//------------------------------// // 16) Nulpar Tour : Days 39-45, Old Smokey // Story: Climbing the Mountain 2 // by Talon and Thorn //------------------------------// Dear Fragrant           It’s been a nerve wracking week since we left North town, on the bright side I wasn’t lonely, with over a dozen villagers as well as the prisoners I almost had more company than I ever wanted. I never expected to work as a prison guard before. I suppose it could have been worse, but I constantly expected that the bandits would try to make a break for it, or cause trouble, or something. It was a bit surprising that they didn’t, but I guess if they felt as battered as I did they probably just wanted to try and rest as well.   I’m sorry I got hurt again, I know you worry, but really it was for a good cause. I couldn’t leave North Town as I found it. They’re my people, it’s my responsibility to look after them, it’s better I get hurt than they do. Not that I like getting hurt, I try not to, I really do, I just can't stand aside and let things happen if I can help it. It’s a bit different out here in Nulpar than up there in Cloudsdale, you’ve got lots of servants and guards and the like to look after your ponies, I’ve just got me.   Still I’m feeling much better now, you can’t keep a good earth pony down. I’ve been taking it easy and most of my bruises and the like have healed up by now. It’s this healthy mountain air!   I’ve gotten to know most of the villagers travelling with me quite well in our time together, they seem a decent bunch. One of them, Cross Stitch, was nice enough to patch my old bags together again, they’re not quite as good as new but they’re serviceable, she also fixed a few holes in my tent, which is good as the summer is starting to come to an end here, the nights are getting a little chilly.   I’ve actually gotten to know our prisoners a little as well. Guntram himself, well he’s still got his beak taped shut, which is probably just as well, judging by his eyes he probably doesn’t have anything good to say. His second Gunda is a little more pleasant, she still seems a bit confused by the whole thing, like she can’t understand what’s happening. The other griffons, Gottlob and Grundun, are twins apparently, they seem nervous, I think they worry about what’s going to happen at their trial. I’ve tried to get them to understand how Equestrian justice works, but they seem to still think they might get executed. I’m worried they’ll do something stupid so I’m trying to keep an eye on them.   The ponies among them, well it’s odd, the griffons are well, griffons, you expect them to be a little different, but you think you know ponies. The pegasi, Star Scream and Thunder Cracker, apparently grew up in the border zone between Equestria and the Griffon Kingdoms, I can understand that life must have been hard for them but I can’t understand how they ended up as they did. They clearly care for each other a lot, Star is worried about her broken wing, she’s scared she won’t be able to fly again and Thunder is doing whatever he can to make her feel better, but they don’t seem to grasp what they did, how much they hurt North Town taking its children away. The other pony, Reflector, he keeps to himself, I can’t really get a reading on him, he seems quite smart, educated even, but he just doesn’t seem to want to socialise.   Finally there’s Endre, he’s taking his captivity in his stride like it’s not a big thing. He’s talked a little about his family back in Elkheim, he seems to love them but I don’t know how he can hurt, and even kill, others to look after them, surely he could do something else? He seems to think that what he’s going is an honourable path, but I don’t understand.   Anyway, if we make good time today we should be at the town of Hoofington by the end of tomorrow. I’ve not been there before but if what I’ve heard is right it should be big enough to be able to take the prisoners off to Ambelon for trial. Then I should start on the last leg of my journey back home. I’m a bit behind schedule at the moment, but I should make it home in time for the festival, unless I get any major delays. Then once that’s over back to Canterlot and I’ll get to see you again.   I can’t wait.   Max     Dear Fragrant           I’m glad that’s finally over. Me and my prisoners finally went our separate ways today. We made it to Hoofington the day before last and to say they weren't pleased to see us would be an understatement. I thought they were going to throw us out on our ears at one point.   The mayoress, Shiny Bright, was certainly not pleased that we were bringing a bunch of bandits into her town. I had to argue with her for several hours before she finally agreed to take them off my hooves and take them into Ambelon for their trial. I even had to agree to pay her for it. Between that and getting the North Town gang the supplies they need means I’m more or less broke for the moment, I’m glad Prudence paid me for that work on the caravan. I may have to graze or scavenge what I can on the way home, although I have got some supplies left and most of the places I stop at on the way tend to feed me. I’m actually quite proud of my people on that front, they may not have that much but they’ll always willing to share what they have with visitors. It’s a point of pride and I’m very grateful for it.   After spending a day or so in Hoofington I wrote a report on what the bandits had done and got statements from the North Town folks. I left it all with Shiny, hopefully it should be enough for the court. I guess if they want anything else they’ll contact me in Sadlzburg or even Canterlot, if it takes that long.   Hooftington itself isn’t much to look at, not that much bigger than Norton. It’s in a plateau half way up a mountain. The area around it is surprisingly fertile and most of the available space is filled with farm land which supplies the settlements population, luckily that means that the food the North Town people needed was quite cheap. Hoofington acts as a base camp for a number of small bands of miners and prospectors who try to make their fortune in the surrounding area. I’d not heard of it but apparently they’ve had a few big strikes in the past but nothing significant in the last decade, they occasionally manage to find a cache of silver, diamonds or rare herbs, but only just enough to keep the place running.   Now that I can tick Hoofington off my list of places to see I can head south again back to more familiar territory. It’s good to get to see the whole of Nulpar but I can’t wait to get back to my old friends again.   On the road to home again.   Max     Dear Fragrant       It’s been quite a while since I last wrote, about a week I think. It’s not that I’ve been that busy, there are some small settlements in this part of Nulpar, enough to stop every few days to say hello at least. It’s that I’ve been thinking a lot, never a good situation for me really. As I’m getting closer and closer to home it’s getting nearer and nearer to the time when I’ll actually have to do something about all the suggestions I’ve got so far. Every settlement wants something and I don’t have the resources to help even a few of them at the moment, it’s going to be a hard decision. I don’t want to have to disappoint them, but I know I’m going to. Does Sadlzburg need roads more than Sharpside? Should North Town get special treatment given what happened there? So many questions.   Still this is my decision not yours, although I do wish you were there to give me advice, I’m sure you’d be much better at this than me.   Anyway it’s not like I’ve been spending all my time worrying, there’s some truly beautiful scenery here and I have been enjoying it. There is one thing I’ve always wanted to do and never got the chance before. I’ve always wanted to visit Old Smokey, it’s the only volcano in Nulpar, although some say that it’s actually the lair of an ancient dragon sleeping away the centuries. It’s not likely but I do want to find out, even if it is just a volcano, well I’ve never seen one of those either. I had originally intended to just go around it but as I've been making good time and have a few spare days I thought I’d take my chance and actually visit, you never know when I’ll get the time to do it again. I certainly don’t think I’ll be able do a trip like this every year, but one of my plans means I won’t have to.   Anyway I noticed something was up as I go closer, Old Smokey wasn’t living up to its name. The sky’s still a bit hazy but not a dark as I’d heard it was. Some days we could even see it from Sadlzburg but I have heard that the smoke has been thinning for the last few years. Maybe the volcano’s going to sleep, dormant, I think they call it. Certainly I had been worried about the smoke, I’ve heard tales of ponies who’ve gotten sick after staying in the area for a few weeks, and it certainly seems to have killed most of the plants and animals in the area. I’m not the most magic attuned earth pony but even I can feel something wrong in the ground, it’s like life is trying to burst forth but something's stopping it, but I think that something’s weakening and life’s getting ready to surge out again, I did see a few green shoots starting to poke out of the earth here and there and a few insects crawling around. Assuming the mountain doesn’t start smoking again this place might become beautiful.   Really the place is rather forbidding, mile after mile of barren rocks as far as the eye can see. Most of Nulpar’s not very fertile but normally there’s some growth. Here only the very hardiest of vegetation can get a grip and even that doesn’t look too healthy. Most of the smoke is gone but you can still smell the brimstone in the air. After a day of that I was ready to turn tail and head back but by then I was over half way to the mountain itself, and well, I was still curious what I would see.   It’s been two days now and I’m at the foot of the mountain itself, up close it’s not actually that impressive, bare and intimidating maybe, but as a mountain it’s not that much of a challenge. Most of it’s a fairly gentle slope and there looks like there will be lots of hoofholds. I can probably get to the top in less than half a day. Still no smoke as well, I sort of expect to wake up and see it belching out smoke and lava, but it seems inert.   I’m glad I still had some supplies with me, there was certainly no grazing here, still I won’t be able to stay long. I’m not going to get obsessed with this place like I was with the Dragontooth Pass, if I have any problems I’ll just about face and head back. I need to be in Herdstone in a week or so anyway. I’m going to get an early night and get up at first light tomorrow. I’ll get to the top, have a look around and then head back again, maybe I’ll find a souvenir, a genuine dragon scale! Or an interesting rock, maybe something to tell the survey team about if I see them again, I wonder if they’ve been here already?   Your mountain climbing coltfriend   Max       Panting hard, Max swung himself up onto the top of the peak. Gasping, he slumped to the ground. The last section of the ascent had been harder than he’s thought it would be. Still, he’d made it. Finally calming his breathing, he staggered to his hooves and looked around. The view certainly was spectacular; he could see the barren patch of earth that surrounded the mountain and how it slowly returned to a more natural green as it got further and further from the volcano. Still, it was a little disappointing, really. He’d wanted to do this for a long time now, and now that he’d done it, well, it wasn’t much different from any other peak. No lake of lava, no sleeping dragon, not even thick clouds of smoke. The smell of sulphur was stronger here, but certainly not overwhelming.   Giving a little shrug, Max set off to explore the peak now that he had conquered it. He’d have a quick look around, dig into his rapidly dwindling supplies for a quick meal, then start off back down the mountain. Maybe he could find an easier route down.   A quick scout around showed that the top of the mountain was largely flattened, but intriguingly there seemed to be a hole in it. A roughly circular crack, maybe three or four lengths wide, reaching down into the peak itself. Curious, Max leant forwards as far as he could to try to get a better view of the inside. It certainly led a long way down. The bottom was well beyond his sight; it looked like the whole peak was hollow. A warm breeze was blowing up from the depths. Maybe this really was a volcano, he thought.   Suddenly the sun came out from behind a cloud and a powerful beam of light illuminated the shaft. Squinting, Max thought he could make out the bottom of the cavern maybe a hundred feet below. And there, at the edge, something was glinting. Max frowned. What could that be? Some sort of crystal deposit? He thought about the tales of a dragon roosting here – maybe it was part of its hoard? He laughed to himself lightly. There was no need to get carried away.   Still, his curiosity had been peaked. He unlimbered the ropes he had with him. It was going to be close, but he thought he still had enough to reach the bottom, more or less. Glancing around for a strong looking rock, he quickly tied off one end and threw the other into the gap, watching it disappear into the gloom. Gripping his firefly lantern in his teeth, he gave it a shake to rouse the insects and slowly started to lower himself into the darkness.     Swinging his head around, Max tried to use his lantern to get a good look at the cavern he was in. Unfortunately the light was weak, the flies tired out by overuse, though the shaft of light from the hole in the roof helped a little. As he had guessed, the chamber was about a hundred feet tall and maybe twice that wide at the bottom. The walls were mostly smooth, apart from the occasional outcrop of crystals which reflected the little light that hit them, causing faint overlapping shadows. To Max’s imagination, the place seemed almost constructed.   Much of the centre seemed to consist of a depression mostly filled with steaming water, presumably heated by the volcano. Here and there a few rocks protruded above the liquid, many with a golden hue. Although interesting, most of Max’s attention was caught by a mass at the edge of his vision. It was hard to make out, but it looked like a pile of crystals and shiny materials rising out of the dirt and rubble. Off to one side sat a larger mound of detritus, as if the treasure had recently been uncovered.     It certainly brought to Max’s mind the legend that a dragon made its home in the mountain, and that dragons kept hoards. Max panted a little. Maybe the steam was starting to get to him, but that pile would certainly help finance his plans for Nulpar, and there didn’t seem to be any sign of a dragon. Maybe it was just a natural formation? He should at least get a closer look.   He looked down. The end of his rope sank into the bubbling water below, but there seemed to be several rocks large enough for him to stand on nearby, and the edge of the pool wasn’t that far away. Tightening his grip on the rope, he started to rock forwards and backwards slowly swinging above the liquid. Timing himself carefully, Max slipped down the rope and let go at the top of the swing. He flew through the air for a second before landing solidly on all four hooves on one of the boulders protruding from the water. He felt quite proud; he hadn’t even dropped his lantern. Surehoofedly, he hopped from rock to rock until he reached the shore. Then he stopped next to a large boulder to decide on his next move.   “So what have you gotten yourself into this time, Max?” he asked the empty air. Echoes ran around the dark chamber, twisting his words as they went.   Suddenly a crack opened in the nearby rock, revealing a faintly glowing golden eye. An inner eyelid lazily flickered over it for a moment, before the giant pupil slowly focused on Max. There was a great roar, and the boulder – and the eye it contained – rose into the air. Max stared stupidly at the scene for a moment until his brain finally resolved what he was seeing. The ‘boulder’ had been the head of some giant creature; it was slightly canine with a muzzle longer than Max’s whole body. From the back of its head protruded a pair of antler-like horns, which split into two halfway down their length. The top, back, and sides of the head were covered in a mane of pale green hairlike material, which formed a neat beard and also spread down a neck maybe four or five lengths long before merging into a golden crest that ran the rest of its long sinuous body. Two sets of comparatively short legs tipped with vicious looking talons dragged the creature out of the water. Steaming liquid spilled from its titanic form as it moved. It reared up and a huge set of membranous wings spread wide, seeming to encompass the whole of Max’s world. Its tail, easily a further four lengths long, slammed into the ground nearby, almost knocking Max from his hooves. The creature lifted its head towards the cavern roof and let out another roar as blue flame spilled from its mouth, turning Max’s rope to ash in a fraction of a second. It looked back towards the shocked pony, the golden scales encompassing its whole form glittering in the reflected light of its flame and the sunlight filtering into the cave, making it look like a shard of the sun come to life before him. For a moment it paused, seeming to await a response.   Max’s mouth dropped open, the lantern falling from it to shatter on the ground and release its flies. “Dragon!” he whispered. He remained rooted to the spot for a moment before the terror finally caught up with him, and his legs each tried to run in a different direction.   “Stay still, little pony,” the dragon hissed, moving its head closer. One of its rear legs scratched irritably at its side. Max’s legs started to backpedal away. “Still!” it insisted, freezing Max in place. “What are you doing in my lair, little pony? Who are you?”   “Baron Mounty Max,” Max replied automatically. “I was just looking around, just looking,” he babbled. “There were legends that there was a dragon here, and the smoke went away, so I came to look. You’re so big! So golden!”   The muscles of the dragon’s face shifted around for a second into what Max hoped was a smile rather than a grimace. “I am, am I not?” The creature reared up again, once again illuminating its form in the shaft of light. “Am I not the most powerful creature you have ever seen? The most magnificent? The most fearsome?”   Max nodded dumbly. “I... I didn’t think I’d ever live to see a real live dragon. Old Smokey himself!”   “Old Smokey!?” the dragon roared, a taloned arm flashing out and cutting into the ground to Max’s right. Its back writhed in seeming discomfort.   “That’s what we call the mountain and the dragon that lives here, you,” stuttered Max. “Mothers would tell their foals that if they didn’t eat their hay, then Old Smokey would come out and he’d...” He trailed off. The dragon looked less than impressed, and suddenly the old tales didn’t seem as funny as they used to.   “I am female,” she roared. Max tried to stop his eyes from making their way across her body to try and prove this statement. Maybe there was a bit of a feminine curve to her muzzle, behind the beard. “I am Vorel’aurix-levethuix,” she paused for a fraction of a second before continuing, “Maekrix-book-rasvim. In your tongue, Beautiful Golden Wizard, Ruler of the Book Treasure.”   “Um, your name’s very fitting, you are very golden and beautiful!” He frowned. Book Treasure?   There was a deep rumbling from the dragon’s chest. “Yes, I am sure you have not seen anything as beautiful as me.”   Max suddenly flashed back to the sight of Fragrant descending from the cloudhome at the Eyrie wearing that green dress, to the gala swooping down to save him and Scootaloo while wearing striped socks, and to their first meeting at the train station. “You’re very beautiful,” he agreed a little lamely. There was a pause and Max realised that Vorel was waiting for him to continue. It began to filter into Max’s mind that the dragon hadn’t killed him yet and seemed to be fishing for compliments. Could he actually talk his way out of this? “The way your scales glimmer in the sun light is breath-taking – it looks like you’re coated in a molten river of, um, gold,” he started. “Your strength is incredible, more than a hundred ponies’. Your talons, well, they’re as sharp as diamonds.” Seemingly pleased, the dragon flexed her claws, once again piercing the ground. Hoping this was a good sign, Max continued, “Your breath is hotter than a forge, your teeth are like spears, you're the largest, scariest creature I’ve ever seen, I... I like your mane?” he concluded, running out of compliments.   “Nice words, little pony,” said the dragon, lowering her head towards him so that her eyes bored into his. “Now, where did you come from? What brought you here?”   “Well, I come from Sadlzburg, it’s a town maybe a fortnight’s trot to the south, but I’ve been travelling. I’ve always wanted to climb Old... to climb this mountain, and now that the smoke cleared, it seemed a good time. Was that because of you?”   The dragon nodded. “My sleep breath prevents my rest from being disturbed, but now that I am awake,” her mouth gaped wide in a very frightening yawn, “it is not needed any more. But you should not have disturbed my bathing,” she said a little peevishly.   Max’s eyes flicked over to the still bubbling pool of water. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”   “A century of sleep tends to build up a certain amount of dust and dirt. I like to take the effort to look my best. Not all of my people do! Now, how long has your Sadlzburg been here, Baron Mounty Max?”   “Oh, well, my great grandmother was one of the first settlers in the area, but she was young then. Maybe a bit over a hundred years ago, it only became a full town in my grandfather's time, sixty two years ago now.” Max had had the certificate in his office when he’d been mayor. “There’s always been goats in the area and a few ponies, but we were one of the earliest large settlements,” he boasted.   “And this Sadlzburg is the closest settlement?”   “Uh, no, Hoofington and Herdstone are a closer, maybe about a week away, and there are a few farmsteads two or three days away. Nopony comes here because, well, there isn’t much here.”   “So many! So close!” hissed Vorel. “Before I slept, there was nothing for two days flight in any direction! Why must there be so many of you ponies? Sticking your muzzles into everything? Why must you be,” she screwed up her face in disgust, “so fecund.”   “Um, sorry?” said Max.   “I think I may have overslept,” mumbled the dragon. “Not even you ponies could blight the land so soon. More likely I have been dormant for one and a half, maybe even two centuries.”   Max’s eyebrows shot up. He’d been known to sleep in occasionally, but for an extra century? Well, unless there was a lake of coffee nearby, he guessed it was hard to get going after being asleep for a hundred years. As if to agree with his thoughts, the dragon yawned again, blasting Max with hot air. “I am still weary, but I have things to do now that I know this area is swarming with ponies. You may be able to help rouse me fully, little pony,” said the dragoness, looking down at Max, seeming to measure him up.     “Harder!” moaned the dragoness, her back arching, almost dismounting Max from his position on her. “That spot just there is perfect!” she keened, her eyes rolling back in their sockets and a talon jerking out and tearing a shallow furrow into the rock floor of the cave. “More! More!” she commanded, her long forked tongue hanging from her mouth. “Don’t you dare finish yet!”   Max paused to wipe the sweat from his brow. This was hard work. He certainly didn’t imagine that he’d be spending his day doing this when he got up this morning. Still, he was always up for a challenge. He wasn’t really sure if Fragrant would approve of this, but she didn’t need to know everything that happened to him. “I... I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up,” he gasped.   “You ponies have no stamina,” said the dragoness, twisting her head around to look at Max. She was panting slightly, her hot breath helping to evaporate the fluids staining Max’s coat. “Very well,” her voice rose slightly as Max’s thrusts found a particularly sensitive spot, “you may finish.” Giving a final jerk against the golden scales he was lying against, Max slumped to the ground, spent. Vorel contorted her body, coiling it around itself as she sunk to the ground. Her head not far from Max, she gazed at him, her eyes lidded. “Still, I am satisfied with your performance, little pony.” She stretched a little. “Very satisfied. I may call upon your services in future, if I feel the need.”   Max nodded tiredly. It looked like dragon back scratcher was another thing to add to his list of jobs. The golden dragoness had explained that after her long sleep, some of her scales had become damaged and were irritating her. She indicated that her talons could not quite reach certain spots, a rather terrifying sight given that her claws were longer than his forelegs. Her boiling bath had been intended to try and salve the itch, but now that Max was here, she had other options. At her bidding, he had rather nervously clambered onto her back searching for the damaged areas. He found one quickly enough; the charred remains of what looked like a large root had made its way between and under two scales, each about the size of his head. Had some sort of plant grown on top of the dragon while she’d been sleeping? He tugged at the root, but it seemed to be stuck fast; at Vorel’s instruction he had instead started to yank at the damaged scale. It had taken all his might, but eventually, with an organic squelching sound, it had detached itself from her skin, freeing the root and leaving a thin trail of steaming blood. Judging from Vorel’s gasp, it seemed that the process provided some relief. Beneath the freshly shed scale, the dragon's flesh was pale and inflamed. Max could make out a new scale starting to push up from below. Vorel had instructed him to rub the affected area, and he had somewhat gingerly poked her flesh with a hoof. It had been warm, far beyond pony body temperature. The dragon had roared at him to put more effort into it, and he had begun to scuff the injured area with his hooves, which brought forth a mumble of contentment from his host as the sting was salved. In the end, he had spent almost two hours running from spot to spot, dealing with the damage done to the dragon's skin during her long sleep.   Struggling to his hooves, he trotted over to one of the removed scales. It was less lustrous than those still attached to their owner, but still glinted in the little light that filtered into the cavern from above. Rather than being smooth, it was covered in numerous grooves and folds that glittered as he tilted it. He turned the scale over and dropped it in disgust as he found that a large group of snails had apparently colonised it. No wonder it had itched!   Vorel noticed his actions and picked up the scale between two talons. Glancing at it, she pierced her lips and blew a thin wisp of blue fire over it before returning it to Max. “Your,” she seemed to search for a word for a moment, “payment, Baron Mounty Max. A souvenir to remind you of my magnificence.” She uncoiled and stretched out again, unfurling her wings. The light in the cave refracted off of her scales and caused Max’s jaw to drop. She smiled at his reaction. “That is better. I will not feel fully clean until I have undergone a complete shed, but that will do for the moment. Now, little pony, I think it is about time to check on my hoard.”   Max glanced around at the pile of jewels and precious metals that filled a corner of the cave to almost his head height. “Isn’t that it over there?” he asked.   “No, Baron Mounty Max,” she said with gentle humour. “That is more of a snack, something to eat if I awoke hungry.” Her mouth gaped at the last word, giving Max a good view of her spear-like teeth. He gulped painfully. It looked like the legend that dragons ate gems was correct. Hopefully the tales that they ate ponies weren’t. “My true hoard is buried not far from here, and I very much hope has lain undisturbed while I slept. If it has not...” She growled. “...then I will have my vengeance on any that would steal from me.” She glared at Max again. He really hoped that nothing had happened to her hoard, because, whether he had been involved or not, he strongly suspected that Vorel would take it out on him.     Vorel led Max into the darkness beyond the shaft of light, which illuminated her sleeping chamber. With the only source of light the faint glow from the dragon's eyes, Max had to feel his way down the passageway. The walls seemed oddly smooth. There was barely enough room for Max and the dragon to walk abreast; that, and the lack of light, caused Max to frequently stumble into his host, to the displeasure of both of them.   “Keep your distance, little pony,” hissed Vorel.   “Look, I’m sorry, but I can hardly see my hoof in front of my face here, and there isn’t much room!” complained Max.   The dragon hissed. “I was smaller when I made this path,” she admitted, “and I had forgotten how weak pony eyes were.” She took in a deep breath, and for a moment Max thought she was going to use her fire breath to light the path, but instead she made two spitting sounds. A pair of glowing golden orbs were emitted from her mouth and began to orbit around her, shining on her titanic form. The light reflected off her scales, illuminating the whole tunnel. Max blinked in the sudden glare. The tunnel they were in was almost perfectly circular and sloped downwards and to the right. Looking backwards, it seemed that the whole structure formed a corkscrew leading down into the mountain.   “Did you make all this yourself?” asked Max.   “It was nothing,” said Vorel with somewhat fake modesty. “Now that I have grown, I will need to work on it again.”   “Grown?”   “Dragons grow with our hoard. I recently added to mine quite considerably,” she said with pride. “But we need to sleep to allow our minds to grow used to our new bodies. My extended rest is a sign of my increased power!” She preened a little, once again trying to pose in the light of her orbs, but was stopped by the size of the tunnel as her head smacked painfully against the roof. “Hurry,” she said a little sourly. “My hoard is not much further and I want to make sure it is safe.” She set off down the tunnel faster, forcing Max to trot to keep up.   It wasn’t long until they came to the end of the path. There, on one side, the smoothness of the tunnel has been disturbed and instead it was blocked by a rough collection of rubble. Not pausing, Vorel started to burrow through the obstruction, great claws heaving aside the rocks, while she bit at – and swallowed – others. Seemingly ignored, Max had to jump aside several times to avoid being struck by the shower of smaller rocks the dragon’s digging was throwing up as she went. Despite the speed at which she dug, it still took Vorel almost half an hour to excavate the tunnel. She seemed quite frantic by the end, when she finally broke through into the chamber beyond. Max was struck by the stench of stale air wafting out, which made his eyes water. Apparently not discomforted in the least, Vorel slithered her way past the remainder of the blockage. Waiting a minute or two for the air to clear a little, Max clambered into the chamber beyond.   The room must have been large; its walls and ceiling were beyond the light reflecting from Vorel’s scales. Max could just about make out shapes in the darkness, but nothing was glimmering. He had expected a vast pile of silver and gems; where was the hoard? He turned to Vorel. She had reared up onto her hind legs and had stretched out to apparently get a better look at the room. She seemed almost in awe, or was she shocked? Max shivered – had something happened to her hoard while she was sleeping? Had it been stolen? He started to back away slowly. He didn’t doubt she would blame him for anything missing. Vorel’s head suddenly whipped around, seeming to notice him again. “Magnificent, is it not?” she asked.   “Well, I can’t really see...” began Max.   “Of course.” She turned and spat again and again and again. Several dozen glowing orbs emerged from her mouth and took up positions around the chamber, shedding their golden light in every direction. Max shielded his eyes from the sudden light and blinked. He and Vorel were standing on a ledge about three lengths above the floor of a large chamber. It was maybe about half as tall as the one above, but just as wide around. Lines of hollows had been somehow carved out of the walls, and blocky shapes filled most of them. Max leaned forwards to look at some of the closest. Books! The room was full of thousands upon thousands of books! They covered the shelves that made up the walls and were stacked dozens deep on the floor. Suddenly something clicked in his head. “Ruler of the Book Treasure! You’re a librarian!”   “What is a librarian?” asked Vorel, not taking her eyes of the sight in front of her.   “Um, someone who looks after a lot of books. We call a place with lots of books a library.”   “Librarian.” The dragon seemed to taste the word. “Maekrix-book-rasvim,” she said a little more forcefully. “This is my book treasure, my hoard. Is it not glorious!”   “It certainly is impressive!” exclaimed Max. “There are a lot of them.” He wasn’t that much of a reader, but he’d seen the royal library once or twice while he was in Canterlot. It was bigger than this by quite a bit, but it was spread out over several wings; he didn’t think he’d seen so many in one room. He looked at the nearest shelf. The contents seemed quite eclectic; many were in languages he didn’t understand, but he could make out what looked like an old cooking book and an illustrated story book. “A very varied collection.”  Oddly, none of them seemed dusty or stained despite being left for so long.   “Most of my kin do not consider books to be a true treasure,” said Vorel bitterly. “But are they not desired by your people? Do they not fight over them, and the words they contain?”   “Yeah, I suppose they do,” said Max, thinking about the few times when new books became available in Sadlzburg’s library. Everypony liked a new distraction, particularly in the middle of winter when there wasn’t much else to do.   “Come,” she commanded as she took flight, and alighted next to a pillar a little shorter than she was, set in the centre of the chamber. Hurriedly, Max scampered down to the floor of the chamber. The books there seemed less cared for than the rest of the collection. Max checked out a few as he passed; they all seemed to be in Griffish, as best he could tell. He had a suspicion that they might be the most recent addition to the hoard, and their previous owners might not have given them up entirely willingly. Although if what Vorel has said about her sleep was correct, those owners had probably been dead for a century or more by now. Still, it was probably something he’d have to deal with eventually, preferably when he wasn’t alone with a dragon.   By the time he had reached the pillar, Vorel had lifted a book from it with surprising delicacy. It was a collection of mismatched pages sewn together to make a rough book. Despite its obvious age, it seemed in perfect condition. In its cover was drawn five symbols linked together in a rough circle. “This was my first,” she said in a hushed voice. “My first book, my first true hoard. It was almost five hundred years ago, when I was but a whelp, smaller than you. One of the elders had returned to the Forge from the camel lands, bearing treasures to add to her hoard. A great number of camels foolishly followed; they, and their spirit thralls, attacked the forge itself. They were slaughtered, of course,” she hissed dismissively. “But I watched as they tried to march on the elder’s hoard. They ignored the gold and diamonds, the statues, the art; time and again they fought to obtain this alone.” She held out the book again. “When the last of them had been driven off, I crept out and took it. The elder did not recognise its worth; she only gave me a beating for my impudence rather than reclaiming it. The other whelps tried to take it from me, as they had my previous treasures, but I beat them, I beat them all. It was my first growth. I knew how important this was, how precious; it was my heart treasure!”   “What is it?” asked Max, in awe at the scene the dragon painted with her words. “What does it say?”   With careful movements of her claws, Vorel opened the book to reveal a scribble of writing in a language Max did not understand. “It is the thoughts of the camel prophet on the meaning of harmony, written by his own hoof. But the words do not matter. That the camels wanted it, how important it was to them, that is important. And it is mine, and always will be.” She closed her claws again, holding the book to her breast. “And from that to all this,” she said, gesturing around the room.     “How many are there here?” asked Max.   “Thirty nine thousand, six hundred and twenty seven,” came an almost instantaneous answer.   Max blinked. “You just know that by heart?”   “Of course, I know my hoard as well as I know my own scales. It is just as much a part of me as they are. But I must check,” she hissed. “I can’t lose even one!” With a flap of her mighty wings, Vorel leapt into the air, hovering in the centre of the chamber. Light flashed from her eyes, sweeping over the walls of the chamber like a lighthouse beacon. As it passed each book, it gave out a faint sound, like a bell being struck. The notes built upon each other to form an unearthly symphony, at once harmonic and discordant. Max was forced to cover his ears from the racket while the dragon seemed to drink in the sound. “They are all here,” she breathed, loud enough to be heard even over the sound. “Every one!” Then she cocked her head to the side for a moment and turned to Max. The sound around the chamber died down, and Max moved his hooves from his ears, finally able to hear again. There seemed to be a ringing in his head, and for a moment he was worried his hearing had been damaged. Then he realised the ringing was actually coming from his saddlebags. “Another!” cried Vorel, swooping down towards Max.   Max’s eyes widened and he backed away from the dragon as quickly as he could. “I didn’t, I didn’t take anything!” he protested.   “I do not recognise it. It is not one of mine... yet,” said the dragoness as she landed next to Max, causing the ground to shake slightly.   Max’s mind raced. He didn’t have any books, did he? His notebooks, did they count? Then he remembered the present from Midnight’s Folly. He’d forgotten about it. As quickly as he could, he tore open the top of his bags and grabbed the book. It had gotten dirty at the bandits camp, and a bit wet, but he’d kept hold of it for sentimental reasons. Reasons that didn’t seem so important now that he had a dragon literally breathing down his neck. He grabbed the book and held it out. “Here, accept it as a present from the people of Nulpar to you!”   The dragon cocked its head and looked at him strangely for a moment, before, to his surprise, her tongue flicked out and wrapped around the book. It had to be at least as long as a pony. The book was yanked from his hooves and laid on the floor between him and Vorel. “Your tribute is accepted, little pony,” she hissed, looking down at the book. “It is dirty!”   “Sorry, there were bandits, you see, and they broke my bags and it fell in the mud,” he babbled.   Vorel took a deep breath and carefully exhaled a stream of golden fire over the book. To Max’s surprise, it didn’t burst into flames; instead, it flipped open, and page by page, the dirt encrusting it was drawn off and pulled into a small ball of mud off to one side. As he watched, the water damage seemed to reverse itself, and even the slight tears in some of the pages sealed up. “Better,” said Vorel. She turned to a blank section of wall and once again breathed the golden fire over it, causing the rock to melt away and form a new section of bookshelf. Picking the book up with her tongue again, she gently placed it in its new home. “Daring Do and the Griffon's Goblet,” she read. “I have not heard of this.”   “Oh, it’s quite good, it’s part of a series.”   “There are others?” she asked, turning her head towards Max again. Her eyes flashed avariciously.   “Yes, but I don’t have any with me.”   “Where?” she demanded.   “Well, most of the settlements have some books in them. Any of them might have a copy. Sadlzburg itself has a library, it’s nothing like the scale of this one, but we’ve worked quite hard on it...” he trailed off, realising what he had said. If, like he suspected, Vorel had raided the Griffons to get part of her collection, she wouldn’t hesitate to attack the local settlements. Given the mass of treasure upstairs, she could probably buy every book in Nulpar several times over, but even if he could talk her into doing so, it wasn’t likely that his people would take the appearance of a giant fire-breathing lizard with golden scales turning up in the middle of town well. At the very least, it would cause a panic.   “Interesting,” said Vorel. “I shall have to visit your town soon,” she continued, confirming Max’s fears. There has to be some way to persuade her to stay here, at least for the moment, thought Max.   “Um, what about your hoard?” asked Max.   “What about it?”   “How would you protect it while you’re gone? Couldn’t someone else steal from it?”   The dragon reared back, staring down at the small pony in front of her. “No one would dare!”   “But it’s so big and so impressive. Surely other dragons would want it, to prove they could steal from Vorel.”   “My name is Vorel’aurix-levethuix Maekrix-book-rasvim!” roared the dragon. “Do not insult me by using only part of it! Vorel’aurix-levethuix Maekrix-book-rasvim!”   “Right, sorry, Vorel’aurix-levethuix Maekrix-book-rasvim,” said Max, raising his hooves in a conciliatory gesture. “If you left to get more books, surely they might come and steal your hoard? Like the whelps used to do?”   “Maybe,” admitted the dragon, sinking back to the ground. She pawed it distractedly, tearing furrows in the rock.   “Now, what if you turned this place into a library?” he suggested. “Ponies would lend and borrow books then. They’d bring books to you, and you’d never have to leave your hoard.”   “Borrow?” asked the dragon curiously.   “Take away for a bit and then bring...” began Max.   “No one will take any of my hoard!” cried Vorel with enough volume to knock Max from his hooves. Her eyes were glowing, and smoke was starting to seep from her mouth.   “There are also reference libraries!” exclaimed Max, trying to stagger up again. “They don’t lend books, ponies come to them to look at the books, but not take them!”   Calming slightly, Vorel lowered her head towards Max again. “Go on,” she said with a dangerous rumble in her voice.   “Well, ponies could bring tribute to you, more books! In exchange they would get to look at your books, admire how big and varied your hoard is. I’m sure they’d be impressed by you as well, your size and strength, and your lovely scales!” Vorel spread her wings and posed again for a moment, glowing in the light of her magical globes. “The magic you can do as well!” said Max. “Ponies would love to see that!” The book-cleaning spell would certainly be useful. They could bring damaged books to the dragon. It would be certainly better than having to throw them away.   “Ponies would come here to admire me?” she asked, a little uncertainly.   “Well, who wouldn’t? Now that I’ve seen you, I certainly want to tell everypony I know about you!”   The dragoness cocked her head to one side for a moment. “I would not have to leave and hunt for books. You would bring them to me,” she muttered. “And ponies would come to admire me and my hoard. Yes... Yes, I think this will be acceptable, Baron Mounty Max. You will arrange for ponies to bring tribute to me, but not too many. Any who try to trick or steal from me will suffer... do you understand?” “Yes, Vorel’aurix-levethuix Maekrix-book-rasvim,” said Max, hoping he got the dragon’s name right. “I’m sure we can sort something out that will benefit both you and the rest of Nulpar.”