//------------------------------// // 3: Something Terrible // Story: A King Unmatched // by Mister Friendly //------------------------------// “Oooooii!” Again, the bell clanged through the murky air, echoing off of the wall of fog like it was much more solid that it appeared. Still, the stallion cocked his head to one side and listened intently out of his good ear. He heard the sounds of the waves sloshing against the bow of his humble boat, the pop and groan of the weathered and worn planks as the vessel swayed lazily in the current, the creak of nets laden with fresh seaweed needing to be laid out to dry. No voice called back. No lantern light giving away his destination. No clang of a responding bell. Was he even on course anymore? The fisher pony swirled a wad of seaweed in his mouth irritably, his seasoned eyes narrowing. No, he knew this route like the back of his hoof. Could sail it blindfolded, he could. The tide hadn’t been irregular, not since the storm passed, and the wind was likewise calm, almost still. The sails stayed unfurled nonetheless, but it was his work at the rudder that ultimately kept the vessel creeping forward. His well-trusted gut instinct told him he was on course, and that somewhere in front of him, very nearby, there was a port, or at the very least a shore near said port. And he very much would like to not beach his livelihood on it because of all this blasted fog. Behind him, thunder rumbled grumpily in the distance, though no flash penetrated the gloomy bank. He heard it even with his bad ear turned that way. Already he was behind schedule. Waiting out that storm just to get into port was costing him money, and he felt each coin that slipped away from him. Something moved ahead of him, catching the old fisher’s eye. A young stallion – fit and in the prime of his youth – stood upon the sloping bow of the vessel, the only other living soul in sight. He turned his ochre head to look back towards him, silently asking what to do. “Again, son,” the veteran barked at him. “Somepony must be out there.” His son nodded, turned again, and inhaled. “OOOOOOOOIIII!!!” he bellowed at the utmost top of his lungs, loud enough to wake the dead. At the same time, he clanged a small bell furiously, its ringing almost matching him for sheer volume. They waited, listening intently. Nothing. “Are you sure we’re headed the right way?” the fisher pony’s son asked, turning to look at his father. “I’m sure,” he responded stubbornly. “Been in these waters all my life. I could find that port sailing backwards.” And yet… Where was it? Again, thunder rumbled far to their backs. At least the storm was moving away from them and not doubling back on itself. The fisher turned his head in its direction, eyes narrowing irritably. Bad omen, this weather we’re having. Very bad omen… “Father!” The fisher turned around quickly, eyes automatically going to the bow of their boat. But there was nothing to see but a few feet of water ahead of them and a wall of grey. However, his son was looking at him, suddenly tense. “Did… did you hear that?” he asked. “No,” the fisher responded. “What was it?” His son looked back out over the water, suddenly more alert than he’d been for hours. The fisher had to curse his bad ear for the millionth time. What had he missed that would spook somepony like his son? That was when he heard it. Quiet at first, but growing louder by the second; a sound he would recognize anywhere. He couldn’t see its source, but he knew that rumbling sound; like a stampede of wild animals thundering closer and closer across the glassy water. Something nagged at him, something dreadfully important, but he had no time to do anything but act. “Wave!” he shouted. “Hold on to something!” Experience took over. The veteran sailor cranked the rudder as hard as he could, swinging the boat’s nose in the direction of the oncoming wave. Better to break it across the bow than to let it clobber their side; this boat had seen him through too much to see her thrown to the bottom of the sea like that. All the while, warning bells were going off in his head. His gut clenched, and he knew something very, very bad was on its way; knew it like a seagull before a tsunami. What, he could not say. But he knew he didn’t want to be in its way. The boat had just lurched in the direction of that rumbling sound when the foot of it came into view. It was like the surface of the ocean, once calm and placid, was being rolled up, a gargantuan fold that rose almost as tall as the boat itself, somehow darker than the rest of the sea around it. White foam roiled across the crest as the wave roared forward, crashing down on itself. It wasn’t so much a wall of water as an oversized ripple, radiating outward in every direction, as if displaced by an impossibly huge stone. But there was one section that rose taller still; a perfect dome of displaced water and sea spray surging ahead of everything else. There, the fisher found his stone, and the three towering rows of serrated spines that topped it. The sight alone made the hardened fisher feel like his heart had just come to a complete stop in his chest. For the first time in his life, he was struck dumb, unable to react to something on the water. It was only when the boat started to heave upward on the slop of the wave that he came back to his senses. The boat protested, wood groaning as everything not nailed down began to shift backwards. He called out for his son, yelled at him to get back. He was still on the bow, right in front of the oncoming behemoth. The young stallion didn’t move. Either he was just as petrified as his father had been, or there was something else he was not seeing. The old fisher looked up, back towards the oncoming wave, just in time to notice something new. The spines were shrinking. No – descending beneath the waves. Whatever they belonged to, it was diving, and diving with incredible speed. The first row of spikes missed by feet. The second, inches. The fisher found himself leaning back, willing the force of the wave to carry them back just far enough… The last row of serrated sword-like spines to threaten them was also the tallest, and they came so close that not even the old skipper would’ve bet against it. He braced, locking his teeth together, a prayer flashing through his mind. The spine slashed down like a sword… and crashed through the surface of the water, throwing sea spray in every direction, missing the nose of the fishing boat by a hair’s breadth. When the dull grey length disappeared beneath the water, the fisher couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Until a tail, wider than two of his boats put together, broke the surface like the hump of a whale. The wooden vessel skittered backwards so sharply it threw both sailors face first into the deck. Water from the wave gushed in over the edge, hosing both down with icy cold ocean spray. The fisher stallion clung to whatever he could that felt solid, and for one gut-wrenching moment, he could’ve sworn he felt his beloved boat angling skyward as if knocked clean out of the water… With a sharp impact, the boat’s bow slammed back into the water, bashing the fisher’s snout against the floorboards. And then, just as suddenly as it had started… everything went still. The boat creaked, the nets swayed, the water lapped against the hull beneath their hooves. Within moments, even the rocking of the boat ceased, and all was alarmingly quiet once again. The fisher stayed crumpled on the wet floor, blinking away stars, eyes and senses roving this way and that, waiting for something to happen. Nothing. Slowly, he built up the nerve to clamber upright again, heart still beating a million miles an hour. His jaw hurt, and it wouldn’t surprise him if he’d chipped another tooth. But somehow – miraculously, almost – he was still there. He was still alive. The deck of the boat was strewn with tools, rope, loose lengths of seaweed and water. A pair of fish floundered on the deck, perhaps even more shocked by the unexpected turn of events than the sailor was. And ten feet back from where he’d been originally, four ochre legs were milling about beneath a collapsed net. The fisher whipped around, casting his gaze back behind the boat. But besides the wave merging into the surf, there was nothing left to see. The fog simply swallowed whatever evidence there was. “Father! Father, are you alright?” “I should be asking you that,” he said back. “Are you hurt?” “No, I’m fine,” he said back, though he seemed to be having some trouble extracting himself from the net. “Father, what was that?” The fisher started to open his mouth, then shut it again. Something flashed through his mind, something that made the deafness in his bad ear ring louder than usual… He glanced backward again, looking almost twice as old, as if the encounter had stolen what precious years he had left. He opened his mouth to say something, only to fall short as his attention was drawn elsewhere. “We have to warn the island,” cried out his son, finally struggling upright. “They have to know about this! The Imperial Army will do something, for sure!” “I think,” replied his father, his voice unexpectedly somber, “it might be too late for that.” The ochre stallion turned questioningly to his father, confused, when he noticed something; a flickering light just off the side of the boat. Curious, he stumbled his way over nets, loose rigging and a panicking grouper to investigate… only to have his blood run cold. Half of a wooden tiled roof floated passed them, shattered wood burning intensely. But it was not alone. Lanterns, planks of all sizes, felled trees, a paper sliding door shredded almost beyond recognition, enough wood to build ten houses over, a small filthy rag doll… All floated passed them silently, a once empty sea now filled to the brim with wreckage and ruin as silent as a graveyard. And as the ochre stallion followed the trail of destruction with his eyes, his face growing steadily more ashen as he did so, his eyes fell on what awaited them; an ominous glow of orange burning through the veil of mist, bearing with it the foreboding smell of smoke and heat. For the first time that night, the young stallion did not curse the fog for hiding something from his eyes. Somehow, he doubted he had the heart to witness whatever laid before them. Somewhere far behind the lone boat, thunder boomed one final note as if to punctuate the whole, horrific scene. “What… what could’ve done this?” stammered the fisher pony’s son. Behind him, manning the rudder, the grizzled fisher rubbed one side of his head with a hoof, pawing his senseless ear. “Something terrible, son. Something terrible.” ~~***~~ Fluttershy jolted awake yet again. What had caused it, she couldn’t say; the unfamiliar groan and creak of the wooden hull battling turbulence, the turbulence itself, or maybe some other the multitudes of unfamiliar noise. Unlike Rainbow Dash, who could power nap just about anywhere, Fluttershy was a little bit more finicky with her sleeping arrangements. Even when asleep, even the faintest of unusual sounds could yank her back to awareness. And given where she was, she was better off trying to list sounds and smells that were familiar. She’d been trying to sleep for hours – she knew she had to be well rested for the journey ahead. But… it simply wasn’t working, and that was starting to make her uncharacteristically irritated. “Oh… oh,” Fluttershy mumbled, feeling fit to burst, “Oh… phooey.” She then looked around quickly, to make sure no pony had overheard her outrageous outburst. The room she was in was unlit, the lantern Applejack had packed long-since snuffed. But she could still make out the shapes of her friends scattered about the cramped space, sleeping wherever they could. Rainbow Dash was easy enough to find, curled up on top of a crate suspended in a net cache from several beams overhead. Her tail swayed across Fluttershy’s vision, blocking out one of the only places that wasn’t pitch black – a small porthole that let in only lighter darkness than what the rest of the room was drowned in. The rest of her friends, Fluttershy had to find by sound. Judging by the occasional mumble and groan beneath her, Applejack was still asleep beneath her, kicking slightly in her sleeping bag the way she’d been doing for hours, her hoof lightly thumping the floorboards. Yet, she stayed asleep, likely the exhaustion of the previous sleepless night catching up to her. Spike was a little trickier to find. He didn’t snore, and wasn’t particularly close at hoof. But, odds are he was still curled up inside an empty barrel that’d been set on its side. Perhaps the cave-like shape of it appealed to him; Fluttershy didn’t know. Pinkie, on the other hoof, was easy to find; her snoring was evident enough, not terrifically loud but certainly unmistakable. She must have still been laid out over the thick coils of rope that sat in the far corner of the room like some oversized boa constrictor. Fluttershy didn’t have to search far for Rarity, either, simply because she could feel her. The two were lying back to back on the only bed the Imperials had thought to provide them with. Obviously they hadn’t prepared anything more than was necessary for Princess Celestia and Princess Celestia alone. But the more she scanned with her senses, the more she started to realize that she was one friend short. After all, she’d been sharing the bed with two of her friends, not just one. Twilight wasn’t by the window, and she certainly wasn’t quiet enough to sneak around the room without Fluttershy noticing. When you live in a household with several families of mice, one developed a particularly sharp sense of hearing for minute sounds. But there weren’t any to be had – aside from the creak of the ship and the dull sound of wind through the far wall. For a very long time, Fluttershy waffled on what to do. She wanted to make sure Twilight was alright and that something terrible hadn’t happened to her. But at the same time… those Imperial ponies were scary… But if something had happened to Twilight… but if she ran into an Imperial… It took her nearly five minutes to make up her mind, and then a further five to work up the nerve to follow through with it. As quiet as a mouse, she eased herself out of bed. A part of her hoped rather childishly that her movement would rouse Rarity, and that maybe she could be talked into going instead. No such luck, however; the pearly unicorn was very much sound asleep, and anything short of physically shaking her likely wouldn’t have even the slightest effect. With no other choice, Fluttershy silently slunk towards the door, squeaked when she bumped her nose against it, then eased it open and crept into the cramped hallway beyond. ~~***~~ The Amaterasu was almost unnervingly quiet at night, barring those unfamiliar sounds that’d been keeping Fluttershy awake. The beams and struts in the walls were constantly popping and groaning as the ship listed lazily from side to side. She’d gotten used to the swaying over the course of the previous day, but the sounds… It was like being in a really old house in a windstorm, and it constantly had her checking over her shoulder. Not a soul stirred through its narrow halls or its multiple decks. A few low-burning lanterns lit her way, but the dim light – a marked improvement – was still hardly pacifying. The wooden boards that’d been used to construct the flying ship were so dark they seemed to consume the light, making the lamps borderline ineffectual. Up two decks she went, creeping along practically on her belly, ears listening for hoofsteps, rustling, anything. Halfway down the galley, she thought she heard snoring from one of the neighboring doors. She promptly gave it as wide a berth as possible before hastily rushing on. Voices in the next doorway, on the other side of the hall, muttering in a language she did not understand. The door was open a crack, spilling flickering candlelight across the unpainted dark wood of the walls. Curiosity getting the better of her, Fluttershy eased closer, and pressed her eye up against the sliver-thin opening. Four ponies sat around a table, grumbling darkly to each other. One of them sat next to a heavy metal helmet fashioned like a snarling beast, but all Fluttershy could see of its owner was a severely shorn salt and pepper mane sticking around the other side of a different stallion. Whatever they were talking about, it couldn’t have been about fun things. Fluttershy backed away, careful not to make so much as a peep, then shuffled away. But something about that door, and the four grim-faced occupants inside, kept drawing her eyes back the way she’d come, a deeply perturbed feeling weighing heavy in her chest. ~~***~~ Fluttershy was just starting to seriously consider going back the way she’d come and go back to bed when she rounded a corner and stumbled headlong into a wall of humid, salty air. She turned in its direction, raising her head, and found one last stairway leading up to a landing bathed in the dull gloom of night. Curiously – and very apprehensively – she moved forward, step by step, until she could peek her nose over the landing. There was no door at the top, which instead simply opened up onto a vast expanse of wooden deck, rigging, and open night air. And there, standing with her hooves up on the side railing, was Twilight. She stood underneath a small island of light cast by a flickering lantern, so there was no mistaking her. But what could she be looking at? Fluttershy carefully stepped closer, peering around the frame of the entryway in the direction Twilight was looking – off the port-side bow. Nothing of interest immediately caught her eye; only starless night and the occasional ghostly wisps of mist that drew too close to the lanterns lining the ship. To Fluttershy’s surprise, the air barely stirred atop the airship, though she could hear it above and around, like the mighty golden prow was literally splitting the air currents around it. To feel only the faintest trace of a breeze… for some reason, that didn’t feel as pleasant as it should’ve. “Um… Twilight?” she spoke up once she’d drawn closer. Twilight jumped, startled out of private musings, before turning to look at her. “Oh! Fluttershy, why aren’t you sleeping?” “Oh, um…” Fluttershy mumbled, casting about for a good excuse. “I’m… not really sleepy.” Twilight accepted the fib, at least. Her expression turned grim, whatever she’d been thinking about returning in force. “Yeah… I know the feeling,” she said quietly. Fluttershy paused, then stepped up to join her friend by the side of the boat. It was something of an unnerving sight that greeted her. Beyond the edge of the ship was utter darkness in every direction. Any details that there might be were hidden by the lantern’s glare. How high up they were, Fluttershy couldn’t say, nor how fast they were traveling. It was an uneasy feeling, one that made her wonder how Twilight could stand it. “Is… is everything okay?” Fluttershy ventured. “Why, um… are you out here? That is, if you don’t mind telling me.” Twilight turned and gave her an appreciative smile. “It’s alright. I’m just… thinking.” She sighed, going back to her daydreaming. “I keep wondering what we’re about to get ourselves into. It’d be nice if the Imperials would actually tell us, but they barely speak any Equestrian at all.” She suddenly straightened up, her expression screwing up. “You wait,” she drawled in a poor imitation of the Imperial’s clipped manner. “You speak to Emperor. Me no tell you nothing, like big dumb… dumb-dumb.” She huffed, slumping down in a grumpy pout. “How am I supposed to help when I don’t even know how or what I’m supposed to be helping with ahead of time? It’s so frustrating!” Fluttershy let her friend vent at her, but even she was mildly surprised by Twilight’s outburst. She’d suspected that Twilight wouldn’t take the silence of the crew very well, but she’d been apparently handling it all right so far. They’d already been at sea a full day, and she hadn’t shown any signs of being this temperamental. Twilight continued on. “I’ve been trying to work on a translation spell to bridge the gap. I have a few books on Neighpon language and grammar I was hoping to cross-reference, but they’re at least six-hundred years out of date. Six hundred! Thanks to that, all I’ve been able to do is translate the Neighpon language into a different language I don’t understand!” “Oh my,” squeaked Fluttershy. Twilight definitely wasn’t as composed as she’d thought. She should’ve noticed sooner. Twilight let out a long, frustrated groan, looking sour. “I just… I know we have to know as much as we can before we get there, but that window is dwindling fast. Whatever is waiting for us in the Empire of the Sun, we have to be ready, and I’d like to have some info to go on before coming up with a plan. Even the smallest detail could make or break us.” Fluttershy looked at her friend for a bit, not sure what to say. Then, “Well… if the princesses think you can do it, I do, too.” It was lame, but it was the most honest thing she could think to say in the moment. Twilight gave her a smile. “Thanks Fluttershy. I appreciate it.” Fluttershy smiled back. For a while, they stood in silence, just watching the darkness slip by, occasionally carrying a wisp of cloud fluff through the light of the lantern. Nothing else stirred. The ship swayed lightly from side to side on air currents. The scent of sea salt tickled her nose. Fluttershy’s hooves on the railing suddenly felt so comfortable under her chin… A noise jolted her from the brink, snapping her senses back to full alert. At first, she couldn’t tell where the sound came from, just like always. It irritated her, and she felt another shameful outburst coming on… When it happened again. This time, she did not miss it. A high, melodic note drifted up towards her from far below. It was like a mournful note from a violin echoing in the deep darkness. Beside her, Twilight was just as alert as her – she wasn’t imagining things. The purple alicorn was leaning as far over the railing as she dared, squinting hard to pierce the darkness of what lay down below. “What is that?” Twilight asked aloud, curious and wary all at once. Fluttershy, too, felt almost compelled to peek over at the deep dark empty space beneath the airship. Even though she couldn’t see anything, she kept trying. Something was trying to jog her memory. Could it be…? The sound happened again, clear and musical, and suddenly Fluttershy realized what it was. “Whales!” she gasped, excitement taking hold. “Oh, I’ve never seen whales before. Can you see them, Twilight? Are they as cute as the picture books?” Twilight only gave Fluttershy a momentary look of incredulity before looking down below again. “I can’t see anything down there. We have to be at least several hundred feet above the ocean right now.” Something about what Twilight had just said struck her. A warning bell starting going off in the alicorn's head, though she wasn’t sure why. It was in her moment of confusion that she noticed sounds behind her – stealthy ones. Hooves silently brushing against wood, voices low and urgent, furtive moments no pony would hear without knowing what to listen for. She turned her head, and about jumped out of her skin when she was greeted by the snarling face of the Imperial officer’s gleaming helmet. “Light out, now,” he ordered urgently. While Fluttershy squealed and whirled around in alarm, Twilight did as she was told and snuffed the lantern with a flick of her horn. All across the deck, sailors were hastily putting out lanterns, moving so fast and so precise as if their lives depended on it. “What’s going on,” Twilight asked nervously. Even in the gloom, she could see the shape of the stallion standing before her. He only motioned at her with a hoof, indicating she keep her voice down. “Quiet.” Twilight turned and found Fluttershy – or at least the glints off of her huge, terrified eyes at around knee height. She was about to speak up again when the echoing, eerie whale song reached their ears again. From hundreds of feet below them. No… something is definitely wrong about that… Twilight turned back to the edge of the deck and looked down, far far below. Without the lantern glare interfering, she just thought she could make out the uneven, rough surface of the ocean, tiny white specks of foam… and something else far below. There was a faint light down there; an eerie blue source too indistinct to identify, but far from insubstantial. Was it below the surface of the water? That had to be it. Hooves on the deck behind her caught Twilight’s attention again. The sailors were quickly – and stealthily – scurrying across the deck towards the port-side railing, and in the darkness, Twilight could’ve sworn she saw many of them leaning over the railing as well. They were speaking in hushed tones, whispering to each other urgently and secretively. Twilight could only make out what the closest two were saying – a deckhand and the officer himself. Though she had no idea what they were talking anxiously about, one phrase kept coming back, again and again, enough to not only catch Twilight’s attention, but also Fluttershy’s. “Um, T-Twilight,” she breathed fearfully. “Would you happen to know, um, what ‘kaiju’ means?” “N…No, I don’t,” Twilight whispered back, a clear note of uneasiness in her voice. “It wasn’t in the textbooks at all.” Twilight craned her neck still further, in a vain attempt to bring whatever was beneath them into focus. Whatever it was, it was matching their speed. If anything, it could’ve been a reflection from some light source underneath the airship, but something about the shimmering quality of it didn’t fit right with that explanation. She glanced to the imperial officer, who was peering over the side next to her. “Excuse me,” she whispered. The stallion didn’t say anything, and in the dark it was difficult to tell if he’d acknowledged her voice at all. But as close as they were together, there was little chance that he hadn’t heard her. So, Twilight decided to pretend like he was listening and continued on. “You’re crew keeps saying ‘kaiju’. What is that?” This time, she knew she’d gotten a response. His armor links clinked together, the shadow of his head changing shape as it turned in her direction. She knew he was looking at her, even if she couldn’t see it. He just stared at her for a few moments in the darkness, the eerie melody filling the silence. A part of Twilight wanted to know what kind of look she was getting, but at the same time, she was fairly sure she wouldn’t want to know anyway. Then, all of a sudden, he turned the other way and quickly exchanged a few words with the sailor on his other side. Just as quickly, he turned back, and this time Twilight didn’t need to see his face to know she was being sized up. “You want me show you?” he asked, his voice so low it was almost menacing. Even though Fluttershy was positively shriveling on the spot, Twilight didn’t back down. She wanted to, but she didn’t. “I do,” she said – practically forced herself to say. “Show me.” Again, she got the impression that the officer was sizing her up, but whether what he saw impressed or disappointed, she would never know. The imperial suddenly whipped around and hissed out a command to the pony next to him. No verbal response was given, but Twilight could hear activity; bumping and rustling, the sounds of somepony climbing up onto the railing and clambering with something further overhead. Then, out of the gloom, a faint light bloomed. It was the lantern, she realized, now unhooked from the rigging over her head. It hissed louder as the stallion turned some knob, causing it to brighten still further, until it practically filled the whole deck with light – a miniature sun trapped within wrought iron and glass. Twilight could feel something radiating from the lantern – not heat or fumes. Something magical in nature, intense. Something that made her horn prickle in a way she hadn’t felt before. But before she could determine anything further, the stallion holding the lantern suddenly pivoted on his footing, twisted over the side of the deck, and let the lantern go. It dropped like a stone, now a shooting star streaking to earth. Twilight was lost. She didn’t understand what in the world this was supposed to prove… until the ocean heaved. For one terrifying moment, she thought they were dropping out of the sky, so vast was the volume of water suddenly being thrust upwards. And then she saw it. A mouth, easily a hundred feet across and more so in the other direction, erupted from the ocean, jaws spread wide enough to swallow their entire vessel whole in one monstrous gulp. The gaping, basket-like mouth was attached to something jet black, with teeth bigger than castle gates, oversized even for it's gaping maw. A long, whip-like lure hung from the monster’s nose, its end shining like a lighthouse beacon without the ocean to obscure it. The once melodic, mournful symphonic exploded from the creature’s throat like a thousand hooves upon chalk boards, shrieking like a million-score host of damned souls, loud enough to leave Twilight’s ears ringing. Up and up it came on a long, serpentine body clad in armored scales and plates thicker than any fortress wall. And as the tumbling lantern drew nearer, Twilight saw the thing that would haunt her dreams for days to come; eyes, huge and lidless, perfectly round and wider than the ground floor of her library home. Impossibly big, dead eyes that stared with the sightless, haunted gaze of a madpony. With an explosive thunderclap of bone-on-bone, the kaiju’s jaws slammed shut, and the light of the lantern vanished. Only a crazy zigzag of light issued through the cracks in the monster’s teeth. All at once, everything was dark again. The kaiju’s lure blinked out. The bioluminescence dotting its body vanished. But Twilight still heard the deafening crash of the creature slamming into the ocean’s surface again. She even jumped when a fleck of sea-spray struck her cheek. Then, all was deafeningly quiet once again, save for the imperial officer’s voice in her ear. “That, princess, is kaiju.” ~~***~~ Three slumbering ponies were startled awake when the door to their room flew open and banged against the wall. Rainbow yelped and fell off her perch. Applejack shot almost a foot in the air. Rarity sat bolt upright in bed, her head whipping this way and that, as if she’d forgotten about the sleeping mask she wore. Spike jolted upright, started to grumble, and promptly hit himself on the head with the roof of the barrel. Pinkie continued to snore blissfully. While all of this was happening, the light of a lantern filled the room as three more occupants stormed in – two being pushed by a third. “No more wandering at night!” barked the Imperial officer as he forcefully pushed both Twilight and Fluttershy into the room with one ironclad hoof. “Not safe at night. You stay here, safe.” But Twilight wasn’t going quietly. As soon as she’d regained her balance, she whipped around, and even though she was a full head shorter than the intimidating soldier, she stepped right up on him, glaring. “You can’t just ignore us after something like that!” she shot. “We need answers, buddy, now! What the hay was that thing? Is that why the sea around here is so dangerous? What are you getting us into?!” The stallion gave her a look that made it clear only a fraction of what she’d just said actually meant anything to him. But he’d understood her tone and body language loud and clear. "That small fry; only swim, no danger. They get worse. Always listening. Always hungry. No problem if we careful." Twilight was still breathing hard, her heart hammering intensely in her chest. "If they're not a threat to you, why are we here?" she asked. Again, she could only detect partial comprehension, but this time she got the feeling that the bulk of her question got through. “You wait,” he ordered, his voice flat and hard as iron. “You talk to –” “That’s not good enough!” shouted Twilight. Her outburst caught everyony present off guard. Even the imperial seemed frozen in place, his voice cutting off. Applejack, Rainbow, Rarity and Spike looked on, too taken aback to say anything. They knew it took a lot to make Twilight lose her temper, more now than before she’d gotten her wings. The only other pony they could turn to for answers, however, was currently curled up on the floor, looking catatonic, like she’d just received the scare of her life. Fluttershy didn’t make so much as a peep – as soon as the imperial stopped pushing her, she flopped over sideways in a dead faint. There she'd stayed, looking petrified and in no mood to contribute anything to the conversation. “Whaz goin’ on?” Rainbow mumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Twilight heard her voice, and it seemed to distract her from her anger. She glanced over her shoulder, as if only then realizing whose company she was in. But it didn’t stop her entirely. She turned back to the officer, fixing him with a look that could’ve humbled even the most petulant of foals. “Look here, mister. You came to us. You asked for our help. But we can not help you if we don’t know what we are up against.” She said it all slowly, emphasizing each word. “If we are going to help save Neighpon, We. Need. Answers.” The officer stared at her, his face hidden behind his helmet. He kept his attention down on her, eye glints unwavering behind the snarling visor. Most of what she was saying couldn’t have been registering, but Twilight prayed that at least the important parts would make it through. Twilight stepped closer. She could practically feel the stallion before her tense, as if bracing for combat. “I can help,” she pressed. “Just give us a chance.” The rest of her friends looked between Twilight and the officer. They had no idea what had happened, but it didn’t take them long to pick up on what the situation was now. The stallion glanced at them, his nebulous gaze trailing from one to the other in sequence, once side of the room to the next. Then, he glanced back down to the purple alicorn almost bumping noses with him. Then, he raised one hoof, and pushed her further into the cabin. “You wait.” He stated bluntly, turned, and left, his tail latching the door shut behind him in Twilight's face. Twilight just stared, slack-jawed in pure shock as the silence in the room turned unnerving. “So, uh...,” mumbled Rainbow, grinning nervously, “We miss something, or what?” “Sugarcube?” Applejack spoke up while Rarity – now freed from her sleeping mask – gave Rainbow a reprimanding look. “Is everythin’ alright?” Twilight remained silent, which wasn’t a good thing. Usually silences like this resolved with something exploding in the most violent way possible, and considering how high in the sky they were, that may not be in all of their best interests. “How can he just…,” she hissed to herself. “Of all the…” She was recovering now, and judging by the rising flush in her face, she was absolutely livid. Before Applejack could quickly try to put together an evacuation procedure for the burning wreck they’d be trying to escape from in the next few seconds, Twilight bristled and let out a noise somewhere between a snarl and scream. “Oh, this is not over,” she growled. “One way or another, you… you… I’m going to get my answers! I’m going to help the Tartarus out of you whether you want it or not!” “Should… should we stop her?” Rainbow squeaked. “Before, you know, she kills us all? I know Daring Do makes trans-dimensional vortices sound cool, but I'd rather not get sucked into one. ” Applejack merely gestured towards the irate alicorn, as if to say “be my guest”. Meanwhile, Twilight stomped towards the door, reached out for the handle – and was nearly bowled over when that very same door flew open again. There stood the armored stallion. Only this time, he was holding something in one hoof, which he promptly threw at Twilight’s hooves. It skidded across the floorboards and came to a rest only an inch away, cover-side-up. “You have two hour,” the stallion said, and in the next instant, the door slammed shut again. Twilight blinked. Going from furious to stunned was something of a system shock, and before she could quite recover her burning rage, she looked down. There, right before her hooves, was a small, dark green book devoid of title or embellishment of any kind. It could have been a regular old diary for how plain it looked. Curiously, Twilight flipped over the cover and let the pages fall open where they may. It only took her two lines, however, to suddenly comprehend what she'd been given, and gasp. The rest of her friends noticed how motionless she’d become. “Uh, Twilight?” spoke up Rainbow, edging a little closer. “Is… is everything alright?” “What did he give you,” inquired Rarity carefully, coming up on Twilight’s other side. Twilight didn’t answer right away. Instead, she lit her horn and pulled the book up into the air on a veil of purple magic, levitating it up to eye level. Instead of the up-to-down columns of text she’d grown used to associating with Neighponese, this book was filled with more familiar left-to-right lines and paragraphs. Not only that, but familiar letters, words – even if the grammar was somewhat archaic. It’d only taken her a few moments to realize what she’d been given, but the truth of it still surprised her. “It’s a dictionary,” she said. … “… That it?” said Rainbow, sounding incredulous. “No, it’s more than that,” Twilight said, her voice decidedly more awed than her friend’s. “It’s a modern Neighpon dictionary.” “Aaand… that means… what exactly?” Rainbow asked. “It means,” Twilight said, flipping through a few pages, “I can finish that translation spell.” She snapped the book shut, her eyes falling on the door. “And we can finally have a real talk with our friends here.” Applejack and Rarity exchanged looks between them. Rainbow continued to try to not feel disappointed. Pinkie kept sleeping soundly, belly up, hind-leg kicking lazily as she giggle-snored. “That stallion said y’all got two hours, though,” Applejack pointed out, sounding worried. “That gonna be enough time?” Twilight looked back at her book. “I only need one.” ~~***~~ The spell was simple – nothing extravagant. No time for that. It consisted of two layers – one over the ears, one over the mouth. There would be nothing visible, of course, and there may be some mismatched mouth movements to what came out, but after some time verifying she’d copied the linguistic algorithms right from her books, Twilight was confident. And hay, she still had time to spare. Of course, when she tried explaining all of that, most of it went in one ear and out the other of her friends, but it helped fill the silence while she wove magic like a seamstress until everything was as good as she could make it. After rousing Pinkie – which had been a lot easier than they’d been anticipating, considering how soundly she’d appear to be asleep – each of Twilight’s friends took their turn underneath her horn, enduring her early attempts and then her later successes. And of course, the moment Twilight finished her grand explanation, Rainbow found a way to dumb it down almost brutally. “So… you’re dubbing over us,” she grunted bluntly. Twilight hesitated, missing a step, before turning to look at Rainbow. “I… What?” “C’mon, egghead, I’ve seen enough martial arts movies; I know what’s going on. It’s like Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, but in real life.” “I saw that movie once,” mumbled Fluttershy. “It wasn’t what I was expecting… There wasn't a tiger in it at all.” “Oh,” Twilight said, genuinely stumped by the simplicity of the response. “I… I guess that’s pretty accurate. Huh… I didn’t even think about that.” “So long as Rainbow doesn’t start tryin’ ta pull them silly fightin’ moves again,” Applejack drawled, “we should be fine. How long is this goin’ ta last?” “Can’t say for sure,” Twilight muttered. “I hope for a while. It might be a problem if I have to recast it all the time.” “Perhaps I can be of some assistance there?” Rarity offered. “I may not be as gifted as you, darling, but I know my way around a spellbook or two. With the two of us, it shouldn't be a problem at all.” Twilight gave her unicorn friend an appreciative smile. “Thanks, Rarity. I’ll show you how to cast it once we’re done questioning that imperial guy.” Then Rainbow raised a pertinent question. “Uh, I don't mean to rain on your parade, Twi’, but… how do we even know it’s working? You know, besides the ear-tickling and tongue-tingling.” Twilight was just about to answer that when the door behind them suddenly swung open. Their time was up. The armored stallion surveyed the group, looking them up and down. Then… “I take it you made use of the book?” he asked tersely, in perfect Equestrian. Nopony needed to see his mouth moving to know that something was slightly… off, however. The voice that played in their ears was oddly blunted and unnatural, like they all had a little translator perched on their earlobes reciting what was being said while imitating the speaker's voice. Most of the stallion's inflection was missing entirely, and it had a rather tinny quality to it, unnatural and artificial, but it was words, and they could understand it. Then Twilight tested the other aspect of the spell by speaking, herself. “We did. Thank you for letting us use it,” she said before offering the book back. The stallion gave her a prolonged look. To the group, Twilight had sounded perfectly natural, though there was an odd overlay to her voice, like she was speaking through something covering her mouth. After a few seconds, Twilight started to feel nervous. “Um… do I sound strange?” she asked. “I’ve never performed a spell like this before.” The stallion blinked. Something had clicked in his head. “Ah, a spell. I see. You speak… passably, Princess Sparkle. But do not be surprised at a few strange looks.” Even so, Twilight beamed internally. For an unfamiliar spell cobbled together over half an hour, she’d call it a resounding success. There’d be time enough for refinement later. But then she quickly recomposed herself. “Alright, now… Let’s talk.” The stallion nodded. “Very well. Follow me.” He turned and trotted away, armor clinking noisily. While Twilight climbed to her hooves, the rest of her friends gave the back of the stallion an uncertain look. “Not ta be ‘that pony’,” Applejack said, “but how do we know he’ll even tell us a darn thing? He ain’t been nothin’ but uncooperative since we got on this dang contraption.” “He’ll talk,” Twilight said, and her confidence surprised the apple farmer. “I’m sure of it.” “How can you be so sure?” Rainbow asked dubiously. “I’m with Applejack; the guy’s been nothing but trouble.” “Because,” Twilight said simply, “Didn’t you girls see? That book he gave us was hoof-written.” All five mares exchanged a look of surprise. They hadn’t even noticed, though considering Twilight had been hogging it, that wasn’t surprising. “Come on, girls,” Twilight said with a grin as she headed for the door. “It’s time we got to work.” With affirmative noises, all five jumped up and trotted, flapped, and bounced out of the room, totally focused on the task at hoof. They were all too focused to notice a grumpy baby dragon curled up on the bed. “Mares…” Spike mumbled, curled up, and promptly went back to sleep.