//------------------------------// // The Carousel of Progress // Story: Ofolrodi // by Imploding Colon //------------------------------// Her charcoal brown hawkeyes reflected runic light against nebulaic frescoes. All around, hanging velvet draperies with emblems of Nightmare Moon came alive under the enchanted glow. In fact, there was no square inch of Gibbous Sanctum that didn't shine or shimmer in some mesmerizing fashion or another. “This place...” Seraphimus began, although she struggled to finish. “... … …is exceedingly opulent.” Ariel looked over, pausing in mid-pace. She stood a few feet from the artistically resplendent entrance to the Dream Den, with Captain Xandraa and another guard standing stoically in between. “Ya think?” the Heraldite sarcastically countered. “Doesn't it strike you the least bit odd?” Seraphimus' cold gaze narrowed on the mare. “That this place would be so... heinously luxurious while the servants and soldiers down below suffer in abject destitution?” She noticed the eyes of Xandraa and her fellow Imperialist resting upon her, to which she merely grunted: “The contrast is positively nauseating.” Ariel glanced at the two silent, judging sarosians. Swallowing, she then looked back at Seraphimus. “I mean... what did you expect?” Seraphimus exhaled long, hard, and cold. “I suppose it's... not about expectations.” Another sigh, and she stared down an adjacent corridor where a gaggle of finely-dressed mares—both young and old—strolled casually while enjoying a giggling conversation. “There truly is no end of disappointment on this plane.” Ariel strolled a little closer to the former Talon Commander. “Y'know...” She craned her neck while squinting. “...lots and lots of magistrates were sittin' pretty and polished along the bluffs of Frostknife while dredge slavers worked their limbs to the bone in barges all across the Seven Seas.” “I see your attempt at leveraging one nation's suffering against another, and it's folly.” Seraphimus glared at Ariel. “When your honorable Austraeoh pierced through our land, she did not negotiate with the authors of Rohbredden's misery.” Ariel merely blinked. “She didn't really get a chance to, Sera.” A bitter sweet breath. “And even if we weren't blaming it all on Verlax per the norm... … … would someone like you have let her?” Seraphimus' talons clenched. She gazed down a corridor, glancing dispassionately at lavishly-dressed ponies and lunar intaglia. “This culture—and this entire War for that matter—dangles by a narrow thread. Right now, Rainbow Dash is negotiating with those who clutch the silk instead of those who grasp the scissors.” She slowly shook her feathered head. “Those who promise fealty to Nightmare Moon will be no more successful now than they were ten centuries ago. Doesn't anypony learn from history?” “History...” Ariel shrugged. “A lifetime...?” She shrugged again. “On all counts—yes—Rainbow has learned much. And right now, this very second, she's endeavoring to pursue the most peaceful option. Tell me...” She leaned her head aside. “Don't you think that's worth it?” Seraphimus breathed. Her eyes reflected more and more colors: shiny and dazzling and—above all—artificially dim against the encroaching darkness. “... … ...I don't know what to think anymore.” Ariel opened her muzzle to say something—but she was interrupted by the sound of old, old hinges creaking. She turned around. Captain Xandraa likewise pivoted to see Mistress Faatail and Rainbow Dash emerging from the Dream Den. The former approached the Imperialist directly, her face calm and eyes calmer. “We have much to discuss. But first.” Faatail looked at Xandraa's subordinate. “Send a message to the Crescent Seal. Tell my fellow elders: 'The star agrees to aid.' They will understand, and likely will anticipate my presence within the next cycle.” “Very well, Mistress.” Xandraa bowed. She glanced aside at Rainbow Dash, then back at the elder. “In the interim, shall I servants work on... accommodations?” “Negative. But you will deliver a directive to the Commander of the Bloodwings,” Faatail stated. “The Avatar of Luna—from henceforth—shall be given free range of flight: both secure and unrestricted. Effective immediately.” “I... understand, Mistress.” Xandraa delicately cleared her throat. “But should we truly expect Lexxic to follow through with that?” “He will know that it is his in his best interest,” Faatail declared. “As it soon will be in ours.” “That... I do not quite understand.” Xandraa stood tall and resolute. “But I shall support this initiative in every way, elder.” She nodded to the other guard. The mare nodded back and trotted briskly down the adjacent corridor. Faatail and Xandraa trotted in the opposite direction, carrying on with their tense conversation. Meanwhile, Ariel—having gotten an earful of the words spoken between the sarosians—turned towards Rainbow Dash with an eager expression. “Good news, then?” She shuffled swiftly towards the petite pegasus. “The elders? We got them on our side?” “Mmmmmm...” Rainbow leaned from side to side. “...yes and no...” “That isn't much of an answer,” Seraphimus said in a steely tone. Rainbow merely breathed through that. “Long story short, we're in it for the long run.” “Just... what is 'it' that we're 'in'?” Ariel asked, already grimacing. “Me and Lexxic,” Rainbow stated. “We're going to be teaming up.” Seraphimus threw Rainbow a look. “By the elders' blessing,” Rainbow's voice pierced the air. She gestured with a firm hoof. “Mistress Faatail insists that—by helping the Bloodwings out—it'll be a good enough show of faith to win over her high polished sisters up top.” “And what of Lexxic?” Seraphimus asked calmly. “What about winning him over?” “Two bat ponies...” Rainbow shrugged. “...one Elemental Stone of Harmony.” Another shrug. “Well... okay... so I smudged the analogy a little, but... you g-get it.” “No.” Seraphimus' eyes narrowed. “We don't.” Rainbow looked at the griffon directly. “Look, I know it's a crazy-ass tight-rope walk, but this is the best I can manage it. Mistress Faatail's put a lot of personal honor and good faith on the line, so it's only fair that I show a keen respect for that sacrifice in like-turn.” She cleared her throat. “The idea is... I help out the elders by helping out Lexxic. With both the Bloodwings' and Equestria's finest working in tandem, we just might cut straight to the heart of this whole Trinary War shindig and acquire what we all want most.” Her ears twitched slightly. “I know one or two things in that sentence must sound really dang arrogant/i], but... what the hay... all things considered—it's a downgrade from how I deserve to friggin' boast at this point. Heheh...” “Then... you got what you wanted...?” Ariel leaned forward, eyes bright with hope. “You got what we all wanted, didn't you? An alliance with the Bloodwings? A way to get to the Midnight Armory and the Harmonic Prism within?” “Well—it's a step in the right direction. A baby step, mind you—but I'm sure as heck not complaining.” Rainbow rubbed the back of her head and glanced in the direction of Faatail and Xandraa. “Mistress Pretty-Mane over there says that we'll be given a few cycles to 'think it over'.” “That sounds... crazily generous,” Ariel remarked. “Indeed,” Seraphimus hummed, staring at Rainbow Dash. Rainbow Dash stared back. “Lemme guess.” She narrowed her eyes. “You're going to ask me: 'But what if Lexxic doesn't want to share the Harmonic Prism if you get it?'” “No...” Seraphimus slowly shook her head. “...however, I am tempted to ask just how far you are willing to go for this 'magical' alliance you've concocted.” She stood up tall, towering over the pegasus. “Lexxic is a stallion infamous for his abject cruelty and thirst for violence. He has shown great disdain for the sanctity and livelihood of his enemies. You yourself have witnessed—and attempted to interrupt, first-hoof—Lexxic's ritualistic execution of his own flesh and blood. But now—for the sake of the elders, the Bloodwings, and Equestria—you are seemingly willing to not only encourage all of this... but to partake in it yourself. One is sorely tempted to ask: just how drenched in this blood are you willing to let your limbs get?” “I...” Rainbow Dash stared off in the distance. “I... … ...” “Yes...?” Seraphimus leaned forward—until she realized that even her own sharp features weren't breaking Rainbow's gaze. She turned to look over her shoulder. Nat'rdo was rounding the corner, leading a hobbling Lady Prunus by the hoof. Upon seeing Rainbow and the Heraldites, she came to a stop. And upon seeing Nat'rdo— “I'll... uh...” Rainbow Dash brushed her companions aside and made a beeline for the Dream Knight. “...I'll get back to you on that.” Ariel blinked at Rainbow Dash, then threw Seraphimus a curious look. Seraphimus sighed heavily. “'A few cycles to think it over,'” she muttered. A shake of the feathery head, and she strolled off. “They could give her a few centuries, and still she would squander it.” Ariel said nothing. She remained alone, gazing into the dimly-lit shadows in cold and contemplative silence. Minutes later... Rainbow Dash and Nat'rdo strolled slowly through the lavishly-furnished corridors of Gibbous Sanctum, gradually circling the hollow heart of the Tree of Mothers. “So it's settled, then,” Nat'rdo remarked in a calm and composed voice. “Mistress Faatail and the Elders have agreed to attach you to the Bloodwings' offensive permanently.” “I get the impression that Faatail's a great deal more jazzed about it than the rest of her high-polished sorority, but... yeah...” Rainbow nodded as a gaggle of giggling fillies chased each other past the pair. “...that appears to be the long and short of it.” “I think you chose a very harmonious path, Rainbow Dash,” Nat'rdo remarked. “I mean that in respect to both our Sacred Mother and... and those who share in her regal bloodline, back in your home land—” “Yeah yeah yeah. We're joining fetlocks in magical cross-plane friendship. Yadda yadda yadda. Look...” Rainbow pivoted to face the Dream Knight. “I'm super stoked that you and Faatail have shown so much good faith towards a seared Penumbran such as me, Avatar of Luna or not. But I'm not all that super-interested in what you think about this team-up.” Her ruby eyes narrowed. “What I do want to know is... … … how much of it did you see coming in advance?” “You're asking me if I had enough foresight to predict this turn of events?” Nat'rdo slowly remarked. “Right on the money, honey~” “Rainbow Dash, it would be...” Nat'rdo fidgeted, tossing her shiny mane out of her face. “...improper of me to use my dream-trotting talents as a means of compromising otherwise confidential information.” “But—” “I've shared what I've learned in the past about you and your memories with the rest of the Dream Council because I found it within the best interest of Lunar Imperialist security,” Nat'rdo declared. “But now that you've been here for a while and no harm has come to the Tree of Mothers or the assets that lie in its shadow...” She slowly shook her head. “My nights of divulging subconscious information is at an end.” “But don't you see how much gettin' all this dream dirt can help me?” Rainbow's voice cracked. “How it can help us?” “I'm sorry, Rainbow Dash.” Nat'rdo shook her head. “My previous connections were simply meant to bridge a gap—a gap that now means less than it did prior to Mistress Faatail's intervention. Whatever it is that you are seeking from me, I cannot provide.” Rainbow leaned back, nostrils flaring. She navigated an expression that fell tightly between a smirk of bemusement and a grimace of exasperation. “Should I go and ask Ol' Prune Juice instead? I bet if I roll her seven times around the Tree of Mothers and shout at the top of my lungs, all of the dream walls would go tumbling down.” For a moment, Nat'rdo didn't know how to react to that. A few hitched breaths issued in and out of her, as if in all the years of ritualistic decorum she had forgotten how to laugh. “Lady Prunus is long-retired from being a Dream Knight,” she eventually said with elegant repose. A pair of polished mares strolled by, forcing her to step towards Rainbow's side of the corridor. “And even still...” She continued in a softer, warmer voice, mindful of those who could be listening in. “...her dedicated stance would be the same as mine. If not firmer.” Rainbow leaned back from Nat'rdo, blinking uncomfortably. “You're t-telling me that none of you gals—none of you whatsoever—have gotten even an inkling of an idea of what Faatail's bosom buddettes are truly thinking about all this?” “Rainbow Dash, you are an experienced and world-weary mare,” Nat'rdo declared. “You have encountered innumerable entities—both allies and foes. You have conquered and suffered multiple challenges. You've negotiated peace, saved communities, doomed others, kicked a dragon in the face...” “Eheheh...” Rainbow sweated visibly. “...finally, somepony who remembers that last part...” “In conclusion—you yourself should possess the tenacity and wherewithal to properly assess the motives and inclinations of others by now, no matter how polished they may be.” A beat. Nat'rdo blinked, taking on a curious expression. “Why do you look so uncomfortable right now?” “Jee, I dunno...” Rainbow coughed, then snaked her way around Nat'rdo until they were a good distance apart again. “Could ya stand to be a little less—” “Close?” “Yeah.” Rainbow Dash cleared her throat, trying her darnedest not to look at the Dream Knight's mane or eyes or lips or tail. “Let's go with that.” “... … ...” Nat'rdo dispassionately shrugged. “Honestly, I did not imagine that I was your type.” “Look—I know you're used to being in the company of a bunch of telepathic retirees, but... mmmmm... never mind. L-let's just n-not press the topic.” “As you wish.” Nat'rdo nodded. “Besides, we both know that Val Roa is where your heart lies—” “Don't.” Rainbow Dash's teeth clenched. “... … … it is not exactly sacred news.” “Yeah. But still. Just.” Rainbow clenched her eyes shut. “Don't.” Nat'rdo's eyes narrowed. “Who do you think is listening to us, Rainbow Dash?” “... … ...” Silence. Nat'rdo took a long breath before switching the conversation back to its core impetus. “Did you truly think you could talk me into supplying more information to you than Mistress Faatail has provided?” “Yes? No? Maybe?” Rainbow paced along her edge of the corridor. “Eugh... there's a lot riding on me. A lot more than Mistress Faatail thinks... no matter how poetic she can get in talking about it.” She slowly shook her head in mid-trot. “I don't think she knows just how low I have to go in order to meet Lexxic at his level... or what going that low actually means to me.” She tongued the inside of her muzzle. “It just feels that—at the end of the day—all that matters is that none of the other mares on this side of the plane can go that low. Or will go. So... guess it's gotta be the 'solar seared Penumbran' who gets to roll in it.” “You would not have come this far unless you knew that there would be unsightly challenges to face,” Nat'rdo declared. “Many far steeper than those you've encountered before.” “And I'm willing to go the distance. Really—I am.” Rainbow Dash glanced at the Dream Knight. “But it still feels like... the Elders aren't sacrificing enough of that which is theirs, y'know? Meanwhile, look at Lexxic. Look at all that he's sacrificing. Every day!” She waved a hoof. “This war—for the Bloodwings—is being carried by one class of ponies. And when they look at Lexxic's sacrifice versus what the matriarchs are offering up... just who do you think they're going to respect more?” “Given enough time and measure,” Nat'rdo said, “They might respect you the most out of everyone.” “Heh...” Rainbow Dash leaned back against a wall and crossed her forelimbs. “Wouldn't that be the bees' knees?” “I'm afraid I don't understand that expression...” “Eh... search harder,” Rainbow muttered. “Probably something I picked up from Pilate. Or maybe Theanim Mane. One fruit or the other.” “No. I mean...” Nat'rdo squinted. “...what are bees?” “... … ...” Rainbow's eyes danced left. Right. “...please tell me you at least know something about birds.” “I know that they are supposedly quite tasty.” “A'ight.” Rainbow Dash stepped back onto all fours and made for the far end of Gibbous Sanctum. “This was a bad idea.” “Rainbow Dash...” “I'm sorry for having pestered you, girl.” Rainbow huffed, marching off. “Shoulda known better.” “I agree with you,” Nat'rdo said in earnest. “The Elders aren't sacrificing enough.” Rainbow stopped in the middle of the runic-lit hallway. “Do you find this surprising?” Nat'rdo said. “They have enjoyed nothing but prosperity and luxury—all safely-contained by the flimsy walls of our never-ceasing self-righteousness.” Rainbow slowly turned around. “Do you regret it? Ever? Y'know...” She gestured at the ancient murals and frescoes fading on either side of them. “...living here?” “I see into the minds of countless souls, Rainbow Dash,” Nat'rdo said calmly. “Regret is the most common color with which the subconscious paints. But know this...” Her eyes narrowed. “We sarosians boast of horrors, terrors, and nightmares beyond comprehension.” A slow shake of the head. “It wasn't until you arrived that I found a true taste of fear.” Rainbow Dash blinked. “I... didn't realize I was making that much of an impact.” “You are the Avatar of Luna,” Nat'rdo said. “And yet—you do not boast about the trepidation that your arrival brings.” “Hrmfff...” Rainbow smirked devilishly. “Have you forgotten who you're talking to?” “I have not. But perhaps I should remind you—a victim of the Divine of Frost's deadly games, no less—that with true fear comes the prospect of change. And that is what everypony of the Dark Vigil needs most right now.” Rainbow blinked. “I cannot assist you with confidential information from my dream trotting...” Nat'rdo stepped closer. “...but perhaps I can speak to the elders on your behalf. And on Lexxic's.” She gestured. “Combined with Mistress Faatail's efforts, maybe we can convince the rest of the highest polished to show more support. Not just for you, but to placate the Bloodwings as a whole.” “It's not just about placating,” Rainbow Dash said. “The Sons of Nightmares need to know that they're fighting for more than just living the next twelve hours.” “That...” Nat'rdo blinked. “Is a truly humbling way to see it.” Rainbow shrugged. “For some, there is no other way to 'see.'” A shudder. “Be glad that you're a Dream Knight. Not everypony lives to experience the luxury of 'regret.'” Nat'rdo nodded slowly. Contemplatively. “I am beginning to understand, Rainbow Dash.” She curtsied with respect. “You are far more than the rough exterior you wear constantly.” “Uh...” Rainbow's muzzle twisted. “...thanks?” “I shall speak with Faatail and the other elders. This is my promise.” Nat'rdo cocked her head aside. “In the meantime—might I ask—what is your next move?” “To be perfectly frank? With what's next on the agenda?” Rainbow blew out the side of her muzzle and shrugged. “Anywhere there's an outhouse.” “The Avatar of Luna will need support from all branches of the military effort, even if she is being primarily charged with assisting Lexxic of the First Root,” Mistress Faatail declared. She trotted side-by-side with Captain Xandraa through the thicker corridors of Gibbous Sanctum. “To that end, I need a message sent to the Third Root, seeing as how the First Son won't properly inform them on his own. But you must make sure that the message is carried discreetly. Send it with the next supply chain. A singular company of flagrant messengers will only advance Lexxic's narrative of the matriarchs playing favoritism with Lyw'Malaak.” “I understand whole-heartily, Mistress,” Xandraa said. “I will see to it.” “Do you have any questions or concerns worthy of stating, Captain?” Faatail asked. “As soon as I retire, it may be a while before we can speak muzzle-to-muzzle again. I have much business to settle with my sisters, and I fear that they may be catching on to my secret sojourns beyond the seal—masquerading as one of your inferiors.” “Chiefly one concern, dear elder.” Xandraa stopped to face her directly. “So long as we employ Rainbow Dash in the field... she remains our sole contact among the First Root.” “Are you again going to suggest an entourage?” Faatail breathed. “Dear Captain, the whole point of this exercise is to bridge peace and understanding between the keepers of the Book of Saros and those who lead our military efforts in the war.” Xandraa was already nodding. “And aside from one ill-strategized mishap, the Avatar of Luna has proven herself exemplary in her dedication. I have no doubt of her strength or conviction. But... should Lexxic turn on her—” “That is precisely what we are striving to avoid, Captain.” “... … ...should Lexxic turn on her...” In a calm but steely tone, Xandraa continued: “...it would help us to have some degree of insight on the matter. It's already taxing enough that we ask for Rainbow Dash to entertain the First Son's presence, much less assist him in his efforts. I think it would be most beneficial to all parties involved to have more eyes and ears on site.” “But an armed guard would give a false message,” Faatail said. “I've come to agree with you on that matter, Mistress.” Faatail leaned back with a squinting expression. “What exactly do you propose?” The Captain shrugged. “Why not go forward with that which has worked thus far?” Faatail glanced aside, thought about it, then looked back at Xandraa. “Why not, indeed?” “Then I have your permission, Mistress?” “Unequivocally.” Faatail turned and trotted off. “I suppose it is only fitting that I...” A sullen sigh. “...peruse her first round of documentation, then.” “Blood blood blood!!!” Shriike cackled. “It's all they can ever think about!” She leaned back on a cushioned seat, across from a trio of supremely-bored mares in the heart of Gibbous Sanctum. “And the smell! Haah! Don't get me started on how terribly those meatheaded nimrods reeked up close!” “That's fine,” one sarosian droned, trying to read from an old parchment while sipping ginger tea. “We won't—” “Like wet burlap bags of sweat-saturated guano!” Shriike's voice cracked. “And what they like to eat only makes them smell all the worse!” She sipped from an ornate glass of fermented wine and leaned forward, slapping a hoof across one mare's withers. “I'm telling you, ladies! Stallions were born to do two things and two things only!” The Gibbous-polished ponies rolled their eyes and shared a mutual look of lethargy. “Really? Do tell...” “Murder and attract flies!” Shriike grinned from ear to ear. “Get it?! Because they're walking corpses!!” “... … ...is that meant to be a joke, dearest sister?” “Pffft!” Shriike nearly choked on her next muzzle-ful of wine. “The only joke is that Lexxy'kyn, the First Son of Nightmares, is actually proud to be the Commander of such a sorry sack of sociopathic nimrods! And to think he had the gall to try and intimidate me!” Shriike raised her glass to the rune-lit air of the Sanctum. “Shriike! Acting Imperialist Archivist and Chief Clerk to the Honorable Captain Xandraa! Y'know...” She winked through her thick thick glasses. “I never asked to be this special...” “Rrrrmrfffghhh...” Two of the mares rubbed their heads, trying to stare into the carpeted floor. “But—lo and behold! When duty called—this Daughter of Nightmare Moon answered!” She took a sip, swallowed, and wheezed forth: “And y'know what the funny thing is?” She slapped another mare's withers again and rambled on: “Even after having stepped out beyond the seal... having soiled myself with the filth of both New-Speaking root sludge and Bloodwing bastards alike... … … I feel that I've come out of the whole ordeal pretty unscathed!” “Uh huh...” “No joke! You see, ladies... it's duty that maintains one's purity!” Shriike grinned, fangs glinting. “So long as you remain true to your calling and keep the pen on the paper—your dignity and self-respect will forever remain in tact. Mmmm-hmmm-hmmm-hweh-hweh-hwehhhh...” She once again aimed the glass of wine to her smiling muzzle. “All of that being said... boy am I glad to be back in the lap of luxury where I belong—“ “There you are, clerk~” rang a cold and authoritarian voice. “Ah! Captain, my Captain!” Shriike hopped up with a salute. The glass of swirling wine levitated beside her proud, beaming expression. “Come to congratulate me on a job well done, eh?” “Among other things, most certainly.” Xandraa stood before the unicorn as the other mares stole the opportunity to collectively scamper away from the clerk. “Ahem... First order of business—” “A promotion?!?” Shriike stood taller and smiled wider. “Oh, Captain, that is far too much to ask! But—even though I am just acting chief archivist...” She nevertheless brushed off her chest floof with a fanged smirk. “...I do believe I can more than shoulder the burden...” “That... is a possible avenue of opportunity in the future, yes, but first—” “Oh! I know!” Shriike hoppity-hopped on all fours. “My very own assistant! Oh Captain—you are too kind. I've been meaning to clean up the requisitions chamber for ages! Plus... I think I'm long overdue for a chance to enjoy break shifts from time to time~” “Mmmmhmmm...” Xandraa's eyes narrowed. “Reward is duly given with respect to that which is duly earned. You—being an imperialist clerk of the most loyal caliber—will have more than enough opportunities to gain all of this and then some, provided that you show true commitment to the Dark Vigil's cause.” “Hweh-hweh-hweh...” Shriike waved a dainty hoof. “Oh my dearest Captain~” Her slitted eyes glimmered. “I think we both know that I've shown more than enough commitment to the cause.” She leaned in for one final sip from her glass. “And I'm more than qualified to do it all... alllll over again.” “How convenient.” Xandraa nodded with a satisfied smile. “Then you shall do just that. I'm assigning you to Rainbow Dash and Lexxic permanently.” “Pffffffffmmfffftmmfmfffmmfmfffttttttt!!!” Shriike pffffffffmmfffftmmfmfffmmfmfffttttttt'd all over the floor, baptizing the carpet with the final contents of her chalice. Dropping the glass from her dimming telekinesis, the clerk reached a shaky hoof up to wipe her confounded muzzle dry. “P-p-permanently?!?!” “Indeed.” Xandraa's voice hummed. “You will continue to record, chronicle, and document her exchanges with the First Son of Nightmares.” She gestured. “Effective until dismissed by the elders—or when the Sarcophagus of Ages is finally seized for the Mother of Nightmares.” Shriike trembled in place. Her ears drooped. “How...?” she mewled. “This was decided in agreement with Mistress Faatail herself.” Shriike's ears drooped even more. “When...?” she mewled again. “As soon as Rainbow Dash returns and engages with the First Son yet again. It could be a few cycles from now.” A pause. “Any objections, clerk?” “Uhm...” Shriike wheezed beneath her breath. Her lungs scarcely had the strength to produce anything above a whimper. “Uhm... uhm...” “Splendid.” Xandraa slapped her strong hoof across Shriike's flinching withers. “You shall be a part of history, clerk. Your courage is an enviable testament to all of us.” A lasting salute, and she marched off to her next task. Shriike stood alone, gazing down at the wet splotch her spilled wine had made on the lush floor. Her shivers were growing more and more pronounced by the second. “Maybe if I stand right above the stain...” She sniffled. “...nopony will notice?” Elsewhere... A pair of sarosians sat on adjoining cushions. Trays with steaming hot mugs of delicious ambrosia lingered beside them. They chatted and laughed and carried on with gossip of some sort or another. It wasn't long before a sharp shadow crossed over the pair. One mare looked up. She performed a double-take, but otherwise looked delirious and non-plussed. She turned to look at her friend, carrying on the conversation as if nothing had changed— “Excuse me,” Seraphimus said. The mare ignored her. Although her ear folded back noticeably at the sound that the griffon made— “Excuse. Me,” Seraphimus repeated, glaring harder. Sighing, the random sarosian dressed in velvet refinery squinted up at the former Commander. “Yes...?” she dripped in an aristocratic accent. “Do you even wonder who I am?” Seraphimus asked. She cocked her feathery head to the side. “What I am?” “... … ...” The mare did a poor job of stifling a frown. She looked ardently away from the griffon. Seraphimus turned to glare at the pony next to her. “Surely—you have never seen a creature such as myself before. I've passed by here a few times in the last hour—yet nopony has bothered to so much as second glance at me.” A hard blink. “Why?” The second mare said nothing. She too was purposefully not looking at the griffon's face. “Am I not an abomination from the 'Seared Lands?'” Seraphimus' voice took on a sharper and sharper tone. “Perhaps an agent sent by the 'Solar Deceiver?'” She leaned in, encroaching on the mares' space. “Or maybe I've wandered in from the warfront. Has that occurred to you? That I might be a changeling in disguise or—?” “Do you mind??” one mare finally snapped at her. She frowned in the griffon's direction. “You are being very rude right now.” “Most uncouth,” said the other. Seraphimus' headcrest rose. “Why aren't you the least bit alarmed?” “If you have official business, take it elsewhere,” one mare grunted. “My goddess-niece's recital is taking place here in an hour. I shan't have you disrupt it.” “... … ...you don't care about what goes on outside this place, do you?” Seraphimus ask. “What matters to us is that it's far away from here,” she grumbled back. Seraphimus leaned back. She looked at multiple partitions built into the innermost corridor of the Sanctum. “I see that this place has many windows...” She glanced coldly back at the sarosians. “...but all of them look inward. Unto the hollow.” One mare groaned. “Guard...???” She craned her neck, looking towards the distance. “Do not trouble yourselves. I... am leaving.” Seraphimus was already backing up. In doing so, she was nearly bumped into by a herd of scampering foals. She watched the excited fillies as they galloped towards the two mares—who beamed and scooped a few of them up and nuzzled them closely. A few older mares in fine dresses slowly joined them. The group formed a circle, and Seraphimus observed as one of the fillies shuffled up to a moonsilver harp... and began playing a beautiful instrumental. “... … ...” Seraphimus watched until she could be filled no longer, and she eventually turned a cold shoulder. “There was an escort that accompanied us about halfway. A lot of Lexxic's lower... lower-ranked subordinates. Two of them were really chatty twins. Biggs and Hosonn... or something. I dunno. But—for realsies—the First Sons are totally abiding by the orders of Mistress Faatail and her fellow elders. So far, at least. Official word is that they're gonna wait for my return—which shouldn't be too terribly long from now, if I'm smart about this. What is Lexxic gonna do when I face him again? I'm... not totally sure, especially after that stunt I pulled in Honor Hold. But I'm having faith that he's gonna take the same measures that I am. I guess it'll put his big-talk of 'sacrifice' to the test. That guy's got a huge ego—and a lot of pride to boot. The real test is whether or not he's gonna be willing to put all of that in check for the sake of us both and—by extension—the sake of the Dark Vigil as a whole. What, with getting to the Armory'n'crap.” Turning about, Rainbow Dash squinted into flickering torchlight. “That's—of course—assuming that all of my harmonious gifts as both Austraeoh and the Avatar of Luna... combined with Lexxic's edge is truly what it takes to win this friggin' Trinary War. But... that's precisely where we're at right now... or at least where we're aiming to take things. Which—if you ask me—is the most progress we've made since arriving here. Beating out both Darkstine and Abaddon combined.” Rainbow Dash blinked. Her delicate ears twitched-twitched-twitched with each thunderous drumbeat from the ocean of sludge beyond the dihmer ruins. “Eugh...” Rainbow rubbed her head. “Celestia on a bike, I forgot how migraine-inducing this place can be...” Logan was rubbing his head. “So that's it, then?” She glanced aside at Flynn and Kepler, then back at the group that had returned two hours ago. “They just... let you go to... chill and 'think it over' or some shit?” “That's pretty much the case. Yeah.” Rainbow nodded. She paced beside Wildcard and Ariel. “Is that something positive to go on? That Lexxic didn't... just... have our heads on a platter all this time? I mean—heck—if he really really wanted to... he could have just done it.” Wildcard gestured: “'He is a lot more agreeable than you would imagine.'” “Yeah.” Rainbow pointed at the Desperado. “What Jordan said.” Logan squinted between the two of them. “Why does it almost sound like you admire the psycho?” Rainbow did a double-take. Wildcard cocked his avian head aside. Ariel cleared her throat. “Compared to... all the psychopathic freakazoids we've encountered since we arrived here on the gondola—and Lord knows there's been a handful—Lexxic has proven to be remarkably civilized.” Rainbow smiled. “Thanks, Ariel.” “He's sexist and he's egotistical and he's bloodthirsty and he's power-hungry... but—hey—at least he's civilized!” Rainbow sighed. “Thanks, Ariel.” Wildcard talon-signed: “There were numerous times when Lexxic went out of his way to protect Rainbow Dash. Even from his familiars.” “Hell...” Logan shrugged. “Even I will let a boil fester on my buttocks for days at a time because bursting it will just make everyone around me puke.” He gestured. “More often than not, it's more about timing than sincerity.” “Your concern is noted, Big Show,” Rainbow grumbled, pacing again. “Is it?” Logan arched an eyebrow. “Is it really?” She tossed him a frown. “I'm here, aren't I?” She waited for another few ocean beats to pass. “Why else do you think I returned?!” She looked at the group in general. “Let's... let's hash it out. Let's... look at this gift horse in the mouth but... b-but not for too long, y'know? I mean... isn't this what this whole effort's been about? Since Nat'rdo contacted me?” Logan folded his forelimbs. He furrowed his brow in contemplation. Kepler spoke up. “Ach!—I forr one gladly welcome prrogrress!” He looked at his companions through his bifocals. “Any prrogrress! Yes—Rrainbow may be allying herrself with morrally-questionable rrogues, but what betterr opporrtunity awaits herr otherrwise? Orr us forr that matterr? Do we serriously expect the legions of Tcherrn orr the Night Sharrd to be anymorre welcoming?” “I...” Logan rubbed his head, sighing. “...I don't really know at this point.” “Big Show, we've been in the thick of bat country. And...” Ariel bit her lip. She sighed as she spoke: “I don't like the Bloodwings any more now than I did when they were just scary concepts in the darkest pockets of my noggin. The Dark Vigil today is a big rusty cart: falling apart and occupied by a few fat cats, meanwhile an endless train of muscle-brained hellions foaming at the mouth for blood are drawing them towards the Midnight Armory. And—in spite of all that—Rainbow here is still making a connection. It's tiny and it's flimsy and it's a bit of a stretch—but it's the safest stretch we might have here on the Dark Side.” “Doesn't mean that I particularly like it,” Logan grumbled. “You don't have to like it,” Rainbow Dash grumbled back. “Heck—I don't like it. I didn't like any of the crap Verlaxion threw at me, and yet... here we are.” She stood tall and resolute. “And I'll say this about Lexxic: he may be scary and proud and egotistical, but he's no Verlax.” “At the risk of sounding like a sicko...” Logan squinted. “At least we knew that—in some twisted way—Verlax respected you.” “... … ...” Rainbow could only blink at that. Wildcard stepped into line of sight with everyone: “'Perhaps an update is in order.'” “Yeah. That.” Rainbow cleared her throat. “You've gotten an earful of our progress. How about you melon fudges?” She nodded towards Blobstain's big pink namesake. “Do we have a ticket to ride or what?” “I'd say that's Flynn's department.” Logan looked over his shoulder. “How 'bout it, buddy? Wanna give east horse here the report?” “... … …” Flynn slowly stood up at attention. His mechanical eye rotated inward as he spoke delicately: “We... uh... we found some locals to work with.” “Yeah?” Ariel pierced the silence following his introduction. “And?” “And... we were directed to a cave towards the Alpha bleaks where we could find the material to make... uhm... a Blob-proof varnish.” Flynn gulped, shuffling where he stood. “With a bit of help, we collected the material... came back... then Kepler began trade negotiations with a group of goblins. They're a guild who call themselves 'Chrome-Blooders,' with a leader named Plato. Plato's cool, and he's working with fellow tradies to build us a skiff... a small boat in exchange for their share of the varnish. They're gonna use the same stuff on our vessel so that it can safely pass over the ocean of muck due Curveside.” “Ach.” Kepler nodded. “But I am still in talks with Kirrbo of Smelt-Blood. With enough favorrs, they should be morre than willing to perrsuade the dihmerrs to assist us in crrossing the ocean.” “The dihmers?” Rainbow remarked. “Yeah—remember?” Flynn nodded. “The dihmers apparently have some... stationary abode situated out there beyond the slimy coast of that sea. Some... headquarters or waypoint or something. They regularly run transit back and forth on specially-varnished freight ships—to conduct trade here in Blobstain.” “Worrd is that they can also ferrry smallerr vessels on such frreighterrs,” Kepler added. “This can include our soon-to-be-built skiff.” “Thanks in no small part to Kepler's efforts, we will be piggybacking on the grace of the dihmers, the Chrome-Blooders, and the Smelt-Blooders,” Flynn said. “Hah!” Ariel smirked. “And who said generosity was dead!” Rainbow Dash glanced at an empty pocket of air, then at Ariel. “You'll never guess who you owe a cup of cider.” Clearing her throat, she looked at Flynn. “Well, that sounds pretty schnazzy jazzy, dudes. Anything else?” “Hmmm?” Flynn's good eye blinked. “Anything else worth reporting?” Rainbow asked. Logan glanced at Flynn. “Ahem...” Flynn leaned back casually. “That's... uh... that's about it, really.” Logan glanced back at Rainbow Dash. “Then... all things considered...” Rainbow folded her forelimbs and shared a nod with Wildcard. “...I'd say we're finally getting off on the right hoof.” “Yeah, except...” Logan stood up and sauntered towards the mare. “...there's one burning question.” “Yeah, Big Show? What's that?” His eyes narrowed. “....where's the murder turkey?” “... … ...” Rainbow blinked. Then turned around as she blinked. Then looked every which way as she blinked. “Huh. Sera... she was just—” “Yeah...” Ariel glanced all around. “Where the McFuzz?” Logan, Flynn, and Kepler exchanged curious glances. Wildcard stared into the torchlit ruins of the dihmer settlement. His talons remained still. “And so...!” Jacko smirked, smiling razor sharp teeth from ear to pointy ear. “I says to her: No! You have chicken mouth!” “Eugh...” One goblin rolled his eyes. “Oye!” Another shrugged past Jacko, pushing a cart full of rusty scrap down a narrow alleyway between crumbled buildings. “Get lost, Jacko, ya yobbo!” “Yer jokes are pure rubbish...” A third acted as the cart's fourth wheel, moving it towards the soot-stained destination. “Just like what's between yer legs!” “Hah hah hah!” “No jokes about eet, mate!” Jacko flung his arms out. “Thet's why the Metal Mum kicked me outta Peetra! The Queen just couldn't handle me wit! Or me good looks!” “Pffft! So she fancied you the Cog Court Jester, aye?” “Ees thet so hard to fathom, ya drongos?” Jacko winked coyly. “Eet's me mouth and not me hands that gave me the boot! One of these days—come dihmah pestilence or batso siege—I'm gonna make me triumpheent return!” “Pfft! Straight buggah'd by ya horse brickin', Jacko! You fell as hard as ya deed cuz yer a no-good Tail-Bloodah! Even by Fur Blood streeps, that's sad as Hell!” “I'm tellin' yous—I was a Cog Court elite once!” Jacko stood straight and a tall with a set of claws over his vested chest. “Honest to Peetra!” He spat on the ground and kicked dust at their departing shadows. “Not that yous keendled the flame for more than twenty seconds in yous lives ya bludgahs!” “Haah haah haah!” “Too right, Jacko, ya fartstain!” “Don't come the raw prawn with that shite!” “Let's go, cobbahs. Thees rust-o's won't earn streeps on their own.” “Hrmmfff...” Jacko slicked back hair that wasn't there and gave a shrug to his vest. “Theah hollin' theem scraps to the wrong tradies. But—for once, Jacko—you dun have to be a gentlemen.” He smirked as he turned around. “Just let 'eem find out on theah own.” His pointed nose bumped straight into a murderously sharp talon. “Gaaaah!” He hopped back, precariously balanced on one foot as he chopped at the air with trembling hands. “Guhhhh—” His large eyes reopened, and his ears drooped with relaxation. “Oh Metal Mum's Mammaries! It's you.” A sharp exhale, and he shrugged his vest again. “Well, bright shinies all around, pretty bird. Yer back! Deedja have much luck shakin' swords weeth Lexxic of the Batso's?” “... … ...” Seraphimus stood above him, but she couldn't bring herself to stare him straight in the face. Jacko leaned his head aside. “Deeeeeeed ya stab him in the groin and make off with that long-lost piece of Endrax or sometheen?” He chuckled at himself, eyes rolling as he raised a clawed finger. “I'm guessin' no.” “... … ...” Seraphimus paced past him in the decrepit alleyway. The beating of the ocean sent her feathers fluttering as she scraped to a stop. “... … … some time ago...” She hesitated. “Yeah, sheilah?” “... … ...y-you suggested that the imps of Petra might offer a great deal of strips for first-hand knowledge of Penumbra.” She cleared her throat. “Perhaps even sanctuary, if I'm not mistaken.” Jacko blinked. “Well...” He adjusted his collar with one hand while waving with the other. “...it's sometheen of a comet's toss, but not outside of the realm of possibility. Too right.” At last, she looked down at him, her hawkeyes softened by an ounce of pleading. “Is that still on the table...?”