//------------------------------// // Departures and Arrivals // Story: Reddux the Tyrant // by PaulAsaran //------------------------------// Reddux the Tyrant Chapter V Departures and Arrivals Fine didn’t bother with subtly, kicking the door so that it opened with a bang. He marched into the room, two frothing mugs hovering over his shoulder, and kicked the door closed. Hoofknife, his muzzle buried in a letter, didn’t even flinch. “Somepony’s in a bad mood.” He had a large pile of scrolls and documents on the table before him, another poofing into existence as he spoke. Fine set one of the mugs on the table, knocking off a few scrolls as he did. “Got ya this.” He flopped onto a cushion by the window and scowled at the dirty street below. Hoofknife barely spared time to glance at the mug. “You know I don’t drink on the job.” Fine only took a swig of his beer. The Mane Archon took the time to finish reading his letter and scribble a quick response. He rolled the parchment up and pushed it down the throat of a nearby bottle, the potion inside rapidly dissolving the paper. That done, he turned to Fine and crossed his hooves. “I take it you didn’t find anything.” Fine snorted and stared down at his mug. “We’ve been at this for three bucking days, and not a peep. Nopony here knows a thing about the dragons, not that I wasn’t expecting them to.” He took another drink. Hoofknife sighed and grabbed his own mug. He took a sip and smiled slightly at the taste. “Even this close to the Badlands, nopony knows much about dragons. They aren’t exactly the most social of races.” Fine turned back to the window to watch as ponies moved about beneath him. “There’s nothing going on in this town. Best bit of dirt I could conjure up was that some of the authorities have been acting unusual. Probably some sort of political cover-up, pretty sure it’s not related to the dragons.” Hoofknife raised an eyebrow. “Political cover-up for what?” Fine shrugged and took another drink. “The harbormaster’s wife disappeared about a month ago. Rumor has it she left him for having an affair, but there are other stories roaming about. Darker ones. Could be something sinister there, but again, it almost certainly has nothing to do with the dragons. All the indications tell me it’s just a murder cover-up, which isn’t even in our purview.” Hoofknife sighed, setting his mug back down. “Sorry, Fine, but it looks like you’re gonna be walking.” “Guardia del Este.” Fine considered the name, his mug moving in slow circles before his eyes. “About as close to the Badlands as a pony can get without actually being there. Doesn’t mean there will be any news. I might have to visit all six of the southern forts.” “Even then, no guarantees.” Hoofknife scowled and turned back to his scrolls, but he didn’t bother to read them. Another scroll appeared and landed on the table as he thought. “We might not have time for such a slow approach. Who knows when the next attack will come?” Fine downed the last of his beer in a long chug. He finished with a gasp and pounded the mug to the window’s ledge. “I’m leaving at dusk. Going to every fort and doing a proper sweep would take a month at least. If that’s not quick enough and you want me to jump into the Badlands to look for some dragons to snoop on, let me know.” Hoofknife nodded. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Fine stood, but lingered by the window. His eyes roamed the streets, his highly analytical mind rapidly determining things. The two stallions on the corner trying to be innocuous as they sold some illegal variety of poison joke extract; the mare walking leg-in-leg with a young stallion and looking so happy, her conservative dress barely hiding the bruise on her throat; the potted plant on the house across the street that wasn’t quite aligned with the others and freshly shifted dirt at its edges, indicating it probably hid an extra key to the building. His eye went to the bank just down the road, rapidly picking apart its information: how many guards, how many windows, any alternative entries? It was all going on subconsciously, the natural tick-tock of his brain. It also let him notice the flash of pink out of the corner of his eye, which disappeared just as he turned his head to investigate. That was the second time today. Coincidence? Perhaps. He still peered at the alleyway where he’d seen it, though. He glanced at the mug on the windowsill; it was his third. Maybe he’d had one too many. Yet the flash of color reminded him of something, a topic he’d been wanting to bring up for a little while. He turned to Hoofknife, who was back to reading his scrolls. “Did we know about Daring Deeds’ niece?” Hoofknife didn’t look up. “Know about her in what way?” “That’s a ‘no,’” Fine grumbled. He grabbed his mug and trudged for the door. “If we did, you’d have read the file before coming here. If Equestria survives this little conflict, we really need to investigate the good Sir Deeds once it’s over.” Hoofknife eyed him as he passed. “The dragonslayer’s already got a fairly long list of things he’s responsible for. They’re all minor offenses compared to what we usually deal with, though, hence the reason we’ve been leaving him alone.” Fine paused to study his boss, lips set in a grim frown. He realized that Hoofknife was right; if Sir Deeds was responsible for what he suspected, it still wasn’t something the Archons typically got involved in. That thought was… mystifying. “You okay?” Fine flinched out of his reverie. “Yeah… yeah, I’m okay. Just had a weird thought is all.” He turned back for the door and added with no small amount of cynicism, “I imagine you won’t be seeing me again before I go, so good luck watching after your pretty princess.” “Fine.” He paused, ears perked to show he was listening. “Good luck. Don’t die on me out there.” Fine felt the first sting of nervousness hit him, the kind that always came before a particularly dangerous mission. Even so, he glanced back and offered a smug smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back to annoy you more. Promise.” He left, smile rapidly fading. He was already preparing himself for the task ahead. That started with getting that bucking filly out of his head. Fancy marched through the castle halls with head high and eyes set forward. He’d been thinking hard for three days, and today he’d finally made his decision. All that was left was to make his intentions known. He’d devoted nearly an hour to standing before a mirror and practicing his best Canterlot manner, willing his anxiety and fears away through the firm, emotionless expression that he’d been forced to master growing up in Canterlot. He hated the connections ponies made to the elite, but today he’d take advantage of his status. Nothing, not even the dragonslayer, could stop him from doing what he had to. Not a soul in Equestria would distract. Unless that soul happened to be Princess Celestia, who by sheer luck stepped out of Sir Deeds’ office just as Fancy approached the door. Fancy's heart skipped a beat as those soft, magenta eyes fixed upon him, and the determination he’d been seeking all this time was gone as soon as he’d completed his bow. “A good evening to you, Fancy.” Celestia’s voice was as kind as always. Fancy let his bow go for a little longer, if only to give himself a moment to steady his mind, and stood at attention before her. “Princess. A pleasure.” She nodded with a pleasant smile. “How are you holding up?” There was no way for Fancy to know whether she was genuinely concerned or merely putting on a show. He wanted to think it was the former, and decided he would settle on that idea – it better-suited his personal image of her. “I'm fine,” he replied with a smile he hoped was comforting. “I was just about to see Sir Deeds about my next posting.” Her smile weakened, but only by a fraction. She leaned forward to study him, and Fancy couldn’t help shifting. “If what you say is true, then I am glad to know it,” she at last said. “Yet I beg of you, Fancy, do not overburden yourself. One does not recover from… certain experiences with just a few days of rest. "Now speak plainly: are you okay?” Fancy’s smile faded. He stared into Celestia's eyes and realized that it was a foalish thing to try and slip the truth past a being such as her. He glanced aside, noting the guards on either side of Sir Deeds’ door. He didn’t want to admit to it, but… Celestia raised a hoof before he could speak, her expression solemn. “Your hesitation speaks volumes.” With a sigh, Fancy bowed his head. “I apologize for not being straightforward with you, Your Majesty.” “It’s quite alright, my little pony.” She lowered her head to look him in the eye. “I wish I had more time, but I must set the sun soon. Before I go, I would like to give you a little advice for wherever you go next. If I may?” He raised his head, one ear perking as he stared at her. “Of… of course.” She stood tall before him, and for a moment she seemed more… radiant. Her coat shined bright and her eyes, though kind once more, bored into him. Fancy had to wonder if he was being put under some sort of spell… but the thought slipped his mind as her lips parted. “Every pony in Equestria has a destiny, something they are meant to do. Remember this, Fancy: you survived. That fact is not luck or coincidence. This can only mean that fate has something in mind for you. You have been given a gift, the gift of life. Do not throw that gift away on foalish endeavors. Live, Fancy, and shine as fate intended you to.” Just as quick as the sensation had come, it was gone, and Celestia was walking past him. “I have royal business to attend to. Can’t keep the moon waiting, now can I? Good evening, Fancy, and good luck… wherever fate sends you.” Fancy turned to watch her depart down the hall, jaw hanging loose. Her words burned in his mind. He wanted to obey her wishes… but he wasn’t sure how to do so. She wanted him to… live? Did she think he was about to do something dangerous? Then it dawned upon him that, yes, he was. A great conundrum arose in Fancy’s mind; should he do what he’d been intending now that Celestia had made this request of him? Was that even accurate, calling it a request? He was going to be headed directly into danger, which was exactly what she’d told him not to do. Yet to stop now… He groaned and turned back to the door of the office. He thought on Sparks, who hadn’t even been given a chance to understand what was happening, and Lance, who had sacrificed himself to let Fancy live. If he abandoned his plan now, their deaths would be pointless. Fancy had no intention of dying… but he couldn’t just sit back and do nothing. So, with a silent apology to the princess, Fancy forced himself back into the demeanor of a proper noblecolt and marched for the door. He knocked, waiting for Sir Deeds’ voice to grant him entry before stepping in. Sir Deeds’ office was large, but not as large as Fancy had expected. Perhaps he should have known better; castles are practical structures, after all. The walls were lined with shelves and trophies and a suit of armor stood in the corner. Fancy’s eye immediately went to the decorative shield that graced a plaque in the center of the wall, just above the large desk. On that shield was a ring of long, pointed shapes that Fancy quickly recognized as teeth. Dragon’s teeth. Suddenly the tales of didn’t sound so tall. “Can I help you, Fancy?” Fancy broke out of his reverie with a silent curse. He forced himself back into his elite manner and stepped towards the desk. Sir Deeds sat on a cushion behind the desk, watching him with a concerned but impatient frown, yet Fancy’s eye was instantly pulled away. There, sitting on a cushion just behind and to Sir Deeds’ left, was Fleur. She wore a light blue dress, ornate and delicate with its abundance of lace and bows. Her head was bowed, but her eyes drifted up to Fancy at the mention of his name. She had makeup and lipstick on, and her mane was set in an ornate braid. She looked like a doll. A delicate, exquisitely crafted doll, but a doll nonetheless. Fancy stared at her. He felt like he was seeing something peculiarly wrong. Fleur remained silent, but her violet eyes held him in place. There was something being communicated to him in that invisible contact… but his mind couldn’t fathom the message. Sir Deeds broke the spell with a chuckle as his hoof reached back to stoke Fleur’s mane and scratch behind her ear. “Do you see now why I refer to her as my ‘pretty’ little niece?” Fleur’s eyes widened a touch as they flitted towards her uncle. She bowed her head once more, gaze set on her hooves and ears low. “Uh…” Fancy tried to recover from the distraction. “I know it’s not my business, sir, but… why is she here?” Sir Deeds’ smile faded and he cast a lecturing look Fleur’s way. The filly winced and leaned back a little. “Fleur ran away, First Lieutenant. She can be rebellious at times, you see. So, until I am confident she has learned her lesson and won’t try again, she will be staying where I and ponies I trust can keep an eye on her.” Fancy kept his expression neutral as he nodded. As… awkward as her presence and demeanor made him feel, he had to acknowledge that the excuse was a good one. “Come to think of it,” Sir Deeds said with a wry smile, “I never properly thanked you for saving her, did I? Let me take the opportunity now: thank you, First Lieutenant Fancy Pants, for rescuing Fleur from Sueño. I owe you a debt of gratitude.” “Of course.” Fancy nodded again, his eyes shifting to Fleur as he stood at attention. “I was happy to help.” Sir Deeds nodded his acceptance before turning to his niece. “Fleur, have you properly thanked the First Lieutenant?” She shifted, head still bowed as her eyes shifted away from the stallions. Her voice came out with a meekness that was unfamiliar to Fancy’s ears. “No, uncle.” “For shame!” Sir Deeds gestured to Fancy. “Thank the gentlecolt, like a good filly.” Fleur hesitated, her eyes drifting up to Fancy. She didn’t raise her head. “Th-thank you, sir. Thank you for saving my life.” Fancy saw the emotion in her eyes. It was something he’d not at all expected, a certain desperation and anxiousness. Maybe even fear. This whole situation felt… wrong, but he wasn’t sure what to do or even think about it. So, feeling not just a little anxious, he merely nodded and said, “You are welcome.” The filly’s eyes went back to her hooves. She uttered not a sound. “Well, now.” Sir Deeds turned back to Fancy with polite interest. “That’s out of the way. So, what can I do for you, soldier?” This was it, what Fancy had been preparing for. He sucked in a deep breath, stood at attention like a good soldier and stared straight ahead. “Sir, I have a transfer request.” “So soon?” Sir Deeds considered him curiously. “Going back to Canterlot, are we? I can’t say I blame you.” It took every ounce of willpower Fancy had not to scowl. “No, sir. I want to be posted at one of the southern defenses.” The Lord blinked, his lips parting in a subtly surprised expression. It took him a couple seconds to respond. “You mean… you want to fight the dragons?” Fancy’s eyes locked with his. “I want to be there when they come.” Sir Deeds leaned back, his expression becoming deathly serious. He regarded Fancy with a deep frown and tapped his chin. “Is this about revenge?” This time Fancy’s veneer cracked, his lips peeling back in a grimace. Still, he held his anger in check. “Permission to speak freely?” An eyebrow rose, but Sir Deeds gestured his acquiescence. Fancy leaned forward to level the Lord of Estéril Pezuñas with his harshest expression, intent on making his determination known. “I watched helplessly while my entire garrison was slaughtered. I lost two close friends, one of whom sacrificed his life so that your niece and I might survive. Their deaths are meaningless unless I act.” Sir Deeds did not appear at all swayed. His eyes narrowed in a peering gaze. “You think your death will give theirs meaning?” “What I think,” Fancy corrected with force, “is that if I don’t do something with the second chance they’ve given me, I’ll be dishonoring their memories. I refuse to sit on my laurels in Canterlot waiting for the dragons to come. Whether I’m effective or not isn’t as important as trying to be so.” “You’re going to get yourself killed.” Fancy thrust a hoof towards the window. “And why is my life any more important than any of theirs? You’re going to be sending soldiers south now, aren’t you? I’ve made a solemn promise to Long Lance and Blistering Sparks, a promise to make my life have meaning. I can’t do that in Canterlot. “Besides,” he added in afterthought, his tone calming now that he’d gotten the words out, “I have no intention of dying. Lance promised to make my afterlife rather miserable if I did.” He nodded to Fleur, who was staring at him as if seeing him for the first time. “She can attest to that.” Fleur winced as Sir Deeds’ turned to her. Her wide eyes darted between the two stallions for a few seconds. “Um… he did say that, actually…” Sir Deeds turned back to Fancy, his expression grim but thoughtful. Fancy merely stood at attention, having said his mind at last. Seconds passed as the Lord considered him, hoof tapping the desk. “I gotta admit,” he said at last, “that’s as good a reason as any. Yet the decision's not so easy as you might think.” He reached into a drawer and tossed a letter onto the desk. Fancy blinked and eyed it… and was barely able to suppress a groan. The letter was decorated with an emblem: a trio of blue roses set within a golden crown. It was his family crest. “Your father sent me that,” Sir Deeds explained. “He was insistent that you be put on the first boat back north and brought straight to Canterlot. Your mother added a little something, too, a personal plea.” Fancy brought a hoof up to press against his forehead with a long sigh. “I… I see.” Sir Deeds leaned against the desk, his expression unreadable. “I could just order you to go home, like they are demanding. After all, Bright Plume is an extremely influential member of the Canterlot elite, and it wouldn’t do to fall on his bad side.” The hoof lowered as Fancy stared at the letter. He could see all his hopes and intentions drifting away. Why didn’t his father understand what he was trying to achieve? That letter was a death sentence to Fancy’s future, and he knew it. Oh, not the future of a wealthy elite, not at all… but there would be no self respect. He looked to Fleur, who stared at the letter with a sad gaze. She caught him looking, but her frown didn’t fade. Seeing her, he felt… guilty. He wondered if it was her regret or his own that bothered him more. He turned his attention back to Sir Deeds. “Sir… I left Canterlot and joined the army because I wanted to make a difference. I was surrounded by self-assured ponies who insisted they were the crème of the crop, yet I knew that not a single one of them did anything to earn their social status. I don’t want to be like them. I don’t want to just be there, I want to belong there, to earn the right to be proud.” He pressed his hoof to the letter. “My father never earned anything on his own. I will not be like him. My friends, my companions are dead. Let me do something in their names, please. Don’t force me to be like my father.” Sir Deeds eyed the letter beneath his hoof. “And should you die, First Lieutenant?” Fancy stood tall. “I already told you, I have no intention of dying. Just being useful.” There was a long silence as Sir Deeds studied him, his face betraying no emotion. He tapped his hoof on the table, then glanced at Fleur – who promptly lowered her eyes back to her hooves. Seconds passed. The Lord sighed and turned to Fancy. “You don’t make it easy, you know that? Alright, Fancy, you get your wish, but on one condition.” Fancy stood at attention. “Sir.” Sir Deeds leaned forward and picked up the letter, raising it high. “You are going to answer this letter. You’re going to write to your parents explaining why their son’s not coming home, because I won’t do it.” The First Lieutenant cringed; the tactic was obvious and clever. That was not a letter he looked forward to writing… but it was one that he probably should have written a long time ago. “The Third Battalion is marching to Guardia del Este as we speak, and will pass by Estéril Pezuñas in two days. Have the letter written and delivered to me by that morning, and you’ll join them on their way to the fort.” Fancy blinked. “A whole battalion? What about the other forts?” Sir Deeds cringed, his shoulders sagging. “Equestria only has eight of battalions. Eight thousand troops against Celestia knows how many dragons.” He leaned against his desk with a sigh and shook his head. “Celestia’s ordered one battalion to each of the southern forts. That just leaves two thousand soldiers moving to protect Canterlot.” A bead of sweat formed on Fancy’s brow. “I see… Is she going to form more? Build up the army?” “It won’t matter,” Sir Deeds grumbled. “She can do it, yes, but even if the entire country mobilizes, we’re all doomed if the dragons attack en masse. Our only hope is to—” The door slammed open, a pair of royal guards rushing into the room. “Sir, a dragon’s approaching the city!” Sir Deeds was on his hooves in an instant, his eyes wide. “Coming from the south? How long do we have?” “Southeast,” one of the golden-armored guards corrected. “It’ll be on us by the time you get outside.” “Son of a—all soldiers to their posts!” “Sir!” The first guard turned and fled the room. Sir Deeds rounded the desk. He pointed a hoof towards Fleur, whose face had gone an extra shade of white. “Fleur, go to your room and don’t come out until I get you!” “Y-yes sir…” “Come with me, Fancy,” he barked as he galloped past. “If you’re that determined to die, you might as well do it now.” His attention turned to the guard, who was following close behind. “Does Celestia know?” “Some Royal Guards went to inform her, yes.” “Good… at least we have a princess on our side.” They charged through the halls, making for the nearest exit. Fancy could already hear ponies shouting outside, and his racing heart had nothing to do with the speed of his run. A chill ran down his spine; how long before those shouts of alarm turned into shrieks of agony? Yet even though his mind was clutched by terror, he wouldn’t let himself back down. He would face the beast and the carnage it was about to wreak, and pray to Celestia that he'd not go the way of Sparks or Lance or any of the other poor souls he’d watched burn. He anticipated coming upon a scene of carnage. Yet when he burst out the door and into the night, he found no flames. The world was dark and the air was cool. The wall he stood on wasn’t covered in bodies or battered down. Everything seemed normal, except that the guards were all pointing up, their spears and other weapons brandished at the dark sky. Fancy came to a slow stop next to Sir Deeds, the two stallions casting their eyes around for any sign of the aggressor. Seeing nothing, they turned their eyes to the stars. There, circling high above the castle, was the great beast. Its silver scales seemed to shimmer in the darkness, its massive wings reminding Fancy of a great white bat. It held something close to its muscular chest with both claws and it seemed to be scanning the castle. Although his immediate fear dissipated, Fancy couldn’t ignore the intense churning in his stomach. He clenched his teeth and breathed through his muzzle in slow, long intakes. Every muscle was tense as the sounds of screams filled his ears. He wanted to bolt, but he kept his legs locked and forced himself to watch. His mind ran through options for self-defense, but they all seemed pathetic in comparison to the creature above them. “Fancy.” He jumped and turned. Sir Deeds watched him from the corner of his eye. “Do you recognize it?” Fancy swallowed and looked back up to the dragon, which continued its steady circling. “N-no… No. That one wasn’t at Sueño. It’s not the right color, and it’s smaller than they were.” One of the soldiers nearby whispered, “Why isn’t it attacking?” “Maybe it’s sizing us up,” another said. There was a flash of light so blinding that Fancy had to shield his eyes against the glare. He turned as the light faded to spot Princess Celestia standing just outside the main courtyard gate and gazing up at the dragon. The beast circled twice before she opened her mouth to speak, and though she didn’t shout her words resounded in Fancy’s mind. “Lower your weapons, all of you, and make room. Allow her to land in the courtyard.” Gasps passed around the castle, but the soldiers did as instructed. The large group in the courtyard rapidly spread out to line themselves along the walls. Soon after, the dragon made a sharp turn and lowered itself to the earth. Its hind legs touched down gently and it sat tall over the castle walls. Fancy and Sir Deeds both craned their necks to see up to the dragon’s long, narrow face. The dragon bowed its head to Celestia. Despite her size and the fact that her voice carried throughout the castle, her tone was soft. “Greetings Celestia, Princess of Equestria. I am Sihalay, Jewel of the Burning Lands, Mate of First Fang Blazen.” Fancy’s eyebrows rose at that title. Was this the queen of the dragons? Though his heart pounded in his chest and his legs itched to run away, he found himself intensely curious. Celestia bowed to the dragon, albeit briefly. “Good evening, Sihalay. It is a pleasure to finally meet you. Your mate spoke highly of you in our few meetings.” The dragon set a claw over her heart, a small smile coming to her scaled lips. “It pleases me to hear you say this—” her smile faded, “—but I am afraid I have no time to speak outside of my purpose for being here. Before we begin, I believe this little one needs attention.” Sihalay opened her claw and lowered it to the ground. In her palm lay a pegasus bearing the light armor of a scout, his wing clearly broken. Murmurs arose throughout the castle, and Fancy was sure he heard one of the nearby guards curse Sihalay. His own anger with the beasts made him think on it… but Fancy wasn’t so overcome with emotion that he couldn’t wait to hear the excuse. The scout climbed out of the dragon’s claw on shaky hooves and managed to salute to the princess. “I… I’m sorry, your Majesty. I was careless and crashed over the Badlands.” Sihalay nodded, her expression grim. “He is fortunate that I was flying to the island and found him. He delivered to me your message, and I chose to immediately come to the castle.” Fancy’s ears perked; she had been flying to Sueño. Now his curiosity far outweighed his fear. He realized that no ponies would burn today. He set a hoof to his chest and permitted himself to calm down… though he noticed that his fellow soldiers weren’t so ready to accept the situation. Sir Deeds appeared as though he would order an attack at any second. Celestia gazed upon the scout. “What is your name?” The scout stiffened. “Colibri Cantante.” The princess nodded. “Well done, Colibri Cantante. You have my thanks for delivering the message successfully. Please, go inside and relax. Somepony will see to your wing shortly.” The scout's shoulders sagged. “Yes, your majesty. Thank you.” He hobbled past her, heading for the door. Before he’d gone inside, Sihalay reared back and spread her claws in a submissive gesture. “Princess Celestia, it was my intention to visit the island. My clan is aware of the recent attack and have chosen to investigate. I wish to provide my personal assurance that First Fang Blazen did not authorize the attack, or was even aware.” There was no visible change in Celestia’s demeanor, so Fancy had to simply imagine that her relief matched his own. There was still some grumblings of doubt among the guards, however. “Thank you for bringing me this assurance, Sihalay,” Celestia replied, ever expressionless. “You can imagine that this threat is of grave concern to Equestria, so I must ask you: have you any indication of who has committed this action against my ponies, or why?” Sihalay shook her head in a slow motion, a stern frown on her lips. “Not yet, Princess, but I assure you we will find out.” The princess nodded once more. “I trust First Fang Blazen, and so I shall trust his mate. We may discuss the situation here and now, and should you like I can personally bring you to the island of Sueño.” Sihalay considered her, then her eyes roamed the castle walls. Fancy sucked in a gasp when those yellow eyes passed over him. Her gaze rose to the stars and she scratched her long, narrow chin with a single great talon. “I am aware of the peculiar habits of ponies, Princess.” Sihalay at last looked down at Celestia once more. “Unlike my kind, you must sleep daily. If it pleases you, we may begin a proper discussion of the situation in the morning. I shall let you and your ponies sleep while I examine the island overnight. "And,” she added with a dismissive wave at the walls, “perhaps we can meet in a location where your soldiers might feel… how can I put this delicately? Unintimidated.” More growls from the guards, but Fancy saw her point. He had to acknowledge that he was intimidated. Besides, if one of them decided to cast a spell or some other ridiculous action, he knew things could get very ugly very quickly. Celestia was apparently aware of this, as well. “Your consideration is appreciated, Sihalay. I find that an agreeable course of action. We can meet on the southern shores just outside the city, if you would be willing.” Sihalay bowed her massive head once more. “I would. Shall we reconvene at dawn?” Celestia bowed in kind. “At dawn, then. And Sihalay, please be mindful on the island. There are ponies there at the present time performing their own investigation. They may react… rashly upon seeing you.” Sihalay rested her claw over her heart. “I promise to be cautious. No ponies will come to harm, this I assure you. Until tomorrow, Celestia.” Her wings spread wide, stretched out above the courtyard walls, and she launched into the night sky. The ponies watched her fly east, her massive body blotting out the stars. Fancy relaxed as the tension slowly ebbed from his muscles. “Well… that went better than I anticipated.” “Assuming it is not a trick of some sort,” Sir Deeds grumbled, his eyes piercing as they scanned the sky. “I don’t trust her.” Fancy didn’t blame him, but he was still grateful. “Thus far she’s the only dragon I’ve come across who didn’t try to kill everypony. I think that alone warrants our attention.” Sir Deeds shot him a withering scowl. “You handled yourself well, for somepony who went through Tartarus on that island. Even so, you should—” “Sir Deeds.” Celestia’s voice echoed in their ears. “I would speak to you immediately about the arrangements for tomorrow’s meeting.” The lord’s face grew even harder, if such a thing were possible. He began to turn away, but paused. “Remember, First Lieutenant: I want that letter on my desk by dawn the day after tomorrow, or you’re going back to Canterlot. Am I clear?” Fancy stiffened and saluted. “Yes, sir.” He waited until the pony had moved inside before relaxing, his eyes once more roaming the night sky. He sought out the dark blot that indicated the dragon, but it seemed she’d already traveled beyond his vision. Wondering on Sir Deeds’ words, he turned and made his way inside. Fancy had expected to be furious with the next dragon he saw, or to be hateful. There was a distinct anger in him, true… but he realized it wasn’t aimed at Sihalay. He had been so prepared to hate the race as a whole… but that kind of emotion just couldn’t form in his mind. After all, they were individuals, weren’t they? They could have disagreements, see things in different ways. Equestria had its criminals, why couldn’t the dragons? He realized that he actually felt more relieved than anything else. If what Sihalay said was true – and he could think of no practical reason to doubt her – then that meant they weren’t going to war. Equestria wasn’t as doomed as it had at first seemed. That was cause for celebration, wasn’t it? Yet he still had that anger. He closed his eyes and saw Lance crushed beneath the rock. It wasn’t so hideous as his dreams of seeing Sparks consumed in flames, but it made his blood boil regardless. Even if the dragons as a whole weren’t evil, there were still three of them who deserved to answer for their crimes. Fancy understood that he wouldn’t be satisfied until that happened. He marched towards his room, set on his goals. He would write that letter to his parents – to his father – and go to Guardia del Este. Maybe he wouldn’t see one of the dragons that attacked the island, but at the very least he would feel like he was doing something. Yet as he approached his door, he found himself hesitating. Thoughts of defying his father came easily – he was always butting heads with the old stallion. Yet when he envisioned his mother’s terrified face upon reading the letter… That made things a little more difficult. He paused outside his door and glanced towards Fleur’s. There was only one guard at her door right now, and she looked at Fancy with an uncertain frown. “What’s going on out there?” Fancy took a moment to steady his voice. “The queen of the dragons just paid us a visit.” She chewed her lip, eyes darting down the hall as if she expected it to erupt in flames at any second. “W-what did she say?” “That we’re not going to war,” he told her, trying to keep his tone as soothing as possible. “Looks like the island was a rogue operation.” The guard sagged with a long sigh. “Thank Goddess…” Fancy glanced at the door behind her, his thoughts abruptly going to Fleur. He remembered her face right before they’d fled the office of Sir Deeds. He used to wonder what ponies meant when they said they were so afraid as to be petrified. Now he knew, and he wondered how the poor filly was holding up. He turned to address the guard directly. “Could I check on Miss Purpurnyj? I would like to reassure her.” The guard cocked her head. “Well, sure. If you can find her.” Fancy blinked. “What do you mean, 'find her?'” “She’s not here. Hasn’t been all day.” His jaw dropped. He distinctly recalled Sir Deeds telling Fleur to return to her room. If she did what she was told… Fancy let out a groan and turned back down the hall to run at a full gallop. He only hoped his suspicion wasn’t correct. Fleur was many things. Dumb wasn’t one of them; she knew a perfect opportunity when it flew in on silver wings. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon and her quarry was settling down. He busied himself setting up a tent a few hundred feet from the road. The grass grew sparse here and the trees were small and sickly, but they provided enough shelter that there was no chance of him being spotted by the casual passer-by. Fleur was very curious about why he was only traveling at night, but she wasn’t about to complain. She settled in the brown grass behind some bushes and held a hoof to her lips to stifle a yawn. She’d galloped for nearly two miles just trying to catch up with him, and he’d set a brisk pace throughout the night. Some sleep would do her good right about now. Food would be nice, too. She reached into her saddlebags and pulled out one of the bread loaves she’d stolen from the castle kitchens. It was hard and lacked flavor, but she’d had worse. Fleur learned long ago not to complain about the quality of the food available; it was always better than no food at all. She didn’t eat much, only a few bites. She had no idea how far the stallion would be going, or when she’d be able to get more food. As she put the bread away and rested her head on her forelegs, she quietly wondered about him. She still didn’t know his name or what he was up to. All she knew was that he was going south, towards the Badlands. The thought was terrifying; she had to acknowledge that her flight from Estéril Pezuñas had at least a little to do with her fear of its scaled visitor. Yet despite her very real fear of the dragons, Fleur knew she couldn’t lose the stallion. She would follow him as far as she had to. He knew magic that could help her defend herself, and if he wouldn’t teach her then she’d learn by observation. It was a much better plan than wandering around on her own and defenseless again. If only he wasn’t heading south… A shadow passed over her. Fleur raised her head from the dirt and gazed through the thin limbs… and gasped when she saw black wings. A dragon was overhead, circling in a wide arc. She could have sworn her heart had frozen at the sight of the monster. Black scales. Her eyes fought frantically to look upon the face of the thing through the limbs, but it was difficult. At last she caught the curve of the snout, the piercing blue eyes… There was not a doubt in her terrified mind that it was the same black beast that had taken part in the Slaughter of Sueño. Fleur’s breath came out in shaky gasps as she turned to follow the beasts motions. She crouched low and began to creep backwards, her lips working in silent prayer. If it saw her, if it recognized her… by Celestia’s multi-hued mane, the thought was too terrible to contemplate! A breathtaking bellow shook the trees and made Fleur jump. She turned her head and let out a frail whimper at the sight of two more dragons – one green and one red. The red one was big… huge, and very familiar. They flew directly for the black dragon, which continued to circle. The red demon soared over Fleur, carrying something large in its claws. The black dragon roared and fell alongside the green dragon, and all three were soon speeding off to the north. Fleur continued to creep back, unable to think of anything save staying hidden. What if they doubled back? What if they were just pretending not to have noticed her? What if— She bumped something and her mind froze. Her entire body went perfectly still as the dragons, disappearing in the distance, rapidly faded from her mind. Slowly, she turned her head back over her shoulder. Her rump was pressed against the forelegs of the mottled brown stallion, who gazed down at her with wide, rosewood eyes. They stared at one another for several seconds, not a sound passing between them. At last Fleur blushed and cracked a weak smile. “Um… hi?” The stallion let out a long, low groan and covered his face in his hooves.