//------------------------------//
// Interlude I - Discovery 
// Story: Forged Anew 
// by Vermillion Prose 
//------------------------------//

The Ordus Arcana had been a strike cruiser of no little size. Capable of carrying and supporting a force of over one hundred astartes, its large launch bays, drop pod launchers, and other planetary assault assets had taken up much of the ship tonnage. What was not dedicated to those operations were the massive and powerful realspace engines and weapon systems that would ensure it arrived at the heart of a target star system, and the warp drive that allowed galaxy-spanning transit had been a large portion of the engineering quarter. As such, much of the ship had survived atmospheric entry, though the damage from battle and stress of its fall from orbit had broken the cruiser into a multitude of pieces.

The section that Twilight had discovered had been a portion of engineering. Though the warp drive had disappeared, along with much of the main reactor, during the event that had flung the crippled vessel careening into Equestria, the armored bulkheads of the section had likely been the only thing that preserved the integrity of the rubricae’s armor.

In another portion of the desert, miles away, lay one of the few portions of the vessel that had made landfall largely intact. With the extensive damage to it and a lack of knowledge or point of reference, the pony scientists and recovery teams exploring it under the auspices of the royal guard could not readily determine what section of the ship it was. However, it was clear it had been more central in the hull, for it contained what were surmised to be living quarters, training facilities, and meditation chambers.

Some of the scientists were outside among the expedition tents trying to recover their wits and control of their stomachs. Within the wreck had been several dozen charred or otherwise ruined bodies in broken power armor, charred, pulped, torn, or otherwise killed either in battle or during the crash. Among the scholars and recovery team were a few griffons and minotaurs selected by their nations with the Sisters' blessing to contribute and represent their peoples in the endeavor.

Sigfried, one of the griffons, was far less off-put by the prospect of grisly demise. His family had a history of royal service, often in the griffon army, some as medics or surgeons, and as such had passed down a sense of necessary indifference and focus on completing the task. Being squeamish was an obstacle.

Even so, he made sure to wipe off his talons any time they slipped in a greasy slick of something unidentifiable, though while doing so he slipped on yet another that he had failed to spot while wiping his claw off. His wings sprawled out as he cut out an eagle-cry of frustration and surprise, flailing down the corridor he had slipped into and tumbling to a stop abruptly and forcefully against a sealed blast door.

After spluttering a few curses, righting himself, and dusting himself off, he lifted the flashlight he had brought with him and panned it about the hall to take stock of his surroundings. The area was in better shape than some of the other places he had seen, and as his light flashed over the door he noticed the labeling above the hatch. He flipped through the notes provided to the recovery team, compiled from Twilight’s exchanges with the living armor that had been recovered weeks before, and compared her studies on the human writing styles with the markings above the door.


“ARMOURY”