//------------------------------//
// Chapter 49 - A Spot of Tea 
// Story: Bad Mondays 
// by Handyman 
//------------------------------//

“Last stop!” the voice called out from the station platform. The tired passengers descended from the great iron train with a modicum of groaning and muttered frustration, struggling with their luggage and loved ones to get off the train. A surprising few were merchants and business ponies who had the look of men who had been short-changed and were owed serious amounts of money. Given that the border was closed and trade north with Griffonia was curtailed, they probably had every right to be.
 
Crimson disembarked from the train with her cloak tied tightly about her and her side bags secured. An armoured pony with similarly coloured fur followed after her, casting a wary eye about the platform.
 
“Are you sure about this, Master?” she asked quietly. The armoured pony looked at her sharply.
 
“I told you not to call me that in public, especially not when I am hidden.”
 
“Oh… sorry, Master.” She bowed her head slightly. Handy merely grumbled and went back to surveying the scene as the pair continued moving. He still had migraines if he kept up the psychic fuckery for too long. Whatever it was about that changeling queen’s blood, his changeling-derived powers were now easier to work with for longer periods of time. Now if he could only do something about the glowing eyes...
 
There were in the town of Hayverslock, a large trading town on the border with the kingdom of Firthengart, the southernmost kingdom of Griffonia with the largest land border with Equestria. A small county, it grew rich on having the Equestrian Express stop right here before moving on to other parts of the world once it left Griffonia, and as such it was a hive of commercial activity. Or it would normally have been, as now it looked like an overgrown military camp.
 
There were soldiers everywhere. Most were local troops from what Handy could tell; militia with a mishmash of weaponry and a smattering of random armour. There were regular troops that appeared to belong to the local countess, going by their coat of arms, as well as several other troops from other places as well. To Handy’s mild alarm, he also spotted royal guards.
 
‘What the hell is going on in Griffonia?’, he thought, looking around. They were getting some looks, but thankfully nothing that warranted too much scrutiny. ‘Are the ponies this jumpy over nothing? I need to get back to Johan as soon as I can.’
 
“Master?” Crimson asked demurely. Handy rolled his eyes and looked down at her. “What did you and the troubadour do with that stone?” Handy paused and looked up at the sky as he thought.
 

--=--


“Crimson?”
 
“Yes, Master?” They were just about to finish their meal, having finally settled on a place to stay for the night after recovering Handy’s armour. The tavern was quiet that night, and the Badland’s winds blew harshly outside. Jacques had wandered off somewhere.
 
“Can you do a magical scan on me? I fear I may have some kind of spell or… something that allows the Equestrians to trace me.”
 
“Really?” She sounded surprised before her expression grew dark. “When?”
 
“I don’t know when they put it on me, just that they have.” Handy thought back to all the trouble he had in Manehatten. “So can you do—?”
 
Before he could finish his words, Crimson’s eyes flashed. Her horn glow encompassed him entirely and, for a very uncomfortable moment, Handy’s skin prickled as if he were being electrocuted by static shock. Everywhere. All at once. He greedily gasped for air after the moment had passed, and slapped his hands down on the table for support.
 
“Crimson! Jesus, what the hell—?”
 
“Hold still,” she said resolutely and was already up on the table, grabbing Handy by the jaw and lifting his head up. The bewildered human could only imagine what the scene must have looked like to onlookers, and it was only his shock that had stopped him from tossing Crimson off the table.
 
“...There’s a substance rubbed into the flesh under your chin… here.” She jabbed him in the location and caused him to choke slightly. She backed off of the table and retook her seat. Handy coughed and glared at her. She was too busy thinking about the magical problem before her to consider her master’s displeasure with her. “It dissolved through the skin and settled within the flesh itself. I can remove it. There are two ways to do so, one of which is excruciatingly painful.”
 
“What’s the other way?” Handy asked, casting nasty looks around the room so that the locals refocused their attentions on their beers, rather than at the angry pegasus Handy appeared to be.
 
“The other way involves sharp knives.”
 

--=--

 
“Jacques.”
 
“Que?” The pony had barely any time before the bucket of water splashed over him, and he flailed and spluttered in the hay of the common sleeping room. “Ce que le baiser était que, pour!?”
 
“Sorry, but I’m in a bad mood and you were there. Also, you like water, remember?” The swordspony glared up at the human in the darkness, paying no attention to the false form before him and looking up into empty space where he knew his true face was. Then he blinked, seeing his true form after some effort.
 
“Why… Why are you wearing that on your face?” Jacques said, gesturing to Handy’s cloth-covered face, pulling himself up from the now soggy hay. The other denizens of the common room didn’t seem to rouse from the sudden addition of water.
 
“I had to choose between sharp knives and excruciatingly painful magical surgery.” Handy gestured to the pack of ice pressed to his chin. “I am still unsure if knives wouldn’t have been the better option. Look, you want to make some money?”
 
“Oh… well okay, now I am listening.”
 
“Thought you would.” Handy tossed him a glowing pinkish-purplish stone.
 
“What is this?”
 
“Bad news. Can I trust you to fob this off on someone?”
 
Jacques smiled.
 

--=--

 
“Hey, buddy.” Jacques stopped the happy merchant who was whistling to himself as he made his way westwards. The happy grey pegasus stopped to face him. “Want to buy a lucky charm?”
 
The pegasus gasped. “Would I?!”
 

--=--

 
Handy looked back at the curious Crimson and shook his head as they continued their way through Hayverslock.
 
“Don’t worry about it.”
 
Haverslock was a dour place to look at from afar. With all the solid grey stone buildings and black slate roofs, one would be forgiven for expecting the ponies who dwelled there to be the same. They were not, as upbeat and as friendly as any other happy pony community. Those same grey stones, so dour from afar, appeared far more welcoming when one walked close to them. It seemed that not a single building passed them by without having a stone that depicted floral carvings, whether self-made by their owners or by professional trade ponies and stone cutters. The local quarries were a huge industry on this border town, but despite the access to many more valuable stones, the ponies of Hayverslock seemed to pride themselves on choosing the least desired but most durable stone for their homes.
 
Handy saw guards everywhere: on top of roofs, walking along the walls of the town, the train station, the major thoroughfares, guildhalls, civic buildings, and moving through the city in groups. It was an alarming amount of militarisation. The ponies didn't seem to mind, surprisingly enough. Apart from frustrated merchants and a packed-to-the brim marketplace full of shouting voices, everyone seemed calm, as if reassured. That struck him as odd. No matter who you were, where you were, or what culture you came from, if you lived on a border with another country and your town was suddenly drowning in soldiers, you should be worried.
 
"I don't like it," Handy declared as Crimson looked up at him. "Everything's so… calm."
 
"How do you mean?"
 
"It’s just… nothing. Keep an eye out for anything unusual. Let’s just get out of town as soon as we can." The pair moved through the throng with relative ease, keeping close to the side of streets near the buildings. It got to be hard going after a while, and soon enough they found themselves stuck in the crush of bodies at a crossroads where several wagons had locked their wheels together. Broken axles, spilled goods, and flaring tempers dominated the street. Guards moved in to quell the matter, resulting in more raised voices and the flow of traffic drawing to a standstill as ponies tried to push past each other.
 
Handy tried to avoid pressing against passing ponies as best he could. It was not easy, and more than a few nudged him as they hurried past. He was about to turn to Crimson to suggest they back up a bit and take shelter in a shop before a torch fell on him.
 
Needless to say, this was a shocking development for Handy.
 
The bustle had caused the local candle lighter, who had been going street to street relighting and replacing the candles in the street lamps, to drop his wick. The large pole resembled a shepherd's crook with a simple yet resilient torch in its grasp, and a hook on the end to help it open the lamps and light the candles within. This crook fell and the hook gripped the hood of Handy's cloak, yanking it back and bringing the flash of the torch a hair's width of Handy's face.
 
The vampiric nature took over, an inhuman shriek cut through the night, and Handy, without knowledge or care, barreled through the crush of bodies. Ponies screamed and scrambled over one another to get out of his way in confusion and alarm as he sprinted through the streets. He heard someone calling his name but didn't care. His heart pounded in his ears; he had to get away from the fire.
 
He ran on, turning corners and sprinting through street after street blindly, uncaring of the panic he was sowing in his wake. More than once he turned a corner when suddenly confronted by  a sudden wall of metal and spears and hastened down a completely opposite direction. Of course operating purely on instinct and primal fear can only get you so far in an urban environment, especially one you're unfamiliar with. Handy found his senses return to him only after colliding with something heavy, metal and golden, head first.

Next he knew he was on the ground, barely pushing himself up from the dirty cobblestones with a ringing head, a splitting pain and something warm and wet running down his face. He heard a lot of shouting but could not make it out as he struggled to regain his senses and evaluate the situation. There was an increasing number of heavily armoured ponies converging on his location in this street.
 
'Okay, this is bad. I lost my head there for a moment. My glamour is probably down, but it's okay. It's going to be alright; I've been in tighter spots than this. I can get out of here,' he told himself as his heart rate finally got under control. He saw Crimson push her way through the crowd and shout down at him before she froze. 'Crimson! Good, now I can… Why is she not doing anything?'
 
That's when his vision fell upon the golden shoes and the unusually large pony hooves. His vision was drawn up. And up. And up, until he found himself staring into the clearly surprised, yet narrowing magenta eyes of the pony he had unfortunately run into. All at once, upon seeing the resplendant crown resting atop the spear like horn of her forehead and the waving, multi-hued mane that obscured a portion of her face, he realised exactly why it was the ponies of this town seemed reassured despite the overwhelming military presence. And the true extent of how much trouble he was in.
 
"Oh," he whispered.
 

--=--


Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip
 
It was honestly the most intimidating tea sip Handy ever had the displeasure of hearing.
 
Princess Celestia reclined upon her chaise regally. She had done so ever since Handy had been brought in to see her. There were no guards, he had not been forced to relinquish his weapon, and the princess had not even bothered to wear her crown to even hint of an air of authority, command, or majesty. For the past half hour, she still hadn't bothered to even acknowledge his presence. Handy would have already lost his patience if every single fibre of his being wasn't screaming warning signals.
 
She was in control here, singularly and absolutely, and there was not a goddamned thing Handy could do about it. Her horn was always wrapped in a golden glow as she levitated what appeared to be a small paperback serial novella she was reading, or her tea. Handy wasn't fooled, however—he saw the magical sheen outside the window, indicating either a shield or warding. He wasn't going anywhere she didn't want him to. He had briefly considered their chances had he given Crimson the command to attack her magically, but his hopes were dashed when he spotted the colour had in fact drained from the little mage's face. It was an impressive feat considering her face was covered in fur of the deepest red.
 
It was truly a shame since they had almost made it the entire way to the border without incident. Even getting their gold past most scrutinizing eyes had been easy enough. The border closure meant there was a market for smuggling goods across, even if it was still in its infancy. There were always some guard posts whose stalwart sentinels figured they could do with an extra lining to their pockets. Jacques had schmoozed his way into the seedier dens of the towns they had passed to get a hang of the local situation, finding out who to talk to, where to go, and when to move the goods. A few greased hooves were all it took, and Jacques had a clear path across the border. Handy's job was to go across and give the griffon counterparts on the far side their cut so Jacques could get through unmolested.
 
While he was on course to do just that, he ran into the one person he would have given nearly anything to have avoided right then and there. Literally.
 
Celestia put down her cup, raised a hoof daintily to her muzzle, cleared her throat lightly, then opened her big magenta eyes and looked up at them both. One eye was obscured by her ethereal mane whilst the other was bright and full of life, regarding them both passively. She then smiled lightly, gestured to the now thoroughly emptied ceramic pot, and asked:
 
"Would you like some tea?"
 
Handy started. His gaze narrowed and, in the politest tone he could manage with a dry throat and a road-weary body, he responded, "No, thank you. Do you have a glass of water, perhaps?"
 
She eyed him neutrally for a long moment, before readopting her calm smile. "I am so glad I could have this chat with you. I believe the proper title is ‘baron’ now, isn't it? Yes, I think that's right."
 
'Is she really getting hung up on formalities now?' Handy thought angrily to himself. 'Get to the point, woman. We both know why you brought me here.'
 
"And I do not believe I got your name, my little pony." Celestia looked to Crimson. Crimson seemed to stammer for a moment, looking up at Handy briefly. He merely looked back at her with what he hoped was an encouraging look, with his glowing eyes of doom.
 
"Shade. I'm Summer Shade," Crimson lied.
 
"And what brings you here, Summer?"
 
"She is my retainer," Handy interjected before Crimson could respond. Celestia turned back to him.
 
"Is she now? Interesting. I could have sworn my sources indicated she disappeared with you from Firthengart back during the festival. Tell me, Handy, is it true you died that day and have returned to the land of the living?"
 
"I believe the answer should be obvious," Handy said carefully.
 
"That it is, but I can see why ponies would believe it." There was much mirth in her eyes. Handy tried not to scowl. The road that brought him to this very meeting had been a harsh one. He had been wearing the very same armour the first time they had met, though it had been in considerably better condition back then. So was he for that matter. His face was considerably gaunter now; he didn't doubt he looked sickly, and he was beaten, battered, and bruised from the long trials. His nose had been bleeding not an hour ago just to cap things off. While he resembled hammered shit, Celestia sat there pristine as the day he first met her.
 
Bitch.
 
"Now, Handy, there are some difficult things we need to discuss." She put down her cup and let out a sigh.
 
"I imagine there are." Finally, it seemed she was going to get on with this interrogation.
 
"In Manehatten I met a little colt. I believe you would remember him."
 
"A… colt?"
 
"And his family, yes." She eyed him carefully. "A family whose lives you had shattered."
 
"Fleeing from you," Handy retorted. "Had your royal guards not been hunting me like a dog from the Enclave onwards, none of that would have happened."
 
"And innocent ponies would not have died had you kept your word and aided my guards in dealing with that warlock from the start." The words struck him like a hammer blow.
 
"But the guards had evacuated—”
 
"Not everypony got out in time," Celestia interrupted, a bit of heat entering her tone. "Not everypony who got out in time got away unscathed." Her eyes narrowed. "Not everypony who fought the warlock got away with life and limb."
 
Handy did not respond but kept his expression level, meeting her gaze. He desperately wanted to look anywhere else right then.
 
"We'll speak more of this later. Right now there is something more pressing we need to attend to."
 
"…Such as?" His voice did not waver or break, despite her revelation. Crimson shifted nervously where she stood.
 
"Please sit."
 
"I'd rather stand."
 
"I insist," she said with a smile. Two comfortable-looking chairs were levitated behind the two of them. Well, comfortable for ponies at least. Handy had yet to find a chair that gave him proper lumbar support. Crimson climbed up on hers reluctantly and sat on her haunches, Handy following suit and sitting with as much dignity as he could. Celestia herself got up from her reclined position to simply sit on the lounger and levitated her crown from behind the seat and placed it on her head. The doors opened.
 
"Presenting Her Grace, Countess Brazen Hearthfire to see Her Majesty," a well-groomed, magnificently moustached grey stallion announced with the practiced air of a court butler. Handy narrowed his eyes at him, for he sounded suspiciously British for a pony. The accent was way off, but even so...
 
"Show her in, Punctual, and have Raven prepare another pot of tea."
 
"Of course, mum." The butler bowed and retreated. A light-pink mare with fiery red hair entered with a pleased look on her face, one that dropped immediately upon seeing Handy.
 
"Ah, Brazen, a pleasure you could join us at this late hour." The countess paused, before stuttering.
 
"Y-Yes, of course. I am always happy to entertain the crown at any hour," she said, her confidence regained.
 
"I am well aware, my friend, and thank you. Please, sit." Celestia gestured to the space on the chaise lounge beside her. The countess paused, looking briefly at the individual seats Handy and Crimson had been given, before acquiescing anyway.
 
"I was not aware you were receiving guests, my lady," Brazen said, the earth pony having seated herself a respectable distance from her monarch.
 
"I apologize for not bringing this up with you earlier. I was not expecting this to be happening so soon. Baron Handy has arrived for the negotiations." Crimson's ears perked up, and Handy's eyes widened slightly. The countess looked equally as surprised but was the quickest to regain her composure.
 
"Ahem, negotiations?" she asked, directing the question to Handy. Celestia turned her smile back towards him. Handy, now suddenly put on the spot, looked quickly to Celestia and to the countess. He briefly shared a look with Crimson, who was so hilariously out of her depth she was looking to him for some guidance. No help from that quarter. Best play it safe until he figured out what the hell was going on.
 
"…Yes. His Majesty King Johan has… delegated me to approach Equestria regarding several matters of concern." Handy slightly cursed himself. Celestia's face did not change, but he swore he could discern the slightest twinkle in her eye.
 
"I see." The countess’ eyebrows furrowed in contemplation. "And you have been given his authority?"
 
"…In certain regards." Handy spared a glance at Celestia. He did not expect this random countess to know the intricacies of his station as Sword of the King—most griffon nobles sure as hell didn't. The Princess? That was another story.
 
"Hmph, and why has it taken so long for the griffons to finally see reason to come and talk like civilised ponies?" the countess asked haughtily. Handy looked at her and resisted the urge to raise a brow.
 
"My sincerest apologies, but a more circuitous route was required—"
 
"Indeed," Brazen practically spat, "and I suppose you had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with that little act of war in Manehatten that we've been hearing so much about? You were there, weren't you?"
 
A pale grey, almost white-coated mare with thick, rimmed spectacles, a smart white collar, and red cravat had entered the room. The unicorn levitated over a simple metal tray with two white ceramic pots of tea on the table between the two parties. Handy didn't pay her any regard, focusing his glare on the smaller countess.
 
"Thank you, Raven."
 
"Of course, Princess. Will there be anything else?"
 
"I don't believe so. Anypony?" the princess asked.
 
"…No. Thank you," Handy managed civilly while Crimson shook her head. Brazen simply said nothing as she worked to pour herself a cup of tea. Handy noted with some disguised interest that she seemed to grab the handle of the tea pot with the inside of her hoof. Interesting. He waited until Raven had left the room before responding.
 
"I was… in Manehatten the night when it was attacked."
 
"So you admit it! You had instigated a magical assault on an Equestrian city!"
 
"I had done no such thing," Handy retorted. "I had not attacked anyone within the city."
 
"Oh? Then what were you doing there?"
 
"Seeking passage through Equestria," Handy said before casting a glance, "after having escaped an utterly unprovoked assault by Equestrian Royal Guards on the city of Blackport."
 
Celestia had remained calm but levelled her eyes at Handy.
 
"There was no conflict between Equestria and the Kingdom of the Black Isles," she confirmed.

"Oh? So there was no conflict of interest between Equestrian Royal Guards and the Black Guard of the Viceroy of the Enclave? That sure did not seem to be the case when I had encountered both your personal representatives and the Enclave arguing over who had the right to falsely imprison and kidnap my person when I had committed no crime worthy of such a punishment. Neither there nor here."
 
"This is besides the matter," Brazen interjected.
 
"I concur." Celestia’s gaze had not left his. "Whatever your intentions may or may not have been, you had promised aid to my Royal Guards in Manehatten in order to apprehend a dangerous warlock, and your direct negligence in that regard resulted in injuries and death of ponies."
 
"One might consider that enough of a justification," the Countess agreed before taking a sip. "What do you have to say for your king in that regard?"
 
"I'd be more interested in hearing what her highness has to say about the death and destruction directly caused by her royal guard in Blackport."
 
"My guard did no such thing."
 
"They did." The iciness in Handy’s voice could not be mistaken. "The careless traipsing of your soldiers directly caused the explosive actions of a hidden warlock in Blackport. How many do you think have been injured, perhaps even killed during that horror show? How about you account for those losses before you demand anything of me?"
 
"I have already made amends to the Viceroy of the Enclave," Celestia replied coolly. "Those concerns are between Equestria and the Black Isles, and do not absolve you of your actions in Manehatten."
 
"What actions?" Handy asked defensively. "Was I forbidden from traveling in Equestrian lands? Between the time when I was last in Canterlot, and last on Equestrian soil, had I committed some grievance or crime forbidding my setting foot here?"
 
"Perhaps you had forgotten the little matter with Prince Blueblood," Brazen pointed out. Celestia gave her a sideways glance. "The good prince has gone missing after your barbaric tussle in the kingdom just north of here."
 
"That litt–" Handy caught himself before he said something regrettable. "The last time I saw the prince was after our bout at the festival tournament." Handy spoke slowly in order to rein in his temper. "He was in the care of other Equestrians. Why? What has become of the prince?"
 
"You don't know?"
 
"I do not make it my habit to stalk the nobles of other kingdoms. Unlike some I could mention." He gave Celestia a hard look; she did not respond in kind.
 
"Hmph, well, as it happens, the prince has gone missing since his return to Canterlot."
 
"A shame. You have my condolences." They certainly did not. "Whatever passed between myself and the prince was legal, carried out in public, and I have had no contact or interaction with him since. I was hardly aware my disagreements with an Equestrian prince would warrant my immediate arrest if I so much as dared breathe air outside of Griffonia."
 
"Be that as it may, your negligence resulted in deaths of innocent ponies." The fact that Celestia kept harping on that point was beginning to deteriorate Handy’s already shredded patience.
 
"What negligence!?" Handy demanded, narrowing his eyes at the alicorn. "If you truly have discovered all you can about what transpired in Manehatten, then you, Majesty, know damn well I gave my life's blood to help put an end to the horrors that transpired there."
 
"Only after being found and confronted by a member of the royal guard," Celestia corrected.
 
"And what of it?" Handy countered. "Had I been there, would your guards’ evacuation have been any more effective? Would there be less injury and death to innocents caused by a power mad warlock on a rampage? Could my being there shield your guards from the ravages of foul sorcery any better than their own armours could? And you should have been grateful I even deigned to allow your own forces to become aware that such a threat lay in your midst, after you had done everything in your power to rob me of my liberty!"
 
"Again, I had ordered no such thing!" A very brief frown flitted across the alicorn’s face.
 
"So Equestria has no control over its own elite forces!?" Handy challenged.
 
"More than Griffonia has over its pet monster." Handy turned a murderous glare to the countess. "Struck a nerve, have I?"
 
"Again, I tell you, I have taken no malicious action against Equestria, her institutions, her nobility, her people, and most certainly not in my official capacity as Gethrenia's Sword of the King."
 
"I find that distinctly unlikely. You had assaulted one of my guardsmares after the conflict in Manehatten had been resolved, did you not? Two, if I am correct," Celestia challenged. Handy had no answer to that immediately to hand. He had gone and drank the blood of one of the guards and then had blindsided an exhausted Stellar in order to recover the… huh. The more he tried to think of the warlock, the less he could recall about it. He knew there was… something he had fought in Manehatten. It was related to old magic—that could not be ignored—so it had to be a warlock, but when his thoughts came to the person in particular—
 
"Blood for blood, Celestia," Handy replied eventually, prioritising his thoughts. "I was owed my fair recompense."
 
"And Private Stellar?" she asked pointedly.
 
"Gethrenia is not the only kingdom with its pet monsters, Princess." She scowled at him, the first truly notable sign of her displeasure with him. Brazen had certainly picked up on it with wide-eyed alarm. The countess attempted to redirect the conversation.
 
"That does only raise more questions, however, such as what you did to the poor soul."
 
"I beg your pardon?"
 
"Myself and the Princess had long to converse regarding the affairs in the east, particularly the captured warlock in question." She refilled her cup before looking over her spectacles at Handy. "The pony can't even remember his own name. Found all alone in a cellar filled with occult writings and artefacts. And there is evidence you were the last one with him."
 
He scrambled his mind for anyone who matched that description. He fought someone in Manehatten, he remembered that much. Still, for the life of him he couldn’t… really recall who or what it was that— Wait. That pony he met when he was raiding that cache of old magic documents, the one he couldn't recall having seen before, who didn't even remember his own name. Was that who they were talking about?
 
"Sir?" Crimson whispered.
 
"I'll explain later," he whispered back. Celestia watched the exchange, but he wasn't sure if she divined anything from it. "I have no idea what you are talking about. Beyond my… disagreeable interactions with the royal guard, I haven't done anything to anyone."
 
"Your footprints were clearly evident in the dirt of the floor," Celestia pointed out, a pretty damning indication of the presence of the only human anyone was aware of.
 
"I did nothing to him."
 
"Your blood was present at the scene," Celestia continued. Handy's jaw tightened.
 
"And I am not denying I was there. I am confirming—"
 
"So you admit it!" Brazen declared, pointing her teacup at Handy accusingly. Handy hated her right then, more than anything, for the fact she was gripping that damn cup with one fucking hoof. "You attacked Manehatten, assaulted the royal guard, complicit in the needless deaths of innocents."
 
"Now see here—!"
 
"I am not done yet, Baron Handy!" Celestia continued sipping her tea, letting the countess continue her declaration. "It is no secret you have been known to traffic in changeling artefacts, particularly old changeling coinage. You were key to the succession crises in Gethrenia. Dare I say you even might have been the key to the current great and glorious King Johan's little coup?"
 
"I will not stand my king being insulted like this!" Handy snarled. "How dare you—!"
 
"Why, I am willing to bet good money you make it your business in killing royals and provoking wars."
 
"This is absurd!"
 
"Is it!?" she challenged, placing her forehooves on the table and leaning up, a vicious smile on her face. Handy remained where he was seated, but only a fool could have missed the vile look in his eyes. "Usurping one king, who’s to say you were not trying to usurp another? You made your intentions clear that you wanted Prince Blueblood to suffer death. Who is to say you did not orchestrate the dragon attack in Firthengart, wiping out two royal dynasties of Griffonia and an Equestrian royal to boot?"
 
"Be careful with your words, pony," Handy said lowly. Celestia turned to give him a hard look. "These are dangerous accusations."
 
"Indeed? I'll bet they hit a little too close to home for a changeling infiltrator!" she accused.
 
There was a moment of silence where one could hear a pin drop.
 
"…I'm sorry?" The words were barely audible through the strain of tight jaw muscles, his hands causing the wood of the chair armrests to creak audibly under their grasp.
 
"You carry ancient changeling coinage, frittering it away as if it were nothing. You ingratiate yourself in whatever society you enter. You sow division and chaos in your wake, and now our countries are on the verge of war because your actions have made the griffons belligerent and dangerous." Handy did not notice the raised eyebrow Celestia cast Brazen's way. Neither did she apparently, but Crimson certainly did. "And most damning of all, you had even entered my very town under disguise and assaulted our beloved princess!"
 
Celestia refilled her cup and allowed the silence that followed the countess’ outburst to linger for just a moment. "You know, that is interesting. I don't believe I told you about that."
 
Brazen seemed to falter for a moment before recovering. "I-It was the talk of the town. I couldn't not hear about it on my way over!" she protested. Celestia merely nodded. Handy was too busy fuming to pick up on the subtext, not trusting himself to speak. Brazen cleared her throat to continue, "In any case, Baron Handy, I believe in order for these negotiations to bear any fruit, I am afraid Gethrenia, perhaps even the whole of Griffonia, needs to make a massive conciliatory gesture in order to help right these wrongs." She sat back and sighed. "Otherwise, I think this war that is so looming over all our heads is inevitable."
 
She refilled her cup without looking up at him. Her face was a practiced mask, equal parts the stony-faced diplomat, the world-weary statespony, and concerned citizen dreading the harsh duties imposed upon her. Celestia eyed her tea contemplatively for a moment and then, just as Brazen had raised her cup to drink, she spoke.
 
"We already are at war."
 
The spit-take that occurred was the stuff of legends. Brazen Hearthfire choked down nearly the entirety of the cup in one surprised gasp and immediately sprayed it up with all the force of a pressure hose. Unfortunately for Crimson, she happened to be sitting directly across from the shocked Countess.
 
"WH-WHAT!?" she gasped.
 
"Hrk!" Handy let out a strangled noise, caught somewhere between the most profane of curses and the gibbering throes of madness. The declaration had blindsided him, so fixated was he on the terrible little shit of a noble across from them. Crimson, meanwhile, flailed and shouted as she fell off the chair and bumbled around the room and washed her face off on very expensive linens, plush pillows, and anything else she could use to wash the tea off her face and out of her eyes. Unfortunately for her, nobody currently gave a shit for her predicament. "You… You can't be serious?"
 
"I am afraid I am, Handy." Celestia’s head was bowed and her voice grave. "How else am I to act?"
 
"But this is absolute madness! Insanity!" Handy decried, rising to his feet. "There has been no declaration of war made! There is no threat to Equestria!"
 
"I am afraid there is." Celestia looked out the window to her side. "How am I to react when the nobles of my own kingdom feel so threatened that they must rally to garrison the borders? Indeed, how can I blame them if the griffons have been acting so belligerent? Neither your king nor Firthengart’s responds to any of my attempts to engage them in discourse. Your High King assures me all is well yet nothing ever seems to get better. Firthengart is hoarding its steel and coal, not even trading with other griffons. What would you do when such actions are coupled with a much larger military activity just across your border?"
 
"The griffons do not want war!" Handy shouted. "Princess, what has gotten into your head!? Johan and Goldtooth were in Canterlot not some months ago! Days were spent arguing over the finest details of trade and co-operation! Why on earth would they go to war with you now!?"
 
"Why indeed?" She turned back to him. "An attack that started all of this, centred around the agent of a foreign king, who is then seen at the heart of two major attacks on both the Black Isles and Equestria. Why would Johan want to start a war with all of his neighbours?"
 
"He does not! I swear to God this is blown way out of proportion. You cannot honestly believe what you are saying!"
 
"But I do. Brazen?"
 
"Uhp?" the still shocked mare managed, looking up at her sovereign. "Uh, yes, P-Princess?"
 
"You had just been telling me at the start of my visit how threatening and belligerent Firthengart had been for some time now, and that its current activity was a clear and present threat, hence your and your peers’ actions in militarizing the border?"
 
"O-Oh, yes of course!"
 
"Hmm." Celestia stared at the human gravely. "So you see, Baron Handy, there is some concern, and has been for quite some time. I am afraid I will have to end this conversation by giving you Equestria's formal declaration of war."
 
"WAIT!" Brazen blurted out. The room looked to her, and she suddenly backed up in her seat. "U-Uh that is, perhaps we should give our Griffonian friends a chance to make amends first?" she said with a nervous smile.
 
"I am afraid that is quite impossible. After Manehatten, it is clear that Firthengart and Gethrenia mean ill-will towards us all, and if we are to go to war with either, then we have to prepare for war against the whole of Griffonia. I am sorry, Brazen, that you have the misfortune of being on the front, being so close to the border."
 
"W-Wait…" Brazen practically squeaked, the colour draining from her face and a haunted expression adorning it. "J-Just wait."
 
"Princess, I implore you." Handy managed to get his voice down to a calm level that wasn't panicked shouting. "There is no need for this, just… Let’s be reasonable about this. I can explain whatever you wish to know about Manehatten."
 
"And about Firthengart? I am sorry, but I have read my friend Brazen's speech. War is inevitable." It was the smaller mare's turn to make a strangled noise as Handy rounded on the pony.
 
"What?"
 
"Oh yes, Brazen made a very convincing argument about the threat the griffons pose to Equestria. It was quite rousing, and I am afraid more than a little borne out by reality."
 
"W-Wait, Princess, I-I think you're taking some of what I said out of context."
 
"Posh, of course I am not. Sir Handy's arrival here lends credence to your words. Why indeed, he may in fact be a changeling agent, useless to negotiate with in the first place. No, I think you're quite right Brazen, war is necessary for our own best interests."
 
"I can't believe this!" Brazen managed, holding her head in her hooves. "I never thought this would actually… Princess, you can't do this!"
 
Handy had sat down once more, partly from shock and partly because he was processing some of the subtext going on here. Rather, he was realizing there was one to begin with.
 
"Oh? But I am merely taking everything to its inevitable conclusion. Why else would you close down your own borders with Firthengart, stopping the Equestrian Express tracks? Clearly there is a present danger or you'd never risk such a rash action at your own grave expense." Celestia smiled gently at her. "Such a brave and selfless stand. It’s a wonder you could even afford to spend so much on rare Hoovsian tea, imported all the way from Henosia."
 
Brazen's face faltered briefly as Celestia simply blinked innocently at the uncomfortable lull in the conversation. Handy recalled something Jacques had told him about the contacts he had made when searching for a way to smuggle their money across the border. Out of all the smuggling rings he had seen, the one crossing the border into Firthengart after it closed was surprisingly large, well-organized and, most importantly, had no competition. Jacques had never seen such an efficient operation spring up on its own over such a short period of time.
 
Then Handy recalled the suspiciously large number of tradesponies and merchants bottlenecking in this town. Despite the border having been closed for months, their numbers rivalled the native population of the town. He recalled the busy marketplace, with stalls, carts, and shops brimming with innumerable goods open even at these late hours. Why would they be coming here to this relatively small town when the border was closed? Why not a larger city or seek greener pastures elsewhere? Then he thought about the massive military build-up and the proportion of local guardsponies in comparison to the relatively small number of royal guards. Those, he now knew, had to be Celestia's personal bodyguards and thus couldn't have been here for very long. That meant Celestia herself could not be funding them, even partially.
 
If this border closure was hitting this countess' revenues so hard, as it logically would for a town so heavily dependent on the passing of the monstrously large trading train of the Equestrian Express, how in the hell was she affording this show of force here so well while also doubtlessly reinforcing the border itself? He looked down at the tea set and for the first time poured a cup. The steaming liquid was a pale blue but had a fragrant, inviting aroma. He'd seen tea like this before but only at court. Joachim had never cared for tea much in general, but a few nobles he'd entertained loved this kind.
 
That a noble would still spend money on luxuries even in a time of austerity was par for the course. To do so, keep their military paid, fed and active, and their populace placated? That was suspicious. He looked up at the countess with interest.
 
"W-Well it was a gift! Nothing but the finest for you, Highness."
 
"Strange, I could've sworn I overheard the Henosian tea merchants boast about selling quite a lot of goods while here." Celestia’s hoof was raised to her chin thoughtfully. "Why, they even boasted they had quite the incentive to travel all the way down south to the Firthengart border of Griffonia rather than any other route into the High Kingdom. Very strange."
 
"Well, I honestly couldn't speculate," Brazen managed, clearing her throat once more. "Perhaps they just think they could get better deals here?"
 
"Or an easier way to smuggle goods into Griffonia and make a tidy profit," Handy interjected, his brow furrowed as he looked down at the tea. "If there is one reason why I risked showing up here, right now, it’s because I was made aware of the smuggling route across the closed border."
 
"I-I have no idea what you're talking about. And besides, didn't you say you were here for negotiations?" Brazen managed.
 
"No," Handy said truthfully, "Her Majesty said that before she blindsided me with her declaration of war." Handy looked up at them both. Celestia's professional mask remained unchanged, though she no longer smiled. "In the interests of clarity, how is it that I could have found out about this only recently, yet you have no idea about this, Your Grace?"
 
"I hardly think that is any concern of yours!" Brazen said defensively. "We have much, uh, bigger concerns right now. In case you had forgotten, Equestria is declaring war."
 
"Actually," Celestia said, "this is news to me. Sir Handy, for the sake of civility and clarity, could you continue? How exactly do you know there is such a ring? And what were you planning on doing with such knowledge?"
 
Handy found himself caught for a moment, every pair of eyes in the room on him. Well, except Crimson, who had found her way back to her chair and was busy patting her eyes with what appeared to be a damp cloth. He thought fast; he had to give them something. Anything. He didn't know what was going on between the princess and the countess, being woefully ignorant of whatever Equestrian politics was happening right in front of his eyes. Still, he sensed he was being given an opportunity here. What kind of opportunity and why, he couldn't fathom. He cast one last glance at Brazen and made a decision. Better her hide in a sling than him bringing a war back to his adoptive home's doorstep.
 
"It has been my business for the past few months to investigate any and every potential threat to the kingdom of Gethrenia," Handy said carefully, "and that mission meant keeping an ear to the ground on the goings on of the underworld. I had no need to utilise the sophisticated smuggling route I discovered going through your land, Lady Brazen," Handy lied. "Otherwise I would not have bothered to travel all the way to this town like a civilized person and simply find bodily passage through the border, rather than deal with your… rather bribe-able guards."
 
"How dare you insinuate my soldiers are so easily corrupted?!" Brazen screeched indignantly, though it was very clear she had been unseated by what Handy had said.
 
"…Perhaps they are not." Handy looked at the countess thoughtfully. "Perhaps it is someone else who gave them orders to turn the other way and take a cut of the take."
 
"T-This is preposterous!" Brazen shouted. "I shall not stand for this nonsense. I am sorry, Princess, but I can no longer stand here and be accused of such slander and innuendo. I wish you luck in bringing this brutish gryphonic lackey to sense, but there is nothing more I can contribute."
 
Brazen hopped down from the chaise lounge and stormed off to the door while the princess remained where she was, saying nothing. The mare reached the door and yelped with shock when her hoof touched the handle.
 
"W-What?" she asked, looking down at her hoof.
 
"Please. Sit," Celestia said calmly.
 
"Princess, what is this!?"
 
"I would rather your company until you have contributed everything you could to this discussion." Handy looked at the surprised countess out of the corner of his eye, not fully turning away from the princess. "If what our Gethrenian friend here says is true, there is a rather large breach in our defences, right here in your domain. That is something rather concerning, wouldn't you say?" She held the countess' gaze for a few tense seconds. Receiving no eventual reply, she repeated herself, "Please. Sit."
 
Brazen, very slowly, retreated from the door, Handy suddenly realizing he and Crimson weren't the Princess’ only captive audience anymore. Only once Brazen had sat back upon the chaise, at a slightly greater distance from Celestia of course, did the princess turn back to Handy and give him a light smile.
 
"Please continue, Sir Handy. Is there anything else you can tell us about this route?" Handy glanced between the two mares across from him, trying to work out what was going on.
 
"Only one thing that is worth noting. The Firthengarian soldiers on the far side of the border have a similar arrangement with the Equestrian troops over here." Handy looked to Brazen, who seemed increasingly uncomfortable. "Similar enough to reasonably assume there is some level of… co-operation going on."
 
That last was a guess on Handy's part, based on the evidence. The reaction from Brazen was what sold it. Celestia gave Brazen a grave look when she seemed to stammer.
 
"O-Outrageous! You have no proof of this!"
 
"True, I don't," Handy admitted, thinking how he'd get around that little obstacle, "but either way, that is what is happening. Take a look out of the window. What other reason could all these traders willingly take all their goods to your little town with the borders closed? This town is not worth the effort and money it takes to get here otherwise."
 
"How dare you!?"
 
"I mean no offence. After all, Skymount isn't all that valuable in the grand scheme of things outside of local trade, were it not for the Equestrian Express making it the first major stop in Griffonia." Handy kept a wary eye on the princess, but she was giving no visible reactions he could accurately gauge. "The better question is, how could you know nothing of what is going on?"
 
"Brazen?" Celestia asked, the smaller mare looking up. "Is there something going on you have not been keeping me abreast of? I can't very well go to war without dealing with a potentially massive defensive oversight."
 
The mare stuttered and started, trying to give the princess a satisfactory answer while the words failed to come out. Eventually Celestia closed her eyes and breathed out through her nostrils.
 
"I see. So that is the way of it. It seems I may have been too quick to judge matters based on nothing more than the words and actions of one countess."
 
"W-Wait! That’s not true! Many dukes and powerful families support me in my—"
 
"Only after you had them riled up with the same rhetoric you had used to convince me." Celestia gave Brazen a dangerous look. "Are you going to persist in that line after lying to me here and now?"
 
There was no answer to that, and Brazen seemed to shrink in the presence of the much larger pony next to her.
 
"I think… you have contributed all you could to this conversation." Celestia levitated up a small silver bell and rang it. The same magnificently moustached pony, shadowed by the mare called Raven, entered. They were followed in turn by one of Celestia's personal guards and another armoured pony who looked like one of the local soldiers, likely the countess' military commander. He looked very perturbed. "The countess would like to retire to her chambers for the evening and does not want to be disturbed."
 
Her smile was gentle, her tone sweet. Her glance down at the smaller mare was maternal and comforting. No one dared to remotely voice an objection, a question, or even a response, much less the young countess who now had just been effectively rendered under house arrest in her own home. Celestia turned to Handy before the gathered ponies had left the room.
 
"I apologise, Sir Handy. Perhaps now we can start these negotiations afresh?" she asked sweetly as the ponies left the room. Handy looked down at Crimson for a moment, who watched the procession with some interest.
 
"In a moment, Majesty." He turned to Crimson and whispered in her ear, "I think it might be best if you left the room now."
 
"What!?" she blurted, a little too loudly. Celestia arched a brow. "And leave you here with her!? Why!?"
 
"Because this may be the best opportunity to get at least one of us out of this room. Just go, I'll explain later." She gave Handy a hard look, and a slightly more fearful look at Celestia before acquiescing, stepping down from her chair and following the group out of the room.
 
She looked back into the room at her master and the princess one last time before the doors were shut. She was out, safely beyond the magical barrier that had ensured they'd remain in that room. She turned and blinked in surprise at what lay on the other side of the door.
 
The hallway was literally wall to wall with heavily-armoured ponies in either direction, shimmering gold-tinted metal as far as the eye could see, even in the dimly lit corridor. She glanced up and the rafters above them which groaned with the weight of pegasi soldiers resting up there, keen eyes focused down below. It was a wonder the countess was able to be moved through that sea of metal.
 
Crimson blinked at the guards. They simply stared back at her in unison.
 
"Really?" No one answered her, and she rolled her eyes. "Can you at least point me in the direction of the bathroom?"
 
One of the guards pointed down the hallway, opposite the direction where the countess was heading. Crimson followed the direction, slipping through the tight confines of space allowed by the frankly absurd number of ponies filling the corridor and the constant clanking of armour and weapons as ponies moved to let her through. She felt the rush of air as beating wings pummelled the air as a pony stayed aloft, following her all the way. And then, just as she got out of the sea of ponies and made it to the lavatory, the guard landed and watched her enter. She rounded on the mare.
 
"Seriously!?" she challenged. The guardsmare just shrugged her wings in response, but wasn't budging. Crimson sighed explosively and slammed the door shut, muttering something about tea and finally being able to wash her eyes. The guard simply shuffled her wings and stood at attention, waiting.
 

--=--


"What do you want, Celestia?" Handy asked after a time. The princess studied his face for a moment.
 
"I want to know everything," Celestia said simply. "I want to know what happened on the Equestrian Express all those months ago. I want to know what happened in Skymount when you put your current king on his throne. I want to know what really transpired in Firthengart during that fiasco of a festival. I want to know why Gethrenia and Firthengart have been at loggerheads since. I want to know where you went after you had apparently died and why we could not trace you." She paused after that to see if she had elicited a reaction. Handy kept his expression remarkably neutral. "I want to know why you were in the Black Isles Enclave. I want to know why you were in Manehatten, and I want to know, in detail, what happened in both events. I want to know why you went to the Badlands and why you're really here now."
 
"…You're asking a lot."
 
"This point is non-negotiable," Celestia admitted. "You are not leaving this room without giving me something of substance, Milésian."
 
"And I am to trust that you'd let me leave even if I did?" Handy countered.
 
"I trust you to understand that I do not want a war. Do you think I am so callous as to enjoy leading on one of my vassals until she hangs herself with a noose of her own making?" Handy thought about it for a moment. "Political theatre has its uses. I was looking for a means of lessening tensions on my end of the border by curtailing the nobles. Thanks to you, I had the means of finally doing so without overstepping my power."
 
"You're welcome," Handy said sardonically. "So you will not take me prisoner for fear of starting a war?"
 
"Right now? No. That was not my intention."
 
"Certainly seemed like it back in the Enclave."
 
"I am reliably informed you were told, in no uncertain terms, exactly why Equestrian Royal Guards were there to escort you."
 
"A lovely euphemism, and am I to truly believe you knew nothing of this?"
 
"Nothing."
 
"Yeah, I am afraid that is rather unbelievable, Princess. I cannot trust a damn word out of your mouth about anything if you simply persist on that line."
 
"And you do not think it is an extreme gesture of good faith on my part to trust anything you say?"
 
"I tend to keep my promises, Princess," Handy warned. "I said I'd explain whatever you wish to know about Manehatten, back when I believed you had truly declared war."
 
"And about nothing else?" Handy remained silent. "I see. Then I believe there can be no real discourse until we have reason to trust each other."
 
"That will never happen," Handy shot back. Celestia paused for a moment.
 
"Perhaps, if not trust, then at least something mutually beneficial. What would you like?"
 
That… actually gave Handy pause for thought. He pondered for a minute. If she was serious, he could ask for some boon or benefit to Gethrenia, a nice little 'sorry for disappearing for months on end' present to Joachim and everyone back at Skymount. However, that wouldn't be anything truly meaningful in terms of making him trust her. What did she care for material loss if it meant she had all of his secrets, never mind whatever she could do with those secrets? He could ask for Stellar's head on a plate, and as tempting as that would be, he knew he could not ask for that. Celestia if nothing else, was fiercely protective of her citizens based on the barely concealed fury behind her eyes when the earlier arguments touched upon the deaths of Manehatten. He didn't have enough leverage for that favour. Then, on a whim, he thought of it, something she could give him, here and now, that would bind her to give him the guarantees he needed.
 
"A writ of passage." Celestia blinked.
 
"Excuse me?"
 
"A writ of passage. If nothing else, this will guarantee I will never again set foot upon Equestrian soil and so, never again be a threat to your ponies directly."
 
"Those are usually reserved to airship guilds," Celestia said dryly.
 
"I know." She tilted her head thoughtfully.
 
"What would you use it for?"
 
"That would be my business."
 
"…I can't do it." She shook her head. "That's too large a leap of faith to entrust you not to abuse such a privilege."
 
"Is it?" Handy asked. “And what in the world could I give you in return that would be an equivalent gesture of good faith?"
 
Celestia turned to face the window for a moment, thinking. Her horn lit up and a well-worn piece of parchment was levitated from behind her. Handy had to wonder for a minute if she was hiding that in her wings, or if she regularly hid things behind her back when in the middle of important discussions.
 
"Here." She levitated the piece of parchment over to Handy. He looked at it dubiously for a minute, then took it in his hands. He opened it slowly and scanned the page's contents.
 
                
Dear Princesses Celestia and Luna,
            HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
                 
                I know I got rid of him so he’d be your problem, but this is just priceless. Really, it’s just too much.
                 
                With love,
                Queen Chrysalis.


Handy just sort of… stared at the sheet for a minute or two. He then looked up at Celestia, back to the letter, then back to Celestia before inevitably asking the obvious.
 
"What?"
 
"This letter reached me not long after the… unpleasantness on board the Equesrian Express," Celestia explained. "We had already highly suspected you as a changeling agent, hence provoking our assault."
 
"I was—!"
 
"Let me finish," Celestia said, raising a hoof to forestall Handy's rebuttal. "Whatever we thought of before, this confirmed you had at the very least contact with the Queen of the Changelings. You even admitted to having done work for her before, when we last met.
 
"Before I explain anything, before I answer any questions you have for the why and how's and who’s to blame, when we were tracking you, we know you left Equestria after Manehatten and travelled into the Badlands where we know Chrysalis is hidden… and that you disappeared for a time after you entered," she continued. There was a pregnant pause. Handy opted not to confirm anything by speaking. Celestia resumed, "The only way I could possibly trust you enough with such a gesture on my part would be a guarantee, a rock-solid proof that you are not an ally of the changeling queen. That you would never abuse such a privilege in their favour and that…" She faltered for a moment. "It’s a bit late to demand you not be a threat to my ponies entirely. You can see why what you're asking is impossible."
 
Handy studied Celestia's face for a moment, thinking. Then, to Celestia's surprise, he smiled.
 
"So, Sorcha." He had no idea if the name irked the Princess. He hoped it did, but he was not rewarded with a reaction. "Would you reconsider your stance if I brought you the head of Chrysalis?"
 
"This is no time for jokes, human."
 
"I am not joking, pony," he replied in kind. "Actions speak louder than words. You cannot trust me because of my previous involvement with changelings and my admittedly suspect dodging of your tracking methods while in the Badlands. So, in order to give you a conciliatory gesture, to placate your worried heart that I am not in league with those disgusting unseleighe, would I not require something truly concrete? Like her head on a platter?"
 
"Since it’s equally as impossible to happen then yes." Celestia frowned harshly at Handy, who had a friendly smile on his face for the first time that night. Handy sat back in the chair, tapping the armrest with his fingers as he thought. He considered Celestia for a moment. If she thought anything off about his perpetually glowing eyes, she did not show it.
 
"Would you settle for part of her head?" She simply stared at him.
 
"What?"
 
Handy leaned over the table and removed the various cups and tea pots from the silver tray. He reached to his side. In truth, he originally thought to keep this as a trophy, something to spin a wild story about when he returned back to Skymount. Considering his last interaction with the changeling queen, however, he'd sooner be rid of it altogether and forget every reminder of his time underground. Might as well put it to good use. Strapped to the inside of the flap of the carrier bag he had fastened to his waist, he pulled out a long, crooked, black horn. It was twisted and gnarled and all too familiar to Princess Celestia, who sat there, wide-eyed as Handy presented it.
 
"As a gesture of good faith," Handy began confidently as he laid the black horn on the silver platter. "I present to you the horn of Queen Chrysalis of the Changelings, hewn from her very forehead not a week ago. I trust this will suffice?"
 
Celestia was literally speechless, and for the first time since Handy had laid eyes on her, her composure had completely broken and she stared agape at the gift laid practically at her hooves.
 
"How…What… What did you…? What were you even doing with her?" Celestia asked, still astonished.
 
"How about you give me what I asked for? Then, in good faith, we can trade answers." Celestia stared Handy down for a moment, but he did not budge, and then, finally, she sighed and rubbed her forehead with a hoof. She lifted the same silver bell again and rang it. A gold-plated helmet and the attached pony stuck their head through the door.
 
"Please find Raven and inform her I require the 'Tea Set'." The guard bowed his head then retreated through the door. Handy had to ask.
 
"…The Tea Set?"
 
"Ink, wax, quill, and special parchment for your… writ."
 
"I gathered, but why is it called the Tea Set?"
 
"That would take longer than either of us have to explain. Now, if you'd be so kind…" She gestured to the horn. Handy chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, thinking of the best way to explain it away without evoking more questioning.
 
"In order to help fulfil my mission, I had to engage some… questionable avenues of inquiry in order to track down my target."
 
"Your target?"
 
"The culprit behind the… attack on the festival," Handy said, his thoughts suddenly fuzzy.  'That's queer, could've sworn I fought something there other than the dragon. Old magic was involved—I can determine that much. Is this like what happened in Manehatten? Why can't I recall it?'
 
"There was more than the dragon attacking the festival?" Celestia asked.
 
"…Yes," Handy recalled, thinking very carefully about what to reveal. "I was not the target but was involved in a deal that was the subject of the warlock's attack."
 
"What warlock?"
 
"…The same one who attacked Manehatten, I presume."
 
"You presume?"
 
"Tell me, Celestia, did you find it odd that none of your soldiers knew the captive warlock's name when they apprehended him?"
 
"…It was odd."
 
"How then did they know he was the culprit?"
 
"He was found in the cellar with all the strange arcane artefacts, just in the wake of a huge magical battle."
 
"A battle in which I myself recall being a part of, in fighting, and yet for the life of me, I can't recall who I was fighting," Handy confirmed. Celestia was silent for a moment. "I take it none of your soldiers recall who it was they were fighting either, despite the horrific damage caused to life and property?"
 
"That is correct."
 
"Yet the evidence was too obvious that they were fighting something absurdly strong and threatening, threatening enough to consider working with me." Celestia looked thoughtful. "When I said I did nothing to whichever incapacitated wretch your ponies apprehended, I meant it. Because for some reason, the only thing I can recall about that cellar I was in was the preponderance of arcana, innumerable occult artefacts whose purpose and nature I could not divine, and numerous blank sheets of paper and journals."
 
"Blank… There were a lot of blank journals when my soldiers raided the cellar."
 
"I recall the pony, blueish white—hard to tell in the dark at night—but I vaguely recall him. I didn't notice him mewling pathetically on the floor until I was already halfway through ransacking the place."
 
"What were you looking for?"
 
"Coming to that. Now, why do you suppose someone such as I, on the run from the guards and injured, would not notice a flailing pony by the very cellar door leading to the surface until the last minute? Do you not think it's odd?"
 
"You could be lying."
 
"For suffering from the same malady that causes your own soldiers to forget a foe they were fighting not fifteen minutes earlier? The same one, it seems, to have rendered this unknown warlock to completely forget himself if what Brazen says is true. He certainly didn't remember his name when I demanded he identify himself."
 
"I have more questions."
 
"I'm sure you do, but let me finish your first one. The reason I was ransacking his cellar was because I was looking for something in particular. My main objective was the elimination of the warlock of course, but I had been tasked by no less an august personage as Queen Chrysalis to track down a specific artefact for her own ends."
 
"Why?"
 
"I haven't the foggiest and, to be frank with you Celestia, I did not give a tinker's damn."
 
"Then why would you even remotely agree to her demands?"
 
"Because, your Highness, she had my employee held captive. You met her; Summer Shade. She had replaced Summer with a changeling who had been impersonating her for an unknown length of time. When I became aware of it, in the wake of the attack on the festival, I was given an ultimatum: the artefact for Summer's life."
 
"Why would you care?" Celestia asked. Handy arched a brow but Celestia's question was serious. He snorted.
 
"I look after my own, Princess, even if they're a pony. Summer Shade is my retainer, a mage I employ to advise me on magical matters."
 
"An expensive servant."
 
“Am I such a monster in your eyes that you would find it so unbelievable that I’d look after another’s interest besides my own?” Handy snapped. “I take responsibility for those entrusted to my care, Princess. One would think you’d be capable of doing the same, being a ruler.”
 
“I was merely remarking upon the oddity of somepony of your stature affording the employment of a mage.”
 
“No you weren’t, and we both know it, Celestia,” Handy said sharply, using her given name. “Hold me in all the disdain you like, judge me however you please, but if you view me as a monster then at least have the decency to admit to yourself that my existence as such is your own damn fault, and that of your sister’s.”
 
“I was not making any judgements,” Celestia said diplomatically.
 
“Keep your court diplomacy for another time, your Highness. I’d prefer it if we were both frank for this conversation. Any kind of truce between myself and the Equestrian crown will not come to pass if you consider me to be some mindless force of evil, incapable of empathy.”
 
“You certainly don’t go out of your way to convince ponies otherwise, Handy.”
 
“And I’m sure you were a perfect picture of rainbows and sunshine since the day you were born. Stories are stories—how about we act like adults for this conversation?”
 
“I was merely commenting that a lot of ponies may have done the same for a servant that requires as much care as a mage retainer. They’re usually quite a hefty investment.”
 
"You'd be surprised," Handy countered, before taking a breath and returning to the point at hand. "In the end, when all was said and done, I had returned to the Badlands to fulfil my end of the bargain. I gave Chrysalis her trinket and Summer was returned to me."
 
"And that's all that transpired in the Badlands? A simple transaction?" Celestia pressed.
 
"Chrysalis and I parted on less amicable terms than we had when we last met, Celestia. She knew I wouldn't be willing to do just a regular paid job for her again, so she used some leverage. I made the transaction and that was the end of it."
 
"And nothing else happened?" Handy looked down pointedly at the horn on the table.
 
"…Nothing pleasant," he said with an odd look on his face that Celestia couldn't quite discern. "Well, seeing as we're playing twenty questions. Blackport, what happened?"
 
"Blackport was… an error on the part of my sister."
 
"Ciara?" Celestia allowed herself to roll her eyes. Handy wondered if that meant his name game was needling her. He hoped so.
 
"Luna, yes," she confirmed.
 
"And you had no say?"
 
"We rule together, Handy. Sometimes that means you don't have to consult your fellow diarch on your decisions. She had been… following you for some time and had been growing increasingly concerned about the situation with Griffonia. She deduced that whatever the cause of the crisis, the solution would involve you, since you were at the centre."
 
"So logically that means she sends in elite guards across a national border to kidnap a representative of a third power?"
 
"Their orders," Celestia persisted, remaining calm, "were to bring you to the border, to get you to Griffonia as quickly as possible."
 
"And you needed to extract me forcibly from the Enclave in order to that?"
 
"My sister is more than aware that somepony like you would elicit the Black Isles' interest considerably. Were you not aware that when Equestrian troops showed up to extract you, the Enclave immediately sought to secure you for themselves?"
 
"No, not really. Seems to be the standard greeting in pony societies, as far as I am aware," Handy replied. “Until that day, I had done literally nothing to affront the Black Isles. Why should I assume their government would take special interest in me?”
 
“You claim to have arrived here by traveling over the western ocean. The Black Isles rules those waters unchallenged, and nothing crosses them without their knowledge or permission,” Celestia said frankly. “Princess Galaxia rather… jealously guards that ocean, and your claims basically mean you found a way through her sea patrols.”
 
“...Well that explains that at least.” Handy opted to actually drink the cup of tea before him. The taste was surprisingly bitter with a peculiar bite, but not unpleasant. He’d need to acquire the taste however.
 
“And what were you doing in the Enclave in the first place anyway?”
 
“My first stop when I left the Greenwoods.” He took another sip, peering over at the monarch.
 
“You were in the Greenwoods? How did you survive?”

“I had a deer help. It's a really long story and, beyond one particular point, completely irrelevant to the matters at hand. This deer, by the name of Whirlwind ap Whisperwood, if you must know, saved me and Summer. He brought us to the forest before we could be killed… by the warlock.” There was that scratching feeling, prickling along the underside of his skull again. “He had this crystal which allowed a one way instantaneous transport to the heart of the Greenwoods. Getting out with life and limb was an ordeal. This next part will require you to do the research on your own, but the reason why this deer was significant was because he was the one I was to meet for a deal I had made in Canterlot.”
 
“A deal?”
 
“With a rather respectable looking fellow by the name of Fancy Pants,” Handy freely admitted. Celestia looked thoughtful. Good, she knew him. Maybe this would pay him back for all the bloody hassle his little ‘courier’ job had caused Handy. “After my… altercation with your nephew, I made this pony’s acquaintance. He offered me simple payment if I were to deliver an item to a friend who he had presumed, correctly as it turned out, would show up at the festival in Firthengart after word spread about the upcoming tournament.”
 
“What item?”
 
“A simple series of silver chains with some clear gems embedded in the links. Magical, of course.” Handy paused, sighing lightly. “If only I knew then what hassle agreeing to that would cause me.”
 
“More than you bargained for?”
 
“Considerably. The warlock had struck then, the dragon merely hired to create a distraction. It went berserk, the warlock attacked, I lost, and we were spirited away,” Handy summed up.
 
Celestia looked at him quizzically. “I feel as if I am not getting the full story here.”
 
“It's what I knew at the time, Princess. Everything happened almost all at once on the same day. Up until then, I had been simply enjoying the festivities as much as anyone else.”
 
“And you had no idea what was going to happen?”
 
“None. You have my word,” he confirmed. “And your sister’s little… party favour?”
 
“The tracer is alchemical mixture,” Celestia explained. “It's a soap bespelled to merge with the flesh of a pony and allow them to be monitored.”
 
“Monitored how?” Handy said lowly.
 
“Depends on the spell. With the distances involved in your case, all its spell could reveal is your approximate location.”
 
“And you considered me such an existential threat you had to violate my person?” Handy all but spat. Celestia flinched at the wording.
 
“It was a step too far,” Celestia admitted, biting her tongue before yet again placing the blame solely on her sister, “And I know you will not accept an apology, but perhaps you can at least accept my acknowledgement that we wronged you.”
 
“...Moving on. To answer several of your questions all at once, because they primarily have the same source, I will be frank with you.” Handy put the cup down and leaned on his knees. “The entire reason I am even on this continent, what happened on the Equestria Express, the warlock attacks of Firthengart, Blackport and Manehatten, and the strange magic involved in all of those events have to do with one particular pony.”
 
“A pony?”
 
“I believe her to be a pony, but I have yet to meet her in person. She is only known as the Mistress, and she possesses a powerful form of magic that, as far as I can tell, no one else knows a damn thing about,” Handy explained, retaining Celestia’s full attention. “My entire purpose for being is to seek out this Mistress and destroy her. This requires me to find and seek out elements of ‘old magic’ as its servants refer to the sorcery and, yes, employ somewhat dubious methods of information gathering to do so.
 
“The pin you showed me that your soldiers recovered from the train? I have seen more of those. Her servants wear them. The arcana your ponies recovered from the cellar in Manehatten? I cannot speak for the occult artefacts, but the innumerable pages scrawled with strange scribbles and wavy lines were definitely old magic. If you can decipher them, more power to you, because as of yet I have still failed to do so.”
 
“Is that why you have hired a personal mage?”
 
“Amongst other reasons. I have no way with magic,” Handy conceded. Celestia gave him a flat look.
 
“You drink blood to gain power, you had mimicked the appearance of a pony with ease merely moments before crashing into me, and your eyes are glowing.”
 
“A pony can lift a cup with a thought but that doesn’t make it a wizard, now does it?” he countered with an equally flat look. “Summer aids me in magical matters such as this. So far we’ve had no luck.
 
“How can I be certain what you’re telling me is true?”
 
“I’m sorry, but did we not just go over all the horrors that transpired in Manehatten?” Handy snapped. “I am no mood to retread old ground. I don’t know how long the Mistress has been in operation, but she is clearly powerful and possesses powerful servants. She seeks powerful magical artefacts in particular, such as the little piece of jewellery I was hired to deliver to the deer,” Handy continued. “You want to know why I am traipsing through Equestria, Celestia? That’s why. I was rooting out and hunting down the one responsible for the attack on Firthengart. The one responsible for nearly wiping out two royal dynasties in one fell swoop by accident. One who, if left unchecked, could become a greater threat to my adoptive kingdom.”
 
“Just a moment,” Celestia interjected. “You mentioned it was your entire reason for even being on this continent.”
 
“...Yes.”
 
“How? The earliest we knew of a warlock attack was the train.”
 
“The earliest attack on Equestrian soil,” Handy emphasised. “I tell you solemnly, the Mistress’ magic is so potent that what she plays at can affect even my homeland.”
 
“I… find that distinctly hard to believe.”
 
“I don’t care. It's why I am here.”
 
“So my sister is right then. You are an agent of a human kingdom.”
 
“No.” The exasperation was becoming harder to hold back. “If I were, my mission would have already been accomplished by now,” Celestia looked doubtful. “Trust me, if a human kingdom wanted to send an infiltrator to take care of this problem, they’d make much less noise than I do. I am far too visible.”
 
“So nopony in your lands is aware of your presence here?”
 
“No one I know of at least, much less my former government.”
 
“So you are truly a servant of Gethrenia?”
 
“Wholly.”
 
“And how am I to trust you on that? How do I know the griffon who presents himself as king of that land is the rightful heir, and not a human puppet kept in place only through his use of you as a weapon of fear?”
 
“Have you even been remotely been paying attention to your neighbours for the past, I don’t know, year?” Handy snapped at her, not for the first time. “Were you so utterly unaware of King Gerhart’s deteriorating condition on his sick bed? Were you blind to the visible corruption and decadence of Geoffrey’s reign? Are you so wilfully ignorant to know my powers as Sword of the King under Gethrenian law and tradition but know nothing of the Right of Retrieval and the Gryphonic tradition of challenging claims of succession? That it was pressed to push Johan off of his claim to the throne in the first place?”
 
She didn’t answer him, so he sat back and continued, “You are clearly not stupid, so I am going to assume you did know all of that. Why then is it so surprising that Johan would enlist aid to retake what was his in the first place? Would you have blinked twice had he enlisted the aid of a pony?”
 
“I have to be suspicious,” Celestia said. “A king died, the very night after he transferred succession from one son to another.”
 
“Slain by the hand of Geoffrey.” Celestia raised an eyebrow. It was not public record, even if most people had made the assumption that Geoffrey had committed patricide. Handy’s admission of such was the closest one came to an official acknowledgment. “The king and several guards, followed by Geoffrey himself.”
 
“And how did he die?”
 
“He was a kingslayer. How do you think he died?” Handy asked carefully. Celestia decided not to press the matter.
 
“So King Johan is guilty of no foul play?”
 
“How about you ask him that yourself, along with any spurious accusations if you do not trust my word? I have met no one more honourable in my entire time in Gethrenia… even if it's not in his best interests.” Celestia opened her mouth to question that, but then held her tongue, thinking. “Any more questions, your Highness?”
 
“A few. I take it you did not mean to endanger the lives of innocent ponies in Manehatten?”
 
“...I could not have defeated the warlock on my own. I had expected your guards to take precautions in case of collateral damage, but I could not account for everyone. It was not my intention to harm any of your civilians. If it were, I could’ve simply provoked the wizard and let your guards respond to the crisis as it unfolded without any forewarning. Be reasonable, Princess.”
 
“Tell that to the family you terrorized.”
 
“Desperate men do desperate things, Princess,” he said coolly. “They have my apologies, but I am not going to pretend I regret doing it. Every other alternative involved capture or unnecessary violence.”
 
“Very well, for now you have satisfied my curiosity,” she said, moving on from the subject.
 
“Have I?”
 
“No, but I feel if you really knew more about this ‘old magic’, then you’d have little enough reason to withhold it from me. Unless you benefitted somehow.”
 
“Believe me, Princess, if I could benefit from my encounters with old magic, I would not look nearly as haggard as I do now.”
 
“I can imagine. Why is it you are in such a hurry to cross the border that you felt the need to search for an underground smuggling ring across it?”
 
“Oh I don’t know, maybe all these rumours of a potential war brewing up north while I have been absent were a touch concerning for me. You know, the defence of Gethrenia being my responsibility and all,” Handy said sarcastically. Celestia smiled. “I am… very tired of the road, your Highness. I just wish to return home as soon as I can.”
 
“Well, if you could, would you please bring a letter to your king for me?”
 
“Can you not send one yourself?”
 
“He has not been responding to any of my missives. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here right now trying to resolve matters by hoof. Perhaps, as a gesture of good faith, I can calm the nerves of the nobility on the Griffonian borders, if you could but convince your king to reign in his own nobles.”
 
“...I will endeavour to try,” Handy said.
 
“It's all I ask.” She then thoughtfully tapped her chin. “Well, it would be good if you could get King Goldtooth to respond as well, but that may be a bit much.”
 
The door opened, and the mare Handy presumed was called Raven entered, levitating what appeared to be a small metallic case. Celestia smiled at her and waved her over. The unicorn wordlessly placed the case before Celestia, bowed her head, and retreated from the room.
 
“Oh, one more thing, Raven.”
 
“Yes, my princess?”
 
“Please fetch the countess from her room. Our talk here is concluded, but we would very much like to have another word with her before she is too deep in her slumber.”
 
“Of course, Princess,” Raven said before closing the door behind her.
 
“What's left to ask?” Handy enquired.
 
“Who her friend is on the Firthengarian side of the border,” Celestia replied. She smiled as she opened the case, unfurled a thick sheet of parchment, and began writing with a quill. She had this… look in her eye, a glimmer. “I imagine you might want to know that. Oh, and one more thing.”
 
“What?”
 
“How did you fool the tracer? Last I heard from my sister, you were on your way east.”
 
“...Ways and means. Speaking of your sister, how can I be absolutely sure she will be bound by what you have agreed with me? It is her, chiefly, who is responsible for all of my foul relations with your land.”
 
“I will impress myself upon her. Though really, nothing I say will likely mean all that much to her unless she speaks with you herself.”
 
“I would rather avoid that, if you don’t mind.”
 
“Mm,” she hummed as she continued writing, quill scratching being the most audible noise in the room. “Out of curiosity, why are you not speaking like you did before?”
 
“I’m sorry?”
 
“Like that. You’ve speaking to me without the fanciful style my own sister is rather fond of using.”
 
“To be honest, Majesty, I am simply not in the mood to be polite is all.” She seemed amused by this and looked back down to her work.
 
“I do hope, if nothing else is achieved this night, that we are at least making some progress towards understanding one another, if not reconciliation.”
 
Handy did not say anything, opting instead to idly look out the window of the richly appointed room as the princess continued her work. The golden sheen he had seen before was gone—he guessed she must have taken down the shield. He wasn’t going to escape without his prize after all, no matter how easy it would have been to simply break through the glass, uncaring of whatever damage it caused. He was good at that, he now realized. There were entire streets of broken glass in Manehatten that stood testament to that fact… and the broken lives they now reflected.
 
“Perhaps,” he said under his breath.
 

--=--


It was another hour or so before Handy could leave the room. The proceeding discussion with Brazen Hearthfire had been quite an enlightening event, giving Handy much food for thought, so much so that he almost didn’t see the veritable army of guard ponies until he practically ran into one. He looked up, then down, then above the hallway.
 
He sighed.
 
“Look, guys, it's been a long day. Can you just let me pass, because we both know damn well you have to?” Several of the guards looked at each other. At least some of them seemed familiar. Where did he… ah! That was it. The pony with the short muzzle and a distinctive mark under his left eye. He was pretty low on Handy’s personal shit list, but he’d remember anyone he had put on there sooner or later. Now was neither the time nor place to do anything about it, however.
 
Grudgingly, the guards parted as he made his way past and down the hall. Every step of the way, over a dozen pair of eyes were trained on his back.
 
‘You know,’ he thought to himself, ‘one of these days those guards are going to get sick of idly standing by while I walk past, immune from their retribution, and they’ll just snap.’
 
The realization stayed with him as he continued wandering. If, at the very least, this particular batch of royal guards lost their collective shit, there didn’t seem to be any night guards amongst them. He supposed that it was fortunate. He’d rather not be ganged up upon by a host of vampire horses. Again.
 
The home of the countess was, despite its luxurious appointments, small and simple as far as noble homes went. That was not to say he did not get lost. This was a fortified home in a walled city, the corridors designed to slow down incoming enemies and so if one did not know their way around, they’d get turned around very easily. Handy would be fucked if he’d ask for directions.
 
He used his auspex to find where Crimson was. Not that it helped a damn because he still couldn’t distinguish one person from another at a distance using his new sense on its own… assuming he even could with practice, of course. Still, it was good at determining who was distressed and who was calm, so he went towards the one sense in the entire building he felt that remained eerily calm and collected. He knew Crimson could switch between a strangely icy persona with strangers and a complete different one when in his presence, but the sheer scope was startling when you could literally feel the difference in another person.
 
He found her in a study, idly looking over a chart of the local countryside. She smiled when he entered. The two guards shadowing her did not.
 
“We’re leaving. Come,” he said simply. Crimson gave the two guards an unpleasant look before pulling her hood up and following after him.
 
“Master?” she asked quietly as they left the front entrance.
 
“Walls have ears. Keep your questions simple for now.”
 
“Oh. Okay. Where are we going now?”
 
“Celestia says we can stay the night in town without fear, rest up before going across the border.”
 
“Are we?”
 
“No,” Handy replied flatly. “If nothing else, we still need to be on the other side of that border before Jacques reaches the far side.”
 
“Ah,” she said as they walked through the empty streets. Several of the lampposts were lit, and more than a few soldiers could be seen still doing their rounds, eyeing the human and pony suspiciously. If Celestia kept her word, they’d be dissipating back to their regular duty stations or homesteads, and the border would be demilitarized. She’d be using the countess as an example to get the other nobles to fall in lockstep to de-escalate the situation, partially, Handy assumed, out of embarrassment of having been drawn in by the countess’ con.
 
It seems the little countess, new to her position and having only recently come into nobility, was unsatisfied with her usual profitable income. That said quite a lot given not a few of her neighbours would quite like to be sitting where she was. However, she was too shrewd to do something as daft as increase the taxation on the people or the excise and import duties on merchants. That would cause no end of stink and give her own overlord, some duke Handy didn’t quite catch the name of, reason to extract bigger taxation from her.
 
That just wouldn’t do, and with the rising tensions between Gethrenia and Firthengart, she had an opportunity to get a bigger slice of the pie, at least for a time. An inflammatory speech to incite her peers to help lock down the border, a ceasing of trade, and a sudden demand for goods to get across an inaccessible border. A demand she could supply with a ready-made smuggling route. A lack of trade meant less taxes tolled upon her by her overlord. After all, he could not reasonably expect her to pay the usual amounts if she couldn’t get the usual trade due to exceptional circumstances.
 
Soon enough merchants were coming to her town as the last stop before they went to various contacts to sneak their goods across, until finally they reached the border and paid a toll to the guards there, with Brazen getting her cut at every step of the way. Her people did not have additional taxes, were placated by still receiving the abundance of trade and resources they were accustomed to, kept in place by fear and reassured by the presence of soldiers. All the while, little Miss Brazen was making a rather substantial personal profit.
 
Handy had no idea what Celestia was going to do to her for these shenanigans, but he had to admire the sheer audacity and pettiness of her plan. And he would, if it didn’t exacerbate an already terrible problem that was going to cause him a headache. He rubbed his forehead as they walked on. He turned to say something to Crimson when out of the corner of his eye, he could have sworn he saw something.
 
He turned around, looking back up the street they had come. Crimson stopped and looked up curiously.
 
“Master? Is there something wrong?”
 
“Nothing it's just… I thought I saw something.” He reached out with his auspex before immediately regretting it and shortening the range. He was in the middle of a large town, hundreds and hundreds of people in the buildings around him. It was a bad idea to put that strain on him all at once like that. He shook his head and strained his vision. He had spotted something, but what?
 
It was when the clouds moved and the moonlight fully illuminated the slim spectre of black against the navy blue of the night sky that he realised what he had seen. It was a bit far away, but he could swear he saw those same green eyes staring down at them from the roof of the countess’ house. If anything, the shape of the wings only confirmed her identity.
 
It was her, it had to be. What the hell was she doing here? Had she been there the whole time? Was she listening in? Why hadn’t Celestia mentioned she was here? Did she not know? No, of course she knew. There was no way she couldn’t have known. Innumerable thoughts raced through Handy’s mind as he stood there, staring up at her. Anger and alarm raged with each other for dominance as a horrifying possibility came to mind.
 
‘Had she been following them this whole time?’ That Celestia would appear here, on the last town before he left Equestria, was a hell of a coincidence. But what if it wasn’t? What if Celestia knew he was heading here? What if she knew he had spoofed the tracing magic and fobbed it off on some yokel? What if she knew all this because this entire time since Manehattan, he had been personally stalked by that damnable bat pony!? Every night when they had went to sleep, the innumerable times they had let their guard down while traveling, all those times he had been vulnerable and completely unaware of her presence. She knew now he could sense people. Was she always there? Just out of range? Hiding in the shadows just far enough away that he wouldn’t suspect a thing?
 
‘No no, wait, get a hold of yourself.’ He turned around and urged Crimson on. The unicorn appeared confused but did not argue the matter as Handy hurried his pace and entered the twisting narrow streets of the town centre. ‘The night ponies serve Luna directly, not Celestia. If anything, he should have run into Luna here.’
 
The logic was sound, but it didn’t answer everything.
 
‘But if that's the case, why is she here at all? If Celestia was telling the full truth, why did she not let me know she was here? Was she protecting her? No, that’s stupid. I couldn’t so much as lay a finger on her with the princess and the preponderance of guards here,’ he thought desperately. Was she going to shadow him into Griffonia as well? What for? What purpose would that serve? Was that entire talk just a ruse? A set up in some other grand game he was not seeing?
 
“Crimson, I need you to cast your illusion spell,” he said suddenly as the pair wandered down a side road.
 
“What for? I thought we could—”
 
“Just do it. Make… Make yourself look like one of the guards. I’ll follow suit.” Crimson raised a brow but then nodded. Her horn glowed bright red and a wave of magic washed over her body, cloak, bags and all. What was left was the facade of a yellow guardsmare. By her own admission, illusions were not her strong suit, being a part of her regular, under-practiced, non-old magic repertoire. It wouldn’t stand up to strong magical scrutiny but Handy didn’t need it to. He used the opportunity presented by Crimson’s momentarily closed eyes to project the form of a bog standard guard himself. “Let’s go.”
 
“Master, what—?”
 
“Just… trust me on this,” he said as they exited the street. He looked back up to the fortified house, just making out its roof over the tops of the buildings around him. Stellar was gone. He kept a wary eye on the rooftops around them as he led Crimson on. “I’ll… explain it to you later, Crimson. We have a long overdue talk, you and I.”
 
“Really?” Crimson asked, and he nodded, “What about?”
 
Handy looked back once more, making sure no one else was listening in.
 
“I think it's long past time you told me everything you know about old magic.”
 

--=--


Stellar alighted in the courtyard at the back of the house and shifted uneasily in her plate. Everything about this struck her as just… just wrong. She knew why Celestia was letting him go. Hell, she just got him to effectively agree to the very mission objective Luna had charged her with over a month ago.
 
But it didn’t sit right with her, though she didn’t know why. The fact he had appeared at all in Hayverslock had been a shock to her. She had actually been enjoying a rare moment’s respite, conversing with local guards over a cup of water…. which she had proceeded to choke on the second she heard the news.
 
She had already told the princess everything she knew about the human, from the train onwards. More than once, just so Celestia could be sure she got every detail she could. It had been agonizing, that one single moment of weakness, that one mistake, was haunting her now and probably would for the remainder of her life. Now this had happened. She was to just stand there and watch as he waltzed merrily on his way as if nothing had happened in Manehatten. Because of politics.
 
“My apologies for keeping you waiting so long, my little pony.” Stellar immediately turned and stood to attention. Celestia merely smiled at her and beckoned her to come closer. “I trust all is well?”
 
Stellar made to answer before holding her tongue. She didn’t come all this way to lie to Celestia.
 
“No, Princess, it is not.” Celestia frowned at that.
 
“What’s wrong?” Stellar tried to come up with the words. She bowed her head.
 
“Princess… I believe it is a mistake to not hold him to account for his actions.”
 
“Actions?” Celestia asked.
 
“He deliberately lured our soldiers into a dangerous situation. He was perfectly willing to abandon us to it too, even after promising help,” Stellar protested. “Ponies died, your Highness, good ponies. I cannot abide…” She paused as her words caught up to her, and swallowed. “I know that I, of all ponies, have no right to pass judgement on anypony, but we can’t do nothing!”
 
Celestia studied the thestral for some time before looking up at the moon.
 
“Nopony is more furious over the loss of innocents than I, Private Stellar,” Celestia said quietly, her tone warm and maternal. “Would any have been saved had he intervened earlier, do you think?”
 
“We have to assume so!” Stellar shouted, then chastened herself when she realised to whom she was speaking. She continued in a quieter voice, “I am wholly responsible for his enmity to our kingdom, Princess. His actions, his deliberate reticence, are in part my own fault. I cannot let this go.”
 
“Your words do you credit,” Celestia said, smiling down at the smaller pony before letting out a shallow breath. “I am afraid, for now, you will have to.”
 
“Princess!” she protested, but was halted by a raised hoof.
 
“I am sorry, but that's just the way it has to be for now.” Celestia opened her eyes to look upon the distraught face of the soldier before her. “You are being overly harsh on yourself. Whatever you may have done in the past, you cannot be held accountable for the willing actions of another in the present. Your feud with the human, for the greater good, must be put aside.”
 
“But…” she began, before bringing herself up short and readopting a professional mask, not without some effort, mind. “I… understood, Princess.”
 
“...Do you?” Celestia asked after some time, studying the thestral. Stellar held her gaze long enough for her to make her judgement. “Very well, see to it that you do. I will have words with my sister to undo the restrictions placed upon the night guard. You’ll no longer have to be watched by ponies of my personal guard any longer.”
 
“Princess, why—?”
 
“Because I believe we’ve all had enough of being suspicious of our neighbours, and charity starts at home,” Celestia replied. “I have other things I will require my sister, and her guard, to look into. To do that effectively, they will require a free hoof without my obvious oversight, and you, Stellar, will be key to advising Princess Luna.”
 
“Advising her on what?”
 
“On a much bigger threat to Equestria than the human ever posed, real or imagined. Now, I know this is the time of day you are most active, but I recommend you get some sleep. We’ll return to Canterlot soon.”
 
Stellar simply nodded and saluted as the princess returned to the house. She held it until after the door was shut. When her hoof returned to the ground, her blood went cold and her mind thunderous.
 
Though as she stood there in the moonlight, listening to the quiet whisper of the water fountain, she consoled herself with at least one gain they had made this night. She herself had not been there to bear witness to it, but other ponies were. They had seen the moment the human shed his disguise and ran through the streets like a panicked animal. More importantly, they had seen what it was that had frightened him so. She turned to look over the courtyard wall, spying the glass housing of the candle of a street lamp peeking just over the wall from the street below.

And watched the candle flame dancing in the night