The Ambassador's Son

by Midnightshadow


All's Fair in Love and War

The ══════════
Ambassador's
══════════ Son

Chapter Six
All's Fair in Love and War
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow


Chip found himself flipped through the air to land rather heavily muzzle-first on the hot rocks. He finally came to rest on his belly, with a mouthful of dusty rocks. He spat the salty, gritty mixture out and looked up, sheepishly.
“I did say to bend your knees. Are you alright?”
“Yeah, Dad, nothing’s busted.”
“Up you get then.” The dragon proffered down a paw, then realized that his son, not having paws but rather hooves, would be unable to take advantage of the help. Instead, he lifted the pony by the chest, dusting off his withers. “Bend your knees when you’re fighting, widen your legs, that lowers your centre of gravity and gives you a firmer stance. I don’t mean scrape your belly on the ground, just give yourself some room to flex.”
“Sorry Dad.”
“Don’t be sorry, that’s why you’re learning. You only learn by making mistakes. Now, remember, when your knees are bent that means you only have to straighten them to move. If they are already straight, you must first bend them. That’s two things rather than one, meaning a longer time between thought and action. When you can fight, really fight, the thought and the deed are one. Until then, do your best. Now, we practice again. Ducking and jumping. Duck! Jump!”
The dragon swung his tail, first high, then low, then low and then high. Next, he swung it level. Chip’s eyes went wide and the pony first ducked, then folded his legs over and rolled. As he came out of the roll, he sprung up on all four hooves and leaped at the dragon, bowling him over into the dirt. When the dust settled, Sharptooth was sprawled on his back looking up into the grinning face of Chiphoof.
“Ah-ha, a sneak attack, hmm?”
“I gotcha! I really gotcha!” Chip threw back his head and did a braying bark of triumph.
“Aaarrgghhh ya got me. Just remember one thing, young hatchling.”
“What’s that?”
“I may be a big dumb dragon,” Sharptooth crossed his eyes for effect and lolled his tongue out, “buth thith big thumb thragon ith fierth! Blearrrggghhh!” The dragon lifted his head and blew a raspberry on the colt’s stomach. Chip giggled, helplessly, wriggling in the suddenly iron-fast grip of his adopted father. The pair rolled over, and Sharptooth blew another raspberry or three.
“Stop! Stop! I give! I give up! Don’t-” Chip broke down into helpless giggling.
Sharptooth did finally relent. “Well done, young one. You did catch me out, and I thoroughly deserved it, but you forgot one thing.”
“Yes?” Chip giggled again.
“Dragons, even pony shaped ones, maybe especially pony-shaped ones, have thin hide on their bellies. Letting the enemy in close renders you open to an attack which could finish you off! Blearrgghhh!” Sharptooth mock-snarled and snicked his teeth through Chip’s belly-fur, the same way his parents had when he was a younger foal and they were checking for ticks or burrs. The dragon blew a raspberry again for good measure.
“Stop iiiittt! I’ll remember! I promise!”

♦♦♦

They sat together as the sun went down. Chip was exhausted. Sharptooth similarly worn out. The dragon fumbled with something in his grip, Chip turned to look at the sudden awkward motion.
“What is that?”
“I was supposed to give this to you today. This is the third training spike. It goes on your tail, in the middle, we call it the ripper ring. On a dragon, at least those with prehensile tails, it is used for close-combat cutting. You wrap your tail around your opponent, usually his or her neck, and grip. It will slice cleanly, and often provide you some leverage in warfare. Your tail, young one, can be used to crush windpipes and choke your adversary. This training spike serves then two purposes.”
“W-what are they?”
“You may kill, or you may maim. With precision, you can cut your target and squeeze him just right such that a loosening of your grip will finish him off from blood loss. It is... the first truly offensive training spike. It does not protect, it threatens. The haunch-guard, the bolas, they are considered more decorational. They are honest weapons. The tail-knife, as ornate as it appears, is a different kind of weapon.”
“Then... should you keep it?”
Sharptooth didn’t answer at first, he just kept turning it over and over in his paws. “Were you brought up in a warrior-beast clan, training you with it would be simple. We would find something to kill, I would render it helpless, and you would... practice. It is not pretty, it is messy, but effective.”
Chip gulped, sobered, “I don’t... want to do that, but... I want to be a dragon.”
Sharptooth nodded, and turned. He slipped it on the foal’s tail, eased the strands through, and fastened it, approximately mid-way. “Then it is yours. Practice on the trees in the nearby forest, there are enough young saplings needing to be pruned that you will be doing old Flitch a favour.”
“I wish I could...” Chip sighed.
“What?”
“I love flying lessons, Dad, but... I wish I had my own wings. To get down there, like you do.”
“That is one of the downsides of being pony-shaped, my son.”
“I... I was thinking.”
“Yes?”
“I’ve got something to show you.” Chip grinned nervously.

Sharptooth spread the paper across the desk, using his globe and telescope to keep it unfurled and flat. Adjusting the magefire lantern to get a better look, he whistled, “You drew this?”
Chip nodded, pointing, “See, it’s based on your miniatures, but I’ve added a tail-section like birds have because I think it adds stability.”
“Stability, huh?”
“And these struts here, these flex... I was thinking if I moved my legs like I was galloping, then with this piece here, the motion would flap the wings there.”
It was a drawing, crude and not to any sort of scale, but it held potential. Sharptooth’s eyes flicked over every detail, the foal had been paying attention to the models scattered around his room. It held... potential.
“What do you think?”
“Chip, it’s going to take some work, but I think we may be able to give you wings.”

♦♦♦

“Dad! Dad! Daddy! Dada! Paps! Papa! Pappy!”
Sharptooth groaned and rolled over. It didn’t help. The abysmally chirpy creature just started leaping up and down on his belly instead.
“Get uuupppp, you promised! The fair!”
“Can’t it wait until this afternoon?”
“Noooo! You promised!”
“After breakfast at least?”
“I already had mine! Let’s go!”
Sharptooth groaned and got up. Chip was thrown off to land in a heap of discarded blankets as the dragon stretched.
“This is gonna be so awesome! Do they have pin the tail on the donkey? And candyfloss? Or even candyfloss clouds? And toffee apples?”
Sharptooth worked his jaw loose, nodding and mumbling the affirmative to every one of those. “Make some tea, would you?”
“Can’t make fire yet!”
“Well fetch the teapot and fill it like I showed you, I’ll do the rest.”
“Sure thing Dad!”
The eager foal skittered away, opening and closing doors and drawers, dropping pots and pans in his haste. He returned to the kitchen table and set everything up, measuring out the tea and adding the water. He even, Sharptooth noted with amusement, attempted to breath fire at it in the obligatory pre-warming part of the ceremony.
“Let me help you with that.” Sharptooth laughed, as he began heating the teapot with bursts of blue flame. This would be, he was quite sure, a very good brew.

♦♦♦

“Come on Dad let’s go, go, go! Ya-hoooooo!” Chip bolted out the door and galloped straight over the edge of the cliff.
Sharptooth barely stopped to slam the door closed and hiss something entirely inappropriate for youngsters to hear before diving after the plummeting troublemaker. He stretched out his claws and snatched the foal neatly, pulling up and flinging Chip skywards. Chip shouted with glee as he spun through the air, twirling almost like he was dancing, as the dragon flipped upside down, caught him, spun right round in a tight ball and flung him even higher.
No fear, Sharptooth marvelled to himself, if my son hasn’t gone and conquered the first key to flight without even having any wings. Now let’s hope he remembers how landings work...
Sharptooth swept lower, flared his wings and opened his talons. Chip dropped like a rock, cantered on the tips of his hooves and stopped in a cloud of dust. Sharptooth backwinged to lose airspeed and alighted next to him.
“That was totally awesome! I love flying!”
Sharptooth laughed, hitting himself on the chest and coughing, “I’m glad to hear it, but a little bit more warning before takeoff would be appreciated, young Chiphoof.”
“Sorry Dad!” Chip’s ears drooped.
“Quite alright. Now, here’s the neck-bag you forgot,” Sharptooth placed it over his son’s head, and waggled a paw admonishingly, “with some bits. Off you go, and try to stay out of trouble. Remember, the fair is an exposition of life beyond Equestria’s borders as well as in it. Each set of dignitaries will have their own unique culture on display, but not all of each section may welcome the outsider. Us dragons for example have our inner conclave, the griffons have their council roost, the diamond dogs have their den of jewels... the point is, these sections are the sovereign property of their realms, until the end of the fair. The Pax Equestrus does not necessarily hold in this regions, so be careful. They will be clearly marked and jealously guarded. Clear?”
“Yes Dad!”
“Off you go then!” Sharptooth watched as Chip disappeared in a flash. He was quite sure he heard the unmistakable clap of thunder as the sound barrier was broken. The dragon shook his head and laughed.

♦♦♦

Chip’s first stop was the cotton candy stall. For a pony treat so sticky and delicious, it was notoriously hard to handle. He settled on the nose-bag with integrated fizzy drink pouch. Nothing set the day off quite so well as fizzy drink and cotton candy, even if it did block his nostrils and stick in his fur. He was so engaged licking the pink mess off his muzzle that he practically walked into Carmine.
“Hey! Watch it, dufus!” Carmine raised a wing and batted at him, he tripped over his own legs and collapsed in an unceremonious heap on the floor.
“Eep! Sorry Carmine!”
“Chip? What’re you doin’? I’m all sticky! Ugh, you ponies and sugar!” Carmine pecked at her flank, pulling off candyfloss and spitting it out.
“Sorry.” he mumbled, getting up and shaking himself. He gave an experimental slurp at the drink-pouch. It seemed to be okay, but half his cotton candy had fallen out.
“Eh, it’s nothin’. Didn’t mean to trip ya. Want some of this?” The griffon proferred something hot and unidentifiable on a stick.
Chip eyed it and took an experimental sniff. He gingerely bit off a portion and chewed it. “Umm, ish... qui’ ‘ood. Wha’ ish it?” he swallowed.
“Rabbit.”
Chip turned slightly green, “Any chance that’s the sort of rabbit made from cheese?”
“Cheese?” Carmine cocked her head, raising an eyebrow, “You’re weird, Chip. Want some more?”
“No, no, no thank you. It was... lovely.”
“Wanna... hang out?”
“Sure! Where’d you wanna go first?”
Carmine grinned.

Ding!
The ball hit the target. With a screech, the griffon on the platform fell into the water tank. Carmine threw back her head and let out a loud raucous squawking laugh, pointing with a paw. “Get back up! I’ve got two more!”
“Wow, you’re good at this!”
“Yeah, I am. You wanna go?”
Chip nodded. He picked up a ball with his muzzle and threw it, but it went wide.
“Hah! Better luck next time! But ya can’t hit the side of a wagon with a throw like that! Lame!” spluttered the griffon, once more perched on the platform.
“I can though.” smirked Carmine, and she threw the last ball. With another resounding ‘ding!’ the griffon on the platform was once again dunked in the drink. The bedraggled creature pulled itself out, feathers fluffing up as he attempted to dry himself. Carmine selected a two-ball prize and mock-saluted her wet compatriot with it.
“Hah, dumb pony. A throw so weak your girlfriend had to do it for ya.”
“How much for just one ball?” Chip asked, locking eyes with the griffon.
“Fat chance!”
“Well, I’m not that good at throwing, but...” Chip paid his money and selected a ball. Gripping it in his teeth, he turned away from the platform. He flipped it into the air, over his head, and bucked with his back hooves.
Ding!

Chip chewed his saltlick-pop thoughtfully. They’d gone to see the pony part of the fair, which, whilst being the biggest, was also the most general. There were father-son and mother-daughter races, bake sales, muzzle painting contests and more. They’d gone to see the griffon part of the fair. He’d tried his hooves at knitting, literally - griffons wove nets which they used to catch bigger prey, and knitting was apparently a for-show version of net-weaving. Carmine could knit with the claws on one paw. Chip managed to get himself tied up as he attempted to emulate this feat with his hooves. It didn’t quite work, and he ended up in an impromptu show about the best way to disembowl a trapped meal, much to the amusement of Carmine.
“Where to now then?”
Carmine sniffed, “The dragons are off-limits to non-dragons today, it seems. I guess that means the diamond dogs...”
“But I’m a...”
“Well well well, if it isn’t Speck.” The voice was snarling and gutteral.
Chip turned his head, and sighed, “Butch, please...”
“Nice to see you know how to beg, pony.”
“Dogs beg, Butch.” snarled Carmine.
“Clam it beak-breath.”
“You leave her alone!”
“Or what, you’ll start crying in front of your girlfriend?”
“She’s not my girlfriend, she’s... just a friend.”
Butch and his cronies laughed, making kissy-kissy noises. “So, what? You’re going to stop me, yeah?”
“Butch... I promised my dad. I won’t fight you.”
“Oh, daddy’s boy. Ickle Chippy-Wippy doesn’t want to fight when daddy’s not around to save him. School’s out, pipsqueak. It’s just you and me...”
Chip pawed the ground, snorting. He flicked his tail, and felt the unfamiliar weight of the ripper ring. He remembered his promise. He backed up, “No, Butch. Not today.”
“What are you, a chicken?”
“No, Butch. I’m a dragon. Coming, Carmine?”
Carmine blinked, “You’re not going in there, are you? Chip, I know your dad’s into this whole dragon thing but...”
“Carmine, I’m not going to fight him. I promised my dad, it’s kind of a big thing for... for us dragons.”
Carmine rolled her eyes, “You’re nuts, kid.”
Chip wiped his hooves on the ground, flicking gravel at Butch, before marching past the two dragon guards standing at the entrance to the draconic pavilion. Two wings shot out, blocking his path.
“Excuse me, what do you think you’re doing?” one of the dragons said.
Chip’s resolve faltered, “I, uh...”
“You know there’s no food to be brought in from outside.”
Chip blinked, looking back at Carmine, “Her? She’s not food! She’s... my plus one.”
The two dragons stared down at him for a moment, “Very well, but mind you do not insult Lord Sapphire by eating it in his presence.”
“I won’t.” Chip almost laughed, “I promise. Come on Carmine!” He turned and nodded at the diamond dogs, who were staring with mouths agape, “They’re not invited.”

♦♦♦

“Chip, I have no idea what just happened, but that was wicked. You dragons are weird. Cool, but weird.”
“So you believe me that I’m a dragon now, huh?”
Carmine fluffed up, embarrassed, “I guess.”
Chip grinned. He bounced as he trotted. “So, what do you want to do first?”
“First? I’m famished. Let’s find something to eat...” Carmine lifted her head and sniffed, “I think I smell cooking. It’s all dragon-y and weird-smelling but it’s gotta be cooking.”
“Yeah, dragons have these weird spices... kinda gritty.”
“And you smell.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I mean... it’s like... fire and brimstone but... not as bad.”
“Gee thanks a lot.”
Carmine fluffed up again, stalking past Chip, “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Well what did you mean?” Chip hurried to catch up.
Carmine ducked into a small tent, where a dragon not much larger than her was busy making some sort of small cake-like objects. “I don’t know... it’s kinda nice, I guess.”
“So... you like me?”
“Yes... wait, no! Augh!” Carmine picked up a cake, turned and threw it at Chip, who caught it in his muzzle. He grinned and chomped it down, chewing. It was hard, with that same gritty texture he’d learned to associate with draconic cooking, it was kind of like salt or sugar before being ground down.
“Mmm! Give us another!”
Carmine threw another at him, he caught it and ate it just as fast as the first. Carmine picked one up herself and pecked at it with her beak, “You like these? But... they’re rocks.”
The dragon behind the table smiled, her ears lifting, “Rock cakes. A touch of bauxite, with some tourmeline and jasper for colour and flavour!”
“Wait, what?” Chip grabbed the pecked rock cake out of Carmines paw and chewed it down, “But these are awesome!”
“Thank you! They’re a real draconic treat, the recipe has been in my family for generations!”
“I ate a rock...”
Carmine burst out laughing, squawking profusely as she rolled around on the floor, “You should see your face!”
“But... I ate a rock!”
“You ate three! Bwaaahahaa!”
“Carmine!” Chip whined, “I’m gonna die or something!” Chip stuck his tongue out, pawwing his hoof at it, which only made Carmine laugh even louder. Then, with his eyes firmly fixed on his tongue, he belched.
“Oh thank you sir! Have a great day now!”
Carmine was still chuckling, Chip was still slightly green.
“Calm down, kid. You’re a dragon. Dragons eat rocks, ergo...”
“But... but...”
“You liked them, didn’t you?”
“Well yeah, I did!”
“Well I don’t think even you would be dumb enough to eat something you didn’t like the taste of.” Carmine rolled her eyes at him, he pushed her way with a hoof, snorting.
“Yeah, I suppose. Wait... What’s that noise?”
It sounded like snuffling, and it was coming from down a gap between two tents. Chip poked his head down the gap, “Hello?”
“Hello, little pony, yes... what is little pony doing here, hmm?”
“Who are you?” Chip tilted his head, squinting to try to get a look at the stranger.
“Little pony should be elsewhere, not safe for little pony here, no...”
Chip backed up as two large diamond dogs plodded out of the shadows, “H-hey, y-you’re not supposed to be here...”
“Oh, no no no, little pony should have kept mouth shut... now will be coming with Bouncer and Bulldozer, yes.”
Chip backed up, his ears folding back, “You’re not supposed to be here, what do you want?”
“Inquisitive pony, knows too much pony...”
“Get away from him!” Carmine screeched, and launched herself through the air, sailing over Chip’s head with all four claws extended. She screamed and batted at the further diamond dog, Chip supposed it was Bulldozer but he had no way of telling, whilst ‘Bouncer’ snarled and leaped at Chip.
Chip reared up and kicked his front hooves, catching the diamond dog in the face. It yelped and rolled, snarling as it came up onto its hind legs again. Chip spun, he flicked his tail, and the bolas caught the troll in the side of the head, a solid crack that sent the creature reeling. Carmine had been thrown off Bulldozer, she landed heavily and she cried out as she landed on a wing, but she rolled back up onto her four limbs and screeched a loud warning.
Bulldozer snarled, his face and upper body showed the result from her promises of bodily harm in a myriad of deep and painful scratches.
Chip did the only thing he could. He picked up a rock in his muzzle, tossed it over his head and bucked it at the diamond dog. It slammed into the beast’s stomach, winding it.
Bouncer, meanwhile, had recovered. Diamond dogs like to attack their prey from ambush, this meant from the side, or behind. Bouncer leaped.
Chip had turned, he saw the flash of dark brown and reacted instantly, lowering his haunches to buck upwards. The diamond dog landed on his back, claws digging into his sides as the troll went for a neck-bite. The buck caught him on the up-swing, Chip’s spiked haunch-guard biting first. In a reflexive move that he barely thought about, Chip’s tail twirled around the creature’s neck, tight, before Chip flicked him off, tail unwinding like a yo-yo. The spike tore at Bouncer’s abdomen, and the ripper ring sliced neatly yet savagely across his throat. The diamond dog landed with a gurgling yelp, twitching, as Chip stood there and watched in horror.
“Plucked pinions, Chip, what the bloody shells did you do!?”
Chip just stood there, breathing heavily, stammering, “I-I-I... I didn’t mean to!”
Shells!”
There were several loud thumps around them, as dragons dropped from the skies or shouldered their way out of various secluded tents. Carmine crossed the clearing quickly to stand next to Chip, staring up and around at the newcomers.
“I...” Chip began.
“Well done, young dragon, a clean kill. The other is alive, yes?” a large blue dragon peered down at Chip, flicking his forked tongue in and out as he glanced from pony to griffon. He nodded back at two other dragons who were examining the crimson-stained corpse.
“Y-yes, I... I think so.”
“Take it. It will be... questioned. Dispose of the other.” the blue dragon hissed angrily to the other dragons, before turning to Chip and Carmine. He inclined his great head at the griffon, and then addressed Chip, “Go home, young dragon, your teacher has taught you well and you have done your duty as a dragon admirably. Your first blood?”
Chip nodded, eyes beginning to tear up.
“Trial by combat then. You are worthy. Give Lord Diamond my regards from Lord Sapphire when you see your father, and offer my humble apologies for allowing such... scum to dirty your hide. And now, young master Chip, Mistress Carmine, we shall go, as should you.”

♦♦♦