S I L V E R S P O O N
Contrary to our jubilant celebrations at the defeat of Drakkaris, the ride back to the House of Kings was rather subdued.
The incessant yammering of my two traveling companions had finally come to a blissful stop. Dovetail had situated herself at our new ship’s controls, seemingly focused on learning how to manually pilot the sizeable ketch… despite the autopilot functioning perfectly well. Freya was silently perusing some of the machinery throughout the bridge.
Honestly, I was glad to enjoy some manner of respite. It was a nice opportunity, too, to sit down and maintain my new weapon. I had noticed earlier that its metal bearings were caked in a thick layer of rust, making the bolt action somewhat tough to operate.
The gryphon, apparently, had noticed too, and spared me a curt rundown of basic weapon maintenance before returning to her uncharacteristically sober study of the ship.
So it was that No Land Beyond lay disassembled on an empty tabletop in the bridge. And as I stood there, oiling and scrubbing away at what looked like centuries’ worth of rust buildup, I couldn’t help the rogue thought that entered my mind, a thought like so many others before it:
Why in sun’s name was I cleaning a fake gryphon rifle in a video game?
Then came another question, unlike the others before it:
Why didn’t I seem to want to stop?
“You know, I’m pretty surprised,” came the gryphon’s voice, interrupting my silent musing.
I glanced up at her, and noticed Dovetail turn her eyes from the controls to do the same. “Surprised? At what?”
She gestured widely with her claws. “At this. All of this. Everything.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I, uh, don’t get your meaning.”
She pointed at an onboard computer, its displays flickering with strange symbols in another language. “All of that text on that screen is in runic Gryphosi.”
“And?”
“And in real life, we stopped writing in runic centuries ago. I only barely studied it in history books growing up, and nowadays I only see it on super-old monuments or religious shit. Everyone speaks and writes in modern Equish now, and has spoken it for centuries.”
“O…kay?” I glanced at Dovetail, figuring she might know what in stars’ name this oversized bird was on about. She shrugged helplessly at me.
So much for that.
“So are you saying this game is inaccurate to real life?” I ventured.
“Er. Sort of?” She furrowed her brow, clearly struggling to express her intent.
“Oof, sorry about that,” Dovetail said apologetically, as if she were somehow responsible for this lapse. “I guess the developers didn’t really do all of their research if they got a major detail about your culture like that wrong.”
“Well, it was made by ponies,” I pointed out. “They couldn’t get everything about Gryphosi culture right.”
“Okay, but something about that sentence doesn’t sit right with me,” she said. “It’s not ‘Gryphosi culture’ that we speak Equish. That’s just Equestrian culture imposed onto Gryphos.”
Yes, I’m sure that’s exactly what your educational propaganda taught you as a child. That we imposed our culture on you.
“…So yeah, it is pretty unrealistic,” she confirmed. “But that’s the thing. It’s not bad unrealistic. In fact, it… feels kinda cool.”
“You’ve been playing this game for a while, yes?” I piped up.
“Yeah,” said the gryphon with a shrug. “A few months or so.”
“Is this the first time you’ve seen, er, runic Gryphosi in gryphon-inspired zones?”
“No. It’s all over Highcrowne. Everywhere.”
Really.
“So why make this observation now?” I asked. “If there’s Gryphosi text everywhere, then—”
“Urgh.” She groaned, wiping a claw on her face. “Sorry. Never mind. I’m not being clear. Forget I said anything.”
“No, it’s okay Freya!” Dovetail turned around completely now, completely abandoning the ship wheel and snapping me a sharp look before trotting over to the gryphon. “You can talk to us. It’s our fault if we’re not understanding you, but we want to.”
Speak for yourself, Dove. I had no interest in this.
“Right. Okay.” Freya sighed. “To answer your question Shadow, yes, I’ve noticed for a while. And I’ve talked about it with my other friends who have noticed too, right? And we all agree. It’s weird.”
“But weird in a ‘cool’ way?” asked Dovetail.
“I guess… yeah.” She furrowed her brow again. “I’m saying this now, because— like, I just look around this massive ‘starship’ thing or whatever. We don’t have anything like this in real life, right? Hel, unless you Equestrians are hiding something under your gullets, no race or country on our plane has ships that can sail past the edge of the Seas Beyond, or into the Churning Void. Starships just aren’t real.”
“Right.”
“But even then, this impossible ship that doesn’t exist, this thing that was created purely by pony imagination and inspiration, still feels so… gryphon. I don’t know a damn thing about architecture or ship design or whatever, but I look around this, and it feels like the ketches I sailed on in Legionnaire basic training.”
She glanced around again. “It feels like my people, my country, actually did make a starship, and this is exactly what it would look like.”
“So… that’s a good thing, right?” asked Dovetail.
“Yeah. It’s cool. Like, really cool.” She glanced at the disassembled rifle lying at my hooves. “Almost like the ponies who made this game wanted not just to get our culture really right, but to celebrate it at the same time. To make it more Gryphosi than even real life.”
A want that I, admittedly, could not fathom. Didn’t ponies have any pride? Why go through all this work to ensure that gryphon culture was celebrated?
It seemed like a waste of time.
Except…
“But what makes that weird?” asked Dovetail.
“I guess… I’m just not used to ponies caring,” continued the gryphon, staring out the cockpit window at the passing ruins of Highcrowne below. “Every pony player I’ve played with in this game so far has been either really distant, straight-up rude, or attacked me on sight.”
“Which is understandable,” I said. “Our people have never gotten along.”
“Right, and Hel, my entire real-life job is to protect my people from ponies!” she exclaimed. “So why would a bunch of video game-making ponies waste all this time making sure they nailed our culture just right for gryphons like me?”
Suddenly, the answer occurred to me, and it was so obvious that I audibly snorted, causing both of them to turn to me.
“What’s so funny?” asked Dovetail.
How could I not have realized it before? I was a businessmare. It was my job to know the answer to questions like this.
“Don’t act so flattered,” I said to the gryphon. “It’s capitalism, plain and simple. Ponies only care insofar as they can make money off you. We don’t actually care about you.”
The gryphon’s eyes narrowed, but she did not respond.
“And it worked, didn’t it?” I continued. “However many rubles did you blow on a Hoofbox? On this game? It’s not cheap. But you did it. And all of the money that you earned in service to your homeland went straight into the coffers of those you aim to defend it from.”
I slowly trotted towards the gryphon, staring straight into her eyes all the while. “This is why we are the continent’s dominant superpower. This is why we’re the strongest race on the entire plane. This is why your entire country speaks Equish. You listen to our music, you eat our food, you play our video games, and you throw all of your money at us in the process. You might not be able to tell, but whatever war your people thinks might exist between us, we already won it.”
“Shut up, Shadow.”
Breaking our gaze, we both turned to Dovetail.
“Stop acting like you know everything about ponies,” she muttered. “Stop speaking for me.”
“I’m not speaking for you, Dove,” I sneered. “This is simply reality. You’re just one pony.”
“So are you,” she retorted. “Not everyone thinks like you. Not everyone hates gryphons and wants to take their money.”
“I’m not saying I hate gryphons.” Nor did I have any particular love of them either. “I’m saying that this is the way the world works.”
“Does it? Look around you.” She waved her arms. “Look at this ship. Look out the window. Look at your gun, and its lore, and the city, and everything! Why would ponies put this much work into the game if the only reason was for money? They probably had to do a ton of research to get it right. They had to care to do it. No one can work this hard and make it this good if they didn’t care.”
Pah. She had no idea. I was the heir to a metalworking empire. Did she think I gave a damn about metalworking, or mining, or refining, or anything like that? Hardly. But what I did give a damn about was each and every copper coin that flowed into my family’s vault because of it. It was the job of the ponies beneath me to care about the details.
Of course, I couldn’t tell her that. Not outright.
“There are certainly ponies who care, Dovetail,” I said. “But I guarantee you that the ones at the top, the ones who hired them, the ones who actually invest money so that the game can be made? They’re in it for the cold hard bits.”
“Maybe they are,” she said, “but why does it matter what they think?”
“I don’t know, what do you think matters more?” I challenged her. “The people who make it, or the people who pay to have it made in the first place?”
She rolled her eyes. “Do you even need to ask? It’s the people who make it, obviously! They’re the ones expressing themselves in their work.”
“Ask any artist if they agree. If I commission a painting, it’s because I want it made to my exacting specifications. The artist is simply there to do their job, and I assure you they will tell you as much. They don’t have to care to make what I want.”
She snorted. “And why would you pick that artist?”
“Because they’re good at what they do, and their style matches my expectations.”
“Yeah, but do you think they achieved that style out of nowhere? They achieved it because they like it! Why else would they train themselves to do it?”
“Because it’s their damn job!”
“No, it’s because they give a crap!”
“Ladies, ladies!” the gryphon shouted. We both whirled on her, staring daggers. “Yikes. Okay. Look. As fun as it is to watch you two argue over me, we’re almost here.”
We glanced out the window and noticed that we were approaching a walled-off section of the ruined city that seemed to be in remarkably better condition than the rest. It was an admittedly majestic sight. Sky roads weaved between gleaming ivory towers, strands of ivy hundreds of feet long hung from massive trellises, and lines of colorful flags were drawn between the many spires.
Is this what Highcrowne looked like in real life?
“You are now entering the District of Kings!” exclaimed the gryphon, taking on the affect of a jubilant tour guide as she strode to the ship’s wheel to assume control. “The last bastion of civilization in this Discord-blasted Helscape.”
Approaching from the fore was a gleaming tower. Taller than the rest, and not unlike the one in New Everfree, it was adorned with flags bearing many emblems. Most I didn’t recognize, but the one I did represented the Everfree Crusaders, the in-game paramilitary organization to which Dovetail, I, and all other pony players were members, according to the game’s storyline.
To know they had a presence among the gryphons was… an interesting discovery, to say the least.
But it made sense. As was quickly growing more and more evident, there were overt themes of friendly pony-gryphon relations scattered throughout the game, and this was no exception.
It did lend credence to Sweetie Belle’s insistence that the creators of this game did, in fact, care about gryphons and their culture.
An idealistic perspective, if there ever was one.
With a soft thump, the ship slowly touched down at the tower’s hangar.
“Please secure all horse limbs as you exit the vehicle. And whatever you do, do not point at any passing gryphons without consent.” She turned to wink at us. “We do, in fact, bite.”
Dovetail wrenched the docking bay lever down, and we watched as it began to lower.
“Miss Freya?” said Dove.
“Yeah?”
“Sorry about earlier. I promise we’re not all like Mister Shadow.”
“I’m right here, you know,” I grumbled.
“Don’t sweat it, kid,” said Freya, ignoring me completely. “He might be an asshole when he opens his mouth, but I didn’t forget that he’s the one who talked us down from attacking each other in the first place.” She gave me a meaningful glance. “That’s gotta mean something, right?”
I had honestly forgotten about that.
“Also, if he causes trouble here, there’s more of us then there are of him, so I’m not too worried.” She winked.
Noted.
The docking ramp hit the deck with a large thump, and we trotted outside and out of the hangar bay.
The plaza we emerged in was bustling with activity. Everywhere, gryphons were trotting—er, clawing?—about their business. Trading with merchants, meeting up with allies and friends, watching local Crucible matches on large electric viewscreens scattered about… Save for everything being constructed in either marble or alabaster-white concrete, this place wasn’t all that unlike the Tower in New Everfree.
It was, admittedly, not unwelcoming. And I found myself wondering at the various similarities between gryphon and pegasus architecture.
Dovetail certainly seemed enamored by it, her eyes glancing around with a frantic sort of excitement as she took in the sights.
She wasn’t the only one staring. A good number of passers-by had their eyes turned to us. Likely because we were effectively the only ponies around.
“Look at the size of that ship!”
“Insane. Does that belong to those pony players?”
“I didn’t know anyone could get a ketch like that!”
...Or it was because of our ship.
“‘Ey, Freya, what the Hel!” came a shout.
We turned and spotted a pair of gryphons ambling up to Freya. One of them threw his arm around her neck in an overly familiar sort of way. “Is that massive ship yours?”
“Yeah, it is,” she said, shoving his arm off her shoulder.
He didn’t miss a beat. “Sick! When did you score a ketch?”
“When we defeated Drakkaris.”
“No way. You did?”
“Yep. With the help of these lovely horses here.” She spread her talons at us.
“Hah! Why am I not surprised.” He turned to us. “This one’s always been a pony lover.”
“Really?” Dovetail said in surprise.
“We had no idea,” I grumbled.
“Shut up, Harald,” she said, punching him in the shoulder. He only laughed in response.
“Yeah, she’s a weirdo alright. But hey, any pony friend of hers is a pony friend of mine. Welcome to the Tower of Kings.”
“This is my idiot friend Harald,” she said. “And his friend Erik. They’re part of my contubernium in the Legion.”
The third gryphon only grunted in response, giving me a good glower in the process.
“Nice to meet you, Mister Harald and Mister Erik!” said Dovetail. “I’m Dovetail, and this is Shadow Song. We only just met Miss Freya outside of the city. She helped us find and defeat Drakkaris.”
“Yeah, she’s been looking for Autumn’s Lair for weeks now. We didn’t think she’d ever find it.”
“I don’t know why she didn’t just drop these two and invite us instead,” muttered Erik.
“Because they actually had information,” said Freya. “We wouldn’t have found it if we hadn’t combined our knowledge together.”
“Uh-huh.” He didn’t seem to like that answer.
“Look, it’s fair, Erik,” he said. “They knew stuff, we didn’t. Don’t be like that.”
“Mmph.”
“Don’t mind him,” said Harald. “He’s a bit of a sourpuss.”
“That’s okay, we’ve got our own too,” said Dovetail.
“I’m still right here, you know,” I muttered again, growing annoyed by their candor.
“Anyways!” said Freya, waving us forward. “We should go report to the High Crown. This way!”
“Right!” Dovetail turned to the other two gryphons and gave them a quick curtsey. “It was nice meeting you, Mister Harald and Mister Erik.”
“Likewise, little lady!” said Harald cheerfully.
Erik grunted again.
As we trotted off, I heard their passing remarks.
“She seems cute and fun!”
“I don’t trust them.”
“No surprise there, buddy.”
“Likewise.”
We trotted up to keep up with Freya as she made wide strides across the courtyard.
“Your friends seem nice,” said Dovetail.
“That’s a word, sure,” grunted Freya.
“You don’t agree,” I ventured.
“Erik is a grumpy asshole,” said Freya. “And Harald is nice enough, but he won’t lay off the flirting. He hits on me and any woman he meets in this damn game. And in real life.”
“He didn’t hit on me,” said Dovetail.
“You’re a pony,” I said.
“And also eleven,” added Freya.
“Thirteen!” she pouted.
“Same thing!”
As the two continued their bickering, I kept my eyes forward. Many of the gryphons passing by were assessing us with either great interest or great suspicion.
“Are those Equestrians?”
“What are they doing here?”
“I wonder how far they came to get here.”
“Didn't even know they could enter our capital...”
My thoughts on Gryphosi architecture aside, my dislike of this place was palpable.
“Let’s just get this over with,” I said over the loudness of my two companions, trotting forward with urgency.
They spared not another moment’s glance before rushing to catch up with me.
“And you claim to have slain Drakkaris of House Autumn?”
“Yes, Kell of Kings,” said Freya, bowing to the Kell and his collective Council, all perched on a raised half-circle platform above us. I rolled my eyes. “But I wasn’t by myself. These ponies came along for the ride, and their help was massively, er, helpful in finding Autumn’s Lair. We all got trophies to prove we beat ‘em once and for all.”
She brandished her cloak. Dovetail lifted the Kell of Autumn’s dented helmet. They both side-eyed me, clearly expecting me to present my rifle.
With a beleaguered sigh, I did so.
“We also nabbed the flagship of House Autumn. With the biggest ship in their fleet now in our claws, they’ll be much less of a threat to us and the rest of the world.”
“Interesting.” The Kell turned to us. “The history of our peoples has been marred by conflict. Even as we raise the flag of your Everfree Crusaders above our holdings, our relationship remains tense, our talks strained. Tell me, little one: what cause would ponies have to intervene in the affairs of the gryphons?”
“In this, we did not act as mere ponies,” Dovetail replied. “We acted as Crusaders of the Last City. House Autumn, under the influence of Chaos, was a threat to everyone, gryphon and pony alike. Our cause is to protect and unite all peoples in our broken world and stand against the threat of Chaos. If gryphons are to restore Highcrowne and rule once more, we would hope that said gryphons would be ones we could call friends.”
Even in this minor interaction with a console program, Sweetie Belle surprised me with her wordcraft, as she tended to on occasion. I was almost convinced she was a real lady.
Perhaps she could be an actor, someday.
“And yet there are ponies who choose to ‘befriend’ the Forlorn and work against us, nipping at our walls with their ghastly magics and undermining our control of the city. Do you speak for them as well, child?”
“You refer to the Changeling Hive. Like your Forlorn, those magic-stealing shapeshifters are addled by Chaos and are no longer of our people. All of us have suffered at the hands of Discord.”
“I see.” The Kell furrowed his brow. “Our people favor loyalty and honor above all else. We have not known these things from our past dealings with ponies. But if you insist that your people are vested in sharing your vaunted ‘friendship’, then perhaps… perhaps... this moment may mark a new era of cooperation between our resurgent nations.”
Blech. This game was certainly preachy.
“The assistance that you, little one, have rendered to the House of Kings cannot be understated. This is a momentous achievement and a crowning moment in the history of our campaign to reclaim our homeland.”
He turned back to Freya. “For your long-standing efforts in the struggle against the House of Autumn, Legionnaire Freya, we shall recommend to the Highcrowne Crusaders the immediate conferral upon you the rank of Centurion.”
“Ey, cool!” she said. “Way higher rank than I’ll ever be in real-life. Does it pay well?”
“It does not pay at all,” said the Kell of Kings, before turning to us. “Crusaders of the Last City, unfortunately I do not have the authority to do the same for you. But we will relay our recommendation to your chapter’s vanguard of an immediate promotion to Captain. Let it be known to your leaders that, on this day, you have done all gryphonkind an immense service that cannot be repaid.”
“Thank you, Kell of Kings,” said Dovetail. “We are honored to have served your people, and are grateful for your favor.”
“Additionally, the trophies that you three have earned are yours to keep. They may be of ancient gryphon origin, but I believe they will do much more good in the claws of heroes such as yourselves. Bear them well, and bring forth justice and vengeance upon our mutual enemies.”
Good. I would have been rather miffed if they were to claim ownership of my spoils from this long-winded adventure.
“Does that include the ship?” asked Freya.
“It does,” said the Kell.
“Nice!” exclaimed Freya, turning to Dovetail. “Looks like that ship is ours after all!”
“Ah, but you are not authorized to pilot it unless it’s on behalf of a guild.”
Wait, what?
“Explain,” I said.
“The ship you own is not a personal vessel; it is a frigate-class intercontinental starship, of which there are only a few in existence. For the good of our healing nation, all frigate-class ships must legally be leased to our armed forces for use in the defense of our nation.”
“Wait, what?” asked Freya. “You just said we could keep the ship!”
“The ship is yours, you just can’t use it,” the Kell clarified. “To put it bluntly: we need it more. But we will pay you to let us use it.”
“Wow, that’s lame,” grumbled Freya. “I mean, it’s free money, but still, I’d rather have the ship.”
“Yeah,” said Dovetail morosely. “It’s probably some kind of gameplay balance thing.”
But wait. “Kell of Kings, what do you mean, ‘on behalf of a guild’?”
“That’s the exception to this rule, Captain,” the Kell explained. “If you can field a force large enough to put the ship to good use, you have full authorization to use it. That you can do with a guild.”
“And what’s a guild?” asked Dovetail.
“I’m surprised you don’t know already, little one,” said the Kell with a chuckle. “Any Crusader with an officer rank is authorized to found a guild, an independent faction of Crusaders functioning as a single unit and accomplishing shared goals.”
“So not an army, then?” asked Freya.
“No, Centurion. Armies are beholden to their nations and are exclusively for waging war and national defense. I command armies. I don’t command guilds.”
“Okay, so let me get this straight,” said Dovetail. “As Crusaders, we command guilds? And they aren’t under your control?”
“Or the control of any other nation, yes. A guild has complete autonomy over its own organizational structure and objectives. Recruitment is the guild’s responsibility, but limitations are at the guild’s behest.”
“Okay, so we can recruit anyone we want,” said Dovetail. “But to do what? What’s the point?”
“That’s up to you, little one. Guilds are mercenary by nature. You could have a typical adventuring guild seeking to confront the greatest challenges this world has to offer. Or a merchant, craftsmen, or artists’ guild focused on economic prosperity. Or, really, any combination of the above and beyond. The guild can have many objectives, or none at all. It could be a band of friends seeking kindred spirits. A sanctuary for wayward wills and broken souls. A group of people with shared values, hoping to uphold and project them upon the world. A guild merely provides the formal infrastructure to facilitate any form of cooperation you desire.”
We turned to each other, eyebrows raised. What was this all about, really?
“If you are uncertain, let me say this.” The Kell stood up, descended from his raised platform, and approached us. “Against all odds, you have come together to accomplish a great feat. By my appraisal, your victory today has demonstrated that together, you are capable of great things. Imagine what you could accomplish with a greater force at your sole command.”
He stopped before us, closer to Dovetail than anyone else. “One among you most certainly has the potential for leadership, the capacity to overcome all racial and cultural boundaries in the pursuit of a greater goal. There is something to be said of that pluralism that I cannot help but find inspiring. It is something that this broken world desperately needs.”
He held out a talon. Clutched within was a scroll.
“This is a guild charter, marked with a seal symbolizing my personal endorsement. Everything you need to form a guild is within its pages. Do so, and it will carry the blessing of the House of Kings.”
“...Thank you, Kell of Kings.” Dovetail accepted the scroll. “I will think on this.”
“Do so.” He ambled back to his throne and sat down. “I expect to hear great things of you and your friends, little Crusader. I hope you will not disappoint.”
Well. That entire exchange certainly carried the theatrics that were so pervasive throughout the rest of this game. I was starting to recognize how easily the others had become enamored by this… fantasy. It was thorough. It was bright. It was captivating.
And, in the way a flea might be captivated by a blue flame, it was all so terribly wasteful. Dovetail was utterly mesmerized by this fiction, effectively rendered useless to the world by the unrelenting chokehold this game seemed to have on weaker wills.
It was a trap, a gaping maw that swallowed ponies whole. And it was almost terrifying in its effectiveness.
Even now, as we walked the market plaza of the Tower of Kings, she stared quietly at the scroll the Kell had handed to her. Like it was some object of great import that might command her destiny, rather than a mere illusion conjured up by magic and machine.
“Hey! Dovetail!!”
We looked up in the direction of the shout and saw the oddest sight: two gryphons and two ponies, one normal-sized and one massive, running straight towards us. I dropped in a defensive stance immediately.
“Button!” shouted Dovetail, running up to the smaller pony and throwing her arms around his neck. “You’re home from school!”
“Good to see ya, Dovetail,” the stallion that was Button Mash replied easily. His character certainly did match his real-life counterpart… in its coloring. Unlike real life, he was laden with rugged armor, quite tall and—dare I say—devilishly handsome.
How amusing it was to see his ideal projection of himself in this world.
Harald, Erik, and the massive mystery horse came to a stop right beside them. “Hey girls!” said “And guy.”
“Hey boys,” Freya said. “What brings you here?”
“We ran into your friends. They were looking for you.”
“They’re not my friends, they’re hers.” I pointed at Dovetail.
“Yeah,” said Dovetail, releasing Button. “How’d you know?”
“Because horse,” said Harald, nonplussed. “Duh?”
“Oh, fair.”
“I like this guy.” said the gigantic stallion, grinning. This must have been the Sadul-Arabian. “Dry? Sarcastic? A man after my own heart, truly.”
“Ah!” exclaimed Harald. “A man of culture, I see. We shall be fast friends!”
“Oh stars, it’s starting,” said Dovetail, giggling. “Anyways, sorry. Let me do the introductions. Everyone, this is my classmate Button Mash and my Crucible partner Mister Zaid al-Val’ora.”
“‘Sup!” said Button in his ghastly shrill voice.
“Hello,” said the stallion named Zaid, a slight accent to his speech. “Nice town you’ve got here. Lots of white. Very very tall. Did I mention I hate heights? Yeah, that’s a thing.”
She rolled her eyes. “And Mister Zaid, Button, this is Mister Shadow Song and Miss Freya.”
“Stormtalon,” she finished. “And just Freya is fine. We met while she was crawling around the ruins looking for Autumn’s Lair.”
“And I met—“ I started.
“Oh, don’t worry, we know who you are,” said Button. “She tells us stories about that Crucible jerk who can’t stop picking fights with her.”
“Button!” She clapped a hoof over his mouth. “That was a long time ago.”
I gritted my teeth. “I’m sure.”
“If waf only laft week!!” he said, his voice muffled.
“How’d you guys know how to get here through all the fog anyways?” asked Dovetail, quickly changing the subject.
“New feature!” said Button, holding up his hoof. A holographic display appeared, showing what appeared to be a list of names and locations. “You can autopilot the ship directly to a friend’s nav signature now, as long as they’re in a safe area. Figured we’d surprise you!”
“Yeah, though our ship nearly got blown to bits along the way,” said Zaid. “Speaking of which, you owe my hull a good scrubbing.”
Dovetail stomped a hoof. “Do I look like I’m made for manual labor?”
“I’m sure a filly of your size will get it done in, like, what, a month tops? Better get started!”
“Zaaaid!”
As they teased each other, Harald turned to us. “So you guys were in the Kell’s Chambers for a while, huh? What happened in there?”
“The Kell said we were badasses and gave us all promotions,” said Freya, grinning.
“Sick!” He glanced at Dovetail, who still had the charter in one of her hooves. “What’s that?”
“A guild charter,” I said. “The Kell of Kings gave it to us.”
“Oh whoa, really?” exclaimed Button. “Nice! You guys are making a guild? What’s the guild for? What is it called? Who’s—”
“Dude, relax” Freya interrupted. “We have no idea,”
“Quite,” I said in agreement. “We haven’t even decided if we want to make one or not.”
“And the charter says it needs at least five founding members to ratify,” said Dovetail, reading the charter. “Who would even join it?”
“I would,” said Freya without hesitation. “You two are good players. Even if one of you is a bit of an asshole.”
“Duly noted.” I looked around. “Anyone else?”
“Heck, I ain’t got much goin’ on,” said Harald. “Might as well. It’d be more fun to join a guild with people I know anyways.”
“You only know me,” said Freya.
“What? No way!” he exclaimed, aghast. Suddenly he threw his arm around Dovetail and began noogying her head. “C’mon, everyone knows that I’m great friends with… err, what’s your name, kid?”
“D-Dovetail!” she managed, squirming in his grasp.
“Yeah, Dovetail! She and I go way back. We’re practically brother and sister!” He stuck a tongue out at Freya, who only did the same in response.
“Bleh!” Dovetail finally managed to free herself from his grasp, rubbing her head. “Yeah. Brother and sister. Totally.” She looked at Erik. “Mister Erik?”
“You’d be lucky to have him,” he said. “He’s absolutely incredible in the Crucible. Top 100 of all players worldwide.”
He grunted. “The day I join a guild with ponies is the—“
“Cool!” said Button. “Dovetail and Zaid are top 100 on the Crucible leaderboards too, and I’m top 500. We could probably all kick flank if we team up together!!”
Erik instantly froze and stared at them. Dovetail scratched the back of her head nervously, and Zaid struck a gallant pose.
“…Mmph,” said Erik, finally.
“Great, you’re in!” said Freya. He scowled at her, but she didn’t notice as she turned to me, Button, Zaid, and Dovetail. “I noticed the Equestrians haven’t said anything?”
“Sadul-Arabian,” corrected Zaid. “You know, I barely know any of you guys, and any one of you could totally be a crazy axe murderer that would poison my food or stab me in the back in my sleep.” He shrugged. “So sure, why the heck not!”
“That’s the attitude!” exclaimed Harald. “By the way, Erik would do all of those things.”
Erik scowled again.
“As for me,” said Button. “I’m following Dovetail wherever she goes. So if she leads the guild, you know I’m there.”
We all turned to Dovetail, whose character was easily dwarfed by all of us. She instantly shrank back, making herself even smaller. “Wait, what? Me? Who said I was leading it?”
“Well, you are the one holding the charter…”
She stared at the scroll.
“I don’t know,” she said seriously. “Who would even want me as a leader?”
“I would,” said Freya. “I haven’t played with you for more than, like, five hours tops, but I can tell you’ve got a pretty good head on your shoulders.”
“Hm.” She looked up at Freya. “Why don’t you make it, Miss Freya?”
“Pfft! Me? No way.” Freya waved her hands dismissively. “I suck with people. Shit’s way too much work for me. I’d rather just take orders and shoot whatever people tell me to.”
“You’re not like that, Miss Freya,” said Dovetail. “You worked really hard to unearth everything you did about Autumn’s Lair. I did too”
“Yep, this Freya’s a big ol’ bookbird for sure,” said Harald with a chuckle.
“Sure, I’m smart and clever and figure things out,” said Freya. “I ain’t a dumb meathead. That still doesn’t make me leadership material.”
“Hm. Okay.” Dovetail turned to me. “What about—“
“No,” I declared immediately. “I have no interest in leading a player-run organization.” Although I knew for a fact that I would be insurmountably good at it, thanks to having enough real-world leadership experience to dwarf all else present. Combined.
But I had better uses for those skills. Like my actually-existent international mining corporation.
On the other hand, I couldn’t help but wonder with a certain glee how much more Sweetie Belle might enthrall herself to this non-existent world.
It’d be like watching a train wreck in slow motion.
But first I had to convince her that this was a good idea. First I had to get the train chugging.
“Dovetail, stop trying to pass the buck,” I finally said. “Whatever you may think of yourself, I personally believe you’d be the best fit for the job.”
“Why me?” she asked. “We’ve barely known each other.”
“The Kell did hand you the guild charter,” I explained. “If the game is half as smart as it appears to be, he didn’t do that without reason.” It certainly did seem to be rather… intuitive.
“Nah, it’s probably because she’s the party leader,” quipped Harald. “Story sequences tend to prioritize the party lead.”
Oh. Well then.
No, wait. I could work with this.
“And do you think that’s an accident that she was the party leader?” I insisted. “The game likely focuses on them as a matter of deterministic value. I’d wager that, in a group, whoever is responsible for inviting and commanding everyone else tends to be whoever is most likely to take initiative. And without her initiative, none of us would be here together right now.”
I turned to Dovetail. “But an organization doesn’t just need someone who takes initiative. It needs someone who cares. Not just for the game itself, but for the ponies who play it.”
I knew this for a fact. My mother always insisted that in order for our company to be successful, we had to concern ourselves with the health and prosperity of those who toiled away on our behalf. If we broke them, they’d be no more useful to us than a dull pickaxe.
There was immense value in convincing our underlings that we cared for their well-being.
“You cared enough for me to be concerned about my lackluster Crucible performance. You cared about my lack of gear. You cared enough about Freya’s contribution to keep her in our party, despite my clear displeasure.”
“Yeah, but…” She shuffled her hooves “That’s just two or three things.”
“Maybe so, but even without these things, your care is evident in the way you carry yourself. Your constant concern for others, your desire for everyone to get along even when they have absolutely no reason to, your formidable experience and frankly dizzying amount of knowledge… these are the qualities of a leader.”
I put a hoof on her shoulder and looked kindly down at her. Having a taller character that exuded authority certainly had its advantages.
“Don’t sell yourself short, Dovetail. Without question, you have all that it takes to be a leader. It can be no one else but you.”
Her character’s lightning-blue eyes stared into mine for a moment, then she looked down at the charter again.
“Here. Allow me.”
I snatched the charter from her hooves.
“Hey, wait a sec—“
“Who would like to have the honor of being the first to add their name to the charter?”
“Hah! I like your style,” said Freya. “Hand it here.” I gave her the scroll, and she put her talons upon it. “I’m with you, Dovetail.”
She immediately passed it to the next person in line. One by one, Dovetail quietly watched as each person in our motley little retinue took the charter and added their signature to it, with nary a moment’s pause. Even Erik the sourpuss did not hesitate.
And eventually, it made itself back around to me.
“Thank you,” I said to the uncomfortably-handsome-and-rugged Button, who grinned a devilish smile. I placed my hoof upon it, and with a quick flash of white, the name ‘Shadow Song’ immediately appeared alongside ‘Members’.
“There. Six members. More than enough to found the guild.”
I held it out to Dovetail. “There’s a space waiting for your name.”
She gingerly accepted it and began looking it over, but stopped short of doing anything else with it.
“Well? What’s wrong?”
“What do I call it?” she asked, looking up at us. “We need a name for the guild.”
There was a moment’s silence.
This certainly was a conundrum. Naming a corporation was easy; you could just name it after its industry and owner. But for a personal troupe like this, a name was a trickier thing. It needed to symbolize everything that the organization would stand for. It needed to inspire.
And I certainly would not appreciate a stupid name.
So then… what kind of name would best fit our nascent guild?
“Oh, I know!” exclaimed Button Mash quite suddenly. “The Cutie Mark Crusaders!”
Sun and stars, you have got to be kidding me.
“The Cutie what Crusaders?” asked Freya in abject confusion.
Harald chuckled. “That sounds adorable. Like a King’s Youth troop.”
“I have so many regrets,” said Erik, burying his face in his palm.
“NO!” said Dovetail, whirling on Button. “Are you crazy?! We are not calling it that.”
“Hey, it’s just if you couldn’t think of anything else!” he said defensively, holding up his hooves.
“Look, I’m sorry!” she said defiantly. “I’m not a creative pony, okay?! This is hard!”
I groaned. This wasn’t going anywhere. I had to refocus this conversation. Make them take it seriously.
“Dovetail,” I said, putting my hoof on her shoulder to draw her attention. ”Ignore them. Remember what the Kell of Kings said.”
“What do you mean?”
“He said that a guild was whatever you wanted it to be. What do you want it to be, Dovetail?”
“I…” she pondered that question for a moment. “Well, I want us to raid, and to go on adventures together, and—“
“No! No, that’s not what I mean.” What a fool girl. “The Kell said that a guild was a collective of shared values, upholding and projecting them upon the world. You are our leader, and so what you stand for is important and will command the culture of this guild. What values are important to you, Dovetail? What do you want your guild to represent?”
She blinked at me, the gears in her head clearly grinding against each other. Such a slow, uninspired filly.
“The Kell said a word earlier,” said Freya, suddenly. “‘Pluralism’. What the Hel does that mean?”
Either they didn’t teach philosophy in Gryphos, or she didn’t make it very far.
“It’s... a logic thing,” said Dovetail. “It argues that no one thing is necessarily true, and that many things can be correct at the same time.”
Oh, good. At least somepony here paid attention in class.
“That… seems kind of obvious?” asked Freya. “Like two different math problems with two different answers?”
Stars, I was surrounded by idiots. “Assume those math problems were the same, but the answers were different,” I said. “That’s pluralism. Multiple answers to the same problem.”
“Then that’s silly,” said Button. “A math problem can’t have two different answers.”
Then you never really made it far in math, either.
“This doesn’t apply to math. It applies to people. The emotions and experiences of living, breathing, thinking creatures like us is more complicated than a math problem.”
“Right,” agreed Dovetail, emboldened. “Two people can have two completely different perspectives on the same issue, and both can be valid. It’s saying that the open-minded should be willing to accept and embrace each other’s views, even if they don’t agree.”
“Okay, that makes more sense,” said Freya. “But what the heck does that mean to us? Why did he call us ‘pluralist’?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” said Erik, suddenly. “We’re a mixed racial group. Ponies and gryphons, working together? It’s absurd. Our countries have been enemies for far longer than any of us have been alive. There is no reason for us to be friends, no reason for us to work together, and no damn reason for us to even be standing here, talking with each other.”
“And yet,” mused Freya, “two ponies helped a gryphon bring down of one of gryphonkind’s greatest pains-in-the-ass.”
“At Dovetail’s insistence,” I finished.
“I think it says a lot,” added Freya, “that a pony is founding their guild in Highcrowne, using a charter plastered with the Kell of Kings’ seal of approval.”
“Quite,” I said, turning back to Dovetail, her eyes transfixed on me. “What does that mean to you, Dovetail? What do you think that means to others?”
She turned back to her charter and continued to quietly stare.
For Sun’s sake, could she be any more indecisive?!
Surely there was something, anything, that I knew about this confounding filly to jumpstart her dysfunctional imagination.
Think, think. What did she say in the streets of Highcrowne?
“At least this way I can get a tiny glimpse of what it’s like to not feel so helpless all the time.”
“Let me ask you this then,” I said. “What drives you here? What value are you attempting to draw from it? Why do you play this game?”
A moment’s silence.
“This game is my escape,” said Dovetail quietly.
She was still staring at the charter.
“All things considered, life isn’t super-hard for me. I live in a safe country, I sleep in a comfortable home, I have something to eat every day, and I have friends who care about me.”
Slowly, she began to pace.
“But I also have expectations. People want me to be all sorts of things, all the time. My parents want me to be successful. My sister wants me to be beautiful. My friends want me to be reliable. My teachers want me to be smart. Everyone expects so much of me, and I feel like I can’t make any mistakes. But when I do, when I fall short... it hurts. It hurts to see them so disappointed and angry at me. Like I’m not good enough for them. I never feel like I’m good enough for them.”
She stopped and looked up at everyone around her.
“And that’s why I come here. When I’m being bullied by my classmates, or when I’m not doing well in school, or when I’ve had another fight with my parents, or when I’m scared about my future. I come here. And here, I feel like I can do anything. I can be all of those things they want me to be, and more. I don’t just feel safe. I feel powerful, and accomplished, and surrounded by friends who trust me, rely on me, and will always fight by my side.”
She looked at her hooves again.
“It makes me feel like I do have what it takes. That I am good enough. And that even on days that I can’t be… it’s okay. I’m still me. I can keep trying. It gives me the strength to go out there and face the world again.”
Slowly, she unfurled the scroll.
“There are mean people in this game too. They doubt me. They harass me. They say I shouldn’t be here. Because I’m a kid? A girl? I don’t understand. I don’t think I ever will. But here, I have the power to prove them wrong. And the things I feel when I play this game? I don’t want people like them to deny that experience to anyone else. Gryphon or pony, boy or girl.”
This time, with conviction, Dovetail began to write on the scroll.
“I don’t know why you all play this game. For fun, for friends, for adventure, or maybe to escape something scary in your life? I don’t know. But all of you deserve a chance to draw something meaningful from it. Everyone does. Just like I do.”
She lifted the charter in an outstretched hoof.
“This place is my sanctuary. And I want to share it with the world.”
The charter lit up in a brilliant flash of white that washed over us. It grew larger, sprouting a tall post and blossoming into a massive banner.
Upon the banner was the image of a dove, cradling a small flower within its wings.
And lining the top was a single word, emblazoned in brilliant purple:
SANCTUARY.