//------------------------------// // Chapter 29 // Story: Rekindled Embers // by applezombi //------------------------------// Chapter 29              Letter fragment, sent from an unknown source to Saint Twilight, approx. 33 AF Princess Twilight,              This letter is to inform you of a most distressing encounter between myself, my brother, and an unknown unicorn of nefarious intent.  As the two of us were travelling together towards a very lucrative business opportunity, we were approached by a young mare wearing a magical disguise.  Being the clever and talented entrepreneurs we are, we of course immediately saw through her disguise.              She proceeded to make us a business offer that we nearly couldn’t turn down.  Sales of our most recent brand of ‘Flim and Flam’s EZ Rich™ Correspondence Course’ have been slow recently (partially a result of your oh so helpful interference) and we have been looking for a new source of funds.  She was quite vague about what we would be doing, and who we would be working for, but my brother and I are clever enough to read between the lines.  Whatever she was recruiting us for, it had something to do with the recent anti-unicorn political upheavals throughout Equestria.              We told her we’d consider working with her.  The truth is, Princess, that we have no intention of doing so.  Our business ventures work best in circumstances of mild insecurity and unrest, not outright chaos and meltdown.  When things get as bad as they are in Manehatten right now, we stop making bits altogether.  It hurts us when things grow too unstable. So we thought we’d inform you about this mystery recruiter.              Should you wish to meet and obtain more information about this pony from the two of us, we should be very happy to arrange a deal of some sort with you.  Please come (or send a representative) to Not Yo Nacho’s Diner, located in Rainbow Falls, next Saturday at four PM.  We’d be happy to make a fair exchange for any more information we have, as well as the two strands of curly orange mane we were able to obtain from the recruiter.  I’m sure a clever magic user such as yourself could find all sorts of information via forensic spells from the mane strands.              Respectfully Yours,              Flim and Flam.              A second letter is attached to the first.              Twilight-              The Great and Powerful Trixie went to the diner just as you instructed (and enjoyed quite an expensive meal and dessert while I waited; you’ll be getting the tab in the mail).  Nopony came to meet Trixie, even though I waited for three hours.              The Helpful and Inquisitive Trixie became concerned.  I know Flim and Flam have had run-ins with you and your friends before, but they’re not evil ponies.  Trixie has encountered them on the road a few times during her more transient years, and they were not cruel or mean to me.  Trixie followed their back trail for a few days.  Flim and Flam did come to Rainbow Falls, like they said.  Then they just disappeared.  The Law-abiding Trixie then filed a missing pony report at the local police station.              Trixie will be coming home to Ponyville next, where you and I will sit down and have a very long conversation about Starlight Glimmer.  You promised, Princess.  I don’t care how mad you still are, you need to find Starlight and apologize.  We’ll talk about it more when Trixie gets home.              Signed,              Trixie              A third note follows the first two, dated ten years later              Princess Twilight,              My name is Magnifying Glass, detective of the Rainbow Falls police force.  I’m in charge of cold cases and missing pony files.  Recently, we made an alarming discovery of a gruesome nature.  Pony remains, several years old, were found tied in a weighted sack and dumped into one of the deeper pools up at the falls.  Preliminary forensics have identified the remains as Flim and Flam, ponies reported missing a decade ago.  We have yet to determine a cause of death, but both unicorns had their horns forcibly removed.              When I looked up the file, I noticed that a note had been attached to inform you if any developments have been made on their case.  I’m sorry to inform you about this development, Princess.  If you would like any further information, please feel free to contact me at my office or home at any time. 1112 AF, Camp Borealis              “I’m really starting to think this was a terrible idea!” Rarity called out over the rushing air.  She clung to the chariot with both hooves.  It was moving far too fast for her to be comfortable, much faster than when she and Heartwing had been flown out of Manehatten.  Plus, the wind was probably doing irreparable damage to her mane, despite the hood on her ‘dangerous mission outfit’.               She didn’t really expect a response; both Cobalt and Terminus were pulling the chariot as quickly as they could, and they were visibly straining from the effort.  Rarity was impressed by the enhanced stamina of the two Knights, but after three hours of hard flying she was beginning to grow concerned for her new pegasus and griffon friends, despite their assurances that they did this sort of thing on a regular basis.              The sun was just barely starting to peek out over the horizon, sending a wave of colors through the sky.  Rarity couldn’t see much of the ground below; between the bright sun and the somewhat thick cloud cover, there wasn’t much to see right below them.  To the west, though…              “Do you recognize that mountain in the distance?” Terminus yelled, panting.  “That’s the Canterhorn.”              Years might pass, Rarity supposed, but at least mountains stayed the same, for the most part.  The mountain was tiny in the distance, so far that she couldn’t see any sign of the strange and whimsical architecture of Canterlot, but the familiar sight of the mountain was still somewhat comforting to her.  In the pre-dawn light, she could just make out a large city where Ponyville had once stood.              “We’re keeping our distance, but be careful,” Cobalt called back.  “We’re far enough away that nopony should see us, but keep an eye out for random patrols, would you?”              “Yes, sir,” Rarity said, knowing the griffon probably wouldn’t hear her over the rushing wind.  She did her best to follow his request, but her eyes kept getting drawn back to the city at the foot of the mountain.  She’d heard a little bit about New Canterlot City, and most of what she’d heard both surprised and frightened her.              The ponies of Angel’s Rest, at least those she had spoken with, often spoke of New Canterlot City as the best and the worst that the Diarchy had to offer.  It was safer than out in the country, ponies had more freedom to choose their profession, and there was a degree of upward mobility that wasn’t possible out in the rigidly controlled farming villages.  At the same time, it was the center of Diarchy control and politics; the military was controlled from the City, and it was the headquarters of both the religious leadership (helmed by the ‘pontiff’, Rarity had been told) and the five Knight orders.              There was at least a small part of Rarity that wanted to see it someday, though she knew it would be impossible.  It might be the center of culture and society, but it was a society that was implicitly hostile to her.  She pushed it out of her mind, forcing her curiosity away for later.              After a while, the city had disappeared in the distance behind them, and the vast mountain was merely a speck on the horizon. With a small jolt and a few bumps, Terminus and Cobalt landed the chariot in the middle of a forest clearing.  Panting for breath, the two Knights shared a water canteen between them while they stretched out their sore muscles.              “Good flying, sir,” Terminus complimented, and the griffon nodded his thanks.              “Yes, I am quite impressed with the both of you,” Rarity said as she looked around their surroundings.  They had landed in a clearing within an evergreen forest.  The pine and spruce trees were thick around them, and the air was cold and crisp, and scented quite pleasantly with the smell of the trees.  Just behind some of the trees, out of eyesight, Rarity could hear the burble of a stream.  It seemed an ideal place for a camp.              “We’re only a few miles from the griffon border,” Cobalt explained, once he’d caught his breath a bit.  “Steadfast’s camp is just a few minutes’ flight to the east.  We’ll have to hide the chariot, and we can’t leave any trace of our being here.  We shouldn’t get spotted by scouts unless we’re careless.”              Rarity helped the other two push the chariot underneath some of the taller trees, and between the three of them they covered it in enough branches and leaves that it would not be visible from the air.  Then Terminus lifted his left hoof, complete with the odd contraption Rarity had heard described as a ‘rune gauntlet’, and began writing in the air with glowing, magical letters.  Rarity watched with fascination as he cast his spell; when it was complete, Terminus’ yellow armor changed colors entirely, becoming a mottled, varying pattern of drab greens and browns.  He cast the same for Cobalt, turning the griffon’s polished silver armor into a camouflage as well.              “That seems to be quite a useful spell,” Rarity said.  Terminus nodded.              “It is, but I’d rather conserve as many motes as possible,” he said.  “Batteries are scarce. I wish I didn’t have to cast at all, but we can’t risk being spotted.”              “Now you see why we insisted on your outfit,” Cobalt said wryly, and Rarity huffed.  The current incarnation of her ‘dangerous mission outfit’ was similarly colored to the illusion Cobalt and Terminus had on their armor.  It was frightfully dreadful; all those browns and greens were just begging for the right bright accent.  Yes, she realized that completely defeated the purpose of camouflage clothing, but it was almost physically painful for her to wear something designed not to be noticed.  It went against everything she stood for!              “If I’m supposed to be in charge here, why was I vetoed at nearly every turn?” she complained.  She wasn’t whining.  A lady didn’t whine.              “You know why, Miss Rarity,” Cobalt said politely.  “Your inventory list was simply a bit too… comprehensive.”              Despite her indignation, she knew a euphemism when she heard it.  She couldn’t help but laugh at the creative use of language.              “Irrational, you mean?  Or maybe bloated?” Rarity said wryly, earning a smirk from Cobalt.  She sighed dramatically.  “I realize I can get out of hoof sometimes with my packing.  I’m really quite better than I used to be.  And deep down I know you were all right.  But still, a lady needs to be able to make her displeasure known.”              “So you’re saying all those histrionics about not being allowed to bring an eyelash curler were just theatre?” Cobalt teased.              “Histrionics?” Rarity gasped.  “How rude!  And to think, I was just telling myself what a gentlecolt you are!”  A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, betraying her inner amusement, and Cobalt and Terminus both laughed.  “Now, how may I help set up camp?”              She was more than ready to use her telekinesis to set up the tent, but Terminus dismissed the idea.  It would be too shiny, too visible.  So she had to help by hoof, helping them to string up a tarp decorated with leaves, twigs, and other bits of foliage.  The tent was a simple lean-to, and Rarity realized they’d be resting on the dirt underneath the tent’s tarp.              “We’ll rest until nightfall,” Terminus said, and there was so much naked weariness in his voice that Rarity graciously chose not to complain about the resting accommodations.  Instead, she busied herself unpacking the necessary items for their plan from her saddlebags.              First came the uniform.  Rarity despaired at the slightly worn nature of the garment, though she saw the necessity.  A soldier in the field would not have a perfectly brand new marine uniform, fresh out of the packaging. Instead, her disguise was clean and well-maintained, like a good soldier’s garment, but it was also clearly used.  It even included a functional utility belt, complete with some handy little pouches and a sheathed utility knife.              Next came a small wooden case, lined with padded felt to keep the contents safe.  It contained four small vials, potions full of powerful zebra magic cooked up by Ninelives.  The first two potions would allow her to change her appearance into that of an earth pony, with a completely different fur and mane color, though the illusion would be broken the instant she was forced to use magic. The third was what Heartwing had said was inaccurately called a ‘healing potion’, though he had claimed there wasn’t a better way to describe its effects.  “Drinking this will allow your body the equivalent of a full day’s worth of rest and relaxation,” he had said.  “The reagents to make them are almost prohibitively expensive, so save it for an emergency, hm?” The fourth potion was more than a little bit scary.  “Be careful with this one, Rarity,” Ninelives had told her.  “You’re not a Knight.  You can’t keep up with them.  And you’re not trained in combat magic.  So you might need an edge.  This potion will speed up your reaction time, and help you ignore pain.  It’s useful, but very risky.  Pain slows you down, but it’s also your body’s way of announcing injury.  With this stuff in you, you won’t even realize if you’ve been shot, or stabbed, or had one of your legs chopped off.”  The strange zebra had laughed at that last bit, but Rarity had shivered with fear.  “It might help you keep up with a Knight if you get in a fight, though, so keep it handy.” The third item in the saddlebags was a second case, though this one held fireworks rather than potions.  They were not the delightful celebratory fireworks that Rarity was familiar with, but something that Heartwing had referred to as ‘flashbangs’.  They would simply make an incredibly loud noise and flash blindingly bright, strobing for a few seconds.  The last item in the saddlebags was a bandolier that Rarity had cobbled together to carry the potions and flashbangs.  She set it aside for now; she would be spending the next few hours resting on the dirt underneath a tarp, after all. “Do you remember the plan?” Cobalt asked softly when the three of them were safely hidden under the tarp, and the chariot was pushed beneath some of the thicker trees.  Rarity nodded, trying not to sound impatient.              “Yes, I do,” she said.  “I helped make it, after all.”  She tossed her head proudly.  It had taken hours of conversation, but the fact that she’d helped come up with a plan that several more experienced military minds had approved of made her feel confident.  “We get close enough for me to cast my gem-finding spell, so I can get a general idea of where Steadfast’s tent is.  Assuming there really is an Element of Harmony there.  I drink the first disguise potion and, with my prodigious acting ability, sneak my way into camp posing as a marine courier with a message for Steadfast.”  Feeling just a touch silly, she performed the Diarchy marine salute that Terminus and Heartwing had drilled into her.  Cobalt nodded with approval.              “Meanwhile, Terminus will be watching me through the scope of his weapon, while you, in hiding, will be preparing to leap into action if I give the danger signal.”  The danger signal was red sparks fired from her horn, into the air.  She truly hoped it wouldn’t be needed; if the entire camp saw that she was a unicorn, things would go very poorly indeed.  “Terminus will only fire if I send up the signal, or if things look like they’ve gotten out of hand.”  She tried not to think about what that meant; Terminus firing without her giving the signal would probably mean she was unconscious or dead.              “Once I’ve found the Element of Harmony, I attempt to locate Emberglow.  I create a distraction and try to get in to see her alone.  Once I’m alone with her, I administer the healing potion.  If possible, she flies me out of camp.  If not, I put up the danger signal, and Terminus clears our path out of the camp.”              “Remember, the longer we go without discovery, the greater your chances are of getting into and out of the camp in one piece,” Cobalt advised, and Rarity nodded.  She remembered feeling the same way before some of the more momentous occasions in her life; a messy mix of adrenaline and excitement, anticipation and mortal terror, with a fair bit of reckless abandon mixed in.               “Also, don’t forget to stretch right before,” Terminus said with a yawn.  He had already slumped into the dirt, uncaring of the dust being rubbed into his armor and his black coat.  “We’re not going to all this trouble just to have one of us fail because of a stupid cramp or sprain.”              “Yes, mother,” Cobalt snarked, and Terminus stuck his tongue out at the griffon.              “I just hope I don’t get all sweaty,” Rarity muttered.  “There won’t be much opportunity for a bath out here in ‘nature’.”  Cobalt and Terminus both stared at her.  Cobalt snickered, but Terminus shook his head.              “She’s kidding, right?” Cobalt asked.              “No, I think she’s serious.”              “Mock all you want,” Rarity said calmly.  “Cleanliness and relaxation are essential for military morale as well as civilian mental health, I’m sure.”              “You’re probably right,” Terminus laughed.  “And speaking of relaxation, we should be resting.”              “I’ll stay awake and watch,” Rarity offered graciously.  “After all, you two did all the hard work getting here.  Sleep.  I’ll wake you both at nightfall.”              Both Terminus and Cobalt took her up on her offer.  The two spread out on the ground with the casual ease of trained soldiers taking whatever rest they could find.  It was only moments before they were both breathing slowly, sleeping off their earlier exertion.              Having made the offer, though, Rarity soon regretted it.  She was left alone, with the two sleeping males, in a forest that was awake with sound and life.  She found herself growing more nervous with each sound, each animal cry, each snapping twig.  She did her best to keep her keen eyes on the forest outside the tent, but boredom and nerves were a dangerous mix, and she knew she was getting twitchy.              “Stretches.  That was Terminus’ recommendation,” she said softly to herself.  Rarity knew he had meant right before their mission, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep herself moving and limber now.  She cast her mind back to a yoga class she’d taken, now centuries ago, taught by the spa twins Aloe and Lotus.  Carefully, she went through the poses they had taught, gently stretching each limb and each muscle group.  It had just the effect she desired.              For the next few hours she practiced her yoga, gently letting out her nerves and her worries and her tension through proper stretching and meditation.  Her emotions were a mix of gratitude and grief for the girls who had taught her the techniques.  She wondered what had become of the spa twins.  She hoped they’d lived happy lives after she went missing.              Once she had entered into a calm, relaxed state of meditation and restfulness, the time passed quickly.  She took a break long enough to assemble a light lunch from the trail rations stowed away onboard the chariot.  Neither Terminus nor Cobalt woke up for the meal, so Rarity ate alone.               It was about an hour before sunset when the other two woke up. There was something odd and impressive about the way two trained soldiers could instantly switch themselves from sleep to wakefulness, so much unlike her own habits.  Immediately Terminus took out his rifle, taking apart and reassembling the weapon, making sure it was ready for action.              “I’ll do some scouting,” Cobalt said.              “Be careful,” Terminus said, and Cobalt nodded.              “I won’t get too close.  Don’t worry, Terminus.  Nopony will see me.”  He flicked his tail and slipped out from underneath the tent tarp.              “I’ve noticed he treats you more like a friend than like a subordinate,” Rarity mused after Cobalt was gone.  Terminus nodded.              “The Knights Discordant has always been a loose sort of organization,” Terminus said.  “We’re more casual about rank and discipline.  It shouldn’t work.  Everything I know about military organization says that we should have a complete breakdown of morale and order, that the entire group should not function the way it does.”              Rarity tilted her head curiously. “You sound like you have a theory about that.”              “Well, you know more about what Heartwing was than I do,” Terminus said.  “Think about it.  Can you really see an incarnate god of chaos creating a stable, lasting, and well organized hierarchy?”  Rarity thought about it, and laughed at the idea.  Terminus grinned, and continued. “The Knights Discordant works, mostly because of the loyalty we all have for Heartwing.”              “Has there ever been any issues with you dating the boss?” Rarity asked.  Terminus smiled wryly.              “At times there’s been some tension.  It hasn’t been perfect,” Terminus said wistfully, with a dreamy sort of look in his eyes.  “But it has been wonderful.”  Rarity couldn’t help but giggle at the twitterpated look on his face.              A few minutes later, Cobalt flew back into their camp. “The camp is guarded well from the griffon side.  A little less strenuously from the Diarchy side,” he announced, taking the time to stretch out his wings after his flight.                “Can you fly me to the griffon side?” Rarity asked thoughtfully, and Cobalt stared at her.  Rarity shrugged.  “My backstory makes much more sense if I approach from that side, even if it is more heavily guarded.”  Cobalt shrugged.               “It would take a while, but I could get you there,” he said.  He glanced up at the sky.  “It’s overcast, so the night’s going to be starless.  My eyesight’s better than any pony’s, so I’ll be able to move in almost no light.”  He wasn’t boasting when he said it; Terminus was nodding alongside him.              The setting sun was lighting up the overcast clouds with orange and coral flames, and the light was fading fast.  The three ponies trotted to a section of hill that overlooked the camp below.  Once again Rarity felt that old familiar rush of adrenaline, the giddy and panicked anticipation of danger to follow.  The wind was blowing, and the skies were beginning to push darker, more threatening clouds directly over top of the Diarchy camp.              “What do you think, Terminus?” Cobalt asked.  “Rain?”              “Lots of it,” Terminus confirmed, spreading out his wings to feel the wind as he gazed up at the heavy clouds.  “It’ll probably start about a half hour after sundown.”              “Is that to our advantage, or against it?” Rarity asked.  Terminus shrugged.              “Both.  And neither.”  She gave him a look, and he sighed.  “Look, it’ll make things inconvenient for you trying to get around the camp, sure.  But it will make pursuit difficult.  It might make it easier to escape, if things go poorly.”              “Drat,” Rarity sighed.  “I was hoping this would be one of those adventures that didn’t end in messiness.”              “Heartwing wasn’t exaggerating in all those stories he told about you,” Terminus commented wryly, and Rarity eyed him.              “What sort of gossip was that rascal telling, hmm?” Rarity asked casually.  Terminus laughed.              “Nothing important,” he said casually, and Rarity huffed with annoyance.  “No really, Rarity.  He doesn’t speak poorly of his old friends.  Mostly with pride and fondness, and more than a little…” he trailed off, searching for the right word.              “Regret,” Cobalt finished, and Terminus nodded sadly.  “We should get into position.  It’s time.”              Rarity made one last check of her supplies while Terminus prepared their current location to be his sniper’s nest.  She quickly dressed in the slightly threadbare marine uniform, though she eyed the garment with some distaste.              “Good luck, my friends,” Terminus said, giving both of them a hug.  Rarity was surprised when the usually taciturn Cobalt returned the friendly gesture enthusiastically. When Rarity was finally satisfied with her preparations, Cobalt gently lifted her, his clawed arms reaching under her fore hooves to lift her into the air.  It may have been an undignified carry, but Rarity could endure.  With a grunt of effort, he pumped his wings and lifted them both into the air.  Rarity tried not to look down.              “This is r-rather disconcerting in the d-dark,” she stammered.  Being able to see how high she was might be one thing.  In the shadows of post-sunset, now she couldn’t see anything below her.  Rarity had no idea how far it was to the ground, and that was somehow even more terrifying.              “Don’t be concerned.  I won’t drop you,” Cobalt said confidently.  His voice was comforting, and Rarity did her best to relax.  They flew for several minutes, before Cobalt finally announced their impending landing.              “We are now about a mile to the northeast of the camp,” he told her.  “Just to our south is the road that leads to the front of the griffon/pony border, and the larger Diarchy camps situated there.  You’ll look less suspicious if you get on that road and follow it.”              “Yes sir,” Rarity saluted, with a giddy sort of nervous anticipation in her voice.  Cobalt held out a claw for her to shake.              “Good luck, Rarity,” he said, and she shook with him.  “Remember the signal.”              “I won’t forget, Cobalt.  Good luck to you as well.”              Rarity took out the first of the transformation potion, removing the cork with her magic.  After eyeing the murky liquid for a moment, she tipped back the glass vial and swallowed the magical fluid as quickly as she could, expecting the taste to be something vile.  She was pleasantly surprised; it was an earthy flavor, slightly sweet, that reminded her of a lightly sugared red tea.              “As soon as you drink the potion, you’ll feel the magic in your head,” Ninelives’ instructions echoed in her memory.  “Fix your mind on what you want to look like.  In this case, an earth pony.  Keep the details as simple as possible.”  Rarity envisioned a black-furred earth pony with coral colored mane.  She kept the mane short, reminiscent of Rainbow Dash’s typically ‘artfully messy’ mane.  After a few seconds, she felt the magic wash over her.              “How do I look?” Rarity asked.  It wasn’t just an idle question; in the darkness, she would need his keen raptor’s vision to ensure that the potion had worked properly.  The potion had changed her voice, as well.  It was still just as musical as before, but had gotten just a touch higher, more soprano than alto.  She sounded a bit more like Fluttershy now, with no hint of her own affected Canterlot accent.               “Like a perfectly normal earth pony.  No horn in sight,” Cobalt confirmed.  “You’re set to go.”  Even in the darkness, she could see a worried look passed over his face.  She paused, glancing back. “Is everything okay?” Cobalt sighed.  “Tell me…” he trailed off and looked away.  “Nevermind.” “No, darling.  If you have concerns, I should hear them.”  He turned back to look at her. “Tell me what he’s thinking, Rarity.” His eyes were intense and luminous in the darkness cast by the clouds.  She stared at him, wondering what he was talking about.  “Heartwing.  Why you?” “Whatever do you mean, Cobalt?” “You’re not enhanced.  You’re not trained like we are.  I know it’s a tiny camp, and there’s barely any soldiers.  Why you, and not me?  In a fair fight, I’m more than a match for most any Diarchy Knights.” The question brought her up short.  She hadn’t even considered. “Well, I am no stranger to dangerous situations, Cobalt.  And there is my gemfinding spell.” “It has to be more than that.”  Cobalt sounded frustrated.  “There has to be something more.  Something I’m not seeing.”  He sighed.  “I’m sorry.  I really shouldn’t be bringing this up.  Heartwing’s instincts are almost always right.  Even when I don’t understand them.” “‘Almost always’?” Rarity felt a pit of worry in her throat. “I’ve worked with Heartwing for nearly fifteen years now,” Cobalt said.  “Sometimes his ideas make no sense at all.  But they usually work.  It’s like he’s got a sixth sense, or can see the future or something.  Or maybe he just wants to keep us all guessing.” “That does seem in character,” Rarity muttered. “The fact is, though, he’s not always right, and sometimes ponies get hurt,” Cobalt sighed.  “Don’t be one of them, Rarity.  Heartwing has perfect faith in you, and I believe in him.  But please don’t be the exception that proves the rule.”  He stared at her so intently that she had to look away from the intensity in his eyes.            “T-thank you, Cobalt.  Stay safe.”              “I never do, Miss Rarity,” the griffon smirked confidently, waving as she trotted south to the road.  “It’s not in my job description.  But take your own advice, will you?  And remember your flare.”              “Yes, sir!” Rarity gave a nervous little laugh as she left.  She felt a thrill of nervous fear at his concern, but she shoved it deep.  She knew she was going into danger, but she was also about to do something wonderful.  Something positive.  Something… heroic.  As a filly, she’d had dreams about being whisked away by knights in shining armor.  When she’d grown up, she had somewhat unhealthily transferred those dreams into romantic assumptions.  Now, she was going to be the one doing the rescuing, and it felt invigorating.              The road was only a short trot from where Cobalt had dropped her off.  She glanced behind her in the darkness, but of course he was already too far to be seen.  She reached clumsily with a hoof into the pouch of the uniform that contained a small flashlight; she would need it to find her way in the darkness.  Besides, a messenger approaching a friendly camp wouldn’t need to rely on darkness and stealth to sneak in, they would simply walk up the road in plain sight.  With a flick of the switch on the flashlight, she turned it on, sending the beam across the road in front of her.              The camp was up ahead, just beyond a bend in the road.  She tried to make her hoofsteps measured and calm, not allowing herself to grow too excited or anxious.  Soon enough, she saw the lights of the camp up ahead.  Lanterns and other lights poked their illumination through the trees, and the road and forest around her became slowly brighter.  With each step, the camp grew closer, and her nervous fear grew.              “Remember, Rarity,” she told herself.  “It’s just acting.  Just like being in a play.  You have a character to play.  You have a stage to shine on, and an audience that awaits your performance.  It wouldn’t be proper to disappoint your audience, would it?”  She knew the metaphor wasn’t perfect, but it helped to stave off the quiver that was growing in her knees.              Soon enough the camp sentries came into view, still a ways off but visible in the relatively bright lights of the camp.  Rarity approached boldly, trotting down the middle of the road as if she belonged there. She held her flashlight kept in her teeth, illuminating the ground below her hooves so she wouldn’t trip on some divot or obstacle hidden by the moonless night. After a moment she saw the sentries own lights ignite and point in her direction.  She had been spotted.  It was fine; that was part of the plan, after all.  She tried her best to walk with easy casualness.  When she was close enough, the sentries called out a challenge.              “You there!  State your name and business!”              “PFC Coral Song, sir!” Rarity called out.   “I’ve got a message from the griffon front, for Sir Steadfast.”  They had planned for her to speak with the leader of the expedition to make her story seem more believable, but hopefully she wouldn’t be trapped for long speaking with the Knight in question.              “Stay in the light and approach,” the sentry commanded.  Rarity did as instructed, following the road until she stood before the two earth pony sentries.  Once she was standing in front of them, she saluted, and they saluted back.  She noted the rank bars on the two earth ponies — privates.                “Please wait here while we confirm your security clearance,” one of the soldiers said.              “I am not expected,” Rarity told them.  This was exactly what Top Brass had briefed her on.  “I have a priority two missive from Agent Hushkitty, from outside Griffonstone.”  Priority two would be enough to get his attention, but not so important that Steadfast would react too strongly.  Hushkitty was a Diarchy intelligence agent near Griffonstone, who wasn’t aware that the griffons had broken her cover and were aware of her presence.              “Very well.  I’ll inform Steadfast that you’re waiting here.”              “Thank you,” she replied, remembering at the last second not to call them sir.  Technically a PFC outranked a private, after all.  One of the two sentries rushed back into the camp, while the second, with an uncomfortable glance at ‘Coral’, awkwardly held out a canteen.              “Thirsty?” he asked, and she nodded gratefully.  A tired scout would be most happy to receive a drink.  She remembered to use her hoof to accept the offer, rather than her levitation magic — that would end this rescue mission very quickly.  She drank deeply from the canteen, surprised by how refreshing the lukewarm water was.              “Thanks.”  She handed the canteen back to him.  “So how’s this post?  I just came from the front.”              “Quiet, mostly,” the sentry said, shrugging and accepting the canteen. Rarity looked him over; He was a tall stallion; wiry, muscular, and probably far too young for the claw scars that dragged down his neck behind the collar of his uniform. “We saw a bit of action a few days back, but usually it’s just sitting and guarding the VIPs.”              “Action?” Rarity asked, though she had a good idea what he was talking about.              “Pretty crazy stuff,” the sentry said, with the air of a stallion that was trying to impress a pretty mare.  Rarity found it a little flattering.  “A heretic snuck into camp to attack Sir Steadfast.  She tried to escape, and we caught her in nets and chained her up.”              “A heretic?” Rarity’s heart pounded hard in her chest as she tried to sound suitably frightened.  It wasn’t hard.  “She’s still here?”              “Oh yeah.  She’s chained up in the tent right next to Steadfast’s command tent.” The sentry pointed to a small, burlap-colored tent which had been set up next to a larger lavender-colored tent.              Well, that part was easier than I expected.               “That sounds crazy.”  She suppressed a shiver.  “Fighting a heretic…” She was sure to imbue her voice with all the nervous fear she felt, even if it wasn’t for the reason the sentries thought.                “For sure,” the sentry said.  “Hey, when your stuff with the Knight is done, you should drop by the mess tent for a snack.” He looked her up and down.  “I’d like to get to know you better.  My name’s Beacon Torch, by the way.”              “We’ll have to see, Beacon.” Rarity made sure to inject just enough cautious interest to not raise any strong emotions in the stallion, though she did give him a winning smile.  The stallion grinned back.              A few seconds later, the sentry that had left earlier trotted up.  He handed a small badge to Rarity.              “Pin this to your uniform, PFC Coral Song.  You’re required to wear this clearance badge at all times while you are in this camp.  Please report directly to Sir Steadfast Word’s tent.”  He pointed with his hoof, even though Rarity already knew where the tent was.  She nodded and saluted, just as she was shown.              “I’ll try to drop by the mess later,” she said softly to Beacon, though she knew she had no intention of doing so.  With a final wave to the two sentries, she walked over to the command tent, pausing awkwardly at the flap.  Was she supposed to… knock?  With a shrug, she stepped through the flap.              Inside was a middle-aged stallion wearing purple armor, emblazoned with Twilight’s cutie mark.  He was currently writing a letter.  Rarity had to stop herself from glaring at the mark in fury; how dare these cretins disrespect the Princess so?  But the surge of anger was quickly followed by a thrill of fear; if the Knight saw her reaction, he could get suspicious.  Then this would all be over.  She forced her face back to professional neutrality.              “PFC Coral Song, reporting with a priority two missive from Agent Hushkitty, Griffonstone.”              “You may leave it on the desk,” Steadfast said absently.              “I’m sorry, sir, but I was ordered to memorize the missive verbally,” Rarity said.   Steadfast finally looked up from his letter, his expression betraying his curiosity.  “Interesting.  Go ahead, scout.”              “Yes sir.  She told me to say, the chicken’s egg is exactly where you said it wouldn’t be, only buried.”  Rarity recited the code phrase Ninelives had given her.  She pretended to look confused, but didn’t ask what it meant.  A good soldier wouldn’t.  Steadfast’s eyes lit up with excitement.              “That’s the message?” he said with barely restrained enthusiasm.  “Soldier, that’s the best news I’ve heard all day.  Thank you.  Did Agent Hushkitty tell you to say anything else?  Or give you any other orders?”              “No sir.  I just have to report back to my Sergeant as soon as you release me.”              “Well, scout,” Steadfast smiled.  “I don’t release you until you’ve taken at least a day to rest.  Good work, soldier.”              “Thank you, sir!” she said enthusiastically.  The whole conversation was filling her with nervous dread; any moment she could say the wrong thing and out herself.                “That pass of yours gives you access to our camp.  Do I need to have somepony show you where the mess hall is?”              “No, sir.  I can find it.”              “Good.  Speak with the mess officer, Porridge.  She’ll get you something to eat and show you where you can bunk down for the night.”  It was an obvious dismissal, and Rarity saluted with relief and left the tent.  Now came the hard part.              The rain had just started to drizzle down as she stepped into the night air.  With a start, Rarity raised a hoof to her mane in panic.  The rain would surely…              The thought brought her up short.  Of all the silly things to be worried about.  Besides, she thought as she bounced her now coral-colored curls, it wasn’t really her mane right now.  With a silly little silent laugh, she made her way towards the mess tent, while keeping an eye on the tent that housed Emberglow.   Now she just had to find, or create, an opportunity to sneak into the tent.  There were two sentries standing guard in front of the tent as Rarity walked past.  They were standing firmly at attention, and their eyes darted to the pass she wore.  There was a brief pause where Rarity held her breath, but the sentries merely gave her a friendly nod. It was nice to know they had no reason to suspect her. She deliberately walked behind the tent, ensuring she would be in the sentry’s blind spot on the far side of the tent.  She paused briefly, waiting for just a moment to see if anypony was paying attention. There were ponies within her line of sight, but nopony was paying attention to what she was doing.  The few ponies she could see were busy with their own tasks, doing camp chores or keeping watch in the direction of the griffon border.   With one hoof, she shifted the edge of the tent.  It was staked down at regular intervals, too tightly to slip underneath, unless she managed to pull up one of the stakes.  It was an option, if she could manage it without being seen.  She’d remember that for later.  She continued on to the mess tent.               The inside of the mess tent was a perfect example of everything Rarity disliked about military aesthetics.  It wasn’t that the inside of the tent was messy or disorganized; it was, in fact, a model of military precision and strict cleanliness.  The décor, on the other hand, was completely bland and unacceptable.  The canvas was olive drab, and the seating was rows of unadorned benches.  Even the ground was simply dirt packed by hundreds of hooves passing over.              This late at night, the mess was empty except for a single off-white colored mare, washing dishes in a tub underneath a pump-fed faucet.  The mare was young, and wore an apron stained with all sorts of colors of sauce.              “Help you, private?” she asked as she glanced at the rank insignia on Rarity’s disguise.              “I hope so.  I’m Coral Song.  I just came in with a message for Sir Steadfast, and he said I could drop in for a snack.  I’ve been galloping most of the evening, so I could use something to munch on.”  She tried to think of how Applejack or Pinkie Pie would use words; Rarity herself would have never said something so crass as ‘munch on’.              The mess officer stood and offered a hoof to shake. “Nice to meetchya, Coral.  I’m Porridge.  Don’t have much prepped right now, but I’ve got some leftover casserole if ya like.”              “Leftovers are fine,” Rarity said.  “Anything, really.  I’m runnin’ on empty.”  It honestly hurt, a little bit, to not be using proper diction.  Oh well.  The sacrifices one had to make for the stage, and all that.              “Well, sit down a tic, and I’ll be right back.  It’s kinda cold, but so’s the beer, so that’s okay, right?” Porridge laughed.              “Just water, please,” Rarity said.  She’d never quite enjoyed the flavor of beer, to be honest.  Who wanted to drink slightly bitter tasting bread?  She much preferred sophisticated drinks, like a nicely aged rose, or even a fancy cocktail.  Besides, she needed to be in full control of her senses for what lay ahead. “I’m still technically on duty until I report back to my sergeant.”              “One of those, eh?”  Porridge laughed, though not unkindly.  “Gotchya.  I’ll be right back with some eats and some water.”              Porridge exited the mess tent through a small flap on one canvas wall.  Rarity found a spot at one of the benches and sat, looking around the room for anything she could use.  A fire in the mess tent might provide a decent distraction, but Porridge had been nothing but friendly.  It seemed a shame to put the young mare in danger.   Soon enough, Porridge came back with a tin cup and a plate full of cold casserole.  Rarity could see rice, mushrooms, green peppers, and celery.  The whole thing looked a bit like mush, and some of her skepticism must have shown on her face.  “Camp rations.  I miss real food.”  It seemed like something a soldier would say.              “Don’t look like much,” Porridge admitted.  “But that ain’t what counts, is it?”  She laughed, then went back to her task washing dishes.  “You enjoy, Coral.”              Rarity was glad Porridge wasn’t watching while she tried to eat; the act of manipulating a spoon with her hooves, instead of magic, was somewhat awkward.  Still, she managed to begin eating, realizing after a few bites just how hungry she’d been.  Porridge was correct; though the presentation and texture were a bit off, the casserole was flavorful and well-seasoned.  Rarity ate the whole bit as quickly as she could, washing it down with the cold water.               “That was nice, thanks,” Rarity said when she was done.  Porridge nodded.  “Now, could you tell me where I could bunk down for a bit of shut-eye?”              “Don’t wanna try to make the trip back to your unit in the pitch black and rain, do ya?” Porridge said, nodding.  “Makes sense.  The Knights get messengers all the time, so we set up a tent with a couple bunks just for you types.  Lemme show ya.”              Rarity followed Porridge out of the mess tent towards a row of smaller tents.  On the way, she saw an odd sight through the darkness and the drizzling rain: a scaffolding, holding a wooden cage about eye level off the muddy ground.  Inside the cage were two figures, looking sodden and miserable in the growing damp.              “Who’s that?” Rarity asked.  “I heard about some dust-up with a heretic a few days back.”              “Nah, it’s not her,” Porridge said.  “That’s just some griffon spies we snagged yesterday.  Sir Brightblade’s gonna interrogate them as soon as he’s done with the heretic.  I didn’t tell you this,” Porridge’s voice dropped to a whisper.  “But I think that heretic’s a tough one to crack.  Sir Brightblade’s been looking angrier and angrier the last few times I’ve seen him.  I’d steer clear if I were you.”              “I’ve never met Sir Brightblade.  I only met the other Knight.  The one in charge.  Uh...”              “Probably Sir Steadfast, then.  He’s wonderful,” Porridge said, sounding sincere.  They paused in front of an empty tent.  The flap was pinned wide, and rarity could see the simple bunk inside.  “Here we are.  Nopony else is using it, so it’s all yours.  You’ll be here for breakfast, right?”              “I think so,” Rarity lied.  Not a chance, unless things went catastrophically wrong.  Seeing those two griffons, even from a distance, cramped into that far too small cage was making her blood boil.  Something demanded action.  Demanded response.  She would act tonight, and soon.               “Well, sleep good, then,” Porridge said, and Rarity had to stop herself from correcting, or even cringing, at the massacre of grammar.   The mess officer left her in peace, and Rarity laid herself out on the bunk, making sure to try and keep the scaffolding and cage in view from the opening of her tent.  She could just make it out in the darkness.              The rain dramatically increased in volume, suddenly pouring down on the camp in sheets.  Rarity heard a few yelps of surprise and shock, and she could see ponies rushing about, splashing muddy water as they tried to get under cover.  Rumbles of thunder sounded over the torrent of raindrops, filling the camp with noise. Briefly, Rarity considered casting her gem-finding spell now.  She had one more disguise potion; she could quickly cast the spell, learn the location of Sir Steadfast’s hidden Element of Harmony, then drink the potion again.  Instinct told her to wait, however.                After about ten minutes, there was barely anypony left outside.  She moved cautiously out of the tent, trying her best to ignore the sheets of water cascading down on her face, ruining her mane.  She hoped that when the illusion went away, the water in her coat and mane would as well, though she doubted it would.  Still, a mare could dream.              Rarity’s first stop was the scaffolding.  Growing closer to the two captive griffons, she could see more detail, and it sickened her.  The signs of torture and abuse were clear on the two pitiful creatures, with bruises, wounds, and missing feathers.  They glanced down at her with hopeless faces and eyes that simply waited for the next atrocity.  She stopped below the cage.              “Hello, can you understand me?” Rarity asked.  Both griffons cocked their heads.  One of them squawked at her, saying something in their native tongue that she didn’t understand.  Rarity glanced around for whatever kept the cage locked.  It was a padlock, looped around the door of the cage.  She didn’t have any sort of a key.  “Neither of you speak Equish?”              “Only Griffon,” the griffon hen said in heavily accented Equish.  “No pony language.”  The male simply shook his head.              “I’m going to let you out,” Rarity said, glancing to the left and right, looking for anypony that might be listening.  “Do you understand out?  Free?”  The griffons shook their heads again, and Rarity resisted the urge to sigh.  “Okay, Miss Coral Song.  Time to see how good your acting skills really are.”   She pantomimed opening the cage.  They stared at her blankly.  She did it again, this time more slowly, and finally the griffon hen’s eyes lit up with understanding and she nodded.  Silently she spoke with her friend, who glanced between the hen and Rarity several times.  “When I let you free, I need you to wait ten minutes before you escape.”  Blank stares again.  Rarity sighed.  She was growing nervous.  Though most of the ponies had retreated from the pouring rain, she could be interrupted at any second.   She began her pantomime again, but this time, after acting out opening the door, she held up a hoof, then began counting slowly in Equish.  After reaching ten, she pantomimed showing the door swinging open and pretending to escape out of it.              “I need you two to wait at least two minutes before you escape.” She tried to pantomime one hundred and twenty seconds, before sighing, giving up, and simply writing the number in the dirt.  She was only partly sure they got the gist of it, though the hen was nodding enthusiastically.  After a moment of thought, Rarity also passed over one of the flashbangs.              “Boom,” the hen said, taking the cylinder from Rarity.  Rarity almost laughed.  Of all the words in Equish, boom was one of the few this griffon knew?  She shook her head.              “No boom,” Rarity said.  It wasn’t a grenade, after all, merely a bright light and sound.  She pantomimed clenching her eyes shut, and covering her ears.  She repeated that action a few times, before the griffon nodded.   The hen then began a pantomime of her own, pointing at the number written in the dirt and miming the passage of seconds with her clawed fingers.  Rarity nodded enthusiastically, and the griffon held out a hoof.  Rarity thought it was to shake, but was shocked when the griffon pulled the hoof closer to her beak and gave her a gentle kiss on the hoof.  She said something in her own language that Rarity was sure was an expression of gratitude.              “Very well then.  I really hope this doesn’t get me killed,” she whispered to herself.  She found the largest rock she could on the ground, and, suppressing her need to gag at the slimy mud she had to wipe off of it, she lifted the rock above the padlock and waited.  There was a flash of lightning, and she brought down the rock, as hard as she could, against the padlock with a mighty clang.   “Oh, I do wish Applejack were here,” she muttered as she inspected the padlock.  It was bent, the keyhole slightly out of shape, but it hadn’t sprung open.  She waited impatiently for the next flash of lightning, trying not to get distracted by the griffons’ fearful fidgeting.              The air lit up again, and she brought the rock down a second time.  The padlock held, but it was clearly bent and twisted now, and when the griffon hen rattled it, Rarity could hear some of the inner mechanisms shaking around, loose.  The hen let out a moan of frustration.              “I’m trying, darling,” she said softly.  Though they didn’t understand each other, they shared a significant glance.  Rarity wasn’t sure if it was tears or rain in the hen’s eyes.   Finally, the sky lit up again, and she brought the rock down one last time.  With a mighty jerk that set the whole cage rocking, the padlock finally broke free and tumbled to the mud.   The hen quickly seized the door, holding it in place, though she couldn’t help but test to make sure it was open.  She nodded at Rarity, pointing one more time to the place where she’d scratched the numbers one hundred and twenty into the side of the cage.  Rarity nodded back.   The griffon held up one claw, then two.  She was counting.  Rarity smiled one last time, then ran off towards the tent where Emberglow was supposedly being held.              When she reached the blind spot behind the tent, she could hear grunts of pain and the swish of air as something thick and heavy was swung, followed by thick, meaty thuds of impact.  There was somepony else in the tent. She cursed under her breath.              “Sir Steadfast’s quite upset with you,” she could hear a stallion say from inside the tent.  The voice was grating, filled with a sort of righteous fervor that made Rarity’s flesh crawl with discomfort.  “He tells me you insist on denying what he already knows.  I thought you were friends.”  There was another rush of air, an impact, and a whimpering sob.  “Honestly, I don’t understand why you’re holding out.  The faster he gets done with you, the sooner I can end all of this.  Don’t you want to feel the rope?  Let all the pain go away?  It’s pretty quick; just a long drop and a sudden stop, as they say.  Then it’s all over.”              Rarity tried her best to ignore the conversation, but her best wasn’t good enough, this time.  Something in the voice made her sick to her stomach, and she had to actively suppress the urge to vomit.  As silently as she could, she found the stake she would need to pull up in order to slip into the back of the tent.  With the canvas walls of the tent shaking from the wind and the rain, hopefully nopony inside would notice what she was doing.  She grasped the stake as best she could in her hooves and tried to yank.  Nothing.  The stake wiggled a bit, but it didn’t budge.  Rarity said something unladylike under her breath.              “Secretly, though?” the stallion on the inside continued.  “I hope you don’t say anything to Steadfast.  After all the time I spent hating you in Manehatten, I’m really enjoying being right.  You really are a wicked…” He grunted with effort, and Rarity heard another impact and pained sob. “Wicked…” A second impact. “Heretic.”  He finished with a third, and there was a slump of something hitting the ground.  “Wow, Emberglow.  Unconscious already?  Weak.”  Rarity heard the stallion spit with contempt.              Suddenly the ground was rocked by a huge explosion.  The sound was deafening, so much more than a lightning strike.  Rarity jumped a little at the noise.              “What was that?” the voice inside the tent demanded.              “Don’t know, sir.  Would you like us to check it out?”  It was a second voice.              “Come with me, that sounded like it came from the armory.  I’m done here for a while, she’ll be out for a few minutes anyways.”              “Yes, sir,” the second voice replied.  Rarity waited for a count of ten, hearing the sounds of the tent flap moving, before pulling out the utility knife from her belt.  She didn’t have time to be sneaky much longer.  With a quick slash, she made a long gash in the side of the tent, fumbling with her hooves to pull the opening aside and step into the tent.              Inside, the foul smells of sweat and blood assaulted her nose.  She did her best to ignore it, glancing around the tent.  It was nearly pitch black; the torturer had apparently taken his light source with him.  Her heart pounded as she lit her horn, her disguise illusion slipping off her like water.  While it was nice to be back in her old shape, she was somewhat disappointed to realize that the soaking she’d gotten from the rain remained.              The sight that lay before her, softly illuminated by the dim blue light of her horn, broke Rarity’s heart.  Emberglow, that sweet, confused Knight that had helped rescue her from that cave, was slumped on the dirt floor of the tent, broken and unconscious.  Cruelly tight manacles held her four hooves, another binding went across her wings, and yet another encircled her neck.   She quickly looked about the room for something she could use to break the bindings. A small table on one end of the tent contained various torture devices and tools, and she trotted over to see if there was anything on it she could use.  Thankfully, there was also a key ring with three keys.  Quickly, Rarity levitated the keys over to Emberglow, and began frantically trying them out in the various locks to her shackles.              “I’ll get you out of here, darling,” Rarity whispered to the unconscious mare. “This time I’ll be the one saving a Knight in shining armor.”