//------------------------------// // 71 - Expanded Knowledge // Story: An Extended Holiday // by Commander_Pensword //------------------------------// Extended Holiday Ch 71: Expanded Knowledge Act 9 “Clover, I need your help with magic that is volatile enough to kill us both if something goes wrong,” Hammer said as he moved towards Clover, who was currently taking a break from teaching. “So, the fun stuff.” Clover laughed. “Exactly. Got a room to test out this stuff, or shall we do it in the middle of the courtyard with a ton of ponies watching?” “As much as I love a captive audience, something tells me putting a few dozen Ponies in mortal danger doesn’t sit well with you,” she noted. “We can use my fortified lab.” “To be fair, if something were to happen, a contained lab still wouldn’t stop much of the damage.” He shrugged.. “Maybe not,” she said, nodding in agreement, “If it wasn’t within a self contained pocket dimension.” She smirked. “Then let’s go.” Clover’s horn flared and the two vanished in a flash of light, re-appearing in a large square room filled with alchemical equipment, books, sigils, and evidence of other magical experimentation. “Welcome to the crossroads.” “Good. This should work.” Hammer Strike  turned to face her. “I need you to create a shield around you, specifically a dome.” “Any particular strength?” she asked him. “A very strong one.” Clover nodded as she moved to a clear spot. Her horn flared again and a dome formed over her made of smaller intricately designed and reinforced hexagonal plates of magic. “Oh boy,” Hammer sighed. “Mixing magic.”  He raised a hoof slightly off the ground, a small purple crystal taking form as he focused. Over time the crystal grew in size. “May I ask what the purpose of this experiment is?” Clover asked, confused. “You can ask, but I’d prefer to show you,” he replied, storing the crystal in his coat as he walked towards the barrier. “Your shield only has two percent of what it had when you started.” He lifted a hoof, prodding one of the magical plates, only to have it weakly bend and break. “How did you do that? This is a multi-layered shield. Weakening it that much shouldn’t be possible!” Clover said, shocked. “It’s because you didn’t know what you were supposed to feel. I drained your shield of the energy reserve, leaving it at the point where it could only take a small amount of pressure compared to the start,” he replied with a grin. “After a problem that happened recently involving a shield, I looked into a way to break them quickly and efficiently.” “The implications to this could be incredible!” Clover said as she dropped her shield. “The problem is that you can’t replicate it without using an absurd amount of magic.” Hammer frowned. “As it turns out, the way to measure Thaumic units is on a Unicorn’s magic scale. When I tried the test to a Unicorn, I discovered that your Equestrian field is approximately half the amount of a thaumic field, meaning one unit of Thaumic energy is around two and a half on a Unicorn scale.” He shrugged. “I’m sure you could replicate the setup, but not efficiently for energy use.” “Hmm…. Still, this proves an important weakness in my shield work. I’m going to have to figure out how to create a self-energizing shield array to prevent something like this in the future.” “Test two. I want you to try and break past one that I make.” “But you told me before you couldn’t shape a shield with your magic.” “Not with Thaumic magic, but Celestia screwed up my field, and I apparently have an Equestrian field now on top of my own thaumic one,” he said as his forehooves began to burn blue fire. “Downside, I don’t have a horn to focus the energy, so I have to use my front hooves, which uses more energy.” A simple blue dome appeared around Hammer Strike with wicks of energy shooting off at random moments like a solar flare, matching his overall setup in how his magic looked. “I’ll start with something simple and work upwards,” Clover said as she charged her horn, sending a simple magical blast at the shield. The blast of magic simply collided with the shield and disappeared. “Did your shield just eat my magic?” Clover asked. “Maybe.” Clover smirked before charging her horn again and firing several lighting bolts at the shield. Said bolts collided. Though the energy was absorbed, the electricity of said bolts spread across the shield before clearing. She reached out with her magic, lifting several gemstones from a nearby store and flinging them point first at the shield before removing her magic’s influence on them. Each one collided, some bouncing off while some fractured on impact. The shield gained no power. “Good,” Hammer noted. Clover’s eyes glowed as she planted her hooves and gritted her teeth. The floor behind her cracked as a large wooden alicorn idol rose from the ground. The alicorn was in a meditative position; however, fanned out behind it were large wooden hooves connected to legs. Clover grinned as she lit up in flames from the magic she was sinking into this spell. The idol’s head turned to Hammer Strike before one of the hooves detached from the fan they had formed behind the idol and smashed forward, hitting the shield hard. As it returned to its place, a second one moved to strike the shield faster. And so it went, hoof after hoof, faster and harder and faster and harder as more legas lunged forward, slamming into the shield with incredible amounts of force. The attack seemed as if it was having no effect until the hits suddenly slowed down, the fan stopping entirely as one of the front legs on the idol lifted and slammed itself downward with an earth-shattering blow that collapsed through the shield, but stopped on contact with Hammer Strike himself. The idol returned to its regular position, sinking back underground as Clover collapsed, panting. Hammer Strike shook his head, drops of blood falling to the floor beneath him as he pulled out a small cloth sheet to stop the bloody nose. “Note to self. Don’t hold the shield that long after it should have broken…” “That attack came from a rare cult of albino Diamond Dogs living at the foot of Mount Everhoof,” Clover said, still panting “The fact you managed to hold that barrier together for the whole attack is incredible.” “I was going to ask for a magical spar, but I think we should save that for another time, eh?” “Considering that spell takes more energy than I’d like to admit, yes, I think that’s a great idea.” Clover moved to her alchemy table and pulled two purple concoctions from a beaker holder. She offered him one before drinking her own. Hammer Strike carefully examined the fluid, shrugged, then drank it down. He smacked his lips. “You know, I’ve actually had worse.” “Potion making and alchemy are simple sciences.” She shrugged. “At one point, I was a hair's breadth from making a philosopher’s stone, but it failed. I’m pretty sure it’s impossible.” “You’ve met the Doctor. You should know better by now.” “...Touché.” Vital Spark walked nervously into Ponyville, his white coat and golden mane glistening in the sunlight. As an additional precaution to make a good impression, he’d made sure to clean himself till he shone and then faced Rarity’s intense scrutiny. He was going in for an interview of sorts after all, and his mom had always said to dress for the part. He searched high and low, doing his best to find somepony, anypony that he could recognize while he shifted the black case uncomfortably on his back. “Are you lost?” a feminine voice asked. Vital turned around to see a pegasus mare. Her coat was a pale persian blue with a light yellow mane and a streak of slightly darker yellow. Her cutie mark was a cloud covering a sun and she stared at him with a look that made him feel slightly uncomfortable. “Um … yes. I was looking for Octavia’s house? Or recording studio? Rarity was a little vague, but she told me I should go see her.” “Oh. And why’s a cute stallion like you headed that way?” she asked him. Vital Spark blushed at the compliment. “I’m a violinist. Rarity suggested I join the orchestra here in Ponyville to stay in practice.” “Well, I can show you the way.” She smiled, though somehow the way she voiced those words sounded wrong. “Um … sure. I guess?” Vital asked. His heart was starting to race as his eyes darted nervously. “Thank you.” Just before they set off, a white hoof tapped the Pegasus on the shoulder. She turned around suddenly to see a familiar looking white Unicorn with streaked blue hair. She held up a sign reading Cloud Kicker! and gestured with an angry hoof. “Oh, come on, Vinyl, I was just teasing him,” Cloud Kicker tried, but Vinyl shook her hoof again. “Fine!” she sighed before storming off. Vinyl looked at Vital spark. She turned the sign over and wrote something down with her magic. Looking for Octy? “Um … yeah, I was. Rarity told me she’d want to meet me. I um … was hoping to audition for the orchestra,” he said, rubbing the back of his head nervously with a hoof. His mane had grown longer again in the time he’d been training and working at New Unity, but it was still manageable, so he didn’t worry about it too much. “Um, do you think you could take me to her? If you don’t mind, that is.” Vinyl nodded, waving for him to follow. “Thanks. It’s great to see a friendly face. I’m still kind of new in the area.” He smiled as he began to follow. “You’re Vinyl Scratch, right? The famous D.J. Pon-3?” She nodded her head as she walked. “I heard you did an amazing job at the royal wedding. You specialize in dubstep, right?” She nodded again, smiling at him. “I’d love to hear some of your work some time. I may like playing the violin, but that doesn’t mean I’m limited to classical music.” He smiled back. She gestured with her hooves. He guessed she was trying to say she’d like that. “Awesome. Maybe I can show you some music the humans brought with them from their world, too some time. It sounds like something right up your alley.” He laughed, the anxiety of Cloud Kicker now far behind him, blown away like a cloud on the wind. Eventually the pair reached a rather strange looking house with a neatly trimmed hedge in the shape of an eighth note. The house itself appeared to be split down its middle with what looked like organ pipes sticking up from the roof on the left. The keyboard flower boxes accented the musical theme and the glass windows were carefully formed with the shape of various musical symbols. The door and thatch of the house, along with its decoration on the outside left Vital Spark incredibly confused as he cocked his head at it. “Um … is this her house?” Vinyl looked at him with a strained expression as she tried to explain it. “It’s our recording studio,” a familiar uppercrust voice spoke up. There on the landing, Octavia stood, her grey coat and purple bow tie just as perfectly styled as ever. Her black mane was carefully groomed and styled to give that casual, yet refined look that all professionals of the classical variety seemed to carry with them. Her purple eyes shone widely, just like every other pony in Ponyville. “Oh. I didn’t know Ponyville had one of those,” Vital said, surprised. “It was a joint venture that I and my partner,” she gestured to Vinyl, “invested in when I moved to Ponyville from Canterlot after an… incident involving the last Grand Galloping Gala,” Octavia noted. “Played some music the nobles were too stuck up to enjoy even though it was actually fun, didn’t you?” “I was told to play requests, and it was an element of harmony making the request. What was I supposed to do?” she sighed. .”Well, on the plus side, you have a princess right here in Ponyville who approves of your music and what you’re trying to do, right? Not to mention a Lord who’s quite literally a legend up at Canterlot living just next door. If you could get a couple of gigs from them, your career would probably skyrocket.” “That’s very nice of you, but I’ve decided to work on improving other aspects of my life first. I made a lot of mistakes when I moved to Canterlot that I need to atone for,” Octavia said in a despondent tone of voice before lifting her head. “But that’s neither here nor there. What can I do for you, Vital Spark, was it?” “Um, yes, but how did you know my name? I never said a word.” “You do realise that you’re friends with some of the largest figures in Equestria, correct? Including Ponyville’s biggest gossip?” Vital Spark blushed. “You mean Rarity?” “If there is something to be known about the rich and famous, then chances are she knows it.” Octavia nodded. “Then yeah, that’s me.” Vital blushed again. “I heard that you had an orchestra and I was wondering if you could use another violinist.” “Oh, I wasn’t aware that you played,” Octavia said “Do you have much experience?” “I’ve played since I was nine years old. I’m a fairly competent site reader and I love learning new pieces.” He smiled. “And to answer your next question, I’m twenty three now.” “My. You certainly have quite the dossier.” She smiled. “Perhaps you’d like to come inside and play something for me?” “Sure. That’d be great!” Vital couldn’t help but smile back. “I’ve been itching to try some new material. Though if you’d like, I can play something I’m familiar with instead.” “Oh, I’m sure we can find something.” Octavia giggled and Vinyl gave her a strange look with an arched brow as they walked in. Pensword stood towards the back of the main bridge, the surfaces around him bathed in the setting sunlight as he watched the movements of the skeleton crew going about their tasks. It reminded him much of the human movie Star Wars. He frowned at how Matthew kept referring to these things. He had no clue what they were. The center of the bridge had a table that broadcasted a holographic projection of the ship and the space around it with emblems and symbols in Gryphic describing weather conditions and other external readings. All of a sudden, something popped up at the edge of the system and suddenly the lights went blood red as an alarm blared that Pensword did not recognize. Matthew was confused as the alarm chimed over and over again. Gryphons were racing, some even flying to other parts of the bridge and ship. “Three Destroyer class airships are moving in to block us,” one crewman yelled. Another had hit the communication system. “General Quarters, General Quarters. Man your battlestations. Engineering, shut the thrusters down and pull power to the forward guns.”  A sea of commotion frothed and stormed around the commander as he heard yet another alarm sound. “Sir, there is no way the forwards guns will be able to punch through that blockade in time. We can’t do enough damage fast enough,” a Thestral said as he carefully looked over a read out. The Gryphon at the helm smirked. He flicked a switch. “All Hands: brace, brace, brace.” He looked to the Thestral. “We have one main cannon that they will be facing.” He smirked as the sound of shifting metal reverberated throughout the ship. On the holographic display, an image of the front of the ship flickered into being, showing as gears ground and parts shifted, causing two great bay doors to slide aside as a large barrel pushed slowly forward. For a moment, a flash of memory from Matthew connected to Pensword, stirring something deep within him. “Yamato,” he whispered with a giggle. The Gryphon at the helm turned and looked at the manic glint in Pensword’s eyes. “Commander Pensword, you may give the word.” Pensword quickly moved to look at the displays as a Thestral Stallion stood nearby to help his balance. He saw the lines and range of fire as the ship’s systems drew up the trajectory. Judging by the radius of the projected blast, the middle ship would be vaporized and the other two would suffer heavy damage at bare minimum. The ship shook as some of the longer ranged weapons on the Destroyers made contact. He waited another second, carefully studying the energy readouts and the glow coming from deep inside the barrel. Suddenly, he snapped a wing out and chopped violently downwards. “FIRE!” He roared. Pensword did not know who gave the order, or who was the most excited, but in that moment, Matthew and Pensword were one. The Cannon fired a beam that blinded the holographic sensors. The bridge was illuminated, flooded with light and shadow as sharp in difference as the night from the day as the beam raced out into the distance. Lightning crackled around the ship as he heard the sound of thunder shattering the air around them. In the distance, one ball of fire and light bloomed, followed shortly by another to the left. The one to the right slowly fell in a gradually descending arc, flipping over and over as it twinkled out of sight. A second later the vessel was gone in an explosion. “Sir, we got Gryphons spiraling to the water below.” Pensword paused as he realized they were in fact over the ocean now. “Scopes show the deployment of rafts on the water surface. What should we do with the survivors?” “Leave them,” Pensword said, his voice hard and hollow. “If they survive to reach land, they will be killed, or they will die out here on the water. Either way… it will be an ordeal. If any survive and live to serve in the Empire, they deserve that life they clawed out of death’s maw.” “Reports indicate other airships are retreating. Annihilator cannon barrel is marked at three thousand degrees. We won’t be firing it again soon. Good thing they don’t know that.” The Gryphon smirked. “Looks like we’re clear for an escape, sir.” Pensword looked at those around the bridge. “Just how big is that thing?” he asked in awe as he realized just what the damage was: three Destroyer ships gone. Massive, well sized vessels, each capable of extraordinarily powerful feats of combat had been laid low in a single blow. “The cannon itself is thirty inches in diameter; however, the amplified lightning expands as it leaves the cannon until it dissipates,” an engineer explained. “I am so happy we have that weapon under our control,” Pensword answered. “Amen, sir.” Grif sat at the table in the private mess hall set aside for the emperor and his staff, smiling gently as he sampled bits and pieces from the emperor's private stores. He was just about to pick a fruit that seemed to be a turquoise blue with yellow diagonal stripes when he noticed Pensword limp into the room. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the infirmary?” he asked. “I can walk. I have bruises all over, and a pulled wing muscle, but I can walk. In fact, they are telling me that walking will be good for me.” He sighed as he slipped into a rather comically oversized chair for him. “So, raiding the foods fit for a king? Or should I say emperor?” he asked with a laugh. “What have you found so far?” he moved a forehoof to rub his left ear. “Also, something about all this is setting me on edge.” “Sit down.” Grif took a knife and cut a small chunk off of a large portion of brown chocolate and offered it to Pensword. “Care to join me?” Pensword settled down further into the chair, where before his chest and above was visible, now only his head stuck up over the top of the table. “If you mention one word about a booster seat, I will give you a scar on that beak of yours and knock a tooth in.” “Never crossed my mind.” Grif chuckled as he once again offered the chocolate. “It’s a rare delicacy from the Northern Kingdom.” Pensword stood up, reached forward, took the piece of chocolate, and sat down feeling like he could have been swallowed up by the ship itself, even as he prepared to eat his smaller slice of the chocolate. He took a small nibble before pausing and peering over at Grif before taking a slightly larger bite. “What is this?” He asked. “Was that cinnamon I detected?” “The beans and the cows that the milk comes from are produced in the same region. They add the cinnamon at just the right point during the process of making the chocolate so that it melds together, a delightful chocolaty cloud with a kiss of fire at the end. That's how they’ve described it in the past, they being only the highest of critics and royalty. They can only create so much of this stuff in a year and the majority of a year's worth sits on the table in front of us today.” Grif laughed. “You like it?” “I do, but my father would have liked this even more. He loves Cinnamon and hot stuff.” He shook his head, a sad glint in his eyes. “Still, it is really good, and it just makes you feel special getting this type of food.” Grif pulled up an empty tankard and filled it with some kind of purple juice, which he set down in front of Pensword. “This is what we Gryphons call gwarkalah. I don’t think there is a correct translation in Equestrian, but it’s made from a fruit that Zebricans will sell once every seven years. It has a sweet taste, but washes down with a pleasant iciness.” He slid the tankard in front of the Pegasus. Pensword looked at the tankard and sniffed it. It had no real odor that he could detect. He looked up at Grif and smiled as he took a sip. His eyes widened in shock. “I feel like I could breath out a snowstorm,” he wheezed. “But it is so good at the same time.” He looked at the drink. “You think we could get some trade going for these fruits? Or maybe Zecora knows how to make it?” “We can try.” Grif laughed. “With Hammer Strike’s coffers, who knows?” He tossed Pensword one of the fruits he had been about to eat when he walked in. “Not quite sure what this is, but it looks tasty,” he said, taking one himself. Pensword snickered into his tankard as he raised a hoof to catch the fruit. “Ah, so we get to experiment. I like that. So, is the outside edible? Or is it like a gourd and you only eat the meat on the inside?” “Anything on the table would be fully edible. Gryphons don’t eat fruit often, and when we do we usually aren't in the mood to peel it,” Grif told him. “On three?” “On Three,” Pensword agreed. “One,” he began to count. “Two…” Grif smiled. “Three!” Pensword said as they both took a bite. The fruit was firm and had the slightest sound of a crisp crunch. “Wow, tastes like--this is mango and peach, and the texture … it feels like an apple.” He took another bite and the juice dripped all over his muzzle. He used his tongue to lick part of it back up as he voraciously finished off the rest. “I think it is a leftover from some old Thestral love of fruit, but this is … I almost want to call this a ... this is some of the best fruit I have ever had. Can I keep the pit?” “Of course.” Grif laughed. “Gryphons buy fruit. They don’t waste space growing it when the farmland could be used for grains and cereals and other such things.” He continued to laugh as he pulled a loaf of bread over and cut it in half, revealing the aroma of garlic and cheese with hints of rosemary and… bacon? He handed half to Pensword. “Something I don’t think we can get from Sugarcube Corner.” He bit into it heartily, letting the taste wash over his tongue. “How did they get the bacon into the bread? But that smells good to this old Thestral,” he muttered. Warm and somewhat full, he smiled as he casually moved a hoof to his chestplate, where Grif knew the eye tooth of the bear still hung around his neck. “Grif, did I ever tell you how I got this tooth?” he asked as he pulled the makeshift necklace out. “Well ...” Grif smiled. “Let me refill your cup and make us both a plate and then you can give me the whole story. How does that sound? Just a couple of tough old hunters swapping stories over a good meal. I think we’ve both needed this for a while.” “Sounds like a fair trade,” Pensword replied with a chuckle. “I call you brother. It is time I treat you like one. You see, this item that hangs around my neck is my symbol of becoming a stallion. It belonged to the most feared beast in the woods of my home: the grizzly bear.” Pensword began to speak in a solemn tone as he mentioned the loss of bee hives and a few Thestral legends about the bear. Vital Spark practically pranced through the square, waving to each Pony that said hello with a slightly bulging music pocket on his case. He hummed happily to himself as he recalled the audition and subsequent duet work with Octavia. The show most definitely didn’t do her talent justice, and he loved seeing her jaw drop when he played Meditation From Thais. The teachers from his jury back in school hadn’t liked his performance, but he’d clearly managed to pique her interest. The tears and her wonderful smile were all the encouragement he needed after taking so long to be able to really play again. Come to think of it, he couldn’t recall a moment where she wasn’t smiling at him. And he couldn’t seem to understand why Vinyl kept facehoofing. When he asked her later, she just shook her head and harrumphed before going back to her work station to mix up a new soundtrack. Despite this strange behavior, he was still one of the happiest stallions alive. He couldn’t wait to start practicing some new music, especially since this was Pony music, which meant it could be completely different from Earth’s music. Suddenly he felt a firm, but heavy hoof on his shoulder that turned him around faster than he could register the feeling. “You. You’re the new pony from New Unity, right?” A practically frantic Berry Punch asked. Vital started, jolted from his reverie and thoughts by the pony’s sudden turn of action. “Yes, um, hi? Can I help you?” He blushed violently. “The name’s Berry Punch,” she said, cutting straight to the point. “Are you headed back to New Unity by chance?” “... Yes. I was just popping into town to visit Octavia and get some new music to practice,” he said, motioning to the case on his back. “Why do you ask?” he asked cautiously. She gulped, then hurriedly burst into her story. Her eyes were bloodshot. “I was supposed to make this delivery earlier, but the bar was busy today.” She gestured to the cart behind her. “And right now if I make the delivery, I won’t be home in time to pick up Ruby or Piña Colada from school. My sister can handle herself, but Pinchy gets worried if I’m not on time. Please, I know you don’t know me, but I’m begging you.” She dropped onto her knees. “Could you please do me a favor and maybe take the cart with you?” “I … suppose I could,” Vital said a little uncomfortably. “I’d be glad to help. I mean, it’s little kids after all. I’d just need some help getting into the harness. I know it might sound hard to believe, but I’ve never had to pull a cart before.” It took a few minutes, but soon enough Vital was strapped into the cart securely, his case laid carefully in a nook in one of the corners next to the securely strapped barrels. “These are for Mister Demolition Charge. I’ll come by for the cart tomorrow. Thank you so much. I really do appreciate this.” “No problem. I know a little of how it feels to be an overworked mother. Things like this happened to mine a few times, too.” He smiled kindly. “Say hi to the kids for me, okay? Oh, and tell them Grif will be returning home soon. I’m sure they’ll be looking forward to story time. I hear he’s quite skilled.” With that said, he waved a cheerful goodbye and started out for the castle. The sensation was a curious one to say the least, since the weight of the cart pulled at his waist in a manner similar to how he felt when his pants pockets were weighted down with heavy objects in human form. Much to his delight, the cart actually didn’t feel too heavy. It still required some effort, but he was able to manage the load fine. All those workouts must have been doing him good. “Will do,” Berry called as he left before she turned and headed on her way. Passing through the woods, Vital decided to take advantage of the privacy to start singing. He started off with a rendition of In the Jungle before shifting over to I Can See Clearly Now and finally settling on You Raise Me Up. Eventually he rounded the bend and came up on the castle proper. The distance had left him slightly winded, but overall it was more like a pleasant walk than anything else. Rook would be impressed. With that pleasant thought in mind, he continued on to the drawbridge where a familiar voice greeted him at the gate. “Vital Spark? I take it that’s you and not some prissy Unicorn?” Grenado called down to him. “I’d be careful who you call a prissy, Demo.” Vital laughed. “After all, Rarity is Hammer Strike’s special somepony. Also, if I were a noble, do you seriously think I’d be pulling this thing myself without a guarded escort and a bunch of servants to boss around?” “Fair ‘nuff, fair ‘nuff,” he nodded. “But don’t be calling Lady Rarity a Unicorn again, y’hear me?” he said before signaling the gate to be rushed. “Why? It’s our tribe, isn’t it?” Vital asked. “Lady Rarity is a lady who knows how to kick an arse right ‘n proper. She ain’t like them prissy Unicorns from Canterlot; she’s a proper one of us,” Demo said. “So what do I call her then?” Vital asked as “Uh…” Demo trailed off for a minute. “What’s inna cart?” he growled. “Delivery from Berry. She says it’s for Charge. I thought I’d do you guys and her a favor and bring it by.” Vital smiled. “Ah. Alright, get in here.” Grenado looked over his shoulder. “Hey, Charge, get out here! Your ingredients have arrived!” Vital passed through the gate and smiled as he parked on the side of the training grounds near the makeshift guardhouse the Demos had claimed for themselves. He magically undid his harness with his horn and reclaimed his violin case. Things had gotten a little easier now that he’d dealt with his guilt over the Changelings, though magic still came more difficult for him than it did for the other Unicorns in New Unity. “Ah, Vital! I see you brought my shipment!” Charge’s tone was slightly less harsh compared to Grenado’s, even holding a jovial tone to it. “Yeah, Berry’s work ran late today, so she asked if I could help. Say, Charge, can I ask you a personal question?” “Aye,” Charge answered as he began checking the cart. “Is it really true that you and Grenado can’t live without alcohol?” “Last time I tried going dry, I ended up in the hospital,” Charge told him, shivering. “It’s just better I don’t question it.” “I understand. You guys are okay with cookies though, right?” “Aye.” Charge nodded. “Back before she lost her other eye, me mother used to make me cookies while my father was at one of his twenty seven jobs.” Vital Spark whistled. “Twenty seven?” “Ah know ah know, he could have been doing more, but it was rough times and there weren’t no other jobs on the market.” charge sighed. “I actually meant that to be one of impression. The most my dad ever did were two at one time. No wonder you have such a great work ethic.” Vital smiled. “And you two can expect a little present in the next day or two. I’ve got an itch to bake something fierce. You guys like chocolate chip?” “Aye,” Charge said, somewhat confused “Why? What do you need us to do?” “Nothing. I just want to do something nice for you guys. I’m sure Pinkie Pie will be happy to help me out.” “Alright then,” Charge said. “I should be getting this stuff to the distillery and the explosive shed. Brave of you. Not many ponies willing to move some of this stuff without proper training.” “Wait, what?” Vital exclaimed, his eyes suddenly wide. Shawn sighed to himself as he stood in a secure room with just a table and straight sword. Clover was the furthest away, currently at one of the walls. He placed two crystals on the table: a dark grey one and a red one. “Alright, Clover, anything goes wrong and I hope you can hold a shield around this to keep it from killing us.” “I’ve been working on possible strengthening techniques, and I think I can make one strong enough now.” She nodded. “Let’s hope so. Because if it doesn’t work, we’re both dead.” Shawn gave her a grin. “And this differs from any of our other experiments … how?” she asked him. “Well, when trying new things, you tend to need to be cautious. I’m going to try some base enchanting,” he said as his hands ignited, the sword and crystals following afterwards. Reaching forward, he held one finger over the blade and began drawing out a symbol over it. The red crystal burned away with every line and curve until it was finished. Upon the completion of the first symbol, the blade began to change, growing hot. He continued, quickly moving over to draw the next sigil. This time the grey crystal burned away, the same as the first, until both symbols were fully etched into the controlled field surrounding the blade. It was at that point that the blade began to morph. The metal shifted constantly, like an actual flame, taking a dark hue before fading, seemingly becoming transparent, just as fire can be seen through when it is controlled and focused. Shawn sighed as he let his magic fade from his hands and the blade. He looked quizzically at the blade as he grabbed the handle and raised it up to study. “Were you successful?” Clover asked him. “Considering I now have a blade that shifts its form constantly? ... Yes.” “I’ve never seen an enchantment react like that,” Clover said, staring. “What have you done to it?” “I made a blade infused with fire and chaos. I’ll give you more information as we figure it out. Can you bring in the test dummies outside the door?” Clover levitated the dummy over for Shawn. Shawn twirled the sword in hand before slashing at the dummy with a horizontal arc. What surprised him was that he felt no resistance as the blade cut clean through the dummy. “Uhh…”  “The cut’s so fine.” Clover squinted as she tried to get a better look. “You almost can’t notice it, if not for the burns along the site.” “Create a shield; a small plate there, over the next dummy’s chest.” Clover concentrated and her horn flared, forming the desired shield. Shawn gave another swing with the same results, slicing directly through the shield as if it weren’t there. He raised his eyebrows. “Well then, this could be useful.” “An armor ignoring sword?” Clover said in disbelief. “I’ve heard of it being done with arrows, but it’s incredibly costly. To do this for an entire sword? The implications are frightening.” “Remind me to do this with some arrows, bolts, and maybe a few more weapons… and with other aspects.” “Your armory’s going to be unstoppable,” Clover marveled. “Not just mine. Certain individuals are going to get this upgrade as well, yourself included. I think I can definitely figure out something for you.” “I’m honored.” Clover smiled at him. “For now, we should get what we’ve found out down in notes and then I think I’ll need to prepare my lesson plan, and you have a certain young Unicorn guest to attend to.” Grif and Pensword found themselves standing on the bridge of the Gantrithor as several engineers stared at them nervously. They claimed they had located just what Grask’s spies had done to the thrusters, but from the looks on their faces there was more to this news. “Alright, spit it out. What’s the catch?” Grif asked after a few solid moments of silence. The head engineer finally spoke up. “The damage isn’t extensive, but it was well hidden, deep within the Gantrithor’s primary thrusters. We’d need to totally disable them in order to get to the damaged areas and repair them, which would mean we’d have to completely shut down the ship.” “Time for repairs? And where can we even set down to repair? Can the ship land in the water?” Pensword asked as he stood there. The wound had been bandaged and was healing nicely. The dislocated wings had been put back in place and were bound together against his sides to heal properly. “We could use the repair time to perform the renaming scenery.” “The ship is equipped for a water landing, but it would mean the lower decks being submerged, and the lower decks are where the primary thrusters are located,” one engineer explained. “We’re looking at at least 48 hours to dismantle the thrusters, repair the damage, and then reassemble them.” “So we need some land,” Pensword muttered as he approached the map. “If Grif is okay with it, I think we should give the repairs a seventy two hour window, just in case we face any unexpected surprises.” He looked over the map and frowned. None of the islands displayed appeared to be large enough to hold the airship. “That’s a good plan.” Grif nodded as he stalked up behind Pensword. “We also need a place we know no rebels will try to hunt us down on.” Pensword paused. “Wait.” He moved a hoof to the eastern side of the map. “That is odd.” He could see a large island emerging, but its center was blank, unnamed and unidentified by the ship’s magic. “An unknown landmass. That is good. If we don’t have a map, then the enemy won’t be present.” A bright red text suddenly appeared over the landmass, scrawling continuously. “Grif, what is it saying?” Pensword asked as the letters flashed. “It’s a warning,” Grif told him. “It’s explaining that the island is dangerous.” “Dangerous?” Pensword’s grin grew a little wider. “Perfect. What dangers does it say?” he asked as he moved to look at the map, ignoring the worried looks on the engineers’ faces. “I think we should be able to handle them.” “Riftbeak island,” Grif explained without looking at the map. “In the last 200 years alone there have been seventeen attempts to map the island. Each time there were no survivors, no contacts, no traces. Gryphons have come to accept that the island is dangerous and won’t go there.” He looked to the engineers. “However, we are only stopping for three days, gentlemen. We have provisions, weapons, and enough skilled soldiers to fight off an army. We can handle whatever this island might hold. We’ll dock here,” he said, indicating to a small cliff on the coast: a clearing large enough to clamp the ship to. “We’ll just deploy docking hooks, bunker down, and keep our heads up until the repairs are finished. We can do this.” “... Aye aye, Avatar,” the head engineer said reluctantly. We’ll be ready to dock when we reach the island. At our current rate of speed, it’ll take us three hours.” He shuddered. “At least we can bunk inside the ship if needed.” With that said, the Engineers dispersed. All but one. “How can you be so calm?” She asked, her head darting from Grif to Pensword to Jorund and back again. “You’re going into what could be a deadly situation.” Pensword looked up at Grif before returning to his work as he looked over the old reports from long range observations and coastal flybys. “Why not? We just left the Empire with the first failed coup in your history. We lost lives and brothers in arms. I think a mysterious island of unknown danger will make a pleasant change of pace.” “We have lived through enough battles to know how to handle ourselves.” Grif nodded. “There’s nothing there that we can’t take care of.” The Gryphoness Engineer nodded, still looking nervous before she left the bridge, leaving Grif and Pensword alone with the personnel on the bridge. “Grif, I am going to explore the ship. I would rather get a nice map of where we can fall back to if we do get boarded. You can reach me by the speakers if you need me.” Pensword looked to the map. “This is going to be exciting. An unknown, unmapped island. This was a dream that Matthew had once: to be an explorer.” “I’ll be with Avalon if you need me,” Grif told him as he headed for the imperial quarters. The imperial quarters of the Gantrithor were in every way fit for an emperor. They were twice the size of the captain's quarters: sixty feet by thirty feet with walls covered in smooth marble and carved with depictions of famous moments in Gryphon history. A large four posted bed covered in fine blankets and goose feather pillows lay at the leftmost side of the room by the window. Three book cases covered the right corner, holding large tomes in old Gryphic. A large mahogany writing desk stood with its chair resting central to the back wall. Empty scrolls and several maps waited idly to be used. Three inkwells, each filled with a different color of ink, stood waiting patiently. A sealing candle stood on a silver holder, not far away. On the right side of the room, closest to the door, sat a large wine rack filled with some of the finest wines of the Gryphon empire, alongside two casks of cider and brandy. Not too far away, a large mahogany table lay, taking up most of the center of the room. Large comfortable wooden chairs with velvet cushions lined the table. A large plate of fresh fruits and sweets occupied the table’s center, but Avalon wasn’t allowed to make use of anything but the bed. Grif had been adamant about her staying in bed until he was satisfied she had recovered enough to be walking around. After a long argument with several words being thrown by Avalon in old Gryphic that can’t be repeated, she relented when snowy had forcibly pushed her to the bed. Well, not so much pushed as escorted with insistent hoots and a speed that blocked Avalon at every turn. The doctor’s orders, along with everyone else’s, was sleep. She harrumphed peevishly as she ran over a rare volume of Chaucer’s Gryphonstone Tales. Five minutes later, she hissed triumphantly as she read of the wicked warrior Gryphon who had dared to steal a Gryphoness’ virtue. As a boon to the queen, Emperor Arthur Quillfeather declared that the females of the court would decide the warrior’s fate. She couldn’t wait to see what would happen next. Snowy slept peacefully on her perch, bobbing her head up as she inhaled, then exhaling with a gentle trilling hoot. There was a gentle knocking at the door. “Room service!” Avalon rolled her eyes. “Room service can stuff itself with its own feathers for all I care,” she said as she pulled her book up to her face. Grif opened the door, chuckling dryly. “Still angry, are we?” he asked as he entered the room carrying a covered tray. “Angry doesn’t begin to describe it, dear.” “Well, my dear, your feelings are your own,” Grif said as he walked over to her. “But for now, the rest of you is staying in bed until the doctor says otherwise.” He brought the tray over and removed the cover, revealing a small dish of fruit and several other delicacies. A freshly cooked pheasant lay on the central plate. “I do hope you’re not too angry to eat?” Avalon’s stomach rumbled plaintively. “Traitor,” she grumbled as she closed the book. She still held to her disgruntled glare though. Grif laughed as he set the tray down before her. “You remind me of myself during the war. There was a time where Shrial held a knife to my throat to get me to stay in bed and I didn’t speak to her for a week afterwards.” “You know I’m perfectly fine, Grif. I just needed a little rest. You don’t have to treat me like a fledgeling with a cold.” “You lost more blood than the doctor was comfortable with, after you’d already drained yourself prior to that. You needed far more than ‘a little rest,’ and we both know it,” Grif returned. “Besides, if Snowy thinks you still need to be in bed, don’t you think maybe it’s worth heeding?” “Why is it that I’m the knowledgeable one, yet I’m the one getting the lecture?” “Because I’m the older one.” Grif smiled at her. “And I’ve been on my deathbed enough times to know better.” He kissed her forehead gently. “I wish it wasn’t so, but being around me, Pensword, and Lord Hammer Strike enough will probably help you to understand sooner or later.” “Still won’t stop me, you know.” Avalon smirked. “Isn’t that why you married me?” “If I made a list of the reasons why I married you, I’d be a very very old Gryphon before I’d get halfway done.” Grif’s demeanor changed as he sighed. “We’re landing on Riftbeak Island.” “And you’re still confining me to bed?” Avalon asked as she began to pluck at the pheasant. “We’re not exploring. We are landing in order to fix the thrusters so we won’t spend an extra week enroute for Equestria. I’m only telling you this so everyone on board is aware.” “And so I don’t get any more angry with you later when we get back to New Unity. After all, you’re going to have to spend the next week or more in close quarters with me.” She stuck her tongue out playfully. “Best not to be on my bad side when I know where you sleep.” Then she laughed. “I’m used to people trying to kill me in my sleep.” He laughed. “Still, we have a few hours before we reach the island.” Grif smiled. “So why don’t you tell me what you’ve been reading?” “A rare book from the last millennium. The author’s name is Chaucer. Have you heard of him?” Grif had been taking a gulp from a glass of tea at the time she said this. Upon hearing the name, he promptly did a spit take. Pensword paused at the double sealing doors. He was curious. The further he had treked into this area, the more reinforced it became, if the airlock type hatchways through bulkheads were any indication. This had to be something very important and vital to the ship. He came upon a closed door with symbols and writing in Gryphic glowing a combination of yellows, reds, and greens. He paused before he shifted to his hind hooves before the giant metal door. Using his forehooves, he pushed and the door unlocked with a hiss, slowly swinging open under Pensword’s pressure. When it had opened fully, he stepped over the threshold into the new space. The room was large and cylindrical with great bronze pathways etched into the floors and walls. They all glowed as a wave of red light traced across them outward from the center, where on a large bronze platform sat. This had to be the core of the ship. On closer inspection, the large bronze platform was really the bottom pedestal of a silver pillar that rose about to the eye level of a pony, where it spread into eight thick finger-like protrusions spread out in a fan. In the middle of this makeshift bowl sat a large orb made of thick ruby quartz. A little above it, like an octopus, eight more thick gold fingers flowed up and into a gold pillar that joined another pedestal. Just like its counterpart, this one was also made of bronze and attached to the ceiling. The core pulsed gently, sending another powerful wave of red light across the pathways to different parts of the ship. It sat in its place, almost as though it was bored for some reason. Pensword walked up to the platform and paused. It looked like the bronze pedestal was actually welded to the ground, like this item in front of him was built first and then the ship was built around it. While he had seen some examples before in Equestria, this strange item set him on edge. He paused as he turned his head to focus back on the orb. “You are the source of unease I feel.” He shook his head. He must have been more tired than he thought, talking to an inanimate object like this. “Is it that obvious?” a feminine voice asked from within the pillar. Pensword jumped at the sudden voice as he hovered in the air wings, outstretched and beating. “What? This ship has an A.I.?” He asked as he flapped closer to the pillar. Did he see the lights pulse to the words?” “What in the name of Faust is an A.I.?” the voice said. “Wait, you can hear me?” The ghostly image of a Crystal Pony with deep teal fur and a turquoise mane and tail walked out of the pillar. “What?” Pensword gasped as he backpedaled while he focused on the image. “Who are you? What ... what is that thing? What is going on here? Why are you on a Gryphon ship?” “And where did the Gryphons get the core of the ship?” she asked him. “The…. but, okay, what in Tartarus is going on here?” Pensword asked, his voice hardening. His eyes flickered. “Why is your soul tied to the pillar? What did the Crystal Ponies do?” “No, my soul is tied to the core,” she told him. “And I alone am at fault for that,” she said proudly. “How--how are you proud of that? Why are you a living soul in a machine? And-” he paused. “What do you need me to do?” “There’s nothing to be done for me. A price was demanded, and I paid it happily. But if you’d like to help, could you please touch the core?” she asked. Pensword looked at the ghost. “Well, okay. Just touch the core?” He slowly hovered toward the core and cautiously poked it. “May I know your name? I shall give mine as well.” “I am Caring Circlet.” She nodded. “I was once the greatest alchemist of the Crystal Empire, and now I am the greatest of all time, even if that’s only known by me.” “A pleasure to meet you, Caring Circlet,” Pensword responded. He flapped his wings, pulling his hoof away from the core. “May I ask what makes you say what you have? I have known a few well known mages and the like. How are you now the greatest of all time?” “Because I’ve completed the ultimate alchemy, the project every alchemist has tried and failed to create.” She smiled as lines began forming on the surface of the core, creating a pattern that reminded Matthew of a soccer ball. “You didn’t,” Pensword balked. “But ... you did hide it, right? If you created what I think you created ... But why?” He spun in the air to face the specter. “Why create it?” “Why does a painter make a masterpiece? Why does a writer write a novel? What I created was the perfection of my craft,” she said, shrugging. “You created a Philosopher stone. What good will come about because of that? How can--just what are your plans? As a Thestral who can speak to those who have passed on, I demand to know.” “Originally, this core would have been used to create an aerial platform that could both bombard the enemy and allow for faster deployment of Pegasi into the battlefield,” she said. “And my plans are simply to observe and research. I’m not some mad scientist, you know.” “Well, that is good to know. I have meet mad ponies before,” he muttered with a pained look on his face. “I faced Sombra,” he whispered, shaking his head. “So it is originally designed with Ponykind in mind? What can it do? What are the parameters and functions available? Also, how can I help in improving the situation?” “You may be able to help, but not with the current available resources,” she said. “Well, Lord Hammer Strike might be able to help, then. What can we do at this moment?” he asked as he moved forward to look at the orb. “I ... did it hurt?” he asked suddenly, turning his head towards Caring Circlet. “No.” She shook her head. “I felt nothing.” Pensword paused for a moment longer as he listened before widening his eyes. “That is what I was feeling. I could feel you!” He pointed a hoof at her ethereal body. “Through the entire ship.” He paused. “Did you cause that sudden wave of pain and aching yesterday?” He asked as he slowly began to put things together. “And that stone…” He closed his eyes. “I really need to formalize clearance and access levels.” “Has Equestria lost so much?” she asked him. “You are a thousand years in the future. I am looked at more by my station as the new High Duke of the Lunar Courts. The Solar Court still exists. The Military is just a bunch of royal guards or local militias. The government has their own classifying system, but I am planing to fight for a robust military, one that I will be building from the ground up.” He sighed. “A thousand years of peace founded upon the fear of an event so far in the past, it is more legend than fact, even though it is fact. I saw the damage of the fortress with my own two eyes.” “Then now, indeed, seems the time this ship can do the most good,” she said. “So you’re telling me you created this off of what you learned from the sword Taze showed up with?” Blast Shield asked as he swiped the katana with his magic, testing it. “Yes.” Storm Hammer nodded. “It took me weeks to find the right type of steel, and even longer to get the technique right, but if I’m correct, that is the same type of sword he used.” “Seems kinda light, and it looks a bit fragile to be a blade,” Blast told her. “You're sure it would survive?” “Trust me. I’ve given it every test I can imagine. It cuts through most plating like it was paper.” She offered Blast the smooth lacquered wooden sheath that Taze had explained was commonly used to house such weapons. “Do you like it?” “It’s light, but I doubt any enemy would see it coming,” Blast Shield said, sliding the blade into the sheath. “Thank you, Storm Hammer. I’ll make sure to spread the word.” He dropped a large bag of Hammer Strike’s coins in front of her. “I can’t wait to show off to Tower.” Meanwhile, in Steel Weaver’s forge, Tower Shield was testing his new weapon. “Aye, lad, built to your specifications,” Steel Weaver said, eyeing the Kanabo in Tower’s magic. “Good. Grif told me this was a special design used in ancient times by the humans. A powerful weapon good for either offense of defense. As usual, your work is beyond expectation.” Tower laid a massive pouch of bits on the cluttered work table. “I know it seems a bit much, but Hammer Strike insists I overpay, so please, don’t question it.” “Knowing Hammer Strike, I’m surprised he didn’t want ye’ to pay with bricks of the stuff.” “We haggled.” Tower shrugged. “Still surprised you convinced him.” Steel shook his head. “Take it to the testing grounds. Make sure you like the weight of it.” “Sure thing. It feels pretty good in my magic already, but a little test run never hurts,” Tower said as he made his way through a backdoor in the forge to a tiny courtyard where various dummies had been set up for training and testing. Hefting the kanabo with his magic, he took a meaningful swipe, thrashing a Pony dummy’s foreleg off. Then he spun the weapon around to form a sort of shield before slamming it against dummy after dummy. Lastly, he let his magic drop and took up the weapon in both hooves, swinging for all the world like a professional in a certain sport back on Earth. A dummy head went soaring up and over the walls. Tower whistled. “Lot of power in this thing.” “It’s a heavy long mace, essentially. Of course it has bloody power!” Tower laughed. “Perfect. If anypony tries anything, I’m sure this will help to persuade them to abandon any plans.” “Or they could forfeit their life,” Steel replied with a shrug. “Let’s hope it doesn’t get that far.… Then again, it is pretty tempting with Blueblood,” Tower murmured as he rubbed his chin. “Oi! Save a hit for the rest of us.” Tower chuckled. “We’ll see, Steel Weaver. Thanks for all the hard work. I can’t wait to show this to my brother.” “Riftbeak Island coming up, sir,” the captain said as Grif entered the bridge. The magic crystal map shifted to focus on said landmass. The island was almost a peninsula with just over eight thousand feet between its farthest points. The coast was dotted with a mixture of white sandy beaches and large jutting cliffs that made the terrain rocky and unstable. Further inland from the coast, a mass of dense forest life awaited with a canopy so thick there was no way to see the ground beneath it. Off center of the island, a massive extinct volcano jutted out from the earth.  It was impressive, standing at nearly twenty five thousand feet at its tallest point. From the distance, most Gryphons claimed they saw steps and handholds carved into the face, leading to the volcano's crater, though no Gryphon had gotten close enough to confirm this. Pensword looked at the map and then out of the windows. “Well, this is going to be interesting. Hopefully, we will have an okay time on the island and we can then return home. I miss Lunar Fang and Moon River.” “We’ll be home in no time.” Grif smiled confidently at his friend. “Is our landing zone clear, captain?” he asked. “Yes, there’s just enough room for us to land with perhaps ten feet between us and the forest,” another Gryphon confirmed. “Take it away, Captain.” Grif nodded to the older Gryphon. “Prepare docking hooks!” the captain ordered. There was a low rumbling below as the ship prepared to grab the cliff's edge. “Begin lowering lift field!” The ship began to groan as its full weight started to return. The ship began descending at a steady pace as they moved towards the landing site. Before long they found themselves hovering no more than five feet above the ground as the docking hooks descended and locked into the stone before pulling the ship to ground. There was a rumble that shook the ship as the Gantrithor landed in its temporary berth. “Landing successful, sir,” the mate told the captain. The captain, in turn, turned to Pensword and Grif and nodded. “We are docked.” “Good. Captain, your orders are as follows: make sure we have guards on the crew doing the outside repairs. Make sure that all spare parts are given priority to the engine room first. Also, I want at least two Gryphons watching the forest and sea approach respectfully. I do not want to be hit on either side. We are the most vulnerable at this moment. You have your orders. Please carry them out,” Pensword said as he rose to the air to look the Captain in the eye. “Aye aye, sir.” The captain nodded as he grabbed one of the communication pipes and began broadcasting Pensword’s orders. “So. On a remote island that is deadly to anyone that lands on it. Shawn’s going to be angry he missed out, huh?” Grif asked Pensword. “Maybe, or maybe we just come back with coconuts,” Pensword replied. “The only eventful thing I want is a problem with the repairs.” “Well, talons crossed, I guess.” Grif laughed. Pensword nodded as Kahn walked into the bridge. “The Demons are ready for scouting duty,” the Gryphon said, causing a sudden lull in the activities of the bridge. Pensword shook his head. “No, I need you and the Demons to be around the ship itself. I want you to protect the technicians and mechanics so we can be back underway in as little time as possible. I also need your help renaming the vessel for the trip across the ocean. I will not be sailing on a captured vessel bearing a name that is no longer suitable for it. I do not want fate to strike us out of the air.” “I’m going to the deck,” Grif told Pensword as he turned around. “It’s time for some meditation.” “Sounds good. See you when you get back,” Pensword replied as he looked at the map. “Is this the only map on the ship, or is there another one? I want to plot our course back home.” “There is a command room that was created for the emperor to hold private council on the fourth deck,” the captain offered. “I suppose it would be okay to let you use the map in there.” “Thank you,” Pensword responded. He turned around and landed on the ground before walking out of the room. An enlisted Gryphon looked on and muttered after Pensword left. “How can such a small being gather such presence?” “If I remember correctly, Empress Warbeak the First was a dwarf owl,” the captain pointed out. “It’s not the size of the dog in the fight; it’s the size of the fight in the dog. Come, we should get ourselves armed. This bridge won’t be working for a while, so we should be out there with the others.” The Gryphon nodded, bowing his head in respect. While the words were not sharp, the meaning behind them was enough to make him feel chastised for his own words. “I shall report to the armory right away, Captain.” Grif sat on his haunches on the deck, eyes closed, wings spread out as he meditated on the words of the Quetzalcoatl back in Gryphelheim. You must remember, young one, that your title is The Avatar of Winds, not a mere champion. A little piece of their power flows with you. When you are angry, it well resonate with your rage. But when you have your center firmly secured, you will truly understand your place in our universe. The Quetzalcoatl knew well enough to know Grif was not of their world, so how could he possibly be connected to their universe that deeply? How could he claim there was a piece of the Winds in him? These questions rocked Grif’s mind for hours. It had been four hours since he had been in the bridge with Pensword and he was still no closer to understanding. Grif knew Hammer Strike would be angry, but the Gryphon had begun feeling around with the thaumic sensing technique as he tried to meditate on the true nature of his title. The island positively thrummed with energy, both thaumic and magical in nature, and something else that Grif couldn’t identify: an aura that was bright and warm, but also ancient, and left him with the feeling of heavy dust on his feathers. It frightened and intrigued him, but he couldn’t figure out why it did. Grif felt it before the sound of war horns blew. A heavy swarm headed towards the front of the ship: fast and strong and full of life. He could feel them coming. His eye’s snapped open just as they broke the treeline. Large bipedal apes dressed in everything from basic leather to sewn together leaves swarmed from the forest brandishing hardwood staves for weapons. “Attack!” Grif yelled in warning. His voice was echoed by the fleeing scouts and the warriors in front of the Gantrithor. “Everyone to your stations! Prepare to make our stand!” Grif ordered as he moved to the guard line. He reached for Vigilance and Vengeance only to feel a sudden pulse of energy from them. “No. No bloodshed.” The voice echoed in Grif’s head and the command was steadfast. “No bloodshed,” he echoed to the troops. “Incapacitate them if possible, but do not kill any of them under any circumstances.” As the words left his mouth, Grif met one of the attackers head on, hitting the monkey square in the jaw with his fists before grabbing the staff and turning it against the attacker. “And somebody get Pensword out here!” Pensword looked contemplatively at the map as he experimented with the controls. While it was similar to the old war maps of the Third Gryphon War, this was a newer design in a foreign language, and frankly, he was getting a headache fighting the controls at the moment. He reared up on his hind legs in frustration before flapping up into the air. He looked to the door, wondering if one of the Gryphon techs might be willing to assist with translation and operation. He snorted in anger and annoyance. As if in answer to his unspoken desire, there was an urgent knocking on the door. “C-commander Pensword!” a nervous voice spoke. “Enter. What is it?” Pensword asked, happy for the distraction from the map. “Sir, we’re under attack,” the Gryphon exclaimed. “The avatar is holding the line, but he sent for you. He’s ordered no bloodshed, sir. We … we weren’t prepared for this.” Pensword swore under his breath. “Right. We’ll have an ordered retreat back into the ship. If we have angry natives, we can hopefully keep our ground inside the vessel. We know the hallways and corridors better than the invaders, so we can set traps, and, if needed, relaunch to escape.” The Commander flew to the door, rushing over the Gryphon’s head. “I need you to make sure War Prince Bellacosa is safe and give him command of all Pony Soldiers on the ship. Relay Grif’s orders to him as well and tell him that I support them. I am going to join Grif at his location--” he paused. “--after I get my war armor. Also, what is attacking us? Gryphon? Sphynx? Diamond Dog? Nagas? Sasquatches?” “It appears to be ... monkeys, sir.” The Gryphon’s tone was quite clear he wasn’t totally convinced, himself. “I’ve never heard of anything like it.” Pensword paused in mid air as the mental image of a strange destroyed statue flashed before his eyes: a ruined green crown and an arm holding a torch with a man in rags raging at the sky. Something about a planet and apes. “That…” he shook his head and left the Gryphon on his own, heading towards his quarters to get his armor. The Gryphon was already speeding to Prince Bellacosa’s quarters. Grif growled as he conked another monkey over the head with his staff. The weapon was functional, albeig clumsy, in Grif’s talons as he dug on Taze’s knowledge of weapons. It didn’t help that he kept getting flashes of someone who looked like a small tattooed human using a staff to deal blasts of wind coming into his mind. The battle wasn’t going smoothly, and while they’d managed to avoid deaths, overall more and more Gryphons were injured or captured while their own pile of unconscious bound monkeys shifted in density as said monkeys were rescued, revived, and sent out to be knocked out cold again. Any other time, Grif would have chuckled at the school yard mechanics of it. “Cheshire, get everyone inside. Take the prisoners if you can. We may need to bargain with them if things keep going this way,” Grif ordered. “I’ll cover the retreat.” “Don’t do anything stupid, Grif,” Cheshire said as she retreated to the pile. “You heard him, boys. Move ‘em out!” she said as she picked up two of the prisoners and placed them on her back. The other soldiers followed suit, half acting as guard while the other half acted as transport. They wouldn’t be able to take many, but they would at least manage to get some hostages out of this. “Damnit, Pensword, we could use some Thestral support out here!” Grif roared as he blocked a thrown rock with a flick of his staff. Grabbing the wind around him, he started throwing out small cyclones, hoping the confusion would make things easier. From the ship’s deck, Pensword appeared with six Thestrals spread out around him. He looked at the battle field. Pensord looked at his Thestral brothers and sisters. “Glad you could join us,” Grif said. “Cover the retreat. We need to get as many hostages as possible. We’ve already lost people.” Pensword paused. He looked to the soldiers, “You heard Grif. Capture the enemy and get them back to the vessel.” He turned his head. “You are having us capture live prisoners when they have already killed our men? Men we cannot afford to lose? What is going on in that head?” He hissed, hovering at Grif’s side. “They haven’t killed anyone yet,” Grif clarified. “They’ve captured people and hauled them off. I think they're expecting us to draw blood first, and something's telling me that would be a bad idea. You’re the one with the spirits. Can’t you feel it?” Grif ducked a staff and slammed the end of his under the monkey's chin. “There's a presence.” Pensword ducked and deflected the club that had been aimed at his head with a rear hoof before turning around and whacking the offending Monkey with his training blades. The Monkey staggered back, a bloody nose forming. He swayed and fell down on his back. “Grif, the ship is haunted. I cannot tell what is on the Island, what is on the ship, and a day ago, my senses took a wing joint jab that actually knocked me over like a fainting goat. So at the moment, I am a little messed up,” he spoke angrily as he moved to pick up the Monkey he had knocked out, mainly to keep it from choking on its own blood. Grif was about to respond when the attacks suddenly halted. “Why did they….?” Bonk! Something small landed on Pensword’s head before falling to the ground before them. Grif took a second to realise it was a peach pit. Looking up, Grif was unable to speak.. Pensword’s ears rang from the hit on his helmet. He looked at the pit and stepped back, looking up and around. “Is that a grenade?” His question trailed off as he caught sight of what Grif was looking at as well. In the air above them, a small white cloud sat stationary. Standing proudly atop it was a figure right out of history. His golden boots were shiny and intricate; his golden armor likewise shone in the sunlight. Beneath it, his large muscles rippled under his red-brown fur. A long muscular tail swung idly behind him, sometimes brushing gently against his large red mane of hair that stretched down his back. His monkey-like face grinned mischievously as he looked down at them, the golden circlet around his forehead making it hard to look him in the face to see his burning yellow eyes. On top of his head, a cap sat with long elegant pheonix feathers stretching behind it and down its owner’s back. When he spoke, his voice carried a whimsical tone that almost belittled the ancient power it carried. “A Pony?” the Monkey chuckled. “I thought I was clear to Celestia and Luna that I wouldn’t interfere and they were to leave me alone. It’s bad enough the birds get brave every fifty years or so, but now they bring Ponies to take my land?” With a double forward flip, he jumped from his cloud and landed before them, larger than life. Reaching behind his ear, he pulled a small rod into view. In an instant it grew larger and thicker until a large metal staff was held in his right hand. It was capped with two gold ends, but the main body was a deep scarlet colouring with the gold effigy of two dragons swirling along the handle, only to meet at the center. He spread his legs in an aggressive stance and smirked as he thrust his left arm out in front of him. “You’ve fought well, but now you face the might of Sun Wukong, The Great Sage Equal of Heaven!” Grif stood there and gawked at the figure while somewhere in his mind, Taze let out the most unmanly squeal possible. “Take?” Pensword muttered blankly. Matthew had mentally thrown up his hands and left for the moment. “Look,” he began a little tensely. “We need to repair a ship. Then we can return home to Equestria, make sure Princess Celestia knows that we just stopped a coup from succeeding in the Gryphon Empire, and I really, really, REALLY want to return home to my family. So can we please return to our repairs? We can leave you alone, and I will make sure that we never return to your land, barring any natural disasters.” “Return my children. Then we’ll talk,” Wukong said in a dangerous tone, no longer the comedic figure he had been. Pensword turned to a Thestral at his side. “You heard him. Release the prisoners.” He turned to the Monkey King. “As for those prisoners that you took, three of them are essential for our repairs, and the others for fetching supplies. We need them back.” “You are in no place to be demanding things of me,” Wukong said dangerously. “As I said before, release my children and then we’ll talk.” “And how do I know you are not going to just attack us when you have your children back safe?” Pensword shot back. “You come to my kingdom, you capture my little monkeys, now you dare to insult my honor?” Wukong growled as he bared his fangs. “So?” Pensword started. “What were we supposed to do? Drop into the ocean and die? Let your children slaughter us where we stood, unprovoked? I have a responsibility to keep as many lives as I can on this side of the veil.” He snorted and pawed the ground. “If I do not return, my wife is going to bring utter destruction upon those that kill me.” “No one insults the honor of the Monkey King. And now you threaten me on top of it?” the monkey growled. “Only because I have seen tactics like this before. I lost my family and village to the tactics you have employed upon me today. Those ‘birds,’ as you call them, offered then Princess Luna to negotiate. While that happened, they annihilated my village to the very last foal along with four other villages. I will not let that happen again,” Pensword returned, growl for growl. “Then it is time, little Pony--” the monkey lifted his staff aggressively “--for you to learn what the Alicorns already fear!” And with that, The Monkey King charged.