//------------------------------// // Second Offensive: 7 - When Friendships Fracture // Story: Into the Storm: The Flight of Firefly // by Firesight //------------------------------// Dear readers, whether Nightborne or Highborne, pony or gryphon: ‘Tis Fell Flight Speaking now, offering one last entry before Oberen and I leave for Nova Ocelota. There are times that writing for this work has had great cathartic value for all of us; even over difficult topics and for long-suffering ponies like General Rock Biter. But there are others where ‘tis simply ripping open old wounds, forcing us to relive things we do not wish to. This, unfortunately, is one of the latter cases for both myself and the Captain. In truth, Firefly and I have been up all night sharing a jug of rum—cheap liquor and not their good label, as ‘tis not an occasion where we deserve to drink anything more than bottom-barrel as we pen this latest entry. In writing this, we have also been reminiscing about what utter foals we were the day after the duel between Thunderbolt and Gavian. How we were willing to throw away our friendship and honor in what can only be described as a moment of absolute idiocy, and perchance even dooming all of Captain Typhoon’s carefully cultivated efforts to bring the bat-ponies into the war on our side. The General himself is sleeping right now. He is with his comrades out in the town square under a starry but chilly sky; they will sound reveille in an hour, and we will join them then for a ‘soldier’s breakfast’ of standard Equestrian Army rations—a half-pound of hay, a measure of molasses, and some tepid tea along with whatever wildflowers or edible roots might be found in the area. Pegasi—and bat-ponies—used different foodstuffs for the purpose of keeping soldiers fed, but ‘tis of little concern now. ‘Tis simply an expression of solidarity as the General continues to retrace his wartime steps. He promises he will relate the second action of his Daisy regiment after breakfast; from what some of his old subordinates said, included in that tale is how his old regiment earned its nickname.  Rock Biter himself hasn’t said much about it yet, except that the next gryphon attack went in just after dawn and that the Imperials nearly won the day by ‘using an old pegasus trick’ against them. Methinks I have a guess as to what he means, but I will refrain from voicing it as ‘tis not my story to tell. We have generally tried to write these accounts in chronological order, which ‘twould normally mean that the General would relate his tale first, given the gryphons struck at sunrise whilst the confrontation between myself and the Captain happened in the late afternoon. Unfortunately, as Oberen and I intend to go to bed following breakfast and then leave at dusk for our destination, describing our confrontation cannot wait. —First Lieutenant Fell Flight (ret.) Thestral High Emissary Thestral Enclave Canterlot A Sister's Choice I returned to the Loyalty from leave in the late afternoon following a few fitful hours of sleep, an unenjoyed breakfast and spending the rest of the day seeing to the ongoing care and safety of my sisters. After some discussion over tea with Morning Glory, who agreed with me that they should not stay in our old house full of nothing but pain and empty rooms, I visited our longtime neighbor, Divine Wind, and politely asked him to take in my siblings. To my relief, he and his Neighponese herd immediately agreed, and once our younger sisters had awoken, we set about to moving their possessions over into their guest room. They would have to share it, but ‘twas a minor price to pay for escaping the misery to be found in our herd’s old house. Morning Glory promised me she would see to selling the old homestead and giving proper honor to our lost family. But she turned pensive and strangely reluctant when I told her to stay with our sisters and help rebuild the weather factory, as ‘twas certain experienced workers would be needed to do so. When I asked her what was wrong, she shocked me one final time by standing up straight and announcing her intention to enlist in the Aerial Corps. She was not the only one, as Divine Wind’s oldest son, Banzai, spoke up in support of her, saying he wished to join the Corps and fight the gryphons as the “duty and honor of our homeland requires!” But I cared less about that than trying to convince her not to. Our two teenage sisters joined the effort, saying it was hard enough having to say goodbye to me again, but they could not bear the thought of losing both of us after suffering the deaths of the rest of our herd. But Glory remained adamant, saying Equestria needed her more as a soldier than a civilian weather worker. “But you’re not a warrior!” I protested at one point. “You hate fighting!” “You’re right. I’m not like you, Fell Flight. I don’t want to fight or kill. I’d much rather stay here working to rebuild the Weather Factory with our family. But our family is gone, and I can’t bear the thought of you fighting this war alone. Equestria needs soldiers, and I now know I can be one. So I will.” She stood to passable attention and saluted me; I couldn’t help but reflexively return the honor. “Private Morning Glory reporting for duty, Master Sergeant!” “Oh, Glory…” I hugged her, hard. We both broke down and sniffled; our embrace was shortly joined by my other two sisters. “Where did you learn to be so stubborn and stupid?” “From you,” she told me with a smile. “From a big sister I admire immensely and wish to help defend Equestria.” ‘Twas then I realized that there was nothing I could say or do that would dissuade her, for I would not be dissuaded in her place. Perchance such stubbornness was something we had both inherited from our beloved sire, but in the end, it mattered little. Her mind was made up, and ‘twas not my place to forbid it. ‘Twas little else to do at that point but wish her well and take flight with my sisters for the Loyalty, where I would part with them for what I feared would be the final time. And so does my role in relating this tale end, as the Captain wishes to pen the section to follow by herself. Not out of any enjoyment of it, but ‘tis simply a duty she feels she must carry out alone. ‘Tis certain we have both been avoiding it for long enough. So now that the scene is set, I will gladly surrender the quill to her and thank her for relating the tale in my place. I will conclude by saying I had been only half-serious when I told Glory she was stubborn but stupid, and she replied in the same vein by claiming she got it from me. Methinks I had no idea that within but a few short minutes of reaching the Loyalty, ‘twould be me and not her who would live up to that moniker. —Fell Flight For what ‘tis worth, I cannot disagree with your sister’s statement. But your willingness to stand up and fight for your stallions ‘tis one of the reasons I love you, my stubborn but stupid half-Highborne herdmare. —Major Opal Oberon (Nightborne Army, ret.) Methinks you will pay for that tonight, Major! But methinks you will also enjoy it as well... —Fell Flight You and me both on the question of being stubborn but stupid, First Lieutenant. Though ‘tis certain Stormrunner would be far more circumspect about calling me such a thing! —Firefly Well, methinks I normally wouldn’t say it to your face, my wife! But just as you called me out for my idiocy in challenging Centurion Neal to a duel in the middle of our Epsilon evacuation, methinks ‘tis only fitting I do you the same service here: So let it be said that you were both stubborn and stupid this day, and for what it nearly cost us, we were very lucky the Captain found a way to turn it to our advantage for the sake of our eventual alliance with the Nightborne. —Stormrunner Thank you for rubbing salt in my wound, my beloved but blunt stallion. Methinks you will not be enjoying my company tonight. —Firefly Quite all right. Methinks Blindside will! —Stormrunner Sickbay EAS Loyalty Cloudsdale Central District Airship Anchorage, outside City Hall Over South Flank of Foal Mountains, inside northern Thestralslovakia September 5th, 1139 AE 1750 hours I had been up all night for the fourth time in six days.  Methinks my patience and temper were at their ends; my fuse lit like one of the conventional cannonballs shot from the airship's upper gun decks. My night following the duel between Gavian and Thunderbolt had been spent first waiting outside the operating room, followed by sitting at Gavian’s bedside as he lay before me unmoving; his burns and myriad injuries only partially hidden by the many bandages and glowing magical thread that closed his stab and slash wounds. He was not out of danger and would not be for some time. Worse, Still Way could no longer assist, having completely exhausted his power. We had asked so much of him over the first four days of war, from a ten-mile teleport to taking on two gryphon mages at once to mimicking the ship when we attempted to sneak inside the bat-pony borders.  He had spared what little power for Gavian he had left, maintaining his healing aura until it—and he—collapsed from magical exhaustion. He had to be levitated by the healers and taken to another room to sleep; he would require several days of convalescence and minimal magic use before he could finally regain his strength and restore his depleted aura. The withdrawal of that aura left Gavian’s life in grave danger; ‘tis not a slur against the Naval healers to say that they were simply not as powerful or skilled as Still Way. ‘Twas certain I wanted to save my son. I desperately wanted to do something other than stay by his side, but there was little I could do—except, as my increasingly dark mood was demanding, finish the job he had started by slaying Thunderbolt.  The Captain had laid out his rationale for sparing him and having him duel Gavian, and as a purely military calculation, it did make sense. He had also promised me that Gavian’s will to live was strong, but that seemed an empty oath as Gavian hovered on the brink of death before me—doubly so whilst Thunderbolt grotesquely got better.  I knew what was likely to happen to me if I went after him; I knew I was already in very thin air with Captain Typhoon over our earlier arguments. But as I stared at my son’s broken form, unable to do more than be there for him, my fury at Thunderbolt and the Captain only grew. By night’s end, in fact, methinks ‘twas only the thin thread of my imparted military discipline and the fact that Gavian still lived that stayed my wingblades. Unfortunately, another piece of shocking news was about to be delivered; one that would serve to push both me and Fell Flight past our breaking points. ‘Twas late morning when father finally visited me in sickbay, having just returned from overnight negotiations with the Nightborne. I regret I do not recall what he said about it, for all I can remember is the terrible piece of news he bore, which the Loyalty had only then received by the bridge communications station, relayed by the Admiral in Canterlot: My sister was alive, having survived the Imperial Wind Knight raid on Fort Spur. But Sergeant Major Windshear, my beloved mentor and first true father figure, was dead. Fallen Father The message was contained in a missive from my sister and mother, who I later learned had donned her Black Lance combat gear and led a civilian rescue force into the Fort, saving not just my sister, but all the hard-pressed Guardspony trainers and recruits. Wind Whistler told me he had sacrificed himself heroically to kill the Talaeus raid commander as well as destroy a fire tornado that their mages had somehow generated, plunging into the inferno with her to tear the vortex apart from within. There was no surviving such a suicidal yet awe-provoking act. Had Gavian not taken a sudden turn for the worse, I might have been more proud of my mentor’s incredible honor and courage. But such thoughts were lost as the healers were forced to attend him yet again, taking him behind closed doors mid-afternoon as they tried to keep his faltering heart from failing completely. After so many losses and so much bad news, ‘twas simply the last straw in the hay bale for me. I had stood down for the duel. I had been forced to watch as my son fought a bloody battle he should never have been forced to. And now, he stood on the brink of death as his opponent ‘twas said to be recovering. ‘Twas obscenely unfair to me, and at that moment, all I wanted to do was fight something, and I didn’t care what—or who—it was. ‘Twas then that an equally haggard Fell Flight arrived. She all but stormed into the infirmary, looking for Thunderbolt, blood from when she was carrying him still present on her light blue combat uniform. But the first thing she saw instead was me. “Commander.” She gave me a terse nod as she saw the narrowing of my eyes. Methinks she was about to step past me into the other room when she remembered: “How is Gavian?” “And what in all the flames of Tartarus do you care?” I asked her angrily, believing her concern for him was but an afterthought. “His heart falters and may fail at any moment! He’s dying whilst Thunderbolt lives!” Methinks my rage only grew when I saw her features relax fractionally at the news her mentor was out of danger. “Gavian will survive,” she told me blandly. “Still Way is with him.” “Still Way lies unconscious in the next room, having exhausted all his power!” I snarled at her, causing her to flinch. “I hold Thunderbolt and you responsible for this, Master Sergeant! You encouraged this! You backed this insane plan of the Captain and sacrificed my son in favor of a mass-murdering monster!”  Methinks the growl that escaped Fell Flight’s throat would have done a Timberwolf proud. But to her credit, she swallowed the explosion that threatened to escape her and answered me properly, at least momentarily controlling her temper. “With all due respect, Commander, the purpose of the duel was to save both Gavian and Thunderbolt! And your son agreed to the terms, even knowing what the price could be!” “Because you encouraged him, and for what? To save the life of a war criminal?” I got in her face. “A pony who neither obeys orders nor shows even the slightest shred of honor?” I heard the entry of the outside sentries at that moment, telling us both to step away, but I cared not.  “How dare you!” Fell Flight’s wings flared in ire as I’d already seen those of the bat-ponies often did; methinks she was either doing so instinctively or had already picked up the gesture from them. “You know not of what you speak! He honorably taught hundreds of foals to fly, including me and Blindside! He fought off the gryphons single-wingedly and saved countless lives at the Weather Factory, including that of my beloved sister! He is my mentor, and I will not let you slander his name!” “Hey!” The head unicorn healer, Senior Starpony Nightingale, stepped out of the surgery room and called to us; methinks she was just as sleepless and short-tempered as us after having stayed up all night trying to save two critically wounded patients. “That will do! This is my sickbay, and ‘tis certain you are no longer welcome in it! So get out, both of you!”  She tried to eject us with her aura, but I stood fast; my flight magic keeping me anchored to the very air. To my surprise, Fell Flight duplicated my feat—just as her body had gotten far stronger under my tutelage, so had her flight and weather magic.  “I’ll leave when she does,” Fell Flight replied shortly, stepping between me and the door to Thunderbolt’s room. “Right now, she is a threat to Thunderbolt, and I will not let her near him!” “You and what army, Master Sergeant?” I growled back, earning a hiss. “You’ve never been a match for me before, so what makes you think you are now? Though you do make a good point—methinks I should slay that monster, for Gavian will never be safe as long as he lives!” Fell Flight lowered her head and snorted. “You… will… not… touch him!” Several sentries tried to grab us next, but we flung them away hard into opposite walls. “I don’t want to touch him! I want to kill him!” I stated openly as more guards and even some nearby Corps soldiers filed in; they called to us repeatedly but we heard nothing except each other. “Kill him and I’ll kill you! And if you think I can’t, try me!” Fell Flight shouted back through bared teeth; I swore the glow of her dilated cat eyes intensified in that moment to become visible even in broad daylight. “I’ll sacrifice my career and my life to defend my mentor, whilst you would throw it all away in an act of execution!” I knew she was right, but I didn’t care. Worse, in my rage, all I wanted to do was hurt her—make her feel the pain I felt. “At least you still have your mentor! Mine is dead!” I announced as I threw the printed message at her containing the notice of Windshear’s death. I knew full well that Windshear had been her CO for a time at Outpost Omega, and thus sought to wound her with it. She grabbed the missive and scanned it quickly, closed her eyes tightly for a moment but then tossed it aside and turned her enraged gaze back on me, her inner fire only intensified by the news. “Then he died as he lived: a hero to all Equestria! And now you seek to dishonor his memory by contemplating murder!” “Sorry, but ‘tis your so-called ‘mentor’ who has the monopoly on that!” I replied in fury, causing her to growl and take another step forward; methinks she was ready to slay me on the spot for such slander. “You heard Swift Strike in the duel! He killed countless civilians and nearly cost Equestria the entire invading force in the Phoenix Fire operation! And yet despite all that and the state of my son, you stand here defending him?” “I stand here defending my mentor! And your son chose to fight him!” she sharply reminded me. “‘Twas his choice to make! And ‘twas no less agony for me to see him suffer! To say nothing of Thunderbolt being beaten down with all his crimes laid bare!” “My mentor is dead! My son is dying! And you think the life of his murderer is worth more than his?” I shouted at her, shocking a pair of Naval guards who tried to grab me with my internal electrical charge, sending them reeling much as Thunderbolt had done to Fell Flight when she had tackled him the first time he tried to menace Gavian. Methinks ‘twas a rage-enabled act, for I had never been able to do so before and found I wasn’t immediately able to do so again after.  “Over my dead body!” Fell Flight warned as she likewise flung a sentry aside with a sharp blast of wind, still barring my path to Thunderbolt’s room. “That could be arranged, Master Sergeant!” I threatened as I felt my long-suppressed temper flare into blindingly bright white-hot fury, focusing on the form of my half-thestral second. “If you’re actually going to defend that demon, then you are unworthy of my respect or friendship! Your so-called mentor will never threaten my son or another being again! For I am going to kill him!” “Enough!” Fell Flight shouted with an outward blast of wind from her wings. “If you seek satisfaction for your son, then so be it! As Thunderbolt is incapacitated, I will stand in his stead! So care to step outside… Commander?” And this time, ‘twas no doubt that the glow of her thestral eyes intensified along with her rage. “For the life of Thunderbolt, let us settle this dispute here and now!’” “Gladly!” I responded as I marched outside, the crowd of sentries parting for us as we did so. “‘Tis a pity. And you were such a good second, too…” The Betrayal - Fleshgod Apocalypse But two minutes later, myself and Fell Flight were staring each other down on the topmost observation deck. We had interrupted a training session between my Corps soldiers and the Naval pegasi—which ‘twas in itself a disciplinary offense; I would have come down hard on a pony who interfered with the scheduled training of my soldiers back at Epsilon—who swiftly cleared a duel ring for us when our intentions became clear. Intentions that also attracted the attention of Father, who had just come back on duty. “Firefly? What are you doing?” He quickly trotted out, addressing me not as superior to subordinate but father to foal.  “What I must do. Now don’t interfere!” I ordered him, even though I had no authority to do so as either soldier or daughter. “This is for my son…” “And this is for my mentor!” Fell Flight immediately replied. “And if it takes me defeating you to make you see reason, then so be it!” “Commander? Master Sergeant? Please don’t do this…” Blindside begged us, but I ignored her. She hadn’t been there before, so I suppose she had rushed up upon hearing we were about to duel. “Stand aside!” I ordered her sharply as she tried to step between us, and bowing her head, she obeyed, perchance sensing we were not going to be denied. Or mayhap that we simply had to get it out of our systems. “Methinks you are a foal to challenge me, Master Sergeant! You’ve never been my equal before, so what makes you think you can stand against me now?”  “Then methinks the foal is you!” Fell Flight retorted as she deployed her wingblades, causing me to immediately do so as well. “We’ve sparred together for many months and I know exactly how you fight! I also have a good reason to give my all! And thanks to your training, methinks I’ve gained enough strength and speed to finally beat you! I’ll wager my life that I can take you now! “So be it! But such utter naivety. I had such high hopes for you, Master Sergeant…” I told her, no longer seeing my friend and second but an obstacle to my slaying of Thunderbolt. A steadily growing audience was gathering, but it mattered not to me, even as a glance to my left revealed the recently arrived Lunar Council was watching. I knew they were there. I knew that we needed their aid in the war. And yet, just like Stormrunner before me when faced with Centurion Nael, I cared nothing for the consequences. All I cared about was ending the threat Thunderbolt posed to my son. “And I am sorry I ever considered you a worthy leader! Now quit talking and fight!” Fell Flight ordered me as if she was the commander and not me.  “As you wish!” Without even waiting for a formal challenge or duel declaration, we launched ourselves at each other as the first shriek of colliding wingblades echoed across the Loyalty. Well-described, Captain. Though methinks you were a little too easy on me; trying to make yourself out to be the one most blameworthy.  ‘Tis Fell Flight speaking again. My recollection is that I was equally obtuse and insulting, refusing to recognize your anger or anguish as valid. But in the end, ‘twas certain we both needed the chance to vent, and methinks we found it in each other. Regardless, I thank you again for taking on the duty of describing the leadup to the fight so I did not have to. With apologies to all who follow this work, ‘tis been decided after a few false starts and discussion between the Captain and myself that we will not describe the duel that followed. Mayhap some will be disappointed, but you wouldst understand, dear readers, that neither the Captain nor I wish to recall it, and the action occurred much too fast for Blindside to properly recount.  Except to say that the Captain did actually manage to fire a weak lightning bolt for the first time whilst my wing-generated winds gave her flight fits; my brawling style of fighting was able to go blade to blade with her own well-honed combat abilities for the first time. In the end, methinks we both learned the hard way that we were not only nearly equals in ability after so much time training together, but also equal in our grief-driven rage. Perchance I would take pride in realizing that our bout showed I had caught up almost completely to the Commander, but for the fact that we ended up beating each other up quite badly. ‘Twas in fact only when we weakened each other enough that we could be separated; we were finally dragged apart by Blindside and Sky Sentry before the Naval guards took over. On the direct orders of Captain Shady, who had seen the whole sorry affair along with the Lunar Council she was escorting, they confiscated our wingblades and threw us in the brig without treatment. We would need several days to fully recover from both our impromptu duel and the punishment to follow, but only after being excoriated by a recently-returned Captain Typhoon. ‘Tis certain he was less than pleased with us, particularly as our duel had been witnessed by the Nightborne leadership he had brought on board in hopes of impressing with Naval discipline and the quality of our soldiers So my final contribution to this chapter, before heading for bed in advance of departing to Nova Ocelota, will be to relate our meeting with him. —First Lieutenant Fell Flight (ret.) Thestral High Emissary Thestral Conclave Canterlot Zack Hemsey - See What I’ve Become “So what am I to do with you?” Captain Typhoon growled angrily as we stood before him in our separate but adjacent cells, struggling to remain upright. He looked tired after being up all night in Hollow Shades, but ‘twas no question he was still up to the task of berating us. And doing far worse if he wished.  “Two of Equestria’s finest soldiers acting like utter idiots, throwing away their friendship and honor to duel like drunken dockworkers? Never mind the fact that your fight was witnessed by the Lunar Council, who were less than impressed, such conduct is unbecoming of both the Corps and the Guard, Master Sergeants!” he snarled in the face of Fell Flight, and then me. We stayed silent, standing at attention as best we could despite our wounds and staring straight ahead despite his angry gaze boring into ours. For what possible defense could we offer? ‘Twas certain he was correct, after all, and ‘twas no telling what repercussions it could have with the Nightborne whose alliance and soldiers we so desperately needed. ‘Tis worth noting the Captain had not been present for the duel himself; we would later learn that he had been sleeping in Shady’s quarters, resting and receiving his daily treatment for the severe dragonfire burns we did not then know he had. “If ‘twas peacetime and this happened on an Aerial Corps or Royal Guard base I commanded, methinks I’d order you both thrown in the brig and bust your flanks back down to Private pending full inquiry and court-martial!” he said ominously; methinks I honestly thought my rise through the ranks was over at that point and I would shortly be reduced to a simple soldier.  “Unfortunately, your sterling records and supreme skill means I cannot now spare either of you any more than I can Thunderbolt. But ‘tis not to say you will suffer no punishment for such senseless stupidity!” He snarled at us, then turned to the two healers standing outside our cells, who methinks were less than happy at us for nearly starting a death duel in sickbay. “Patch them up. And spare the painkilling spells,” he directed the two unicorn mares, who smiled evilly like they were only too eager to oblige him. “But as for punishment...” He next turned to an equally angry Captain Shady, who was standing to his left and glaring; she had been giving the Lunar Council a tour of her ship personally when our duel erupted. “Captain Shady? Methinks there is but one chance to salvage this situation in the eyes of our thestral hosts. As ‘tis your airship upon which this severe breach of discipline occurred, methinks ‘tis only fitting that you decide their fate.  “I thus leave their disposition to you, and remind you that the eyes of the Lunar Council will be upon you. Prove to them that the Royal Navy remembers Luna’s code of conduct, and impose an appropriate punishment.” “As you wish,” Captain Shady bowed her head to Typhoon before she turned to Father, who was scarcely less angry than she or Captain Typhoon at our unconscionable behavior. “Commander Tailwind? Call an immediate Captain’s Mast before the central dirigible mount. Methinks we will dispense with this idiocy immediately, and show our honored guests that the disciplinary traditions of Princess Luna remain intact in the Royal Navy…” They did indeed remain intact, and methinks our mutual punishment both hurt and was humbling. But I bore it knowing that Gavian had endured far worse. We will relate the aftermath of this delusional duel next chapter, but until then, know simply that ‘twas as much painful emotionally to me as physically. As breakfast with the General and soldiers is concluded, Fell Flight has gone to bed with Oberon. ‘Tis their plan to depart upon waking late this afternoon, but they are not taking a transport.  Neigh, they have both decided to fly there on the strength of their own wings and rough it along the way; hunting, camping and foraging as needed until they reach the final gryphon colony on this continent—one the Princess allowed the Kingdom to keep because they needed it to remain fed. Methinks it also helps that the bounty of fish they catch also now feeds the thestrals, both Nightborne and Highborne alike. Speaking of the Highborne, Fell Flight did wish to make some comment on them before the section that follows, but upon reflection, she has decided to wait. Both because it would delay their sleep and departure if she did so, and because she does not wish to detract from the Highborne side of the story. She does request, however, that I remind readers that the Highborne no less than the Nightborne had to decide what course of action was in their best interests, and act accordingly. And that being second-class citizens, even within their own borders whilst ruled over by a more powerful tribe, they had even more reason than the Nightborne to seek a new order that the gryphons might then provide.  If, that was, they showed themselves worthy of being seen as an equal as opposed to being granted mere vassalhood by the Empire, which would be little more than trading one set of oppressors for another. I will leave this there, and catch a few hours of rest myself before joining the General at dinner—in the Inn this time. He will present his latest writings then, whilst we discuss them over a meal of imported Highborne mountain wildflowers and a bottle of fine Nightborne wine.  In the meantime, the quill is yours, Sir Barrel Rider. And I thank you for your willingness to relate the Highborne side of this tale. —Captain Firefly Bolt Knight Captain Emeritus Military History and Tactics Instructor Equestrian Officer Academy Canterlot I thank you for the introduction, Captain Firefly, and your former second for standing up for us. In truth, I envy you, to be in the presence of such pleasant company and fine cuisine! I’ve found that among every creature I’ve ever done business with, just giving them something to eat gives them an excuse to be far more reasonable than they would be otherwise. It also gives two sides one thing in common that no one can dispute: we all love eating more than we do fighting.  When you get down to business, you’re almost always dealing with rational actors who just want a deal that suits them better than it suits you, and from there, you meet in the middle. In that sense, it doesn’t matter if the commodity being exchanged is land or goods.  At least that’s what I thought until I was faced with an adversary who viewed everything I owned as already being theirs by right. To keep both myself and my very nation above water, it required forgetting everything I knew and falling back on the faith of my ancestors in something greater than ourselves. The Nightborne may consider our beliefs blasphemous or heretical, even to this day. But ‘twas on that long-ago day that I learned of the true power of faith, and what being a Highborne actually meant. Thus, for this next story, I speak not of any exploit for my own sake, but of the wisdom I learned that day from the High Priestess of the Stars. —Barrel Rider Chairbat of the Board of Governors Central Bank of Thestralslovakia Ring For Freedom The Temple of Karabor Star City Thestralslovakia September 5th, 1139 AL (Anno Lunae) 1830 hours As dusk fell, I felt hopeful about my chances with the gryphons when I left the temple to meet them.  ‘Twas not a confidence born of ignorance, as I’d been doing most of my business with them for years and thought I knew what to expect. I’d fly off to the meeting in ten minutes just outside the city, stand in front of a line dividing an open field with a Gryphon representative and present the High Priestess’ response to the Imperial offer; asking him for help uniting Thestralslovakia in exchange for an alliance.  It seemed like an amicable business deal to me, given we both had something the other wanted. And thus, ‘twas simply a matter of discussing what we could offer and hoping they’d accept.  Were I really fortunate, the whole affair would be over and done with and I’d be on the first transport to the rear of the gryphon lines, near enough to Cirrus Cassada to abscond the continent before things got really bad.  And before anybat asks, yes, I did fully expect things to get really bad.  There was, obviously, the scenario in my mind of Thestralslovakia being united only to be reduced to a tributary. Or even outright invaded later after the triumphant Imperial legions came marching their way over the trampled bodies of the Equestrians, deciding we were ponies like them and thus worthy of the same treatment—subjugation and enslavement. Juniper Neptune seemed to find the idea ridiculous when I brought it up to her. Well, if I was proven correct and they backstabbed us later on after we won? That would only be an issue for her, I decided as I received my final instructions for the meeting from the High Priestess herself. Methinks my preconceptions began to break down immediately when I was asked to put on a cloak and tunic of white wool. They itched something terrible and caused me to sweat beyond reason in the late summer heat, which the rapid restoration of natural weather patterns from the ceasing of pony weather control was allowing to bubble up from the south. She also asked me to carry an oak staff to the meeting, one given to me by Juniper herself. ‘Twas to make me appear like a temple acolyte, I was told, to which I could only suppress a scoff. “I appreciate the endorsement, but I don’t think I’m really cut out for a life in the temple,” I pointed out needlessly, tugging at the fabric in a futile attempt to make the experience less uncomfortable. “Of course you’re not, Sir Barry. Not when you are needed out there!” The High Priestess pointed out to the edge of Karabor City where the meeting was to be held. We stood high atop an observatory that was part of Karabor Temple and could see out for many miles, well past the walls of the mountain city where the bustle of Highborne subjects could be observed. “But so long as you represent the Highborne, you will look the part! Consider it to be written in your contract.” She gave me a knowing smile and winked. I took a moment and breathed deeply, cursing myself for getting tangled up in both religion and politics. Such an awful way to get anything done! “And why did you give me a priestly staff? Methinks I’ve got about as much magic in me as a radish!” Juniper scowled at me, and for a single terrifying moment, I thought I’d pushed my luck a bit too far and was about to suffer a severe case of being melted. “That’s what I’m counting on them to think. You will show them otherwise! ‘Tis true that I could send any one of my magi to do this job, but they will not do it as well as you. Remember what I said before, my dear but doubting Barrel Rider! Show but a little faith, and by the powers of the Twisting Nether itself, I promise the gryphons will be delivered into your hooves.” “Yes, High Priestess.” I knelt before her, silently vowing to travel as far away from Thestralslovakia as I could manage when my time was up—Saddle Arabia was nice in winter! “I will do as you ask, but it would improve my bargaining position if I knew what it was you were planning to do. Please forgive my saying so, but methinks even with your immense power, you can’t hope to project enough force to unite the country, much less push aside the ponies who come to enforce the partition of our lands!”  At least as far as I was aware. Sacrilege though it may be to the ponies who read this, ‘tis worth stating that the High Priestess is perhaps the most powerful alicorn in history… but only when she’s inside the Temple of Karabor. ‘Tis because her traditional role as a steward of the limitless magical power of the Twisting Nether requires the Temple to serve as a locus for its collection, refinement, and storage; all three of which are quantitatively finite and subject to all sorts of arcane laws I’m not even remotely qualified to speak about.  To put it simply, when outside of the temple walls, she keeps but a fraction of the power she wields inside. And don’t ask her for exact details on how much of a charge she can channel or store at any given time, or she might have to kill you. And don’t ask me either because I have a long life ahead of me, I hope. Yes, I jest. Mostly. So whilst her abilities are staggering, and ‘tis certain she could easily control the sun and the moon in Celestia’s stead whilst maintaining stewardship of The Nether, she cannot project that power as the Princess can or take it with her outside of the temple walls.  Juniper is our Rock and Fortress, but she is also static, whilst Celestia and her pony armies are most certainly not. Were a battle between the two demi-goddesses to erupt within the confines of the Temple, Juniper would have the advantage, but anywhere outside of it, without the locus of magic it provides her… a full-strength Celestia would win easily. Juniper’s thestralcorn magi are likewise much more powerful than typical pony unicorns or even gryphon mages, but their numbers are far too few to win a war. Which, methinks I must hasten to add, ‘tis not to say the two leaders are hostile to each other. They have held yearly summits in the aftermath of the war, with meeting locations alternating between the Temple and Canterlot Castle. I am not privy to those discussions of course, but the two are peers in terms of their immense power and responsibilities; Celestia is one of a very few non-Highborne beings who has been allowed access to the Temple’s inner sanctum, where I believe the High Priestess has shown her how she accesses the Nether. But that, methinks, is a story for another night. At the time, I believed all this meant that going up against Celestia or the gryphons ‘twas the sheerest form of folly. ‘Tis certain I also thought ‘twas a waste of time trying to argue about this with a demi-goddess again, but in my defense, you wouldst do well to think about the sheer volume of different scenarios running through my head. And most involved me getting killed by various methods both Gryphon and Highborne-created, from the mundane to the sinisterly creative.  And yet, Juniper Neptune just gave my concerns a dismissive wave of her hoof, capped with a crystal shoe. They were made of star sapphire—an exceedingly rare stone—and mentally, I tabulated the value of all four shoes up in my head. If I could get my hooves on them and fence them in Neighrobi, I would be able to retire immediately, buy an estate in Zebrica and live well-attended by feline Abyssinian servants until the end of my days.  “‘Tis of little concern what the ponies do, or their Princess. ‘Tis certain she will have her hooves full with the vast might of not just the Gryphon Empire, but the dragon clan backing them. Methinks they are not really our enemy so much as the enemy of our prospective allies. Ponies are meddlesome, busy things that claim all they see as theirs, but they will never be as large of an immediate threat as our dark-souled cousins.” “Then what exactly will you do about the gryphons?” Instead of answering my question, I felt Juniper grab the staff held slackly in my hoof and smack me hard on the rump with it.  “AHH! By the stars above, that hurt!” “Enough questions, Sir Barrel Rider! More will be revealed to you… once you’ve done your part and convinced their leader, the so-called Archmagus Leoptolemy, of our strength as allies. Now go! The eyes of the Cosmos are upon you, Barrel Rider! Do not waver, and let the Stars guide you.” Though I admittedly thought this entire plan was daft—for which I apologize, High Priestess!—I launched off the observatory and into the air, allowing the cooling breeze to carry me in a glide before descending downslope towards the Gryphon camp, which was being carefully kept outside of our holy city and out of view of the populace. They had slipped in some days earlier, seeking negotiation directly with the High Priestess on the heels of their offer and her initially favorable reply. But instead of doing so, she was sending me out to deal with them, and—I could only hope—observing and protecting me from afar. The stars better guide me because this hopelessly pretentious magician sure as hay isn’t! Oh gosh, I hope she didn’t hear me think that. Juniper, please don’t slay the messenger! I picked up speed, hoping to get far enough away to dodge any magic bolt she was about to throw at me.  Gratus' Entry to Jerusalem That… is a very large number of armed gryphons. Ten minutes later found me standing in a clearing at the mountain base surrounded by trees and small, green ponds where the cat-birds had not only sent a small envoy, but an entire parley force two decades strong.  Two tiercels stood at the fore in front of a pair of Gryphon Imperial standards, fluttering in the breeze; one was a violet-cloaked magus who looked at me with polite curiosity — no doubt wondering why a small, pathetic hornless thestral would carry a stick to a swordfight. The other soldier was the haughtiest, most enormous-looking manticore of an Earth Gryphon Centurion I’d ever seen; ‘twould not have surprised me at all if his tail was actually a scorpion stinger. He stood there eying me with disdain, a gigantic battle-hammer draped lazily over his shoulder.  I calculated the weight in my head, quickly realizing I couldn’t even lift it; one blow from that thing would leave me deeply impressed in more ways than one.  As ‘twas certain that I was intimidated by him, I decided to deal with the other fellow and hope the big one stayed quiet. But as had been the case for all my trip, there’d be no such luck for me as the manticore gryphon spoke first. “That’s it? The so-called Highborne send but one hornless janitor to speak with us?” he growled disdainfully. I ignored the jibe and spoke; methinks I’d at least learned how to present myself well in business negotiations even when I knew myself to be at a disadvantage. “Be assured, Exarch, that I am no mere janitor. I, Barrel Rider, magus of Karabor and emissary of the High Priestess herself welcome you to our lands. I am here to convey her wishes for a fair and productive discussion on the prospective alliance of our two great nations.” Of course, she’d given me no such instructions, but if I was to improvise this whole affair, then it would be on my terms as much as possible. “I am Leoptolemy Starling, Archmage of Birdlin, here at the behest of our Empress Palamecia,” The robed gryphon saluted in the Imperial manner, to which I dipped my staff fractionally. “We had expected, indeed hoped, that your High Priestess would grace us with her presence. Or at least one of your thestralcorn magi, for we very much wish to learn more about your race’s magic.” The feeling was mutual, but I’d had it amply demonstrated that day that there was no point using reason to argue with faith; methinks I was off to a bad start indeed when I found myself immediately agreeing with the other side about so trivial a matter. And just what, by the stars above, was I supposed to tell him? ‘I’m sorry, but I need to prove my faith to the High Priestess’? “Plenty of time for that later, I trust.” I smiled at him politely, thankful I at least had somecreature pleasant to talk to. “Should we come to terms of an alliance, you will be allowed inside to see the grandeur of our city. ‘Tis only then that our High Priestess and rightful ruler, Juniper Neptune the VIIth, will make her appearance and officiate our pact with her signature.” “Ha!” The large one drove the spiked head of his battle hammer into the dirt, causing the ground beneath me to quake slightly. “A likely story. I am Exarch Praepus Peregrine, Paladin of the Imperial Court! What this ‘Barrel Rider’ means to say, Archmagus, is that his liege sees us as unworthy of respect. Perhaps she thinks of us as mere servants who will drive her enemies away?” The parley force behind him laughed at that, grinning beneath their helmets. A few drew sabers and tapped them against their shields, creating an ominous drumming cacophony of sound. “If your so-called High Priestess wishes an alliance, then methinks she can present herself to negotiate the pact personally! If she does not fear us, that is.” The enormous earth gryphon grinned unpleasantly. “Know that the Archmagus is one of the most powerful casters in all the Empire! And he is more than a match for any magi you have.” I turned to face the manticore among us who had, in very little time, drawn all authority over the discussions to the Gryphon side. If only Juniper had given me something to work with! I silently cursed, but I did not waver, knowing I couldn’t show any weakness here—to either the Gryphons or the somehow-watching High Priestess herself. “The High Priestess has sent me for her own reasons. But ‘tis my job as her servant to carry out her will. As to why we are conducting this meeting here, Karabor is sacred to us and no other race, whether Gryphon or Nightborne, is permitted entry without invitation. We ask that you respect our wishes and customs as we, in turn, will respect yours.” Praepus rolled his eyes, but he offered no further comment. Thank the Stars for small favors. “As you are unfamiliar with our parley traditions, I am inclined to offer you some leeway... if only to get to the discussion of import.” The mage rested his talons atop the rounded wooden pommel of his magical staff, peering at me intently.  “You say you will assist us, but you also request the assistance of our Empire in subduing your rival—the Nightborne thestrals. In exchange, you are offering your smaller force to fight alongside us as equal partners?” Methinks his voice barely disguised his contempt. “I will not mince words with you, Highborne; you lack the strength necessary to maintain your independence. And you do not offer us enough to give you the autonomy you seek.” Simple, straight to the point and dead-on accurate. Methinks I’d love this magus if he were on our side instead of making my life miserable. “Our Empress is not cruel nor is she unreasonable; we are sympathetic to your plight and wish to see your subjugated people freed,“ Leo continued amicably. “What we offer you is Thestralslovakia united as a vassal under the administration of the Highborne. The High Priestess can rule over you as she sees fit, and in exchange, our armies will offer protection from all threats, without and within your territory. We only ask that you follow us to war when summoned and pay us a modest yearly tribute.” Tribute indeed. I was no foal; I’d heard enough doublespeak in my life to read between the lines. So ’twould be slavery for us, then, serving the greater good of the Empire whilst allowed the thinnest veneer of autonomy. The illusion of freedom at home for the purpose of serving the Empire abroad.  Perhaps they saw garrisoning these lands and teaching our civilians how to speak Aeric as too onerous, or mayhap they liked the idea of our pretty stone buildings being preserved like a ship in a bottle? No. Far more likely, they knew as I did that they possessed sufficient strength to simply raze Thestralslovakia to the ground if we disagreed with any terms they put forward. For I’d have made the exact same offer in his position. But I wasn’t in his position, and I’d have to start disagreeing with my own thoughts if I was going to pull this off. ‘Twas clear by now that bluffs and bluster were simply off the table with this gryphon. And trying to scare him with my big, scary bat wings would only evoke laughter from the goon carrying the hammer. This left me with but one choice: to talk utterly meaningless nonsense until a gap opened up for me to put my leg through. Fortunately, ‘twas a task I was well versed in, having to talk my way out of some very sticky situations in Neighrobi over the years. “My apologies, Archmage Leoptolemy, but we disagree as to the Highborne’s purported ‘weakness’.” I paused, scanning the sea of gryphons to gauge their response—skepticism with a hint of bemusement. Perfect, I thought—all according to plan! To quote my late sire—If you can’t beat ‘em, baffle ‘em. “Since you are unfamiliar with our history and culture, know that Highbornia has stood independent for hundreds of years as a distinct ethnic, religious, and cultural center. Despite our current… arrangement with the ponies and Nightborne, make no mistake of our determination and ability to exist as an independent nation.”  I admit to feeling some sense of pride in being able to sidestep the question of exactly how much force we could realistically project—we had around 8,000 troops at that point of time—or how significant what I said even was, considering we were still subjects by any other name.  Leoptolemy smirked and my sense of pride was quickly demolished. “May I speak candidly with you, Barrel Rider?” “Of course,” I replied graciously. “I would expect nothing less from a potential ally”. The Magus graced me with a pitying expression. “I am not impressed by your attempts to split feathers. So let us look at the situation of the Highborne without any pretense. You are independent of neither the Nightborne or the Equestrians, nor have you claimed to be over diplomatic channels. “For if you didst, ‘tis certain you wouldst be swiftly crushed without our help. The Empress will accept your aid and reward you appropriately. But as Gryphons respect military strength, which you do not possess, she will never afford you the status of ‘independent ally’. For how could she, to a prostrate nation with almost no military, however pretty your architecture might be?” Praepus laughed at the dig, emphasizing his guffaw with a thumb claw pointed in my direction. “And not very magical either, if this hornless one is the best they’ve got.” The monstrous gryphon turned his back on me. “Methinks enlisting the aid of these bat-ponies is a waste of our time and we should just go right through them. I’m leaving!” Ask them to demonstrate their power and you will show them something better.  “Say what?” I said out loud, responding to a voice that seemed to come up from the ground itself. Praepus turned around and looked at me as if I were something disgusting. “I said you’re a waste of our time, bat-pony!” When the time is right, they will see the power of the Highborne. I swallowed hard. Is that you, Juniper? Please, just give me something to work with here! I thought back. But the voice didn’t speak again. She had all the magic in the universe to communicate with me telepathically, but that was the best I was going to get? Methinks I was ready to scream. But ‘twas not an option as Praepus looked at me expectantly for some sort of reaction, but I had nothing to say, infuriating him even more. Was I about to doom Highbornia to invasion and subjugation right here due to my failure? With nothing left for it but to follow instructions in what ‘twas certain to be little more than a dramatic bluff, I held out the staff in view of the assembled gryphons.  “I was hoping not to waste the Stars’ time with trivial demonstrations for the sake of personal glory, but ‘twould seem you have forced my hooves!” I turned my eyes on Leoptolemy, who had a moment ago been looking upon me with pity as if I had lost my mind. “Show me a demonstration of Gryphon magic and I will surpass it. Then you will know our race is prostrate before none!” “Now that’s more like it!” the gryphon magus grinned, then reared up and hefted his staff in both sets of talons to spin around his head. He used it to summon a fiery sphere that swirled all around him but did not touch him, though it blackened the grass beneath his taloned paws.  “I accept your challenge, Barrel Rider. Perchance you’ll be able to match a simple fire spell? Surely any race worth consideration has mastered such a basic element of magic.” Extending his staff, he launched forth a bolt of fire that consumed a nearby tree within an instant, leaving but a pile of ash in its wake.  I began to sweat as he hadn’t even paid the tree the courtesy of burning it properly — he’d just annihilated it almost utterly. The message wasn’t lost on me what a whole lot of mages like him could do to the rest of our trees, to say nothing of our soldiers. And the ponies were fighting them? I waited for Juniper to tell me what to do next. But she said nothing.  “I believe this demonstration has been… adequate,” Leo clasped both of his talons onto his staff like a walking stick. “Surely such a… skilled adept as yourself could do better. Your turn, Barrel Rider.” Methinks there was nothing left for me to do but trust in the power of Juniper’s big stick. I gave an elaborate flourish of my hoof and pointed my staff at a very large tree, bigger than the one the Imperial Archmage had incinerated, and evoked the power of the staff to strike it down.  But my heart sank as nothing happened.  Praepus laughed. “Have you mayhap tried holding it the other way around?” The entire assembled host of gryphons began to laugh really hard at my expense. Even Leoptolemy was stifling laughter behind his paw. My cheeks began to flush in fear and embarrassment—’tis certain there is little worse for a businessbat than being unable to deliver when the goods or proof of delivery were demanded. Maybe I needed to say a magic word or something? You’d think Juniper would have been a dear and told me that! No, I was going to have to improvise this little ‘miracle’. “By the might of the Highborne, I strike down this tree!” I shouted importantly but impotently as I shook the staff menacingly in its general direction. But again, not so much as a puff of smoke or even a bent leaf on my target came from my proclamation. Leo shook his head, still laughing into his paw as he turned to face the Paladin. “Exarch Praepus, methinks you’re right. This really was a waste of time.” Leo turned back to face me, his expression smug. “Perhaps, you should try smacking it with the stick? A bit crude but if that’s really the best your race can come up with…” At that moment, I completely lost my mind over the whole disaster unfolding before me. If striking the tree was the best I could do for these gryphons, then by the Stars, that’s what they were going to get! “Graaagh!” I heaved the staff as hard as I could at the tree, so much so that it overshot the tree entirely and landed in the pond with a blinding flash of light and a deafening explosion. The blast knocked me backwards and I fell to the ground, completely stunned. I couldn’t see anything but severe spots in my slitted pupils—Highborne eyes are not quite as sensitive as Nightborne ones, but a sharp flash is still quite painful—and my tufted ears rang uselessly.  When my hearing began to function again, I could hear squawks of terror and staccato bursts of spoken Aeric among the assembled parley force. When the blindness finally fell from my eyes, I looked out at the pond to see the water itself was burning with blue, eldritch flames as steam rose from its shining surface. Archmagus Leoptolemy was gripping his staff with both of his foretalons whilst flying a few feet off the ground and scanning the horizon, likely for threats; he next tried to extinguish the flames with an ice spell, but to his further shock, it had no effect.  Slowly and cautiously, I approached the lake from the air. Had I been thinking clearly, I mayhap might have stopped to consider the gryphons might attack me after exploding and somehow setting afire a body of water in their presence. But if they’d considered me a threat they were too stunned themselves to attack. The entire pond had completely burned off by the time I reached its erstwhile shore, where all the grasses and bushes around it had either been burned or flattened in an outward-facing pattern. And at the bottom of its former pool, embedded into the scorched and blackened earth at the deepest part of the crater, was my undamaged staff! Amazed and feeling somewhat giddy, I retrieved it and flew up to the shore, then stood proudly before them, holding it again. “You asked for a fire spell greater than yours. Was that sufficient?” I asked, feeling for the first time a strong sense of pride. I didn’t know how, but I had done it! “Fire that cannot be extinguished! Arcane flames that consume all—even water itself!” A speechless Archmage Leoptolemy stared at me in shock and wonder. “That… was phenomenal magic, Emissary! I have never seen such powerful and unquenchable flames before! And your staff actually survived the spell? Impossible! May I see it?”  “As you wish.” My confidence suddenly feeling and sounding far less forced, I passed him the hunk of wood. With any luck, he’d be able to explain to me just what in the Cosmos had happened and I could play intelligent for a change.  He ran his paws over the rough surface of the wood. “Not a trace of magic left in it… Fascinating…” He experimentally tried to channel a spell through it as he did his staff, but he failed; he then tried to throw it as I had only for it to have no effect. “Is it spent?” I did not know. So I retrieved it myself, aimed it at a rock from my hover and threw it again; there was another explosion as the boulder was instantly shattered, its fragments encased in purple flames as they were slowly reduced to vapor. “How is this possible…?” The Archmage looked to be at a complete loss as he reflexively conjured and then dissipated a shield. “How could this magic be one we can neither detect nor wield?” “Those answers are ours to know,” I replied, finally feeling in complete control. “And ones we may share… only if we deem you worthy.” I said, retrieving the staff one final time and standing before him, tossing it back to him. “Here. Examine it again, if you wouldst wish.” I remained silent as he inspected the staff a second time. I heard then Praepus approach at a more lumbering gallop—he was so stunned he hadn’t taken flight!—as he joined his compatriot in examining the weapon, though methinks he did so with about as much acumen as I possessed. Namely, none. “Methinks…” Leo passed me back my staff “... that if a magical neophyte such as yourself could wield such might, the Highborne will make excellent allies indeed!” “Someone such as myself, honored Magus?” I replied uncertainly. “Indeed!” he replied with a far more respectful and even reverent tone than he had used before. “While methinks you have… you wouldst forgive me for saying, very little in the way of magical training, your High Priestess’s point is made quite clear by your presence here today. You are no magus, yet you exceeded our abilities with but a single staff! Such a powerful weapon in the talons of even a mere novice would greatly bolster our armed forces! Imagine if all our soldiers could wield such powerful magic and not just the Magus legion! We would quickly become invincible! Wouldst you not agree, Praepus?” Praepus eyed me disdainfully, if far more warily. “Methinks, this Barrel Rider is more lucky than strong. And we know not the nature of this... weapon yet. But, eh… I say they have shown themselves to be more powerful than we first thought. Mayhap we should allow the Highborne a chance to prove themselves in battle. If and only if they do so, would I recommend we agree to this... alliance.” “Excellent!” I extended my hoof in friendship to the Archmage, which he bumped with his talons in a like gesture. Methinks Juniper must have been watching everything because the official chariot of the High Priestess pulled by a trio of three thestralcorn priests suddenly flew over the clearing and landed in our midst.  “The High Priestess will see you now, honored guests. She will discuss the terms of our pact directly with you, Archmagus Leoptolemy, as well as your second, Exarch Praepus. Please board our chariot, and I will escort you to her.” Hypereon addressed them with far more respect than he had me. “Then by all means, let us be off!” Leoptolemy quite eagerly agreed to do so; Exarch Praepus much less so. When they were aboard, they were not flown back, but teleported there in a flash of light. I was not privy to what followed, left to entertain the remaining gryphons with tales of Highborne history until the pair returned with their signed agreement, both looking somewhat dazed; I can only assume they witnessed the same terrifying demonstration of cosmic power I had upon entering the temple for the first time. But whatever happened, and impossible as it seems, ‘tis indeed how our wartime alliance with the Empire began.  Methinks I’ve gone over this single surreal day in my head for years trying to make sense of it all. To what extent did Juniper know what I was going to do or have a hoof in controlling the outcome? Did she know I was going to throw the staff at the tree? What was she planning to do if I didn’t?  What was going to happen if, Cosmos forbid, I missed the lake and blew up the gryphons? I’ve been negotiating with different groups for decades; I still must do so in my guise of Chairbat. Methinks I’m quite competent at what I do, but Juniper Neptune the VIIth broke just about every single one of my rules for dealing with the other party. And yet… It all worked out for what seemed like the best that day. And methinks three decades later, Juniper still hasn’t fully explained her part! Adoration of the Magi Patience, my beloved Barrel Rider. We have an eternity together to discuss such trivial matters. What’s important is that you never gave up. Even when all hope seemed lost, you never lost sight of the goal. You demonstrated your faith, and as such, you were rewarded. And for what you eventually gained all of us, ‘tis certain you will be rewarded again and again.  —High Priestess of the Stars, Juniper VII Neptune Methinks you are nothing if not generous, my love. And yet, ‘twould not be the war that gained us what we now have. Or at least, not in the way ‘twas originally intended. For one lesson both sides of the thestral divide would have to learn is that the best-laid plans of bats and birds would not be so readily realized, and that the Empire did not have our best interests at heart.  Mayhap some of it was predictable with the benefit of hindsight, but what all must understand is that when you labor like the Highborne under not one but two oppressive powers, you wouldst grasp any opportunity you can gain to break free of them. Our entry into the conflict was coming quickly, and ‘twould not turn out the way any envisioned it. For war is the harshest of teachers, and ‘tis certain we, no less than the Gryphons, Equestrians, or Nightborne, had much to learn from it. —Barrel Rider “Some things have to be believed to be seen.” ― Madeleine L'Engle