The Book of Water: The Marriage of the Slave King

by TalonMach5

Chapter 4: The First Chance to Make a Second Impression

What exactly are those creatures known only as the wayfarers? The superstitious say they are a vile and cursed race sent by the unmentionable one to punish us for our sins. Others say they are magical aberrations, the experiment of madponies loosed upon the world. Still others claim they are from another world altogether, intent on conquering Equestria. But far from the tales of rabid wild men raping and pillaging their way across the land, I’ve found the Wayfarers to be a remarkable and interesting people. No different than the ponies of Equestria. Truly it’s a shame they have been so unjustly labeled monsters by the public at large. I wonder had things been different, if they might have adapted to life in Equestria and formed a nation of their own. Alas we may never know, as all traces of any Wayfarer discovered disappear as suddenly as they appear.

-Stormbreak, Seapony Harper, Tales of a Wandering Seapony vol. ix

Dawson was flying high over the grassy field far below, behind him was the conquered city of Bone’s Landing, his mother, and somefeather he desperately wished he didn’t know, the Slave King. When he heard the words “I have no use for you,” all the fantasies he had of being welcomed with open arms by him were dashed to pieces. He didn’t understand how things had gone so wrong. He had been so sure that the Slave King would be so pleased with the capture of the battlemage, that he would have asked him to stay and join ‘The Order of the Shadow’. Looking back, he knew now that that had been naive thinking. Seeing a tree beneath him, the griffin-half tilted his wings and wheeled around landing beneath its boughs.

Leaning up against the tree, Dawson looked back towards the Slave King’s throne before looking away. “Why didn’t I listen to mother?” he moaned. “I should have prepared more before coming here.”

“Maybe you didn’t listen to her, because your heart desperately wanted to be here…” a feminine voice said from behind, followed by the gentle notes of a lute being plucked.

“Show yourself,” Dawson growled, turning around to face the feather who was eavesdropping on him.

“Hello!” the voice cheerfully said from above.

Looking up, Dawson saw the Slave King’s harper tuning her lute, while swinging her legs playfully back and forth on a tree branch. While gently plucking the strings, she stuck her tongue out of her mouth while tightened and loosened the strings. When she was finally satisfied, she looked down at him and gave the griffin-half a gentle smile.

“I’m Melody,” she said, playing a gentle tune.

“Why are you following me?” Dawson demanded, unhappy that somefeather was seeing his distraught condition.

“Because king daddy asked me to!” Melody replied, before covering her mouth with her hand, when she realized what she just said. Leaning down towards him she conspiratorially whispered, “Oops, I’m not really supposed to call him that, don’t tell anyone I did.”

When he heard her refer to the Slave King as king daddy, he realized she must be the Slave King’s daughter, and not just the product of some random wayfarer coupling with a phoenix.

Looking up at Melody, he scowled. “What the hades makes you so special!” he demanded, hurt that the Slave King had rejected him but had no problem keeping some of his other children around. “Why wasn’t I good enough for him?”

Seeing Dawson’s anguish, Melody flew down from the tree and looked him in the eye. “I don’t know,” she said, remembering the sting of her father’s rejection. “He treats us as his servants, not his children.”

Feeling bitter and angry, he slammed his fist into the tree’s trunk, making it shake from the force of the impact. “I just want him to be proud of me!” he shouted, grieving for the loss of a father who he feared might never love him. Slamming his fists against the tree repeatedly, leaves fell as it shook from the impact. “What do I have to do?”

Seeing his anger, Melody wrapped her arms around him. “It’s not your fault…” she said, tightly embracing him. Feeling him struggle against her, she refused to let him go and held him tight. “Let it go.”

“It’s not fair!” Dawson shouted, allowing his pent up emotions to overwhelm him.

“No, it’s not fair. But you want him to love you anyway,” Melody sorrowfully said, looking down at Dawson. “You see a hole where his heart should be, and want to fill it so that maybe one day he can love you back.”

Feeling a tiny bit better, he looked up at her. “Thanks,” he said, wiping the few tears that had managed to escape his eyes. “So are you my sister then?”

“Half-sister I think,” she replied, with a small smile.

“So what’s it like serving the Slave King?” Dawson asked, curious as to what he was missing.

“Hmm… Serving the Slave King,” Melody said placing a finger against her beak. “Well I’m a harper, so I get sent on all sorts of diplomatic missions and such. If you want to know more about serving in ‘The Order of the Shadow’ you would need to ask my sister Aria, and nofeather knows more about life in court than Harmony.”

“It’s my dream to one day lead the order,” he said, feeling comfortable enough to share his dream with her.

“I don’t know,” she said, thinking out loud, “Master Scourge seems to be leaning towards Aria to replace him when the time comes. But who knows what the future holds?”

“Thanks Melody,” he said, no longer feeling quite so alone.

“My pleasure, little brother!” Melody sung, before looking up at the sun. “Oh my gosh! It’s getting late. We’d better head back before we miss the feast.

“Feast?” Dawson asked.

“Oh yes the victory feast! It’s so yummy,” she said with a dreamy sigh. “Food as far as the eye can see…”

Before he could reply, he heard Bucky calling out to him. “Hey Dawson!”

“Hi Bucky,” Dawson said, rubbing the back of his neck. Feeling a bit embarrassed by how he had left earlier, he looked up at the pegasus sheepishly. "Sorry about leaving so abruptly.”

“No it’s fine,” Bucky said, shaking his stuffed saddlebags, which gave off the tinkling of coins, “but you’ll never guess what happened! The Slave King gave me one thousand bits for the prisoner! Five hundred of which are yours.”

“Hmm…” Melody said, examining the saddlebags. “Seems like more than a thousand bits in there.”

“Ah, well not all of that was the purchase price,” he dismissively said, trying to hide the truth of how much he had really sold Gunhilde for.

“Okay, if you say so!” she sang, plucking away at her lute. “So are you going to stay for the victory feast, or enjoy your new found freedom?”

“How did you know?” Bucky asked, confused by how she knew he was a free pony now.

“Check your flanks,” she responded.

Looking at his left flank, he was surprised to see that he no longer had the mark of a slave, but instead now wore the mark of citizenship. “I think I’m going to go explore the world, wish me luck Dawson.”

“Look me up if you ever go north,” Dawson said, taking the bag of bits that Bucky offered him.

“Okay Dawson, see you around,” Bucky said, before taking off into the air.

“Come on Dawson,” Melody said, gesturing towards the direction of the camp. “Your mother is probably worried sick by now.”

“Alright, let’s go,” he agreed, spreading his wings and taking to the sky. Looking at Melody trailing behind him, he felt much better knowing he wasn’t alone anymore. And though he still didn’t have a father, he had at least gained a sister.

Aria’s arms were tired, never before had she tried carrying something so heavy while flying. “Master Scourge,” she said, looking for a good spot to land. “I’m afraid I can’t carry you any further.

“That’s fine my pupil,” he said, looking up at Aria, “we can walk the rest of the way.”

“Aria, why are you carrying Master Scourge?” she heard somefeather ask.

Looking to her left, she saw her sister Harmony flying beside her. “Why have you left the Slave King defenseless?” she demanded, incensed that her sister would leave her post.

“He asked me to find out why you felt the need to leave the front,” Harmony replied, annoyed that her sister would accuse her of abandoning the Slave King.

“When I saw that Lord Triton had brought several members of the pantheon, we felt it prudent to return,” Aria retorted, insinuating that her sisters weren’t enough to defend the Slave King.

“The situation has been resolved without the need for your help,” Harmony icily said, letting her sister know that she was more than capable of handling a few unruly deities.

Scourge looked at the bickering siblings and sighed. “This is something we can discuss later,” he said, “if the Slave King has managed to reach a resolution with Lord Triton, so much the better. Come, let us meet with our king and see what he needs us to do.”

“Yes, Master Scourge,” the chastened siblings said together.

When they touched the ground Scourge shook himself once, knocking all the kinks out of his joints. “Climb on my back,” he told them. “We’ll make better time that way.”

Inwardly, both sisters whooped with excitement. Riding on Scourge had been one of their favorite pastimes as children. Now grown, they hadn’t had an opportunity to do so in ages. Once they’d climbed on top of him, he made sure they had a firm grip and barreled forward. Picking up speed, he could hear their cheers as they forgot their quarrels for a few minutes.

Along the way, Harmony explained what had happened, and the arrangement Celestia had brokered between Lord Triton and the Slave King. “This is unfortunate,” Scourge said, when he learned there would be no new slaves to be had, “an influx of new slaves would have been helpful for the construction of Neo Vale.”

“But Master Scourge, think of the silver lining,” Aria said, enjoying the air rushing through her red feathers and plumage. “The agreement ensures no retaliation against us by Lord Triton, and with all those extra ponies, the city’s economy should boom within a fortnight.”

“I know,” he replied, “I’m just thinking about all the heads I’m going to have to crack when they learn there’s no loot or slaves to be had from this conquest.”

“The first one who steps out of line will receive a ration from me personally,” Aria darkly said.

“We’re here,” he said, stopping at the foot of the Slave King’s hill. “Come. Let us see to our king’s needs.”

Gunhilde was miserable, tired, and thirsty, though she thought she was going to be released when Lord Triton had made arrangements with the Slave King, it appears she had been forgotten. Working on the ropes binding her legs, she finally managed to free herself. She was behind the Slave King’s stone throne, near the tent that she supposed was where he slept. Spying an open bottle left unattended on a nearby table, she walked over to it and helped herself.

Pouring out the contents of the bottle into a nearby goblet, she examined the flowing green liquid that filled the cup. Unsure what it was, she breathed in its scent and smiled. Smelling the contents of the bottle, reminded her of spring, wildflowers, and fresh cut grass. Parched with thirst, she picked up the goblet with her hooves and sampled it. Once the luminous liquid had made contact with her tongue, her taste buds cried out in ecstasy. Knowing she had to have more, she tilted her head back and emptied the contents of the bottle.

Drinking deeply from the draught, she felt herself become invigorated as her sore and battered body rapidly healed itself. “That’s a draught from the well of renewal,” she heard the Slave King’s raspy voice say from behind her.

Frightened that she had committed a serious taboo, Gunhilde closed her eyes and hid her muzzle behind her front hooves. “Please don’t harm me, I was just so thirsty,” she begged.

“What is your name?” the Slave King asked, looking down at the terrified deer.

“Gun… Gunhilde,” she said, fearful of whatever punishment the Slave King might bring down on her head.

“Fear not, young doe,” the he said. “Why would I harm my own property?”

When she heard the words ‘my own property’, she became incensed. “I’m not your property, you agreed with Lord Triton to let all the prisoners go!” she protested.

“That’s correct,” he agreed. “However, you became my property the moment the transaction with Bucky was completed. Check your flanks for yourself. You’ll see that the slave’s mark is there.”

Turning her head to look at her flank, she kept her eyes closed not daring to look. Eventually curiosity won, and she opened her eyes and looked. To her horror, she saw that the he had spoken the truth. She was marked as the Slave King’s property. Remembering all the terrible things Dawson and Bucky had said awaited her as a slave, she began crying.

“Why do you weep?” the Slave King asked her.

“Because my life is over,” she bawled. “I don’t want to be a tent doe, or stuck in a mine doomed to never see the sun again!”

“You will be my cupbearer,” he said, deciding her fate. “You will clean my tent, and fill my cup when it’s empty.”

“Is that all?” she asked, scarcely believing she was getting such a prestigious job.

“There may be other duties, I might ask you to perform,” he said, “but they should be easy enough. Why, would you prefer the mines or prostitution?”

“Oh no,” she stammered.

“Good. Slave Gunhilde, fetch my cup and fill it. These negotiations have left me feeling parched,” he instructed.

Dutifully, she obeyed. Bringing the Slave King his cup, she filled it with a draught from another bottle. Looking at the deities that seemed satisfied with how things had ended, she sighed. Though all the others were being freed, she was cursed to serve her new master for the foreseeable future.

Scourge slowly climbed the hill where the Slave King was seated. He noticed an unhappy looking Lord Triton seated across from his king, a distraught looking Lady Zephyr on the opposite side of the hill, and both Princess Celestia and Princess Luna seated near his master.

“Master,” Scourge said, bowing low to the Slave King, “I heard you negotiated a peace settlement with the Domain of Water?”

“That’s correct Scourge,” the he said. “I’ll need you to ensure my troops stop their looting, and to cease harming any more of the citizenry.”

“I’ll advise the other doomhounds to pass the word,” Scourge said. “And has Lord Triton sent word to his people to halt their counter attack?”

“Scourge, that’s an excellent question,” the Slave King replied. “Lord Triton, Scourge has asked if your people have been made aware of our little agreement.”

Lord Triton looked at the Slave King, before nodding once. “I’ll send word at once,” he said. “The knights who arrive will be part of the preliminary garrison that will be stationed here.”

“Now that all the loose ends have been tended too,” the Slave King said to the assembled deities. “I invite you all to join in the victory celebration, commemorating my victory over you, Lord Triton.”

When he heard the Slave King’s barb, he glared angrily at his antagonist. It was now a matter of personal honor. Silently, he vowed to settle things with the Slave King. “What sort of celebration would that be?” the Lawgiver asked, carefully probing the Slave King. He was half-expecting the Slave King’s followers to revel in drunkenness and debauchery, such behavior was to be expected from honorless mudslingers after all.

“There will be feasting and drinking of course,” he said, reminiscing about the previous celebrations his army had had. “The men usually regale the court with tales of their heroic feats. Also there’s usually the bazaar, where the soldiers trade their spoils with each other. For obvious reasons, that will have to be canceled. Then there’s the contests of strength and martial ability; my soldiers will duel each other for prizes. But of course your knights will probably have no interest in participating in such. Losing so badly, twice in one day, would probably be too much for your honor to bear.”

When he heard the Slave King’s final insult, Lord Triton felt his blood boil. The human would regret besmirching the martial prowess of ‘The Most Illustrious Order of Triton the Lawgiver’! “Now see here, Slave King,” he said, rising up from his seat, “it’s one thing to insult myself, but to insult the honor of my knights? This will not stand!”

Princess Celestia had to bite her tongue as she listened to the two of them. Really, the Lords of Water and Earth could be such foals! Especially the Slave King, who seemed intent on stirring up trouble for no good reason. Trotting towards Lady Zephyr, she gave her a warm smile. “Lady Zephyr,” she asked, “what sort of stallion was your wayfarer consort?”

When Princess Luna heard the idle gossip her ears perked up. Though such a topic was taboo, and beneath a mare of refinement, such interdomain gossip was too juicy to ignore. “Verily Lady Zephyr, pray tell,” she added, playing off her sister’s inquiry. “Thy son is very comely. His father must have been as well. Was thine romance enflamed by Lady Suzaku?”

Lady Zephyr instantly turned crimson, remembering the many sessions she shared with her absentee lover. “I don’t really wish to discuss Dawson’s father,” she said, glancing towards the Slave King with forlorn eyes.

“Oh, it’s all right between us ladies,” Princess Celestia said, offering herself as a confidant to Lady Zephyr. “I promise not to tell anypony about it. I’m sure Luna feels the same way.”

“Truly, Lady Zephyr, we vow upon our moon, not to break thy confidence,” Princess Luna said, curious as to the type of individual that could capture the Lady of Air’s heart. “Thy consort must have been a mighty stallion indeed, to sooth thy aching heart for the passing of Lord Darkpaw.”

Lady Zephyr took a deep breath, and decided to share with them. Remembering how he had made her once feel, her cheeks turned crimson as she reminisced about her lover. “He was like nofeather I’d ever met before,” she said, hiding her bushing beak beneath her wing. “Not since Lord Darkpaw, had I known such passion. Truly, it was a wondrous time for me.”

“How did you get involved with him?” Princess Celestia asked, listening to her tale intently.

“Oh, it was only by Lady Suzaku’s insistence I assure you, that I ever dared approached him with the idea,” she said with a smile, remembering the pure audacity of her friend’s suggestion they share him together. “We had many good years together, at least I thought we did.”

“What happened to thy lover? Didst his love wane for thee, when the garden of thy love blossomed?” Princess Luna asked, already knowing the answer to her question.

“He was quite surprised at first,” Lady Zephyr said. “In fact, I thought he was almost pleased he had a son. But one day, he closed his heart to me and asked me to leave him.”

“I’m sorry things didn’t work out for you,” Princess Celestia said, offering her the comfort that only the bond of sisterhood could offer.

“Tis a pity,” Princess Luna agreed. “But to speak truth Lady Zephyr, we art somewhat jealous of thee.”

Looking at her, Lady Zephyr gave the Lady of Night a puzzled look. “Why is that Princess Luna?” she said, curious as to her reason for envy. “I remember during the second age, that half the pantheon was chasing your tail.”

“Nay,” Princess Luna said with a hint of longing. “Of late, we hast been most unlucky in the matters of the heart. Some days, we think that we might be fated to spend the rest of the third age alone.”

“Dear sister,” Princess Celestia said, nuzzling her flowing mane. “Perhaps if you ask Lady Suzaku nicely, she might assist you in making one of the pantheon your consort. Perhaps Lord Triton would be receptive to such a proposition.”

“Lord Triton?” Princess Luna asked, flummoxed her sister would pick the most reserved member of the pantheon. “But he art as the cold pisces. Concerning the sundry matters of the heart, he is such a distant and passionless stallion! We hear that even during the Winter Solstice, after the Renewal of Water ceremony, he no longer even desires female companionship. Claiming that he wishes to conserve his essence, rather than waste it on the trivial desires of the flesh.”

“Oh what will that stallion think of next?” Lady Zephyr said, shaking her head at his strange beliefs.

“But Lord Triton is a stallion of propriety,” Princess Celestia said, miffed that Princess Luna and Lady Zephyr thought so poorly of the Lord of Water. “He would be a steadfast companion, and would honor his commitments no matter how distasteful he found them.”

“Sometimes Sister,” Princess Luna said, thinking back to the chaotic nature of the first age, “we desire to be consumed by the flames of passion. A romance of the ages, the kind the harpers wouldst commit to song.”

“Luna, if you remember,” Princess Celestia said, gently chiding her sister’s foalish longings, “the first age was more than wild nights of passionate romance. It was a time of chaotic upheaval. And on more than one occasion, some members of the pantheon even nearly destroyed Equestria due to their petty squabbles!”

Princess Luna laid her ears back in annoyance at her sister’s lecturing. Though she knew her desires were foalish, it was still fun to indulge in the fantasy at times. “Sister, thou art such a killjoy,” she said, blowing her a raspberry.

“Oh Luna, come now,” Princess Celestia teased, nuzzling her sister’s cheek playfully. “Perhaps the Slave King would offer you the excitement you crave, since you desire a turbulent consort.”

When she heard Princess Celestia mention the possibility of Princess Luna and the Slave King becoming intimate, Lady Zephyr took an aggressive posture towards the alicorns. “Why the sudden interest in the Slave King?” she pointedly asked, with her wings and beak poised to attack a possible rival.

“Oh, did you have your eye on him Lady Zephyr?” Princess Celestia asked, giving her a curious look. “I apologize if you took offense. I was just having a little joke at Luna’s expense.”

Realizing her aggression was uncalled for, Lady Zephyr’s features softened. She couldn’t believe herself. She had nearly attacked her over an innocent comment. “My apologizes, Princess Celestia” she said, bowing to her in an act of contrition and humility. “I have no idea what came over me. Perhaps the stress of worrying over the whereabouts of my wayward son for the past fortnight has fatigued me.”

“Oh that’s perfectly alright Lady Zephyr,” Princess Celestia said, looking at the Slave King as he and Lord Triton continued giving each other veiled threats. “Perhaps we should break up those two, before hostilities resume between their domains.”

“A wise choice,” Lady Zephyr said, nodding her head in agreement.

“Luna, do you care to join us?” Princess Celestia asked.

“Nay mine sister,” she said, “thy merciless teasing has put me in a melancholy way.”

“Luna, suit yourself,” she said, giving her sister a smile before heading to break up the arguing deities.

Once she was left alone, Luna spied the entrance to the Slave King’s tent. Curious to find out more about him, she stole away inside it unseen. Looking around the spacious tent, she was surprised by how few possessions he had. Even his bed was nothing more than a hammock and several blankets. Examining his furniture, she saw most of it was made of stone. This made perfect sense to her, considering he was capable of making anything from stone with little more than a thought. But unlike the other members of the pantheon, none of his iconography could be found anywhere. Even though she didn’t consider herself vain, all of her possessions still bore her mark, the distinct shape of the crescent moon.

“Curiouser, and curiouser,” she said, pondering why the wealthiest deity seemed to care nothing for his mighty fortune. Had he wanted to, he could have made all his furniture from solid gold or even platinum just as easily as from stone. “We wonder why he desired the port so. He has no apparent interest for enjoying his wealth, yet chases after it as if he wert Lord Ouroboros himself.”

In a far corner was an open wardrobe. Looking inside, she found nothing but clothing designed for the Slave King’s unique frame. Unlike the finery some of the other members of the pantheon wore, each article of clothing was made with practicality in mind. Though each was expertly made, even the common ponies of her domain wore nicer things. Abandoning the wardrobe, she turned her attention towards a chest hidden away in a corner. Though she couldn’t put her hoof on it, something about that chest called out to her, begging her to look inside. Cautiously approaching it, the temptation to open it grew even stronger.

“Methinks, there must be something of great worth inside,” Princess Luna said, drawing closer to the beckoning chest.

“What are you doing in here?” a voice asked.

Startled, she backed away from the chest. Turning around, she lowered her ears against her head in embarrassment at having been discovered entering the Slave King’s tent uninvited. To her surprise, she saw the reindeer battlemage from earlier looking up at her questioningly.

“We apologize for intruding,” Princess Luna said, hoping to prevent any further embarrassment to herself. “We saw the tent and were overcome by curiosity.”

“You shouldn’t be in here,” Gunhilde said, annoyed that she would have to straighten up the Slave King’s quarters again.

“We would appreciate thy discretion in this matter,” she said, hoping that Gunhilde wouldn’t say anything to anypony.

Though still upset with her new status as the Slave King’s property, Gunhilde remembered that Princess Luna had spoken on her behalf. “I promise not to tell anydeer you were here,” she said. “Follow me. Princess Celestia said she was looking for you.”

Before following Gunhilde out of the tent, she gave the chest a wistful look wondering what could possibly be inside it.

Flying back towards the main camp, Dawson could see several large bonfires beneath him. Gliding along several warm thermals, the scent of roasting meat entered his nostrils. Feeling his stomach rumble, he peered down and saw large slabs of meat being roasted on spits.

“It smells divine, doesn’t it?” Melody asked, sniffing the air.

“It does, but I didn’t think phoenix’s enjoyed eating meat like griffins,” Dawson said.

“Oh don’t be such a pony,” Melody playfully said, with a teasing smirk. “Everyfeather in the Domain of Earth enjoys a bit of meat every now and again. Oh, if you want to impress our father I know just the thing!”

When he heard her say that, his heart filled with hope. Finally, there was something he could do to remedy for his poor performance earlier. “What is it?” he asked her, curious as to what her idea might be.

“There will be contests,” Melody sang, banking to the right to lower her altitude. “Do well, and the Slave King will offer you a boon.”

“But the Slave King has already dismissed me,” he said, unhappy he wouldn’t be eligible to participate.

“Leave that to me little brother,” she said with a conspiratorial wink, just before her feet touched the earth. “Just promise me you’ll win! Meet me by the armory tent, in half an hour and I’ll help you enter the contest.”

“I’ll see you then,” he agreed, before turning around to face his waiting mother, who looked none too pleased with him. Deciding to face the music, he walked up the hill towards her.

Lady Zephyr saw her son walking up the hill to meet her. Looking at him, she could tell a change had come over him but was unsure of what it was. Before, he was like the tempest tossed cloud. But now, Dawson carried himself with a calm demeanor. I must thank Melody for whatever she did, she thought. Turning her attention to her son, she ran towards him and wrapped her talons around him tightly, not daring to let him go. “My little fledgling,” she cried, “I’ve missed you so much!”

Returning his mother’s embrace, he rested his head against hers. “Mother, forgive me. I’m sorry for making you worry,” he said, basking in his mother’s love.

“I already have my child,” she whispered, closing her eyes and holding her son close. Then opening her eyes, she gave him a look of fury. “Dawson, if you ever do something so reckless again, I’ll clip your wings!”

“I promise mother,” he said, kissing her head in hopes of placating her fury.

“Come Dawson, we’re leaving this place,” Lady Zephyr said, casting a longing gaze at the Slave King before turning away.

“Might we stay at least for the victory feast?” he asked, hopeful that his one chance to redeem himself wouldn’t be taken away by cruel fate. “I made some friends here, and would hate not having a chance to say my farewells.”

She looked once towards the Slave King, and then into her son’s pleading eyes. Sighing, she nodded her assent. She had wanted to leave this place as soon as possible, away from him and the memories that pained her heart. Smiling warmly at her son, she ran her talons along his plumage, straightening the few feathers that had worked themselves out of place. “Dawson, go say your goodbyes,” she said, giving him one last squeeze before letting go.

“Thank you mother,” Dawson said, kissing her cheek and running towards the armory tent.

Happy to have her son back, she turned to join the other deities on the hill overlooking the preparations for the celebration. Looking back at Dawson, she flicked her tail. “Make sure you don’t take all night!” she called out to him. Seeing him wave once, she was satisfied he had heard her and walked back to join her peers.

When Lady Zephyr arrived at the great stone table that the Slave King had erected, she saw Princess Celestia and Princess Luna flanking him, making sure he was behaving himself. Meanwhile Lord Triton was giving the Slave King a hard steely eyed look, while the Slave King was looking back at the Lawgiver with a look of smug satisfaction on his face. She remembered when she had first seen that look. It was back when he had sworn an oath to the pantheon. He had been so bold and powerful then it had melted her heart, now it was nearly unbearable seeing him like this again.

Seeing that she had returned, Princess Celestia offered her a warm smile. “Lady Zephyr, come join us. That is, if our host doesn’t object?” she asked, looking at the Slave King.

“Celestia the Radiant, I have none,” he said, turning his cold gaze at her.

“Come, have my place at the table,” Princess Celestia said, offering her seat. “I shall sit beside Lord Triton.”

Lady Zephyr’s heart sang, as she sat next to the Slave King. Wishing to entertain him, she looked into his burning eyes. “Which contest will be first?” she asked, placing her talon near his hand, hoping he would hold it once again.

“I believe that the jousting will be first,” the Slave King said, pointing to several of his hounds and ponies equipped with long lances. “Lord Triton has generously offered some of his knights to participate in tonight’s contests.”

“Yes, my ponies wanted to show your diamond dogs what true martial prowess looks like,” he said, still annoyed by the Slave King’s earlier barbs.

Princess Celestia took a small sip of wine from her goblet. “Tell me Lord Triton, who are you favoring to win the jousting contest?” she asked, hoping to keep the conversation civil.

“That would be Sir Hurricane the Gallant,” Lord Triton proudly said, drinking from his tankard of ale. “He’s always done well during our jousting tournaments in Marelantis.”

Seeing the direction her sister was steering the conversation towards, Princess Luna studied the field. “Slave King, we wonder who thou thinketh will be triumphant?” she said, sampling some of the wine in front of her.

“Most likely Shadow Knight Sombra,” the Slave King replied, draining the contents of his goblet. “Slave Gunhilde, see to my cup.”

“Yes… Slave King,” Gunhilde sighed, carrying a large bottle full of the Draught of Renewal and filling the Slave King’s cup to the brim.

“Second, has told me many things of Shadow Knight Sombra’s martial prowess,” the Slave King said, as the other deities looked disapprovingly at his use of Gunhilde as a slave. “I think Lord Triton, he should prove a most formidable opponent for your gallant Sir Hurricane.”

“This is unacceptable,” Lord Triton said, upset that Gunhilde was being used as a slave. “We had an agreement. All the prisoners were to be freed.”

“Yes, and I complied with the agreement to the letter,” the Slave King said. “Slave Gunhilde, wasn’t a prisoner at that time and so she wasn’t freed.”

“Black hearted scoundrel!” Lord Triton growled in frustration, furious that the Slave King had once again managed to skew laws that he predicated on justice and harmony into something twisted.

The Slave King looked darkly at the assembled deities, and drank from his cup. “Why should this single doe be free from bondage, while all the rest be doomed to toil until their time is finished?” he asked, daring them to answer him. “Lord Triton, how is that fair to the others?”

Lord Triton tried finding an answer, but struggled to respond. “Well… that is to say…” he stammered.

“Celestia the Radiant, you find the practice of slavery repugnant, yet nearly five centuries have passed and still ponies come to market,” he said, waiting for her to answer him.

“I refuse to become a tyrant to all, to save a few,” she said, looking sorrowfully at Gunhilde.

Princess Luna heard her sister’s words and felt incensed. The Slave King did have a point, why shouldn’t we forcibly stop such a horrible practice? All Equestria literally depended on them for their very survival. If some of their subjects couldn’t be persuaded to stop selling their fellow ponies into slavery, perhaps they were unworthy of their benevolence.

“Sister,” she said, “the Slave King is correct. We have little right to condemn him so long as we permit such terrible behavior to go unchecked.”

“Luna, we can’t…” Princess Celestia said, shaking her head in disbelief at what her sister was suggesting. “We can’t force everypony to do the right thing.”

“Dear sister, why not?” Princess Luna asked, looking at each of the other deities in turn. “All Equestria is sustained by our power, should we not expect… Nay demand obedience in the few things we ask?”

“Luna!” Princess Celestia gently admonished her sister. “That’s not harmony’s way, not our way, and not your way. We are not like the unmentionable one. Ours is to be the example, so that when those who desire harmony look to us, they can know the way.”

The Slave King looked at Princess Luna and then at Princess Celestia appreciatively. “Almost Celestia the Radiant, did you convince me of harmony’s virtue,” he said. “Perhaps, one day I might heed its call, but today is not that day.”

“Lady Zephyr,” Lord Triton said, trying to determine her position, “you have been rather quiet, what is your opinion on the matter.”

Lady Zephyr thought a moment. Though she loved his great strength, slavery was abhorrent to her. “To griffins, freedom is of the utmost importance,” she said, looking at the Lord Triton. Then turning towards the Slave King, she smiled. “But freedom means ultimately nothing, if you are too weak to preserve yourself.”

“So then, it would appear we are at an impasse,” Lord Triton said to the Slave King. “Perhaps you might care to place a wager?”

“Regarding?” the Slave King asked.

“If my knight wins, you must free Gunhilde,” Lord Triton said, confident in his knight’s abilities.

“Very well, I agree,” the Slave King said, drinking from his cup. “However, if my shadow knight wins, you must publicly announce that ‘The Order of the Shadow’ is superior to the ‘The Most Illustrious Order of Triton the Lawgiver’.”

“It is agreed then,” the Lawgiver said, shaking the Slave King’s outstretched hand with his fin.

“How exciting,” Princess Luna said, feeding off the tension emanating from the Slave King and Lord Triton. “We know not who to cheer for.”

When he heard her dilemma, the Slave King gave a dark chuckle. “Cheer for me Luna the Beautiful,” he said, “if you want to celebrate the victor.”

“”Humph,” Lord Triton grunted. “I can’t wait to see that smirk wiped off your face, when you finally lose to me Slave King!”

The Slave King said nothing, instead held out his empty cup expectantly for Gunhilde to fill.

It had taken him about ten minutes, but he had finally found the armory tent. Wondering where Melody was, Dawson walked around the perimeter of the tent looking for her. Deciding to give up, he heard two voices speaking to each other in hushed whispers. Curious as to what they were talking about, he used his latent air magic and crept closer towards the voices, unseen by anyfeather.

“Master Second,” a charcoal unicorn said. From beneath his arcanum armor his black mane and tail could be seen fluttering in the breeze. “Are you sure now is the time?”

“Most assuredly, Shadow Knight Sombra,” Second replied, making sure no one was eavesdropping on their conversation. “Soon the Slave King will be celebrating his five hundredth inauguration, he will be too distracted by other more pressing matters to manage his northern holdings.”

“The Crystal Mountains…” Sombra said, sharpening his horn.

“Yes, and by extension the crystal ponies,” Second the doomhound said, opening his mouth and revealing his razor sharp fangs. “Our mutual acquaintance, wishes us to ensure the crystal ponies triple the output of the mines.”

“What makes you think, the Slave King will let me oversee such an important operation?” he asked, voicing his concerns that his standing in ‘The Order of the Shadow’ might be damaged if his request was denied.

“You’ll have my full support,” Second said with a dismissive wave of his paw. “Plus the fact that you just happen to be a pony, will be a useful foil to any objections that Princess Celestia and Princess Luna might raise.”

“Master, maybe I should turn you in and claim the reward…” Sombra threatened, before being knocked to the ground by Second.

The doomhound towered over the prone pony, threatening him with his deadly jaws and placing his heavy paw against the unicorn’s throat. “You dare threaten me, you miserable insect!” he growled, glaring at his subordinate. Placing his muzzle close to Sombra’s ear he whispered, “I have been betraying my king for centuries and yet live. You could have an accident tonight and nohound would be the wiser.”

Sombra’s dark coat had lightened by several shades of grey, in fear of his master’s wrath. “Forgive me, Master Second!” he whimpered, afraid for his life.

Knowing his point had been made to the pony, he allowed Sombra to get up. “Betrayal is a fact of life here in the Domain of Earth,” he said with a chuckle. “But remember your place pony, and you might live to profit from it.”

“You mean I could be king?” he asked, rubbing his bruised throat with his hoof.

“Of your own little fiefdom, yes,” Second grinned, before giving Sombra the burning gaze of somehound who had looked into the Pit and seen the terrors within. “But remember who your loyalty lies with, for he is not as forgiving as I.”

Though he had never met their patron, the knowledge that he was watching his every move filled Sombra with dread. “I’ll remember that,” he said.

“Good,” Second said, happy that his subordinate wouldn’t be getting any independent ideas. “Just follow your instructions and enjoy the benefits of serving our master.”

“I… I will Master Scourge,” he said, bowing low to the ground.

“Now, do not fail in your task,” Second warned, with a dangerous glint in his eye. “Or I shall be forced to find somehound else to replace you.”

When he heard the implications of Second’s threat, he turned ashen, bowed once, and headed towards the parade grounds.

When he was satisfied he was alone, Second narrowed his eyes in annoyance. How dare that pony presume to betray him! “It seems Sombra has an independent streak in him,” Second growled, carving marks into the ground with his paw. “We shall have to keep a close eye on him.”

Dawson watched in horrified fascination, as the doomhound continued making his marks in the ground. Though he wasn’t sure what purpose they served, he recognized it as similar to the communication spells some members of ‘The Order of the Shadow’ used to speak with the Slave King.

Soon Second was finished, bowing his head low he released a spine tingling howl. Immediately, the markings around the circle glowed blood red. Out from the circle the ghostly image of a terrible creature appeared. “Second, have all the preparations been made?” the image said with a voice that chilled Dawson’s soul.

“Yes,” Second answered, refusing to look at the image. “Sombra will make a useful pawn for your purposes, though he has a bit of an independent streak to him.”

“It doesn’t matter,” the voice said with a dark chuckle. “Just ensure he becomes king over the crystal ponies. His wicked nature will ensure he follows the plan.”

“And what of your opposition?” Second asked. “Jormungandr has been a constant thorn in your side.”

“Jormungandr has been dealt with for now,” the voice derisively replied. “Though he intends to stop me, each of his attempts has only ensured my eventual triumph.”

“What about Scourge and Nightmare?” Second asked, thinking of his superiors. “Scourge is loyal beyond even death, and Nightmare would devour the Pit itself to defend the Slave King.”

“Measures have been taken to deal with Scourge and Nightmare,” the voice said, seemingly unconcerned with the Slave King’s servants. “Now leave, and don’t return until you have news of my success.”

“Yes master,” he said, still refusing to look up at the creature as it faded away. Taking his paw, he destroyed the earthen ring and walked away.

When he was sure he wouldn’t be discovered, Dawson exhaled. He couldn’t believe what he had just seen. Second was plotting against his father with some terrible evil thing! “I need to tell somefeather,” he said, not sure who would believe him.

“Tell who what?” Melody asked, giving Dawson’s wings a playful poke with her lute.

“Augh!’ Dawson shouted, recoiling in fright.

“Oh, it’s only you…” Dawson sighed in relief.

“What do you mean, only me?” Melody asked, giving him a dangerous look.

Taking a deep breath, he explained everything he had seen to her. Sitting quiet as a stone, she patiently listened as he expounded all the details of the plot to her. She nodded once, when she heard about Shadow Knight Sombra, the plot to make him king over the crystal ponies, and Second’s betrayal of the Slave King to a terrifying blood red apparition.

When he was finally finished, he took a few deep breathes and looked expectantly at Melody. “Well?” he asked, hoping that she might have an idea about how to proceed.

“Well what?” she replied, mimicking the Slave King’s oft used expression.

“What are we going to do about what Second is planning?” he asked, hoping his sister had some ideas.

“Absolutely nothing!” she happily chirped, as she strummed her lute a few times.

“But… but…” Dawson sputtered in disbelief. He was sure that she of all feathers would have been the first to leap into action.

“Ah yes, we still need to get you a proper disguise!” she said, pushing Dawson him the armory tent.

The moment Dawson entered the tent waves of overpowering heat hit him full in the face. Looking at what was inside it, he saw a sight that would make Lord Triton green with envy. Arcanum armor and weapons, enough to equip hundreds of warriors were stacked in neat piles.

Arcanum ore by virtue of its special properties is the only metal known to ponykind that’s magically resistant once it’s processed into arcanum steel. Because of this, arcanum ore is highly sought after for armor and weapons. Unfortunately it’s also extremely rare, and until the Slave King ascended his throne only small pockets of the ore were found in Equestria. After he introduced new mining techniques to his people, arcanum became available in greater quantities in the south, but was still hard to come by anywhere else.

“Where did so much arcanum come from?” Dawson asked in wonder, not believing his eyes. He was amazed by how much of the incredibly rare metal was in front of him.

“From the ground kid, where else do you think it might come from?” a deep voice said.

“Iggy!” Melody shouted in jubilation. “Just the feather I was looking for.”

Turning around, Dawson saw that Melody was hugging a huge creature covered in red scales that was blushing with embarrassment. “Get off me, Melody!” he said with a gruff voice, as he unsuccessfully tried extricating himself from her iron grasp. “How many times have I told you to stop hugging me in public?”

"But everyfeather loves hugs!” Melody said, before reluctantly letting go.

“Well this dragon-half is somescale who doesn’t,” he retorted, giving Melody an exasperated look.

“But Iggy…” Melody pouted, giving the dragon-half puppy dog eyes.

“Confound it Melody, it's Ignatius not Iggy,” he protested, unhappy with all the affection he was receiving. “I’m not a whelp anymore.”

“You’ll always be my little Iggy,” she cooed, giving the dragon-half towering over her another little squeeze.

“Why can’t you hug one of my sisters instead? They all love that mushy stuff,” Ignatius complained, picking up the hammer he had dropped from his claws.

“Because you haven’t received your hug quotient for the day,” she replied, kissing Ignatius’s scaly cheek.

“Ugh, so what did you want Melody,” he sighed, wiping his cheek against his sleeve.

“This is Dawson, the griffin-half, son of Lady Zephyr,” Melody explained, pushing Dawson towards the dragon-half that towered over him.

“Hello,” Dawson said, feeling small next to the much larger dragon-half.

“Ah I see,” Ignatius said, giving Melody an understanding look. Placing a claw against his chin, he snorted a small blue flame. Appraising Dawson with his golden reptilian eyes, he nodded. “So what do you need Melody?”

“We need to disguise him as a feathered folk so he can enter the contest,” she explained. “Iggy, got anything to hide his more distinguishing features?”

“Well…” Ignatius drawled, giving Dawson an appraising look. “The biggest challenge is going to be hiding those talons of his. He doesn’t have hands like a feathered folk, plus his larger beak. Perhaps I got something in the back, that’ll do the trick.”

He walked towards the back of the tent leaving them alone. Wondering what the connection was between Melody and Ignatius was, Dawson raised his talon. “Melody is he…” he inquired, curious how a dragon-half came to work in the armory.

“Oh beneath his scaly hide, Iggy’s a sweetheart,” Melody said wearing a big grin.

“I heard that!” Ignatius shouted from the back of the tent.

"Tee, hee, hee,” Melody giggled, before holding a hand to her mouth and whispering, “He thinks he has to be tough all the time, cause he’s part dragon.”

“Did a wayfarer and a dragon…” Dawson asked, wondering how such a union came to be.

“No,” Melody said, trying on a belt and seeing how it looked on her. “About twelve years ago Lord Ouroboros woke from his torpor and came looking for revenge. He and the Slave King fought out in the badlands for about a week. When he returned from the battle, he had a number of dragon-halfs with him.”

“How is that even possible?” Dawson wondered, confused as to the implications of the Slave King and Lord Ouroboros procreating.

“I’m not quite sure,” Melody said, trying on a pair of duelists gloves. “I asked the Slave King once, and he told me to mind my own business. But I helped raise them since they were whelps, no taller than knee high. Now they run the Slave King’s forges.”

“Yes we do,” Ignatius said, giving Melody a pointed look. Handing him a bag, he waited as Dawson removed its contents. “I think you’ll find inside everything you need to pose as a feathered folk.”

Dawson opened the bag and pulled out a pair of large gloves that went up to his elbows. Sliding them on, he was amazed how well they fit on his talons. Next, he pulled out a large hat. Attached to it was a shemagh that could be wrapped around the face to protect against blowing dust. Putting on the hat and wrapping the attached shemagh around his face and beak, he looked into a mirror and was pleased that he looked just like a one of the feathered folk.

“Looking good Dawson,” Melody said, giving his wings an appraising look. “But I think he’s missing something.”

“Yeah, I agree with you,” Ignatius said, rubbing his claw against his chin. “I know what he needs, a proper weapon.”

“Exactly,” Melody agreed.

“Hey, what’s wrong with my spear?” Dawson said, holding out his weapon.

“I wouldn’t use that to pick my teeth,” Ignatius said, looking at the weapon with a critical eye. “It’s too top heavy, unbalanced, and the spearhead is warped.”

“That spear was made by one of the best griffin smiths in the Golden Eyrie,” Dawson protested, unhappy that his weapon was being dismissed.

“It might be acceptable for griffins,” Ignatius replied, “but for proper soldiers of the Domain of Earth nothing but arcanum is acceptable.”

“What about this one?” Melody said, pointing towards a red tinted spear.

“Nah,” Ignatius said, shaking his head. “Dawson isn’t attuned to light or flame magic. He couldn’t wield that weapon properly without hurting himself.”

“Oh, what about this one then?” Melody said, picking up a silvery spear.

“What did I tell you about touching the weapons in here?” Ignatius growled, scolding her. “You’re liable to hurt yourself touching a weapon not of your element. But that’s a griffin weapon, not suitable for feathered folk use.”

Dawson looked at the spear longingly. Compared to his, that one was a masterpiece. Noticing another spear as black as ebony, he ran his talons along the smooth shaft. Picking it up, he was surprised by how light it felt. Holding it in his talons, he knew no other weapon would do.

Seeing Dawson examining the black spear, Ignatius smiled. “You have an eye for superior craftsmanship,” he said. “And you’re in luck. I made that spear for somescale who fell in battle today. So it’s available if you want it.”

“Thanks,” Dawson said, reaching for the spear to make it his own.

“Not so fast,” Ignatius said, placing one claw on the spear and holding out his other expectantly. “You’ll need to pay three thousand bits if you want the weapon and clothing.”

When Dawson heard the price, his head drooped. There was no way he could come up with that kind of money. Reluctantly, he began removing the hat and gloves.

“Come on Iggy…” Melody pleaded, “Can’t you let it slide?”

“No Melody, you know the rules,” Ignatius said, shaking his head and refusing to budge. “There are material and labor costs, and he’s not even in the army.”

“Iggy, aren’t I still your Melly?” she asked, batting her eyes at Ignatius.

“Ugh!” he groaned, placing his claw against his face. “Melody that’s not fair. I’m not some kid whelp anymore. I’m an adult dragon-half!”

“Will you help your Melly?” she pleaded, trying to look as adorable as possible.

Remembering how she used to care for him as a whelp, Ignatius growled. Knowing he was beaten, he nodded in agreement. “Fine,” he said, giving her a small smile. “I’ll only charge for the materials used. Dawson, you can have them for four hundred fifty bits.”

Reaching into the pouch Bucky had given him, Dawson emptied the contents into Ignatius’s outstretched claw. “That should cover it,” he said, grateful that Bucky had given him his share of the money.

Ignatius counted out the bits, and handed the remainder back to Dawson. Immediately Melody gave him a big hug. “Thank you so much, Iggy!” she said, kissing his scaly cheek once more.

“Get off me!” Ignatius half-heartedly protested, before returning Melody’s hug.

“Okay Dawson,” she said, letting go of Ignatius, “time to go win that contest!”

“Thanks Melody,” Dawson said, grateful for all the help she was giving him. Attaching the spear to his back, he followed her out of the tent.

As he watched them leave, Ignatius sighed before heading back to work. Thinking about the exchange he had with Melody brought a smile to his face as he released a jet of flame to stoke his forge. Looking at the glow of the coals, he saw the yellow embers and thought about how she always used to care for him when he was only half her size. Readying his hammer to strike the glowing metal, he whispered, “I love you Melly.”

Almost immediately Melody’s voice shouted out, “Ah, how sweet! I love you too Iggy!”

Growling with embarrassment, Ignatius returned to work trying his best to drown out her giggles with his hammer’s blows.

Dawson and Melody stood in line, waiting their turn to speak with Harmony who was running the registrations to enter the contest. When he saw who it was that was registering everyfeather, he began worrying she might notice he wasn’t really a feathered folk.

Concerned he might be discovered, he told his fears to Melody. “Are you sure, Harmony won’t recognize me?” he asked.

“Nah,” Melody said, dismissing Dawson’s concerns. “My sister is so stressed out right now, you could be registering naked and all she would say is next after you pay your fee.”

“Are you sure Melody?” he asked.

Before she could answer, Harmony shouted out, “Next!” When Dawson didn’t walk forward, she looked at him and scowled. “Hey, are you just going to stand there wasting my time, or are you going to pay the fee so we can get this line moving? I haven’t got all afternoon you know!”

“Uh, sure,” Dawson stammered, handing his last fifty bits to Harmony.

“Name?” Harmony asked, not even bothering to look up from her stack of papers.

“Um, I’m um,” Dawson said, trying unsuccessfully to think of a proper alias to use.

Harmony shot Dawson an annoyed looked and sighed, muttering, “Why me?” to herself. “Look, um, I’m um. I need your name if you want to compete,” she said, hoping to get this headache over and done with so she could return to the Slave King’s side before Lord Triton goaded him into another situation.

“Ah, he’s Dustin,” Melody offered, hoping to keep Dawson’s identity a secret.

“Dustin?” Harmony said, looking at his black and blue wings suspiciously. “What unit were you with?”

“Oh, he’s not with the regular army,” Melody said with a small laugh, weaving an identity for Dawson. “Dustin here is a scout, and just returned from the northeast.”

“Yes the northeast,” Dawson said, pointing towards a mountain in the distance.

“What were you doing out that way,” Harmony asked, annoyed that she now had to update the army scouting reports in addition to running the registration.

“Oh, there were reports of dragon gem raiders,” Melody said, wearing a cheerful smile.

“So were there any?” Harmony asked Dawson, scratching away at her parchment.

“Any of what?” Dawson asked.

“Dragon gem raiders?” Harmony replied, breaking her quill in frustration.

“Um, nope,” Dawson said, not sure how much longer he could keep lying through his teeth.

“Oh no!” Melody shouted, pointing to Harmony’s cloak. “You spilled ink all over yourself!”

Looking down, she saw that she had inadvertently spilled a half filled bottle of ink on her clothes. Feeling overwhelmed from having to deal with incompetents and annoying deities, she let loose a stream of profanities while unleashing a pillar of flame into the air.

Dawson, a bit fearful for his safety, looked questioningly at Melody. “Oh, she’ll be all right,” she said, plucking away at her lute and grabbing Dawson’s registration form. “Okay here you go Dawson, or should I say Dustin.”

“What do I do with this?” he asked, holding the registration form in his talon.

Present it to Master Scourge, he’s running the contests,” she said, before flying off towards the Slave King’s hill.

Seeing the soldiers wearing their full armor and weapons lining up, Dawson figured this was the line he needed to be in. The line moved forward rapidly, as he waited restlessly for the chance to redeem himself in his father’s eyes. Clutching the scrap of parchment in his talons, he was prepared to make the Slave King proud.

“Soldier, your registration,” a gruff voice demanded.

Looking up, Dawson saw the legendary Scourge waiting impatiently in front of him. “Yes sir,” he said, handing the parchment to the doomhound.

Scourge looked at the parchment and nodded. “Scout Dustin of the feathered folk tribe,” he said, “bring honor to our king, your tribe, and to yourself.”

“Yes, Master Scourge!” Dawson said, as bravely as he could.

“Good, you’re up next,” Scourge said, “against Shadow Knight Sombra.”

When he heard Sombra’s name, Dawson’s blood ran cold. Second himself, had handpicked that unicorn to be the lynch pin in his plot. Knowing if he lost his first fight, not only would he lose any chance to redeem himself to his father, but the plot against the Slave King might continue going forward undetected. Spying Sombra, standing in the line opposite of him he flexed his talons a few times trying to prepare himself for the fight. “Please help me win,” he whispered skyward, before returning his gaze back to his opponent.

However, unknown to Dawson, two ravens as black as night watched the day’s events unfolding from a tree a top a lonely hill. The first blinked his golden eyes once, before releasing a lone caw that echoed over the hillside. In response the other raven groomed its black feathers, before looking up with its silver eyes. “Hoo, hoo, hoo,” a silver and blue owl sitting above them hooted, waiting for a response. When none came, both the ravens and the owl cawed and hooted once in sorrow for their absent companion.