A week had passed, and very few in Nightmaria felt subtle changes in the air. There was more cold in the wind and frost in the skies than usual, but because they never took issue with the weather, they didn't know why. The few who could were already anticipating as much, but even then, they still felt that weather manipulation was beneath them. It was a pity most of Nightmaria didn't know what was going on, and yet it was also fortunate that they remained ignorant—otherwise, all hell would have probably broken loose.
Preparations had been completed without delay, which satisfied King Cauchemar as he looked towards a sea vessel that had been built for the task of crossing the Ocean of Souls whenever it was needed. Behind him, Queen Phant and the six Champions had assembled along with the two personal guards, and behind them, some larger squadrons of Nightmarians—not enough to invade Equestria per se, but enough to keep tabs on things and guard him should things go pear-shaped.
The sea vessel wasn't bright or fanciful or frou-frou or… well, it wasn't gaudy, but instead, she was every bit as grim as the rest of Nightmaria. She favored mostly blacks and whites, and some reds for effect, with engines that emitted smoke and crackled with electricity, humming with warmth and power. She did not emit so much smoke as to be on fire, but enough to fill the funnels that released the exhaust skyward. On her side, in deepest scarlet, were painted the words Grim Glory. Hidden very well along both of her sides thanks to the coloration rested several armaments and cannons, more as a just-in-case than anything. Currently, the hatches for those armaments and cannons were closed, concealing them from the world.
King Cauchemar grinned slightly as he beheld the Grim Glory. She wasn't the tallest, strongest, or toughest sea vessel his forces could muster, but for the job he had in mind she would do just fine. It helped that her gangplank had been lowered, and that Nightmarians were loading her with the heavier things that couldn't be carried magically. He realized that the Equestrians might consider her a warship, and while they wouldn't be further from the truth on that front, he did prepare himself to explain it away as a diplomatic vessel should they prove to be paranoid—this ship had served such a purpose in the past after all, to other nations. How else would Nightmaria have grown as big as she did now?
Once the necessities were stowed away, he turned to Queen Phant and trotted over to exchange some tender nuzzles with her. "I'll expect to be away for at least a number of weeks, if not more, my beautiful Queen," he said, still smiling softly. The Champions, save for Rainy Parade and Redsky Morning, politely turned away from the sight. The personal guards did so as well. "Hopefully they won't make me tour Equestria for useless intel."
"And hopefully this shouldn't be any different from other nations you've visited… at first," Queen Phant said in return with her nuzzles, wearing a seemingly sweet smile that belied a cruel edge. "I shall watch over Nightmaria with our most trusted guards while you and the Champions are away."
"I pity those who would think to attack while I am in foreign lands," King Cauchemar said, his smile widening. Queen Phant giggled, and the two pulled away from one another. She trotted away with Trypo and Nocti falling in step behind her, and with that the King and his force turned to board the sea vessel.
It was at that moment that Anopheli chose to make herself known once again, trundling up the port and making a beeline for Arachno. "So… you're headed for another nation again," she said, smirking the teensiest bit. Arachno scoffed, but said nothing. "Oh come now, open up and tell me what—"
"I can't, Anopheli," Arachno said through grit teeth. She gestured to Cauchemar. "He's right there and he'd kill me if I told you."
Anopheli sighed. "Normally, you're not this tight-lipped," she said bluntly. "Are you mad you'll have to be a diplomat again? Is that it?"
Arachno shook her head. "This time, to blowhards who don't deserve it," she said, once more through clenched teeth. "Truly, genuinely, one-hundred-and-ten-percent do not deserve it."
Anopheli nodded, seeing that she wasn't going to get much out of her sister. "Be sure to give them their dues, whatever they did to earn it," she said with a smirk. Arachno snorted, and trotted off when she saw the other Champions and the King were trotting onto the gangplank. She didn't even wave Anopheli goodbye, but she knew her sister was waving back to her anyway. As the gangplank retracted and all were assembled, King Cauchemar looked out towards his Queen, who waved a hoof as the ship bellowed to announce her departure from the dock. He waved back with a smile.
He could sense some of his force's eyes watching as Nightmaria vanished into the distance, almost as though the nation faded into fog. And in a way, it had—for mist rose up from the Ocean of Souls, and coupled with the ceaseless storms, proved to be a daunting prospect for any other seafaring vessel. But the Grim Glory was prepared to take this onslaught head-on, just as she had done so in the past—she was fitted with the finest technology that Nightmaria could have asked for, which would prove just as invaluable for this trip as it had for countless others.
Even now, all those aboard could hear the ghastly wailing, faint though it was, that rose from the splashing waves—the wailing of those who could not finish their journey so long ago. Hearing it made most of the crew shudder, even though they were intimately familiar with the echoing noise by now.
The ship shook as lightning struck one of the funnels, wrapping around it briefly before dissipating. Fortunately, all the strike did was scorch the outside a little and nothing more. The crew ignored the tremors as they went away, as they ignored the rocking and tilting of the vessel, because out here such was simply sea life.
In fact, the crew was going to and fro, doing various tasks. Guiding the vessel, keeping watch over the stern and deck, making sure the supplies wouldn't fall over and cause a mess, and so forth. Some pondered over what Equestria would be like compared to other nations, especially in comparison to the days of old, when bloodshed and brutality briefly had its stint in the ancestral land. Others formed contingencies and backup plans, more to keep their minds from growing bored than any actual necessities. Others still kept to themselves, hoping to minimize interactions that they found unnecessary and useless.
For the first three days at sea, all was relatively quiet aboard the Grim Glory, save for those relaying orders to the other Nightmarians in different parts of the vessel to steer the ship and so forth. The Champions didn't see fit to issue any orders to anyone, seemingly stricken with boredom as everyone else. Instead, they lounged in their quarters, save for the brief instances where they crossed paths in their boredom. As much as the Champions wanted to chew each other out for any slights real and perceived, even they would have rather kept the boat intact—they were pretty certain the Ocean of Souls was a one-way trip downward if their usual antics flared up.
That, and they didn't want to face the wrath of their King should said antics cause the boat to capsize. There would be no way he would let them live it down otherwise. Thus, whatever fights had managed to occur on board were kept only to dark oaths and sworn promises to inflict suffering, however minimal it was. But the other Nightmarians did pause and listen, with the closer ones turning their heads wherever spats broke out, if only to postpone the monotony for a moment or so.
The only two Champions who kept to themselves to the point that they didn't run into their fellows were Agora, and Rainy Parade. Agora saw no need; there was no changing the course of fate now, so she simply stayed in her room and had food brought to it. Rainy Parade did likewise, though for entirely different reasons—for within the confines of her own mind, a sort of debate raged on.
Well, to call it a debate was being overly generous. It was more idle bickering than anything else. Multiple facets of her, each with a distortion of her own voice that she had tried to heed, bubbled up to the forefront of her thoughts and just began jabbering among themselves. Long ago, she couldn't hear them at all, but that was before everything turned on its head and birthed the mare she was now.
These days, aboard the vessel, they were particularly chatty. In her mind's eye, she could see herself three times, but each pseudo-clone had a different hue and a different expression that was perpetually glued to their faces. The yellow one, wearing a big and cheery grin with eyes that still sparkled with some lingering shred of innocence, was the most chatty of all. "Do you think we could make friends in Equestria?" she asked, her tone far more animate and alive than she would ever be caught dead with.
"Don't be ridiculous, Happy Parade," the light blue pseudo-clone said, her voice even drearier and mournful than her living counterpart. "They… they could just as easily reject us, when they learn what we're really like." Her already sad expression twisted into something that seemed hurt by something which hadn't happened yet, and had a chance to not occur at all.
"All the better to show them what we're really like, so they leave us alone!" the red pseudo-clone said, hellfire in her eyes that seemed to brighten her red sheen considerably. "Our ancestors deserve justice for what happened so long ago!"
Despite her grin, Happy Parade was not oblivious to the travesties and tragedies of Nightmarian history. And despite that lingering shred of innocence to which she clung, she was well aware—almost painfully so—of the current state of affairs. Even then, the smile never faded or dulled, a trait most Nightmarians would have found annoying and scoffed at. "But what if they atone, and don't reject us?" she posed, looking at the other two intently. "Angry Parade, Sad Parade, I understand where you're coming from—I mean, we all had those history classes way back in school. But just for once, ask yourselves what you would do if the Equestrians made an effort to right the wrongs of the past?"
For a while, a long and uncomfortable while, Angry Parade and Sad Parade sat in silence, stewing over Happy Parade's legitimate query. "It would depend on what efforts they went to, and how successful those efforts are," Rainy said to all three, causing them to stew some more in contemplation. "But we have to bear in mind that we're not the only ones who'd judge those efforts."
Angry Parade crossed her front hooves, ears twitching and alert as she processed this. "The other blowhards, right?" she snapped.
"And not just them, but the King," Happy Parade chimed in, putting a hoof to her chin. "And maybe the Queen, now that I think about it."
"And the Equestrians themselves, depending on how sorry they feel over it," Sad Parade pointed out, shaking her head. Her perpetually-drooped ears fell further still, almost completely pinned against the back of her head.
"If they feel sorry at all," Angry Parade scoffed, nostrils flaring briefly. "Call it a hunch, but I don't think they're going to, not even once."
"And why would they? For all they know, we were most likely left out of their history books altogether. And besides, given that they wield the so-called 'Elements of Harmony,' I'm fairly certain they wouldn't see their ancestors' actions as their own," Rainy added, sighing through her nostrils as she contemplated her own point. It was reality, a cruel and bitter reality of all societies—no matter who did the wrongs to begin with, their descendants wouldn't want anything to do with those wrongs, much less with actively righting them somehow. She could argue the logistics of the sins of forefathers, but she had long ago realized that it was an exercise in futility.
"That makes it even more important, if we were left out of Equestrian history altogether," Angry Parade argued, the fire in her eyes burning more brightly as she spoke. "Someone has to remind them, and if the King won't do it, then we will."
Rainy Parade sighed. Sometimes, there was just no point in arguing with Angry Parade. While she was ready to admit that her point was sound, it was also currently unfounded and with no leg to stand on. She would have to see the Equestrian history books herself before making any final judgements, which would probably be a fair amount to ask for. "So have we decided on a course of action?" she asked, to which the trio looked at each other and then nodded when they turned back to her.
"Simple: we head to Equestria, ask if they know their sins, and go from there…" Angry Parade glowered a little, teeth grinding as she muttered, "And not let the King find out."
Rainy Parade nodded. "Precisely. But we must also account for any atonement, and the efforts thereof." And with that, silence returned to her quarters, as all four had a clear destination in mind.
Pity that the other Nightmarians would never be privy to such a discussion. They would have potentially compromised things if they had.
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It was also a pity that the other four Champions ended up crossing paths at the same time, in the same hall no less. Almost immediately, animosity broke out, and the snark went flying a mile a minute. The few other crewhooves of the vessel who were in proximity stopped once again, eyes watching the fireworks with rapt attention.
Broken Mirror kicked things off, snorting, scraping a hoof, eyes narrowed and burning. "Darn it all! Why do you jackholes have to be out the same time I do?!" she roared, shifting her glare about as though she wasn't certain who she should charge down first. The gesture was returned by the other three, and the snort was echoed with military accuracy.
Nycto scoffed, but instead of frowning, she wore a sickly smile that dripped in poisoned sweetness. "Gee, I don't know," she began in derisive mocking, "but maybe it's because I have better things to be doing than paying attention to all of you miserable piles of horse manure."
"Oh, that's rich, coming from the mare with more bits than sense," Arachno hissed, wearing a positively diabolical smile as she regarded Nycto with all the hate she could muster from her being. And being a Champion of Nightmaria meant she had a lot of it to go around. "What's the matter, gonna blow those bits on stupid stuff—oh, I know, another mansion because you don't have enough of those to go around already!"
"For your information, I would love to have your head above one of my fireplaces, and besides, everything will be mine anyway. So you'd better hope you go out swinging," Nycto hissed, her smile becoming a mite strained as she said that.
Redsky Morning fired off at Arachno, "Oh, so the craziest of all of us wants a go at the snobbiest Nightmarian that nobody likes? Let me get a piece of this and I'll spare you, y'know!"
"You spare nothing from your machinations, Redsky! If I had my way, you'd all be dead right now, and I'd be stuffing your bodies for the newest training dummies to pummel on!" Broken Mirror snapped, eyes narrowing dangerously low.
"The same could be said for you, y'know!" Redsky fired back, ears twitching as her hooves scraped the floor once again. "If I had my way, you'd be a bright red—"
"Oh please, you couldn't turn me into paste if you tried," Broken Mirror hissed, tail lashing as fire crackled around her hooves.
Agora trotted past them in silence, and for a brief moment, the other four turned to glare at her. She glared back, but did not entertain them with any response; she just kept on going as though the petty spat wasn't worth her time. The other Nightmarians who were watching let her come and go as she pleased, and soon enough she was out of sight. Once she had departed, the spat promptly resumed where it had left off.
"A smear? Decapitation? Please, I could just obliterate you all and come up with a perfect name for your disappearances," Arachno hissed, her cruel smile widening.
"Now there's a fine idea… in fact, the only fine idea you've ever posed, Arachno," Nycto said, her own smile widening. "I could make you vanish into thin air… take over your positions… become the de facto Champion of everything…" Her eyes twinkled with delightfully woeful mirth as ideas span in her head. "And from there…"
"Oh put a plug in it, you're nothing but all bark and no bite," Broken Mirror scoffed. "So why haven't you offed us yet? What's holding you back? Guilt? Compassion?" She leaned in until she was almost snout to snout with Nycto and muttered in a low voice, "Enlighten us, priss."
Nycto shoved her back with a firm hoof, her smile becoming fixed again. "Guilt, compassion… those, and other emotions, are meaningless. You should focus more of your efforts on growing your wealth, accruing possessions, building influence… because how can you have it all otherwise?"
Broken Mirror shook her head. "Unlike your stuck-up flank, I'm not greedy," she spat.
"But at least I admit it," Nycto replied, smirking insufferably. "Unlike you."
Broken Mirror rose a hoof, intending to strike when someone decided to intervene. "Enough!" roared a voice that caused the bickering to screech to a halt. The four Champions turned to find King Cauchemar glaring at them, and at once they shuffled into a line and shut up. "If you cannot tolerate one another, then return to your quarters at once," he said, far less loudly once he was sure he had their attention. "Do I make myself clear?"
The four bowed and uttered a reluctant, "Yes, Your Highness," in tandem.
"Good. Dismissed," King Cauchemar said. With that, the four shot one more glare at each other and broke up to return to their quarters. When they were out of sight, the King shook his head and turned to the other Nightmarians. "Back to your duties, all of you. We have a nation to visit," he ordered. At once, Nightmarians nodded and filtered out of the hall to do as they were bid, lest they anger the King.
Once he was alone in the hallway, he too turned away to return to his quarters. He did have things to plan after all, and they weren't going to write themselves out. It was a meticulous thing, the endgame was, and every step had to count for something. He knew his Champions were eventually going to ask questions about it, but they would not be privy to the details just yet—better keep it to his vest for now, so he could account for outside factors and lap around them accordingly.
Besides, with the constant squabbling, the Champions' antics could very well threaten what he had in mind. As effective as they were individually, he was no fool to their spats—it was the stuff of legends back home. He really did not want them to jeopardize his machinations.
There would be a time to tell them, of course. It wasn't now, but what will happen shall, he swore. It was only a matter of time.
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The hustle and bustle of Manehattan was alive and well. Ponies trotted through the roads, hauling carriages, tending ships, trading stocks and the works. For a while, nothing remotely interesting happened. It wasn't until somepony sighted something from the skies did the hustle and bustle pick up, albeit now heading for the docks where the ships were kept.
From afar, they could see the Grim Glory closing in, a dark harbinger of things to come, and as out of place as a fire salamander in a land of cotton candy and gigantic sweets. Important ponies clamored about, chatting about the potential significance of such a vessel. As the ship drew closer and closer, they started to make out her details. The chatter rose to a deafening din; they could tell the vessel was foreign, since she wasn't nearly as bright and pastel as their own seafaring ships—though whose foreign vessel she was, they didn't know.
Though, soon enough the questions would answer themselves. The unfamiliar ship docked, lowered the gangplank, and a troop of armed Nightmarians came out, though they only held spears and swords for the time being. Accompanied by them was the King, and flanking him were the Champions, who affected expressions of disinterest. Most ponies had to look up and up to see the King's eyes, for he practically towered over them.
King Cauchemar looked around, trying to see something in the crowd—something with intellect and a rather discerning taste. He wanted to deal with the crowd, and restrained the urge to light his hooves when he saw somepony in a blue three-piece suit shouldering through the throng and making a beeline directly towards him.
He took a look at that pony's features; he seemed as stalwart as they could come, about a head taller than most of the other Equestrians, with a bulky frame to match. And unlike most of his fellows, he had a grey coat and a dark grey mane, which served to make him more easily discernible than his pastel-colored fellows. "And who might you be?" the pony asked as soon as he finished shouldering past the throng; there was no malice or sneer in his voice, King Cauchemar noted—nothing but genuine curiosity.
He cleared his throat, and that caused the din to die down. "I am King Cauchemar of Nightmaria," he said, his voice carrying over the crowd, even though he was pretty sure he wasn't doing anything to amplify it or tamper with the wind. "And I have urgent business with the rulers of this land."
Urgent business? That made the crowd start chattering again. The grey pony in the suit nodded. "And you would not spare even a moment to meet ponies in our beloved Manehattan, who could arrange for an airship to guide you to Canterlot?" he asked.
King Cauchemar contemplated this. Well, these guys were practically rolling out the red carpet for him and his entourage. It would be rude not to take it. "As I am… unfamiliar with these lands, I believe it would be best if I could meet these important ponies," he said after a moment. "Take me to them, if you please." He lifted a hoof, sensing the Champions starting to mutter behind him—instantly, the six hushed up and watched as the hoof lowered again, slowly, almost delicately.
The pony in the suit nodded. "That, I can arrange, but we will have to hail for a deluxe carriage that can hold everypony," he said, smiling a little—not out of malice, the Champions noticed, but rather genuine good will that they didn't know what to do with. "Fortunately, I thought to bring one with me in advance—you never know when such a thing will be needed."
"Excellent," King Cauchemar said, flashing a small but genuine smile of his own. "Please, lead the way." With that, the pony in the three-piece suit turned to lead the entourage through the throng, which parted to let them through. The Equestrians looked at the Champions and their King and guard with some measure of reverence and wonder, discussing amongst themselves what their surprise visit might entail for all of Equestria.
Fools, the whole lot of them. They didn't know what machinations the Nightmarians had abound; that being said, King Cauchemar was willing to let them keep that blissful ignorance for a while longer—all the better to catch them off-guard with. He turned his head to glimpse the city they were in; tall skyscrapers lined with glass dotted the cityscape, with nary an actual house to be seen much of anywhere. The roads were concrete, and somewhat hot to the touch on this fine sunny day, but not so uncomfortable as to actively necessitate flight.
Within moments, they were led to a carriage that could hold everypony. Their escort turned to the drivers of the carriage and said, "To Manehattan Airway, please." The drivers nodded and waited until all were boarded, and took off at the first opportunity, galloping down the road with grace and agility. Within the carriage was an assortment of seats, and a few ice-laden buckets of wine, brandy and martini glasses.
The King and his Champions didn't indulge in the wine and brandy of course, instead taking a moment to regard the cityscape outside. It seemed blissful, almost idyllic, without even a token hint of crime to be seen anywhere. The streets were pristine, whatever trees that could be spotted were green and healthy, and everypony trotted about seemingly without care.
King Cauchemar took a closer look at the passing buildings; not one of them seemed to be fortified for much of anything. Sure, they looked sturdy, but he knew better than most that appearances could deceive. A good battering from anything strong enough to shake down whole buildings could potentially topple the skyscrapers easily. Alternatively, they could potentially withstand a lot of abuse before coming down like a house of cards.
Furthermore, there was the carefree attitude of the ponies themselves. Many were healthy, but the Nightmarians would be hard-pressed, hesitant even, to call them fighting fit. They looked like the type to run and scramble and hide and pray the second things went wrong. Perhaps it was the carefree nature with which they carried themselves, or maybe it was the lack of crime in the streets. Whatever it was that contributed to this lack of alertness, they didn't know.
Sure, it might've been better for them when the endgame was in sight, but for all they knew there could have been a few do-gooders and heroes in the mix, hiding in broad daylight. In addition, they could see a few police ponies scattered around here and there, watching for any signs of foul play.
"Care for some brandy?" their escort asked. King Cauchemar snapped out of his reverie and shook his head.
"Not now, but perhaps later," the King replied politely. The escort nodded and set a clear glass bottle sloshing with a brownish liquid down into an iced bucket.
"Are you, perhaps, enjoying the sights Manehattan has to offer?" the escort asked.
King Cauchemar turned back to the window and idly nodded. "It's… different from what I am used to," he admitted. Better that than a lie, he wagered. "Almost… peaceful."
The cityscape continued to pass them by in relative silence. Hours seemed to pass as the Nightmarians sat there, regarding the passing buildings and trees. Their escort noted they seemed to have a sense of wonder shining in their eyes, almost childlike in nature, except for the fact that they didn't ask too many questions about Manehattan. If anything, they seemed to be studying it, and he figured he'd let them have the luxury, the pitiless fool.
Eh, he could worry about those details later. Right now, he had important ponies to meet. And it seemed to be sooner than any would have expected, too—he and his entourage were being carried to an airstrip of sorts, laden with airships boasting purples and golds. The largest one had its gangplank already open, and tromping down it was another entourage that heralded a finely-dressed unicorn stallion in silken garbs.
The carriage came to a halt before the airship with the open gangplank. "Manehattan Airway!" the drivers announced.
The pony that led them on smiled, opened the door, hopped out and trotted over to the finely-dressed stallion in silken garbs. The entourage took the hint, filed through that same door, and arranged themselves neatly into a line to do it, though they let the King go first because of the pecking order that had been established long before the Champions were born. They all trotted up to the gangplank, but did not board it just yet, instead letting their escort talk to the unicorn stallion first to see if he would grant them permission to board.
"Yes, Earl Rigid Adherence… it seems we have more diplomats who wish to meet up with the Princesses," the escort said. "Came from a land called Nightmaria, in a ship unlike any I had seen before."
Rigid Adherence slowly nodded and sighed. "And let me guess, they want to discuss trade routes and the like," he said.
The escort shook his head. "Funnily enough, they mentioned nothing of the sort," he replied.
Rigid Adherence's face hardened. "Did they talk much at all?" he pressed.
The escort shook his head again. "They weren't particularly chatty, but they didn't indulge in wine and brandy, either. The way they carried themselves… it said that their business was particularly urgent, even if they didn't say much of anything," he answered. "Whatever that is, I can only guess."
King Cauchemar heard Arachno whisper behind him, "Did we really give ourselves away that easily?" He shook his head to answer, careful to keep his face neutral as the escort and Rigid Adherence talked some more. After a few minutes, the two broke apart and turned to them, with the escort trotting back with a cheery grin on his face as he reached the herd of waiting Nightmarians.
"Apologies about that; the Earl required a bit of convincing," the escort said, lifting a hoof to gesture to the gangplank. Behind him, the Earl in question turned and made to trot back into the airship with haste. "Right this way." He turned and led the Nightmarians onto the airship, where inside a fanciful lounge awaited them. It had ottomans, a ceiling painted to look like the night sky, a table and some couches also painted to match the theme.
At the table, having shed his silken robes, Earl Rigid Adherence motioned the group to sit down with him. The King and his Champions complied, while their guard retinue opted to remain standing. "So, let us get down to business," the Earl said, smiling. "Whatever brings you to Equestria?"
King Cauchemar affected a smile of his own, making sure not to show teeth. He figured he could play charades for a bit, if for nothing else than to keep the Equestrians' blissful ignorance over his true plans in effect for a while longer. "I wish to establish trade relations with Equestria." He lifted a hoof before one of his Champions could speak, wordlessly telling them to hush up for now. "Of course, it might prove a bit… difficult."
"I see… and what do you have on offer that Equestria doesn't?" the Earl asked, tilting his head a little.
"A special metal scarcely found elsewhere—lightweight, durable, magically conductive if used properly, black as the coldest of nights in its purest form and as strong as the finest platinum-steel," King Cauchemar began, leaking some measure of pride into his voice. "Orichalcum is the name for this metal; it is abundant in Nightmaria, and used for everything one could think of there."
Rigid Adherence nodded. "And what about when the orichalcum is smelted into an alloy?" he asked.
King Cauchemar kept his cool smile as he replied, "It is more of a greyish tint when smelted together with steel and platinum, but no less weaker than its base components. If anything, it seems to strengthen best when smelted with the purest platinum, at the cost of gaining a heavier weight, which could prove detrimental if used to craft armor."
"Excellent. And where in your country is the orichalcum mined?" Rigid Adherence pressed.
King Caucemar replied smoothly, "It is mined in the Last Bastion, a mountain range to the north of Nightmaria's capital city, Nightmandiavia. It is cold up there, so only the best gear is required to actively mine the metal. We hope to share this precious metal with Equestria, but do be warned—we hold it in high esteem, and only trade it with those who treat it with the utmost respect."
Rigid Adherence grinned. "I shall swear by the Princesses, that if we do establish trade routes with your kingdom, the orichalcum will be held in the highest regard," he said, with no malice or shiftiness in his tone.
King Cauchemar nodded. "Excellent," he said. "The poor fool…" he thought to himself. "He still has yet to figure out what we're really here for…"