//------------------------------// // 67 - The Eye of the Sword // Story: An Extended Holiday // by Commander_Pensword //------------------------------// Extended Holiday Ch 67: The Eye of the Sword Act 8 “What is so hard about this?” Trixie shouted, stomping her hooves in frustration. “Most Unicorns can do this as foals!” “I’m sorry, Trixie. I’m just … well, I’m not very good with magic, okay? I um … didn’t really get much of a chance to learn it growing up,” Vital said, blushing violently as he breathed deeply, recovering as best he could from the failed exercise attempt. “Levitation is the most basic of basic spells.” Trixie sighed. “Trixie could perform it before she could talk.” “It’s just hard for me, okay? The first time I consciously used any kind of magic was during the siege. And the only reason it worked was probably sheer dumb luck, or fear driving it to work harder.” Vital Spark shook his head. “Let me try again.” “Alright then, try again,” Trixie said, rolling her eyes as she stepped back to watch. Vital did his best to get the rocks to rise and circle around him the way Trixie had shown him earlier. He tried to imagine the Earth Benders from Avatar and how they could levitate pebbles in their hands as easily as a magnet held to metal. He pictured himself standing in the Earth Bender’s place as he saw the stones rising slowly, steadily in his mind’s eye to rest around him. His horn ignited and a light blue glow surrounded the stones, each the size of a heart as they shuddered and jerked to the air, reluctant to leave its fellows that had been mortared together in the building of the castle courtyard. Beads of sweat dripped down Vital’s face as he struggled to hold the stones in place, trying to mimic the Earth Bender in his mind. “Come on,” Trixie encouraged. “Just as though you were clutching it in your hoof.” The instant she said that, the stones dropped and yet another exasperated groan escaped her lips. “Sorry, Trixie,” Vital said. “I just can’t seem to get it to work right.” “You seem to understand it. You get so close, and then you just lose it.” She sighed again. “Trixie needs a break.” “Maybe we both do.” Vital sighed. “Sorry for being so difficult. I don’t mean to be.” “Trixie knows you're not meaning to be,” she said with a shy smile. “Trixie obviously isn’t a good teacher.” “You’re a great teacher, Trixie. I’m just a beginner is all. It’s … kind of hard to explain why I’m having so much trouble, but there is a reason for it, I promise. It’s not you, it’s me.” “Trixie,” a familiar voice spoke up as Clover approached them, “could you go over and assist Silver Spear? I need to speak with Vital Spark alone.” Trixie merely nodded before trotting off. “Am I in trouble?” Vital Spark asked. He couldn’t help himself. Failing isn’t exactly the most fun thing to experience, especially when you’re in an elite magical training program run by one of the most legendary Unicorns in all of history. “Not trouble, really, as much as I think we two need to talk, or rather, we three,” she said the last part in a much quieter tone. “I’m not sure if I understand,” Vital said, confused. “You mean Trixie?” “I mean that there are two people in this conversation, but three personas.” “Oh,” Vital said as understanding manifested. “What about?” “About your magical schooling, or lack thereof.” Vital Spark blushed. “I know I don’t have much. More like none, actually.” He sighed. “And honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to wrap my head around all this theory. My brain can’t seem to hold on to it.” “It seems like it.” She nodded knowingly, her mane glossy and radiant under the sun. “You have potential, but you can’t even begin to grasp it,” she said, idly tapping his horn. “That’s why you and I will be working late tonight.” Instinctively and involuntarily, Vital Spark gulped what had to be the largest and loudest gulp he’d ever done in his life. “Um … how late exactly are we talking?” “Tomorrow I’m going to be giving instructions on building a magical focus. By then you need at least a solid grasp on levitation. Until then, you won’t be sleeping tonight.” “But I have to run with the soldiers tomorrow!” “Starswirl always said sleep was a privilege best awarded to those who could earn it,” she said like a mother to her foal. “You’d better get to work.” “But--” “No buts,” Clover insisted. Vital Spark sighed and rolled his eyes as Clover slowly clopped away. “I know this isn’t going to help at all, but I’m going to say it anyways.” He threw his forehooves up in the air, stood on his hind legs, looked up to the heavens and uttered a plaintive cry as old as time. “Why me?” He let go of a hollow chuckle before getting back to work. The stones were still waiting, and if he wanted any chance at sleep that night, he had little choice but to succeed. He knew Clover well enough to know she’d follow through on her discipline if he didn’t tow the line. Fox Feather walked next to Camouflage as they entered Ponyville. “So then, you will take care of the supplies while I will go and talk to Rarity about my uniform,” Camo said in his thick Phrench accent. “That is correct. The shipment is currently sitting at Fort Necessity. Meet back at the entrance in an hour.” “Very well.” Camo nodded. “Until then, I bid you adieu.” He trotted off in the direction of Carousel Boutique. “Welcome to Carousel Botique, where every garment is chic, unique, and magnifique. How can I help you today?” Rarity asked pleasantly as the bell on her door rang. “Bonjour, Madame Rarity,” Camo offered as he entered the shop. “Oh, hello, Camo. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you. What brings you to Ponyville?” she asked as she levitated some measuring tape, needle, and thread onto a storage shelf again. “Myself and my associate were wondering if you would mind adding a few alterations to the designs of our .... uniforms.” The last word left his mouth with disgust. “Why, if it’s an alteration you’re looking for, I’d be glad to help; positively thrilled, in fact.” “In all honesty, we were thinking something more…. refined. Perhaps a suit or something?” he offered. “After all, our forte is much more distinguished than the rank and file.” “And has Hammer Strike given you authorization? I’d be happy to do the work regardless if you have the funds, but if Hammer Strike doesn’t approve, then you’ll only be able to use it in a casual format. Do you understand?” “Lord Hammer Strike will approve, I am sure. However, he has been a little preoccupied with avoiding our… visitor,” he said. “Visitor?” Rarity asked inquisitively as she levitated her measuring tape back to her. “Stand up over there,” she instructed, motioning to the fitting platform. He did as he was bidden. “A mare has come to visit us from Canterlot,” Spy said casually. “It seems she has certain… aims.” “Oh? Don’t they always?” she asked as she continued to jot down measurements. “What color fabric, darling?” “Blue for myself. My counterpart would prefer rouge.” “Simplicity itself. Do you have his measurements?” “They are, remarkably, the same as my own. Neither of us is quite sure why or how. We are not related, so it is very strange,” Camo noted. “No offense to yourself, mademoiselle, but sometimes I have to shake my head at how wilfully blind some mares can be.” “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” she asked as the tape tightened around his foreleg. “Well, this mare seems to be turning her affections to Lord Hammer Strike,” he said. “... Does the tape need to be that tight?” he asked. The tape snapped off of his leg with a crack. A disturbing twitch had come over her left eye. “She’s … what now?” “My business associate, Scout, reported to apparently overhear her putting, as he said, ‘the moves’ on Lord Hammerstrike shortly before entering the room to give a report.” “Is that so?” Rarity asked as she practically threw the measuring tape back onto its shelf in a tangled mess. “Then it seems I’m going to need to pack. Wait here, Camo. Don’t move from that spot until I get back.” “Is something wrong, madame?” Camo asked, getting somewhat nervous. “Oh, not yet. Not for you. But it will be,” Rarity said in an eerily cheerful voice as she walked into the back rooms to pack her luggage. “Try to move in on my stallion, will you? Well, it is on.” “... I think I may have said too much,” Camo said to himself quietly. “Right,” Pensword said as they sat around a table in Grif’s quarters. “I now convene this emergency response team to the impending coup. Based on Grif’s and my own personal experience, the attempt is going to happen, and soon..” “Within this week,” Grif said. “Probably at some point when when the kings are expected to all be present. They are planning overwhelming force and have likely replaced sixty percent of the palace staff with their own forces. I checked them myself.” “They are also hoping that, thanks to the events of the Black Tips, Grif and I are on strained relations. They expect my help, since I despise the Gryphons with my my quote unquote ‘anger.’” Pensword looked to Jorund and his stomach gave yet another lurch as he struggled to keep the Gryphon and his predecessor separate in his mind. “I will be heading to the Guard Compound with my Thestrals to quell the war that will happen in there. We will leave only those loyal to the Emperor.” “But if what you suspect is true,” Jorund noted, “how are we supposed to get the emperor out? The Imperial Guard isn’t half that large.” “Is the Avatar still allowed his own honor guard?” Grif looked to Avalon. “Of course. It’s tradition,” she said. “Then I’ll take Kel’leam and half the Bladefeathers with me under the guise of an honor guard. We’ll get to the panic room and turtle down until Pensword returns with whatever he can muster. Chesire and the other half will be with Avalon at the docks.” He looked to Jorund. “Where we’ll be getting our own ship ready for the getaway back to Equestria,” Avalon said. “No.” Grif shook his head. “You will be preparing our airship for the emperor to make his escape to the safe house. We will be taking the Gantrithor.” “You assume to steal the imperial flagship?” Jorund glared. “The Gantrithor has been sabotaged. I don’t know by whom or by what means, but it won’t reach full speed. Our ship is smaller, faster, and should get the emperor out of range of both weaponry and interception parties before they know they’ve been tricked.” “You realize that there are many ways this can go wrong?” Jorund asked. Pensword smirked. “You do realize that a lot of things could have gone wrong during the Third Gryphon War. I think we can handle first contact with the enemy.” He chuckled. “I did take Fort Triumph, after all.” “As soon as there is a sign of trouble, you two need to run,” Grif said as he looked to Pensword and Bellacosa. “If something happens to either of you, I could never return to Equestria. Your sister and your wife would garrott me,” he said, pointing to Cosy and Pensword respectively. Pensword placed a wing over Cosy’s back. “Grif, you would be letting Lunar Fang have her revenge upon this entire empire.” His smile fell to a flat line. “Still, I will do my best. Cosy will be--” he paused and looked to Jorund. “Would it be possible to give Cosy an impromptu tour of the Gantrithor? I doubt he would be able to keep up when I have to fly to the Barracks.” “I’ll arrange it for some point tomorrow,” Jorund noted. “However, it may be beneficial to get him a map, as the the ship is just over a tenth of a mile long.” “Then I leave it to the Gryphons. I doubt any Gryphon would like giving a map of The Gantrithor to The Demon.” “Okay, so I need to be sitting in court every day for a week,” Grif told Jorund before stopping and considering what he had just said. “Winds damnit, I need to sit in court every day for a week!” “If it makes you feel any better, dear, you needed to brush up on your diplomacy anyways,” Avalon said as she pat her husband on the back. Hammer Strike found himself testing the strangest of combat styles: Greatshield Hammer Style. His coat was off on one of the tables nearby, weighted down by a dagger to keep the wind from blowing it around. Ponies and Gryphons surrounded him, breathing heavily, most having been battered by said shield. The last Pony standing, Heavy Load, had been repeatedly charging into said shield only for him to be rebuffed by Hammer Strike with extreme force. Many of the crowd that had gathered to watch stood awed by both Hammer Strike’s power and by the heavily built Earth Pony’s seemingly unending stamina. “Oh Hammer Strike!” a familiar feminine voice called from the edge of the arena. Hammer turned towards the voice, giving a grin as he moved the shield once more to block the oncoming hit. “Ah, hello Rarity.”  A loud clang rang out from his shield before he brought it close to him and slammed it across Heavy’s head, knocking him out. “How are things?” He finished, slamming the shield into the ground and embedding it into the floor before leaving it to stand on its own. “Oh, fairly well. I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by,” she said as she sidled up to him. Then, in a move that literally caused even Hammer Strike to be caught off guard, Rarity pulled his muzzle to hers, locked lips, and proceeded to kiss him passionately. When the kiss broke, Hammer Strike blinked a few times as his brain caught up with him. “Now, I’m not complaining in the slightest, but what just happened?” “I thought it was obvious, dear. I missed you, so I kissed you.” She smiled back at him. “It must be mayhem with me working out here,” he chuckled. “Only when another mare’s trying to make a move on my stallion,” she said with some aplomb. “I don’t follow.” “Camouflage brought to my attention that a certain lady from Canterlot has come to visit.” “Ah, Fel Jade. She came here with a group carrying supplies due to the attempted siege that took place not that long ago.” “And why is she still here? You didn’t really need the supplies.” “To be honest, I have no idea.” He leaned closer to her. “And to be honest, while I would love to assist them on their return, I’d prefer not to hear from the other nobles constantly bothering me for being a poor host or something.” Hammer gave a soft sigh, placing a hoof on his head. “Give me some time to apply a more … feminine touch, and I’ll have her out by week’s end.” Rarity smiled. “You just leave everything to me. And perhaps we can spar in between.” Hammer gave a soft chuckle. “Certainly. Let me take your bags to where you’ll be staying,” he said, turning towards Camo, who was carrying said bags. “Kill me,” Camo said faintly as he struggled with the weight. “Later,” Hammer replied, taking the bags from him as Camo collapsed in a wheezing heap. “So, Rarity,” Hammer said as he turned towards her. “Shall we?” “Do let’s,” She said, smiling as she placed her neck against his shoulder as they walked side by side. Meanwhile, two Unicorns, one red and one blue, were casting a rather unique-looking healing spell on the fallen comrades. Each had a white cross on their flanks accenting the red and blue respectively as they laughed maniacally. A single white pigeon flew back and forth, staring at the fallen ponies as they were revived with its beady black eyes. “Archimedes, get away from there. They’re filthy,” the Unicorns said in unison as the ponies began to stir. The rest of the troops shrugged and got back to work. Just another day in Fort Unity. Lunar Fang paced up and down the room as she held the scroll of parchment in front of her, a pen tucked in her ear. Thankfully, now that Shawn had finished his construction on that airship dock, she had been able to move back into her quarters. Little Moon River played over in her corner as she stalked the wild rubber chew toys, pouncing gleefully as she played along. Fizz Pot watched sullenly, albeit with just a hint of curiosity as an occasional spark jumped from his stump of a horn. For some reason, that always made Moon River giggle, and a few times, Lunar Fang had even caught her hugging the changeling as the creature appeared both shocked, disgusted, and confused. There might be hope for Fizz Pot yet, If he could learn. ‘To my beloved Pensword, Since my last letter, things have changed only slightly. The fortress is recovering well from the siege, and I am told any and all damages have been handled. The gryphons have worked tirelessly on their compound, but something seems to have stalled them, and Fox Feather saw them the other day talking quite heatedly with one of Me-Me’s hive about something. Conor seems to be doing better. I’ve been told by Princess Luna that his dreams are of a somewhat cheerier sort and he seems far more chipper around the fort, aside from one morning where he looked as if he could fall asleep standing, but I assume that was due to Clover the Clever. She’s surprisingly military minded for a mage scholar. I sincerely hope that this is a sign for the better, and that Me-Me’s talk with him has done some good. Your daughter continues to play with her conquest like it is the best toy she has ever received. I wait for your return so we can celebrate her first victory properly. Fel Jade has only brought up betrothal in passing since my last letter, but I fear the idea is still not off the table, nor do I believe that she will be the last. Let us hope to the moon a solution presents itself. Lastly, it seems that Fel Jade has managed to provoke Rarity’s ire by “hitting on” Hammer Strike. She has made her way to Unity, is intent on staying, and has made a point of making their relationship a matter of public knowledge. You should have seen Fel Jade’s face. You should have seen Hammer Strike’s, or anypony’s face for that matter. It was a matter of some hysterics later that night. I suppose this letter is running a little long, so I’ll finish it here. How goes your stay in the empire? I hope that you succeed in your coming battle, because if you don’t, I will come after you, and then I’m afraid Gryphons may end up an endangered species.  Give my regards to Grif. All my love,         Lunar Fang She proceeded to mark an “f” on the page corner and circle it. Then, as Pensword had taught her, she dipped a second pen in lemon juice and proceeded to mark a separate message for his eyes only on the other end of the scroll. She carefully let it dry before getting the proper implements to seal the scroll. Moon River tugged her mother’s tail to grab her attention and smiled as she triumphantly waved a paper covered in squiggles and lines of various colors, letting out a cheerful spurt of bubbles and raspberries. “Is that for daddy?” Lunar Fang asked as she picked up the picture. Moon River clapped her hooves and kept smiling. “Da. Da.” “Okay.” She laughed as she placed the drawing inside the scroll and sealed it. Moon River squealed with delight as the scroll went up in a blue flame and flew out the window. Pensword paused as he eyed the target, tomahawk at the ready. He took a deep breath as he prepared himself for the exercise to come. With a sudden yell, he spun, sending the blade down range and burying right in the middle of the target. At same time, he yanked another of the blades from a post next to him and carried through a second attack, hitting a Gryphon dummy in the chest cavity, where the heart would be. He used his wing to throw another of his Thestral Tomahawks and buried it at the “enemy’s” forehead. In total, the exercise had taken just a little under a minute to execute. He snorted and twitched an ear in frustration. “Too slow,” he growled, walking down the range. “I know that is good for a Pegasus, but a Thestral warrior could have done that in less than thirty seconds. As he moved to the first tomahawk his mind wandered back, back to a happier time long, long ago. He could almost feel the sun on his face in the mountain air as his mother sat him up against the wall of their little house. The backyard had been turned into a range and she snorted as she placed a post into a pre-dug hole. After securing the makeshift pillar in place, she jammed four Tomahawks into it. She picked one up from the ground with a hoof and took a calming breath before yelling a series of clicks and chirps as she sent it whirling down range while taking another from its resting place in the post. She sent it after its brother, causing it to collide with a crude likeness of a Gryphon. Soon after, a Unicorn received another Tomahawk, slicing its “horn” off at its base. She took the last two tomahawks into each of her clawed wings and attacked the final target, another Thestral dummy. She cut both wings off and rapidly flipped over it, burying the blades in the back of the head and neck. Moonbeam looked up to smile at her son, but her expression froze. Pensword smiled as he recalled that expression of shock on her face. While she had been busy working on her finishing blow, he had decided he wanted to do what his mother was doing. He got off the wall where he had been leaning and walked over to an old, blunted tomahawk reserved for practice duels. He stood up on his hind legs and reached down with a wing to pick it up. He fumbled once or twice, but eventually he figured out how to hold it properly, and he stood proudly with his wing above his head. He swung the tomahawk flimsily a few times, his expression serious like his mother’s as he pretended to cut the bad guys. “Pensword?” Moonbeam asked, shocked. There Pensword was, swinging a tomahawk around with a wing that had scientifically been proven not to be capable of holding any form of weaponry. And yet he was swinging it around, trying to mimic his mother. She smiled and raced forward to hug him as she lifted him up. “My little Warrior. My dear little Pensword. Are you trying to be like mommy?” Pensword grinned in response, the tomahawk still held aloft in his wing’s grip. From around the corner, Iron Pen walked to see the situation and blinked in confusion. “But--How...? Dear, are you trying to make our son think he can hold things with--” Pensword remembered jumping down from his mother’s embrace, tomahawk still in wing as he approached his dumbstruck father. “Da, da.” He giggled. “I am like Mommy.” Pensword chuckled at the memory as he hammered the tomahawk into the post. “Those were good times.” He looked to his side. “Okay, Mom, tell me when and time me again.” He nodded his head as if responding to an answer. He steeled himself. “Ready,” he said. A second later he charged forward. He finished the set, this time in fifty seconds. He snorted as he heard the sound of a door opening down one of the hallways. “Mom, if Twilight Sparkle wishes, can she test me about this magic?” He paused. “My choice? Well, I guess I will see what she does if she ever sees me do this.” He picked up the Tomahawk with a hoof. He smirked as Grif entered the room. A second later the Tomahawk quivered from the wooden beam near the raven’s head. “Not bad.” Grif grinned. “Been keeping your skill up, huh?” “You think I would let this part of my heritage slack? I have been practicing, usually at night or away from the others. Traditionally speaking, only those of the tribe or family members are allowed to see a Thestral practice this art of war. This is a Thestral Axe. Matthew calls it a tomahawk. Still, thank you for trusting me. Any hot-blooded Thestral can throw this at an enemy. A true warrior can control and guide the blade to the desired destination.” He flapped his wings to get up to the Thestral Axe handle. “Funny how I can seem to always hit what I am aiming for.” “It’s all in the head,” Grif said, “at least if it’s anything like these.” He ran his talons across his throwing blades. “You need to be able to predict the spin before making the throw, right?” “Yes, but I still cannot seem to get a handle on throwing blades themselves,” he muttered. “Let me try those blades again. Last time we did it, I couldn’t hit a bullseye so much as a foot away.” Grif offered a knife. “Dunno if you ever used one of mine before. They’re weighted, so they spin faster.” Pensword took a breath to calm his nerves and steady his breathing. He cradled the blade, testing its heft in his hooves for the difference in heft and weight. Then, without warning, his foreleg flickered, sending the blade flying across the room. The dagger hit the target with the broad side of the blade, smacking the target before it fell harmlessly to the ground. The room was silent as the two friends looked at each other. “Well. Uh, did I do anything wrong?” he asked nervously. “You thought too much,” Grif said, shaking his head. “Picture it; don’t think about it,” he said as he handed over another dagger. “Right.” Pensword took the blade and threw it again at the target. This time the narrow side of the blade hit it, rather than the flat, leaving a slight cut on the fabric. “Don’t think about it,” Grif repeated, offering a pair of daggers. “Experiment a little. Try one with a wing and the other with a hoof. Maybe the one will be better than the other. Pensword grunted as he took the blades and cleared his mind. The rest of the room faded away. All he could see, all he could feel, were the blades in his grasp and the target in the distance. At the moment he felt most calm, he threw with all his might. The two blades collided midair, clattering to the ground. Pensword’s left eye twitched. He sighed and sent one by wing only, having once again cleared his mind. It hit the target by the back end. The closest he had ever gotten to hitting the target with the throwing blade. “You’re getting there,” Grif encouraged. “Your problem is that you are approaching this like it’s strategy. Strategy is great in the tent, but you're fighting your instinct when you need it most.” “I am? How am I fighting my instinct?” Pensword asked, perplexed. Grif pulled a blade and threw it. There was no stopping, no breathing, just a single motion. He smacked the target dead center before proffering another blade to his friend. Pensword took the throwing blade and added his own flair, spun around and lunged. This time, an angry “thock” echoed through the quiet room. The blade had landed, but not in the target. Pensword had successfully nailed the stuffed Gryphon in its throat. “Now you’ve got it.” Grif smiled “Now why don’t you run through your tomahawk routine again? And remember, instinct.” Grif grinned, stepping back. Pensword sighed as he set up his weapons again. Once more, he took his battle stance, calming his mind. Without warning, he went into a flurry of motion as tomahawks landed left and right, nailing their targets. When he’d finished, Pensword sat on the back of the last Gryphon dummy, its left wing torn off in his hoof, the Tomahawk embedded at the base of its neck. He snorted as he got to the ground again, his eyes a little wide. “Mom…” he whispered. “My mother’s routine.” He snapped his head to the left. “Time?” he asked, not expecting the dual echo of voices as both Grif and his Moonbeam’s ghost spoke simultaneously.. “32 seconds,” Grif said. “Not bad for a Pegasus-Threstral hybrid,” he laughed. “I need to get this down to thirty seconds,” Pensword replied. “For now, you should be happy,” Grif told him. “If you put all your time into one weapon, you become too easy to counter.” “Yes,” Pensword responded, “I know. You should see me with my other weapons. I can take out those five Gryphons in twenty seconds by wing blade, thirty seconds by a Pegasus sword, and I can fire with my modified bow averaging ten shafts a minute. “Then take a break already,” Grif pressed. “You can’t afford to be too tired to fight right now.” Pensword nodded his head, still panting. “Very well. I wonder if Cosy would like to have a little group dinner tonight.” Cadence smiled as the scroll materialized in front of her with a flash of green fire, letting loose a sigh of relief. “It’s about time, Cosy. Don’t worry your big sister so much.” Taking the scroll in her magic, she broke the seal and slowly unrolled the parchment, anxious for the reassuring news she know had to be there. She hungrily scanned the letter. Then she was silent. The only sound was her magic in action and the slight hum of the crystal heart as it sent love energy throughout Equestria. Below the throne room, the crystal heart throbbed, then pulsed, unnerving more than a few of the crystal ponies who had come to admire it, as well as the guards posted to protect it. Then Cadence screamed. The Crystal empire still shook, resounding from the shriek that had emanated from the Crystal Palace throne room. Many a crystal pony’s ears still rang with the resonance of their crystal coats. The mighty “WHAT?” still echoed and redoubled back from the mountain tops as the aurora cast out from the crystal heart violently increased. “Cadence, what’s wrong?” Shining Armor shouted as he charged through the door, a large spear levitated in his magic. “You. Read. Now,” Cadence instructed as she shoved the scroll into her husband’s face before she began pacing around the room. “What are they thinking? They should be on their way back now, not staying put. This isn’t a field trip!” Cadence waved her hooves in the air frantically as she paced around, uttering a string of profanities that made even her husband pale. “I’ll read it. Deep breaths, Cadence. It can’t possibly be that bad,” Shining said as he rubbed her back gently with his hoof. He picked up the letter and read. Dear Cady, How’s things doing back in the empire? Things are pretty good out here. We had a few run-ins with black tips and troops, and most of the Gryphons weren’t very nice, but then we met the Farflyer clan and Grif got married. Can you believe it? We stayed there for a few weeks cause Grif used up all his energy protecting me, but we’re fine now. The Farflyers helped. We arrived at the Imperial City a few days ago and settled in at The Monastery of Winds. Nobody can kill there, so we’re safe. I’m sitting waiting to meet with Daedalus now. I’m a little nervous, but if I could stand up to a crowd of Gryphons in a museum, I think I can stand in front of an emperor. By the way, I got a surprise to show you when I get back home. You’re both gonna be so proud. I kindof wish Mom could be there, too, but I’m doing okay. Pensword and Grif helped me through my tantrum and now everything’s fine. Cady, you remember when Mom was talking about arranged marriages and contracts? Well, this is a secret, so don’t tell anyone, but some bad people are trying to get Moon River to marry their kids. I don’t know what that means if it happens, but it doesn’t sound good, so I want to help. Do you think you can start pulling the papers together for a proposal? I wanna talk specifics when we get home. I hear some guards coming. It sounds like it’ll be our turn soon. I’ll write again after we talk battle strategy with Daedalus. There’s something called a coup about to happen. Uncle Pensword says it’s like what happened to us when the crystal heart was taken. If somepony’s planning something like that, I can’t just sit and let it go. I won’t let Daedalus lose his home like we did ours. We’ve already got an escape ship, so we’ll be fine. It’s fast and roomy, so we can carry everyone we need out. And Pensword and Grif have been teaching me how to fight, so if things get really bad, I’ll be able to defend myself. With that and Uncle Shining’s training, I’ll do just fine. See you soon, big sis. Hopefully in a few weeks. Love You, Cosey. P.S. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. “....Wha?” Shining Armor’s brain took some time to attempt to process what he’d just read. “We have to do something. Call the generals. Summon the legions. Cosy’s in danger!” “Cadence, we can’t go to war,” Shining said, somewhat fearfully. “As it is, we only have a handful of trained volunteers.” “Then, what, dear, would you suggest?” Cadence asked, her eyes flinty. “Send a letter to your Aunts?” Shining asked. “Perhaps Luna can order Pensword back.” Cadence sighed. “You really don’t know Aunt Luna, do you?” She collapsed into her throne’s cushions and laid a hoof over her head. “Even with the best guards on the planet, my little brother still manages to get into trouble. I don’t know how much more I can take it.” “We’ll figure it out, Cadence, I promise,” Shining said as he approached and took her in his hooves. “Don’t worry. He’ll be safe.” “I hope you’re right, Shining. I hope you’re right,” Cadence said as she leaned into her husband’s embrace. Hammer Strike sat alone in his office, his coat folded next to his vest while his dress shirt hung on one of his hooves, a needle and thread in the other as he worked on patching up said garment. While his coat seemed to take a lot of punishment without issue, the other parts of his outfit did not. He sighed to himself as he continued his work, listening to the hoofsteps that traveled around New Unity. Down the hallway, past his door, around the corner, yet another set of hooves walked in the direction of his door before stopping in front. “No need to knock,” he called out like he usually did. “I know,” Rarity said as she opened the door. “I just wanted to be--when did you learn to sew?” she asked, surprised as she watched the well-practiced hooves deftly maneuver the needle. Hammer hummed in response before answering. “A long time now. Since before I arrived, actually. I made the first variant of my current clothing. How else would my outfit still be in good shape?” “The one you arrived in, or the subsequent designs?” Rarity asked. “The one I arrived in.” “I don’t know. I just thought you performed proper maintenance and that any problems you had you’d bring to me. I am the greatest fashion designer in all of Ponyville, after all.” Hammer Strike hit her with his famous flat stare. “What’s that for?” Rarity exclaimed. Hammer gave a brief chuckle. “You’re also the only one in Ponyville.” “Yes … well, assuming all goes well, it won’t be just Ponyville anymore.” “Thoughts on expanding your business?” “I’m waiting for the right location to open up. Once it does, I intend to open a new branch of Carousel Boutique. I simply can’t wait till it happens.” She smiled dreamily as visions of lords and ladies of Canterlot coming to buy her dresses and gowns filled her head. “It will be positively amazing. With only one thing better.” Hammer hummed in question. She walked up and pecked him on the cheek. “You, of course.” Then she giggled. “Oh, poor Lotus. Do you remember how many files she had to go through just to get your hooves done?” “I should have warned them that it would be a bit tough for certain tasks.” He gave a light laugh. “Especially Bulk Biceps. Did you actually feel anything when he tried that deep tissue massage?” “Faintly, so I’ll give him that.” “At least he didn’t have to punch you. He acts big and tough, but he’s really just a big old sweetie on the inside.” “He seems like a decent stallion. But how is everyone treating you so far?” “Oh just fine, of course. Why wouldn’t they? I got to know most of the troops rather well when they came for their fittings. Though Camo is a newer addition, I believe. We only got to meet briefly that first time I came.” “Him and seventeen others: a mercenary group with unique skills.” “Interesting. Oh, by the way, dearie, while I was here, I was wondering, might I be able to borrow one of your rapiers for a while?” “I should have a few spares made on the side.” He nodded towards a side door in the room. “Not many in that room, but I keep plenty of equipment in there for testing or practice.” “Excellent.” Rarity smiled as she opened the door. The blue flash of her horn indicated her use of magic as she tested the heft and weight of various blades until she came out about five minutes later bearing a simple flat rapier with a circular guard to protect the hoof of its user. “I thought I’d give Fel Jade some lessons while she’s here. A little gift to show there’s no hard feelings over her ‘mistake.’” She smiled malevolently. “I just love how mischievous you can be.” “Why, darling, I’m only just getting started,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes. “Perhaps we can have some fun together? I’d love to help Fel Jade ‘remember’ some urgent appointments at Canterlot,” she said, winking. “With your help the game will be so much more interesting.” “I like the sound of that.” Cosey sat fidgeting on his seat next to Grif as Gryphon after Gryphon filed in with their complaints or requests, and the occasional demand. Daedalus listened to each intently, weighing the options well before making a decision. Some he granted, some he forestalled, and others he denied. The young crystal prince also took note of the way in which, Daedalus was able to deal with his opponents. The mask the emperor wore was as cold and aloof as the stone of the mountain fortress they now stood within. It seemed that keeping a neutral expression was a key to successful rule. Cosey leaned to his side. “How much longer do you think we have?” he whispered under the pretence of childish curiosity, his eyes wide as he pointed to some of the stonework in the room and the warriors that had been gathered. “Deep breath, and concentrate,” Grif whispered almost inaudibly back. “Feel it in your soul: the hairs on your neck starting to prickle. When you feel them stand on end with the ice in the room, let your senses answer your question,” Grif finished before turning up his voice with a snapping cruelty. “It will end when it ends! Young ones should be seen and not heard,” he snapped. Pensword’s left ear twitched. He did not move his eyes, but his gaze had turned nearly as stony as Daedalus’, yet his eyes reflected the predatory glare of a judging sphinx, ready to descend upon any who might rouse his ire. He watched every moment, gauged every action, his only movement a small twitch of his mouth to a grim smile at the fear of the gathered Gryphons. His tail flicked in annoyance, but that was all he “betrayed” to their foes. Grif’s eyes scanned the room, catching the brief flickers of movement as servants and guards seemed to change places: certain ones being replaced, others being reinforced. More Gryphons entered the room over the course of an hour, some heavily armored, others bearing obvious war weaponry. He looked ahead to the booth that had been erected in the great meeting hall, where the five kings sat. Aside from the three he recognised, who each made a minute nod in his direction, two others shifted their eyes in confusion. One was a goshawk with a snow leopard's body. The other, surprisingly, was a bluejay with the body of a large white lion. Already, they seemed to be calling for their guards and whispering in panicked tones. “Ifay ouyay etgay the ancechay, ytray and etgay osethay wotay outay ithway ouyay,” Grif spoke in a low tone to Pensword. Bellacosa looked on, confused. Pensword gave a quiet nod as he went to high alert. Something was about to happen. He was prepared, whether it be a full blown melee or simple indigestion. “Now,” Grif shouted, just as a hail of arrows rained down from the roof of the throne room. The aim was spot on, the accuracy sure, and all were ready, sure to skewer the young emperor where he stood--had not a heavy gust of wind filled the chamber, knocking the shafts in several directions, all away from Daedalus. In seconds the emperor's guard surrounded him in a heavy phalanx, the red shields of the male guard interlocking in several clicking motions. Slots opened in the shields as the female guard drew their bows. Pensword spun around as two arrows hit his back, only to strike off with a bell-like tone. With an angry flourish, he removed his cloak to reveal his full battle armor, his eyes blazing. Turning to face his adversaries, he roared, “I will soak my wings with the blood of those who dare to attack this court!” “Bladefeathers, go!” Grif yelled to his guard as the Gryphons drew their weapons. Several bows shot into the ceiling before the snipers could reload their own. “Daedalus, get to the safe room. We’ll keep you covered,” Grif shouted as he drew his family’s famous black bow and started firing. He looked to pensword. “Time to make your exit.” Pensword nodded his head as he charged forward, wing blades glinting in the mid-day light after swiftly donning them for battle. He roared as he pushed through a doorway, Cosy in tow, leaving two dead guards behind him, as though he were abandoning the court. “Where are we going?” Cosy shouted as they raced down the hall, his heart racing. The bracelet that had attached itself to his leg pulsed a multitude of colors as they ran. “Cosey! You were supposed--” Pensword sighed. “We are heading to the Royal Barracks. At this moment, there will be a divide between those loyal to the emperor, those who go the way the wind blows, and those who have placed their loyalty to the kings.” He narrowed his eyes as he pushed forward. “We need to make sure that Daedalus has his reinforcements.” “Then let’s do it,” Cosy said as his horn glowed. “I’m ready.” “Your majesty, the passage has been compromised. We have to fall back on secondary measures,” Brunhilda said, her liger body practically glowing with a sheen of sweat as she fired yet another bolt into the crowd. Her raven eyes flashed as she braced against the onslaught that pushed against their barrier. A concentrated blast of wind from Grif granted a brief respite as the attacking force retreated, being flanked on either end by Grif’s honor guard. Daedalus nodded grimly as he nicked a talon and ran it over the right head of the throne. “By rights of my line, I call for sanctuary against the coming storm. For order, for honor, for my people,” he recited. The four lapis lazuli eyes glowed, casting a pattern of starlight across the room while the ruby mounted to the top of the throne glowed with the power of his line, firing into the wall behind. With the crack of shifting stone, a shower of ancient dust descended as the wall slowly creaked inwards on rusted hinges. A shriek of chagrin echoed through the throne room as Grask watched the magic unfold. “Go,” Brunhilda instructed, “and don’t look back.” “You’re all coming, too,” Daedalus insisted. “I’m not leaving you behind.” “Yes, but you first. You’re what this is all about. You have to get to safety. Now move!” “Go. We’ll cover you,” Grif told brunhilda as he deflected an arrow with his blades, his quiver expended. Throwing blades flew with an idle flick of his wrist like death darts, but even they were running low. The sheer numbers of the force against them was far more massive than he had anticipated. Daedalus took one last look back at the battle and the violence before racing through the door. His guards made a slow and calculated retreat, careful to circle the way to prevent any other Gryphons from breaking through. Grif and Kel’leam stayed behind as the Bladefeathers filtered into the safety room. Grif’s reflexes and Kel’leam’s greatshield kept the worst of the assault off them as they backed towards the entrance. “How’re you holding up, Kel’leam?” “Well, considering you can actually see me for once, I’d say I’m in pretty high spirits. You up for a little wager, Grif?” he asked as he casually smacked another attacker senseless before casually decapitating the attacker to his left. “Kel’leam, we are in the middle of a battlefield trying to get the emporer of a nation to safety and you ask that?” Grif replied before grinning. “What did you have in mind?” “If I get the most kills, you pay for a new shield. If you get the most kills, I’ll replace all the gear you lost today. Deal?” “Really? I thought you had a challenge for me.” Grif laughed, using his wings to do a three hundred and sixty degree vertical flip, bisecting attackers on either side. “Well, what would you suggest?” Kel’leam asked as he parried yet another blow with his shield before skewering two gryphons through their necks. “You win, you get a new shield and a matching set of armor. I win, and you are watching the crusaders for a month.” Grif laughed as he impaled an enemy on his left blade before spinning around and impaling another attacker with a stiletto. Afterwards, he turned to retrieve his sword from the enemy’s chest while simultaneously freeing another of his head. “You know, my mother always said I was good with kids. You’ve got yourself a deal, Grif.” Kel’leam chuckled as he proceeded to take a gryphon’s sword, reverse it, and cleave its owner’s head. “Been awhile since I fought some real competition before,” Kel’leam continued to jibe as the pair slowly drew back towards the stone door. “Kel’leam, let’s go,” Grif said seriously. “There’ll be more fighting before this is done,” he promised as he backed to the alcove. The doors into the throne room were literally swarming with hordes of armed gryphons. “Run!” Grif shouted. The duo raced toward the door, a hail of arrows and spears flying behind them as Kel’leam did what he did best. He laughed, even as his arm began to shake. “Get in, Grif,” Kel’leam said, “I’ll be right behind you.” Grif slipped into the room before turning to kel’leam “Come on, move it!”. As Kel’leam was about to step inside, his shield arm lowered just a fraction of an inch. He smiled at his family, glad to know they were all safe. Then came the flash of motion, the clang of steel on steel, and lastly, that sense of absolute shock as his left side went momentarily numb and all sound dulled to a faint roar in his ears. He couldn’t believe it as he heard the dull clatter of his shield on the stone floor. Far in the back of the crowd, Grask Bloodbeak roared in triumph. “Die, you worthless mongrel!” Kel’leam coughed once, then twice as blood spattered his white feathers. He felt his knees buckle as the air rushed through his feathers like he was flying. Perhaps he was. Were The Winds calling him home at last? Was this his time? The questions would bother him no more as the darkness took him.