.” “Besides,” he added, his beak splitting into a huge grin, “somegriff has to be there to take the bullet for you, right?” Blackwing couldn’t hold back his laugh as they resumed their climb, Greenquill coming just behind him. “Thank you, but let’s hope nothing of the sort happens.” “Actually, I really hope it does.” Blackwing shot him him a questioning look. He responded with an even broader and feral smile. “That way, I get the chance to crack a skull or two.” “Just got word from Kais,” Stiol said, slipping the communication crystal back into one of his many pouches. “He says she should be somewhere on the third floor. Second room from your right.” Anneke hummed something resembling an acknowledgment. She set the rifle’s butt firmly against her shoulder, the barrel now resting on the windowsill thanks to a makeshift bipod. The sphinxess peered through the scope, and grimaced. “I see the windows, but there are curtains in the way. Tell him I don’t have a visual.” Then, almost as an afterthought, she asked, “You’re sure this is the right side?” The sphinx furrowed his eyebrows at her. “Of course I am.” Stiol said with a nod. “But even if you miss, Kais and his team should be more than capable of getting her.” Anneke snorted loudly. “Like Tartarus I’m giving him my kill.” She blinked. “Hold on. I think I may have something-” “So, how do you want to do this?” Greenquill said, careful to keep his voice low. “Do we just make our way inside guns blazing? Or maybe we can lure them outside and in a crossfire in the hallway.” His eyes shone in delight. “Oh, you know what, forget it. There was this trick one of the instructors taught us during our CQB training. All I need is a few metres of string, a grenade, some duct tape-” “We’re not doing any of that.” Greenquill sighed, clearly disappointed. “Fine. You think we should just knock then?” Blackwing shook his head. “The zebra downstairs said no to. Besides, we might very well spook them if we try.” He produced the piece of paper from one of his pockets. “Are you armed?” “Always,” he said with a grin. Greenquill raised one of his forelegs, holding it up for him to see. At first Blackwing did not understand why he was doing that. He then took a closer look on his steel vambraces, his eyes widening in surprise. The griffon wore a set of customize revolver-gauntlets on both forelegs. This weapon system -as the unimaginative name suggested- was nothing more than a revolver gun stripped down to his core components and then mounted on a vambrace, or alternatively used as a concealed weapon. An Equestrian creation, it had been originally designed as a pegasus-only thing, so to increase their chances of survival when their elegant dogfights and duels would inevitably turn into brutal aerial brawls. Once on the ground though, its limits on weight and calibre could easily be ignored, making it an excellent weapon for close combat. And if the cylinder embedded in his vambrace was any indication, Greenquill’s ones would have no difficulty in bringing down an enraged yak with but a few precise salvos. “Just try not to shoot me, alright?” “No guarantees on that," he winked, "But I'll try." Blackwing glanced at the door, then at small receipt holding in his claws. He drew a deep breath; there wasn’t any going back now. It was funny, in some twisted way, how such a small, almost inconsequential thing could suddenly become so important. Talos really had a weird sense of humour. He kneeled down and pushed the receipt in the gap beneath the door. It swung open in that exact moment. Blackwing blinked in surprise. He looked up and blinked a second time, eyes widening. The griffon found himself staring down a double-barrelled shotgun, aimed squarely at his feathered forehead. There were maybe a few inches between it and him. Behind that gun stood an earth pony mare, standing on her hind hooves as she aimed her weapon at him, eyes narrowed. Blackwing’s eyes travelled a bit to his right and saw a second weapon appear in the doorway, this one trained on Greenquill. The griffon smacked his beak a couple of times. “Yeah, Eddy. About the whole not-shooting-you-thing …” “Quiet!” the first mare snapped. She turned her attention toward Blackwing. “Are you the griffon captain?” He nodded. “I mean, technically we both are.” He waved a claw between the two of them as he got back up. “But yes. I’m the one who got your letter.” The mare said nothing, although Blacking caught a brief, irritated frown crossing her face. She beckoned with her gun both of them inside, closing the door once they were both in. The apartment was rather simple, although surprisingly well kept. Sure, a few cracks here and there were to be expected, but the floor had been swept clean. For a brief moment, Blackwing’s nostrils picked up the faint smell of something resembling cinnamon in the air. The entrance led directly into the dining room. It was an L-shaped room, which doubled as a kitchen if the stove and sink were any indication, with a small pantry tucked into a corner. The large rectangular table in its centre was covered with an embroidered tablecloth, and it looked as if whoever was there had decided to have some tea. A steaming kettle sat on a metal support in the centre, together with four cups, some plates, and a sugar bowl. Two windows overlooked the plaza below, but their curtains were drawn as of now, the light filtering through plunging the enclosed environment in a penumbra. Blackwing blinked as his eyes registered the unicorn mare seated at one end of the table. “A good morning to you, gentlegriffs,” she greeted them with a polite smiled. She had a white coat and a short cropped, emerald-green mane. A brownish cloak rested on her shoulders, its hood down. She looked tired though. Dark circles ringed her eyes, her face taunt with exhaustion. Her mane, gathered up in a tail behind her, looked like had not been groomed in weeks. Her horn glowed, a faint green light flooding the room. Blackwing tensed immediately at the sight and, just by his side, Greenquill did it too. If training alone had not taught him well enough, his time spent with Specialist Red Ruby and her cadre had showed Blackwing just how dangerous magic users could be. The fact that she had done so only to fill one of the cups with tea did nothing to ease his worries. “Before we begin,” she continued after taking a sip, obvious of their discomfort, “I have to ask. Which one of you is Captain Edward Blackwing?” The two griffons exchanged a brief look. “That would be me,” he said, taking a step forward. He caught the glimpse of a frowning Greenquill. As much as he shared his caution, there was little in the way of options at the moment. In hindsight, perhaps he should have asked Nebula to back him up for this with her platoon. He probably would have done so under normal circumstances, but these were not, and he had to first discover how much she knew about Akhri. Only then he could send a section to clean up the place. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, captain.” The smile never left her face. “Why don’t you take a seat?” Only then she seemed to acknowledge Greenquill’s presence behind him. She raised an eyebrow, her expression turning quizzical at the sight of the armoured griffon. “I understand that you felt the need to bring along an escort with you, captain, but isn’t this a bit, ahem, excessive?” She gestured at the griffon for emphasis. As if on cue, both armed mares tensed up, their weapons hovering in Greenquill general direction. He noticed it too, but his reaction was nothing more of an amused grin. After getting a better look at them, Blackwing was now confident that only one of them was actually a local pony. The other one had a bright yellow coat and a green mane. This wouldn’t have been too strange by itself, except that the Sphigyptian colour range for ponies leaned heavily on the darker ones, focusing mostly on brown and grey, sometimes a pale yellow and -in rare cases- red. “Maybe it is,” Blackwing said with a shrug, as he sat opposite her. “But given the nature of our meeting, I preferred err on the side of caution.” He omitted that it had been a pure chance; better to make it look as a deliberate gesture. “Besides, you seem to have a couple of your own.” The unicorn mare sighed. “I guess it’s fair.” She eyed the two mares in turn. “Gilead, Spring Trap, can you please stop waving those things around?” The local mare -Gilead, apparently- gave her a questioning look. “They’re armed. Can we at least take their weapons?” she noted in Sphigyptian. She probably counted on the fact that the two griffons couldn’t understand her. “Yeah, I know that, but you don’t need to worry. Just try to relax a bit, alright?” she answered in the same language. “Trust me on this. The same goes for you, Spring Trap. Come on, sit here with me.” The two mares hesitated, eyeing the two griffons warily. With some reluctance, they lowered their weapons and went to sit at either side of her. They never relinquished their weapons but at least took care in not pointing directly at their guest. “Now, would you like some tea before we begin?” “Thank you, but no,” Blackwing said in his most neutral tone. “However, I would like to get straight to the point, ma’am. I don’t have much time and some creature is bound to notice my absence.” He was careful to said that in his mother tongue. There was no point in revealing them that he could perfectly understand what they were saying in private. The unicorn mare nodded. “Very well, mister Blackwing.” She placed a hoof on her chest. “Allow me to introduce myself then. Name’s Laurel Oak, from Fillydelphia.” She gestured at the other two mares. “I’m sure you’ve already made the acquaintance of Gilead and Spring Trap. My apologies if they have been a bit rough with you.” “They were noisy,” Spring Trap deadpanned. “I wouldn’t be surprise if the entire building is aware that we’re here.” Blackwing brushed aside the comment. Partly because he found inconsequential, but also because the unicorn’s name had caused his eyes to widen in realization. “Hold on a moment. You’re that Laurel Oak?” She nodded. “The one from the Freedom Trail?” “Didn’t the AOPR put a bounty on your head or something?” Greenquill asked from behind him. Instead of sitting with them, he had decided to lean against the wall, so to keep an eye on the whole room. The question caused both mares to whip their heads at him, glaring angrily. Laurel Oak chuckled, clearly amused. “Yup, they did. Nine-thousands lire, if you can believe it.” She rolled her eyes. “As if catching me would actually have any real effect. They’re free to try though.” Then, she grinned, “I’m surprised you knew that, though. Have I become such a celebrity in Owlstria?” The griffon mirrored her smirk with one of his own. “Something like that. You’re exploits are quite famous back at home. You’re like that Equestrian adventurer, Daring Doll, or whatever her name was. Of course, you’re real and she isn’t, and you don’t go around digging up old tombs.” Laurel Oak shock her head, unable though to hide her beaming expression. The weariness in her eyes was now gone, replaced by a glint of pride. “It’s Daring Do, actually. Besides, there are many other ponies out there that have put their life on the line for our cause. I’m more like a face for the public, really. Nonetheless, I appreciate your interest mister-” “Greenquill,” he said. “Captain Lennart Greenquill, Thirtieth Vanguard Regiment, Second Company. As of now, assigned to the One-Hundred-First.” Judging from her expression, most of that had gone over her head. “A pleasure to meet you, then. Sadly, it appears that my fame had drawn the ire of the local authorities.” A shadow crossed her face as she went on. “Our work here in Kaska has been compromised, I’m afraid. I don’t know how, but the local cell has been infiltrated and many members of our organisation here have already been arrested last week. Thankfully, the Civil Cohort seems to have focused most of its effort on my apprehension, so the others have already slipped through their net and towards safety.” She sighed, gesturing around with a hoof. “This is pretty much the only safe place I have left though, so it won’t be long before we’re found. The local Naqib is determined to get to me, even if he’s to comb the entire city.” “What happens if he does?” Greenquill asked. “To me? Oh, I would get off relatively well, all considered. Sure, there have been calls for my head in Akhri, but they are all bark. I doubt they seriously have the nerve to face the ensuing backlash.” She paused, turning an eye to each of the mares in turn. There was now visible pain in them. “I don’t know what will happen to them though.” “And who cares?” Spring Trap retorted in Sphigyptian. “I knew the risk when I joined. I don’t care if they get me. I care though if they get you!” she pointed a hoof at her. “I agree,” Gilead’s voice chimed in, her accent thick. “What’s important now is getting you to safety, Miss Oak. We can take care of ourselves.” “What about Akhri?” Blackwing said. He had remained silent for most of the exchange, but he was starting to have a rough idea where this discussion was heading to, and he did not like it one bit. Laurel Oak turned to him, a look of confusion visible on her face. “About what?” “Akhri,” he repeated with more emphasis. “Your letter said that you were aware of my exploits there. How do you know what happened?” The mare shrugged. “I have my ways.” “I’m sure.” The griffon leaned forward in his chair. “And I’m guessing that you want my help to get out of Kaska in exchange for your silence.” She hesitated, her face grimacing in sympathy. “I would rather not do so, mister Blackwing, but my situation is pretty desperate right now. I understand that I’m asking both of you a lot-” “Not us. Me. I’m the one in charge of Third Company,” he pointed out. “And you’re asking me to paint a red target on my back for Leys to shoot at. And that’s in the best-case scenario!” “Either the Civic Cohort finds you and I get implicated for hiding a fugitive, or the fact that you know comes out and the MSO decides to send some agents to silence the both of us.” Greenquill turned at him with a raised eyebrow. “I thought you said something about being friend with the sphinx. Can’t you just have a word with him about this?” “I could, but I kinda helped the Gendarmerie pull off an operation under his nose one week ago.” Blackwing frowned. “He kind of deserved that, honestly. Talos only knows how many payrolls in the municipal council Leys is on. At least now I know what has been keeping him busy.” “We can pay you!” Gilead blurted out. Her cheeks coloured for a moment, before continuing in a quieter tone. “W-we have some money stashed away for emergency. I know it’s not much, but we can give you that. Just to get out of the city.” The other two mare shot her a sidelong glance. “And how do you plan to do it? I mean, we can’t even retrieve them safely. Those sphinxes will be on us in a moment!” Spring Trap pointed out, switching once again to Sphigyptian. The mare ignored her though, keeping her expectant eyes on Blackwing. The griffon sighed. “No offense, Miss, but this thing is not just about money. As she pointed out, you are all asking quite a lot of me,” he began, only to be interrupted by furious knocking at the door. “Were you waiting for some pony else?” All three mares remained silent, their eyes darting warily toward the source of the noise. The knocking continued. “Not as far as I know, no,” Laurel Oak all but whispered. “I fuckin knew it!” Spring Trap hissed. “I knew it we shouldn’t have trust them! They followed us here!” The unicorn fixated a stern glare on her. “Calm down. We don’t know that, so don’t start overreacting. Go and check the door instead.” The mare rumbled something under her breath, but nodded, getting up and slinging the weapon over her shoulder as she went. Blackwing noticed Greenquill taking position between him and the door. There was a soft metallic sound as he chambered a round on each weapon mounted on his foreleg. He didn’t like it, and he found himself checking both of his holsters. Relief surged briefly through him as Blackwing found his weapon still there. A warm breeze had picked up, flowing into the room and pushing one of the window’s curtain apart. Bright sunlight filtered in, illuminating the room. With some hesitation, Spring Trap pulled open the door, standing back as zebra mare rushed through in a hurry. Blackwing recognized her immediately. She was the same zebra they had met before in the lobby. “Zitel? What are you-” “They’re here!” she gasped, almost out of breath and panting. “You … you’ve got to get out … Now!” A deep silence fell in the room. “You’re sure?” Laurel Oak asked as she got up from her chair and moved closer to the zebra. “Just take a breath, okay? Then try to explain what’s going on.” Despite her attempts at maintaining a calm voice, she had lost all colour on her face. Zitel shook her head. “There’s no time!” She took a few seconds to breathe deeply. “They’re at the ground floor. I’ve managed to stall them for a while, but they’re about to search the entire building.” Laurel Oak eyes widened. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. “Can you just refuse?” Spring Trap said. The zebra shook her head a second time. “I’ve tried, but they have a signed warrant with them. They only gave me enough time to advise my tenants.” “How many?” Blackwing asked, rising from his chair and moving to join them. Zitel blinked at him. “What?” “I asked you how many of them you’ve seen downstairs. If you don’t remember, just give us an indication.” She frowned for a moment. “A dozen sphinx, maybe. I … I don’t know if there are others waiting outside.” “What about weapons?” This time the question came from Greenquill. “They had them, yea.” “What kind?” She shrugged. “I don’t know. Some kind of rifles, I guess.” “Rifles or carabines?” Greenquill asked. “Does it make any difference?” “Yes,” the two griffons said at the same time. They exchanged a quick glance and then a chuckle. Laurel Oak shot them both a curious look but said anything. She rounded on a still confused -and frightened- Gilead. “Gilead, gather all that could be essential. Foods, clothes, documents, anything you can find. If we can’t carry it, burn it.” The mare hesitated, standing as if frozen in place. “Everything will be alright, don’t worry,” the unicorn said, her voice softening. She placed a hoof on her shoulder. “You trust me on this, right?” Gilead looked at her, a small smile taking form on her face. Her lips moved to say something. A low whistle pierced the air, accompanied by the sound of crashing glass. Gilead dropped with a soft, chocked gasp. The shot punched easily through her neck, before continuing on and slamming against the opposite wall. Blood erupted from the wound, oozing out on the floor’s tiles. Laurel Oak simply stood there, frozen in place, her mind unable to come to term with what had just happened before her very eyes. Gilead’s own blood was all over her face. “Sniper!” Blackwing threw himself against the unicorn mare, tackling her to the ground with him. A second shot whizzed past them, creating another pockmark on the wall. Greenquill moved by his side, grabbing the table with both claw and flipping it over as to make a makeshift cover. He grunted in pain as third shot found him, a brief flash of blue and green erupting on his armour indicating where he had been struck. The griffon fell on his back. Blackwing looked in apprehension at his friend, only to be replaced by relief as he heard a long stream of curses. With some difficulty, Greenquill climbed to a crouch, taking special care in keeping his head down. Wood crunched as it was struck again and again. “Are you alright?” He nodded. “I’m fine. Armour got the brunt of it.” He craned his head up, peeking over the upturned table. More shots came his way, but not a single one even close to him. Greenquill ducked his head back in cover. “There’s a building on the other side of the square. Third floor, central window. I swear I saw the glint of a scope there.” “Good, then. Be ready to move on my signal.” Greenquill raised an eyebrow. “You’re serious?” There was a loud crunch as a hanging frame was struck, sending broken pieces of wood sailing through the air. “Of course I am! Our would-be sniper clearly doesn’t know shit about fire discipline! He’ll run dry eventually, so get ready to move.” Greenquill nodded, giving him a thumbs-up. Blackwing realized that Laurel Oak was no longer near him. He looked around, only to find her some distance away, crouched in one corner, head bowed. Gilead’s lifeless body laid in her lap, the mare holding her deceased friend in one last, tight embrace. Large crimson stains marred her white coat and mane, turning the emerald into a dull and darker green. “Miss Oak!” he called her. “We’re about to move! Try to stick close!” She didn’t reply. “Miss Oak!” he hollered a second time, trying to shake her out of her stupor. Spring Trap had taken cover nearby behind the kitchen stove. She tried to move, but another shot punched through the second window and caught her foreleg. The mare neighed in pain. It had grazed her, but she lost her balance and tripped. She landed just beneath the window itself, out of the shooter’s sight, forcing her to painfully crawl her way back. She looked down and winced at her bleeding injury. Blackwing frowned. How had he managed to keep track of both windows at the same time? That would have been simply impossible for a single marksman, unless- “Fuck, there are two of them!” Greenquill nodded. “Yeah, and I don’t think they’ll to run out of ammo any time soon.” “But we can’t stay here! We’re like fish in a barrel!” “I know.” Greenquill readied both of his revolver-gauntlets with a loud metallic clank. “Get Oak moving. I’ll cover you.” The griffon nodded. He turned around, only to find the mare still in her corner. His eyes narrowed, and something inside him snapped. “For Talos’s sake, Laurel, she’s dead! Now, drag your sorry Equestrian flank here or you’ll join her!” The harshness of his tone surprised him, but a colder part of him pointed out that there was no other choice. It was either life or death. The unicorn mare raised slowly her head to face him. Blood tattered her muzzle and face, and she was crying. Tears rained down along her cheeks and down the pavement. Her eyes were wide open but dull, her glint now gone. Her lips moved but no audible word came out. “What?” Blackwing called out. Somewhere behind him, a shotgun went off. “They … they weren’t enough, were they?” she whispered. “They? Who are you talking about?” “They weren’t enough,” Laurel Oak said. Her breathing became more ragged. Each intake seemed a painful, laborious effort for her. “They had … they had to take her too.” “Listen, Miss, you’ll have time to grieve later. Right now, we ne-” The rest died in his beak. “THEY HAD TO TAKE HER TOO!” Laurel Oak’s horn glowed brightly, and a vivid green light flooded the room. Her sorrowful eyes were gone in an instant, replaced by two burning, emerald pieces of coal. Magic swirled and gathered around her in long, sinuous tentacles, crackling ferociously with magic. The cloak fluttered wildly around her body, revealing her now-glowing cutie-mark, a ring with three hearts inside, all tied together by a golden string. The shooting stopped as a bubble-shaped shield enveloped the room. Blackwing stared in awe as he saw a single bullet drop from the air and clatter softly on the ground a few metres awa. Its tip was flattened and mauled as if it had struck a solid wall. Laurel Oak slowly got up. She respectfully lowered Gilead’s body, placing a kiss on her bloody cheek. She marched up to stand before the window, just a few meters within the shield. The long tentacles of pure magic flared, then receded back into her horn as they coalesced in a burning, white sphere of pure heat. Both griffons took instinctively a few steps back. Then, with a blinding flash and a roar, Laurel Oak unleashed her spell. Looking through his scope, Stiol couldn’t prevent himself from frowning. They almost had her! They had been so close! Anneke had been impatient though. She had opened fire on the first thing that looked like a pony. And missed, of course. The sphinx pushed his rifle’s bolt back and loaded another cartridge. Now there was a bloody magic shield in the way, and without special ilirium-made ammunition there was no way to get through. He was alone now. Anneke had run out of ammo for her own scoped rifle and was rummaging in her bags to find other clips. Stiol could have offered a couple of his, but he had decided against it. The sphinxess had to learn to keep an eye on her equipment. He looked away from the scope and turned back to the other room. Why was she taking so much? Then again, there wasn’t much they could do now. Kais and his team would have to take care of the whole mess. “Anneke, do you need help or what?” he asked mockingly. He did not live long enough to hear the answer. Stiol Baus never saw the large fire bolt as it screamed through the air and towards him. The intense heat was the only warning he ever received as it burned a hole through the wall and detonated in a mighty fireball half a second later. Glass shattered and stone melted in a fiery inferno. The shockwave sent a cascade of masonry crashing down in the plaza below among panicked shrieks. A headless, armless, charred husk was all that would remain of the sphinx.