//------------------------------// // Chapter Fourteen - Shadow of the Empire // Story: Ice Fall // by Bluespectre //------------------------------// CHAPTER FOURTEEN   SHADOW OF THE EMPIRE   “How are you feeling?”   Chalk stirred in his bed, his eyes full of sleep. Turning over with a yawn, he found himself coming face to face with a red mare, “Gretel?”   “Who else?” She murmured stroking his mane, “Do you want somepony else?”   “No…I…I thought you’d…”   “I’ve made my mind up, Chalky.” She said quietly, “If you can promise me you’ll never use magic on my ship, you can stay here for as long as you want as part of the crew.”   “Part of the crew…” he echoed, his heart suddenly feeling horrible empty.   Gretel bopped him on the nose, “Stop that! I just need some time, that’s all. And then, well, we’ll see…” she trailed off. Kissing him on the muzzle she climbed out of the bed, “This may be new to you but it is to me as well you know, my fine white stallion. You can wait, can’t you?” She flicked her tail alluringly, “I promise it’ll be worth it…”   She stuck her tongue out playfully making Chalk smile.   “Aye, aye Captain.”   Gretel was a little older than him. How much he had no idea, but it didn’t matter. She made his heart soar every time he saw her. By the goddesses, he would walk all the way to Tartarus and back just to see that smile. He breathed in, her scent filling his nostrils, the heady scent of…   “It’s Lily of the Valley”, she said quietly noticing him smelling the air, “Do you like it?”   “It’s wonderful”, Chalk sighed, “Like you”   “Smoothie”, Gretel chuckled, “Now, I take it you’re feeling better?”   “Lots” Chalk replied honestly, “What happened to me?”   Gretel shook her yellow mane and brought over a cup of water for him,   “Balta happened, and lots of it too! That stuff’s dangerous, Chalky. It’s the reason we nearly lost the ship and our lives.” She grimaced, “Bloody thestrals.”   “I only had a few…” He rubbed his head, pulling himself out of the bed, “I think.”   “One’s bad enough” Gretel said, “and the rest of it’s going overboard the first chance I get!”   Chalk rubbed his temples, “I don’t think I’d argue with you on that point”   Gretel passed him a washbowl and flannel, “You’ve made an impression with the crew at least” she said, “Even if the methods were a bit more crude than I’d have liked.”   Chalk looked up, “That’s…good?”   Gretel  laughed, “Oh, it’s good. If they hadn’t taken to you then…”   “I know” Chalk replied honestly, “It’s the whole unicorn thing.”   Gretel nodded.   “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask about that.” Chalk said seriously, “What’s the problem with unicorns on board ship anyway? There were unicorns on the ones I saw at the docks back home and there are unicorns down below with the ones we helped to escape from the Legion camp.”    “I suppose I could ask Doc to tell you”, the red mare said picking up her hat and sword, “he’s a lot more eloquent than I am.” She scratched her mane thoughtfully, “Truthfully, Chalky, I don’t really know. Unicorns have always been considered bad luck aboard sky galleons and the use of magic, of any kind, has always been believed to be hazardous. Dad hammered it into me as a foal and I respect his teachings.”   She walked up to him, taking the flannel and gently wiped his muzzle, “So no magic, Mister Chalk Dust, understand?”   “Aye, Cap’n”   “Good lad.” She kissed him on the muzzle and gave him a quick squeeze, “And no more kisses for you until you brush your teeth. That breath could take out a boarding party!”   Chalk laughed quietly. His head still felt like somepony had flayed it, but at least the room had stopped spinning. His throat had a strange minty taste to it too, but it wasn’t a pleasant one by any stretch of the imagination. Reaching the wash bowl, he took up the toothbrush Gretel had found for him and set to work.   “Don’t be long now”, she called back to him as she opened to the cabin door, “We’ll be making port any time now.”   “Port?” Chalk answered around a mouthful of toothpaste.   Gretel rolled her eyes, “Yes, ‘port’. It’s where ships dock?”   “I know that!” Chalk said spitting the toothpaste into the bowl, “I mean which one?”   “You’ll see.” Gretel called as the door closed behind her, “Just get those teeth cleaned, get dressed and come up on deck.”   Chalk rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, “Yes ‘mum’…”   It was a perfect morning, with pure blue skies, an equally blue sea, seagulls wheeling overhead and…hang on…sea? Chalk had a double take…they were landing! He rushed over to the side of the Revenge and stared down wide eyed. Sure enough, the magical vessel was slowly approaching the surface of the ocean. Around him, the crew were rushing about hauling lines and calling to one another while the ship descended. The deck was a hive of activity and, once again, Chalk felt distinctly left out. It wasn’t that much of a surprise really, he’d only been on board a few days after all, but still, he wondered, he’d like to be able to do ‘something’ to help.   Gretel was leaning over the balustrade on the quarterdeck shouting orders down to the officers on deck who in turn passed the instructions to the crew. The whole effort appeared to be one of practiced ease, probably now so second nature to the experienced ponies that orders were more or less superfluous. Chalk tried to speak to the red mare, finding himself waved off as she bellowed down to the helmspony. Deciding it would be better to do something rather than nothing, he made his mind up to go below and see if Doc needed a helping hoof.   Chalk dodged past the rushing ponies and reached the hatchway, quickly nipping down out of the way. It seemed peculiar to him how, when the ship was high above the clouds, there was less activity from the crew than there was now. It was like the Revenge was in her natural element in the sky and all but flying her self. Yet now, bringing her down to earth, or rather water, she needed her crew to help her down. In a strange sense, Chalk felt as if ancient vessel longed to be up there, beyond the cares of the land and sea, far beyond the wars of ponies or thestrals. Up there she was free and she resented being made to leave that place of peace on the whims of its Equestrian crew.   Below decks, the thunder of hooves on the deck above was all but drowned out by the excited chatter of the ponies in the hold. Doc and Faith were checking over the ponies one by one and giving each of them a small package of bread, dried fruit and a water container. The kind gesture seemed like just the sort of thing Gretel would do, Chalk thought to himself. She might come across as a little ‘rough and ready’ at times, but she was at heart a genuinely kind mare.   “What’s going to happen to them, Doc?” Chalk asked with a smile.   The blue stallion hoofed his bag to Faith and lead Chalk away, “They’ll go back to their people of course. There’s contacts for the Celestian army here in port that we know. They’ll be able to arrange transportation home through them.” He gave the white stallion a quizzical look, “Will you be joining them?”   “I…I don’t know” Chalk said honestly, “I want to stay aboard, but Bracken…”   Doc nodded, “I understand, I was in a similar position once myself.”   “Really?”   The ships doctor raised an eyebrow as he rubbed his muzzle,   “Mmhmm. I was a medical pony for the Legion.”   “What?!” Chalks voice dropped, “Bloody hell, Doc! Don’t tell anypony that!”   “Why not?” Doc asked raising an eyebrow, “The past is the past. It’s what we do with our lives today and in the future that matters, Mister Dust.”   “I know, but still…the Legion?”   Doc opened the door to sickbay, holding it open for him, “You know the tent?”   “How could I forget?” Chalk replied bitterly. He knew which one Doc meant. It had possessed a terrible ominous feel to it, a sense of darkness, emptiness and the sapping away of hope.   “You go in and they interrogate you.” Doc explained, taking a note pad out of his drawer, “It’s not cruel, you’re not harmed, you’re simply asked to choose.”   “Choose what?”   The blue stallion took out his pipe, “The sun or the moon. That’s all, there’s not much more to it.”   Chalks blood ran cold, “I think I can guess the rest.”   “You want to, Chalk, believe me, the reality is a lot worse.” Doc fixed him with a hard look, “Those who choose ‘wrongly’ find their future options, shall we say, ‘severely curtailed’.”   It all made sense now. Chalk had had the feeling Gretel knew more about that tent than she let on, and it was probably to stop the ponies panicking before they’d had a chance to formulate an escape. He closed his eyes and tried not to think of which way he would have gone. Was loyalty to Celestia really worth dying for? But…could you so easily join the forces of the moon, the Legion, and fight those who were once your brothers and sisters? Chalk shuddered.   “Why did you…” he licked his lips, the question seemed painfully inquisitive, but he felt he had to know, “you know, leave the Legion?”   Doc’s pink eyes gazed at him a moment, “Why? Because I don’t like the way they do things, Mister Chalk, that’s why.”   “We were always told how evil they are,” Chalk said, “their acts of cruelty are supposedly beyond compare.”   “Do you always believe everything you hear?” Doc asked curiously.   Chalk stammered, “I…No, no of course not.”   Doc put down his notepad and looked Chalk straight in the eyes as he lit his pipe, “Let me tell you something, Mister Chalk Dust the unicorn. It wasn’t that long ago that some earth ponies believed that unicorns were nothing more than a story, a myth, something to enthral or frighten young foals with. You and others like you, with your ‘magical horn’, simply didn’t exist in our world.” He waved a hoof at him, “And yet there you are, sitting before me, horn and all.”   “But…of course we exist!” Chalk said in amazement, “How could you not know that?”   “You’re not grasping what I’m saying, are you?” Doc huffed out a gout of tobacco smoke, “The earth ponies where I’m from had never seen a unicorn. We knew about magic, sure, but it wasn’t as you know and use it, it was more…” He waved a hoof for emphasis, “’artefact based’.” Doc sighed, “Chalky, look, what I’m trying to say is that if a pony had come along and said, ‘Hey everypony, guess what? Unicorns exist!’, they would have been either laughed at or thrown in a nut house. But paradoxically, what ponies usually believe is more often than not dictated by what they’re told by those they trust rather than real first hoof experience. Besides, some things are just easier to accept than others. For example, if somepony told me a fantastical creature I’d never heard of actually existed, it would be hard for me to accept without any actual proof. On the other hoof, if I was told that falling off a cliff would probably kill me, or that putting my tail near the fire would result in a burnt arse, I could accept that a lot more easily. You see, you are more likely to question one than the other, even though both could be true. Are you getting the picture?”   “I think so”, Chalk said scratching his head, “But what’s that got to do with the Legion? We know for a fact they’re the aggressors as they invaded our home. We know they’ve killed ponies and they kill anypony who doesn’t join them, you said so yourself.”   Doc stretched in his chair languorously, “Ah, i’m probably not explaining it that well.” He said suddenly, “Listen, your experience, your knowledge of the Legion is based upon what, fighting them?”   Chalk nodded.   “So,” Doc continued, “I imagine I’d be right in presuming you know nothing of their real motives and intentions, correct?”   Again, Chalk nodded.   “Well, there you go then.”   Chalk shook his head, “So you’re saying that because I have no knowledge of the Legion beyond my experience in fighting them, that I can’t assume they have evil intentions towards Equestria?”   “That’s a very simplistic way of putting it” Doc stated “But it’ll do. In a nutshell, no, you should never ‘assume’ anything.” He pointed his pipe stem at Chalk, “Always work from facts Mister Chalk, facts. There’s too much bloody jumping to conclusions and misinformation flying around already without ponies going about believing all the propaganda bull that’s being spouted by those sending the young to fight their wars.”   “So if the Legions not evil, then why’d you leave?” Chalk asked.   Doc groaned, “I’ve already said haven’t I? Because I didn’t like the way they do things! The tent being one of them, and the way they make anypony who joins them, and is fit enough, take up arms against their fellows. Believe me, that is not something you want to do.”   Chalk raised a hoof, “But you’d be classified as a deserter and hunted down wouldn’t you?”   “Yes,” Doc replied calmly, “But trying to catch a few missing ponies is quite low down on their priorities right now, wouldn’t you say?”   Doc passed Chalk a shot glass of some strange pink liquid,   “Now, get that down you. The rest have had theirs.”   Chalk wrinkled his nose up at the strong chemical smell, “What is it? It smells like…”   “Piss. Yes it does, “ Doc stated honestly, “But it’ll stop you getting hide rot, and its epidemic around here.”   “Hide rot?” Chalk asked, lifting up the small glass.   “It starts off with itching fur, then large sore around the size of a bit begin to develop all over your body.” Doc explained, “Your skin will start flaking and is usually characterised by a strong smell of cheese that…”   “-Alright!” Chalk downed the strange smelling concoction, “There! Goddess damn it Doc, you don’t need to be so graphic!”   “Got you to take you medicine though, didn’t it?”   He had to concede defeat there, he had.   “Doc, can I ask a question?” Chalk asked.   “If you like”   “Why are all the ponies on board earth ponies? I know its superstition and goes way back, but I don’t see any pegasi either.”   Doc leaned back in his chair and took a draw on his pipe,   “Behind every superstition, there is some fact, some reason why it came into being. Apparently not even the last Captain, Gretel’s father, knew why and I’ve read all his diaries too.” He tapped his hoof on the desk, “There is one unbreakable rule on board, Mister Chalk. I think you know what that is?”   Chalk nodded, “Don’t use magic.”   “Don’t use magic” Doc echoed, “If you do, the Captain will have you off this ship faster that you can blink.” He leaned forward, “Regardless of how she feels about somepony. Do I need to explain further?”   “No, Doc.”   “Good.” The blue stallion said taking a puff on his pipe, “Right then, go and see your friend. We’ll be going ashore soon for some well deserved rest and recuperation.”   “Any suggestions of where to go in port?” Chalk asked.   “Well, most of the crew will be visiting the Full Moon, the waterfront tavern. After that they’ll no doubt be off to Madam Pickles. That reminds me…” Doc suddenly leaped from his chair and began rummaging in the cupboards.   Chalk scrubbed his mane, “Uh, Madam Pickles?”   Doc paused and looked back at him over his shoulder, “It’s the best whorehouse around, Mister Chalk. However, I would suggest NOT going there. After all, if Gretel really does have…’feelings’ for you, then you may find yourself needing more medical attention than I can give you.”   “What?!” Chalk squeaked, “You mean she’d…” he gulped.   “Oh yes,” Doc smirked, lowering his voice, “it’s not so easy to sew things back on Mister Chalk, and trust me, you need that thing for more than dallying with mares. Yes?”   “Yes!”   “Now then,” Doc stood up, pushing jars of a silver cream like substance into his bag, “I need to distribute this to the crew before somepony catches a dose of something we don’t want on board this ship.”   Chalk’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates. Surely the doctor was joking with him, just saying these things to take the piss out of the new guy. Wasn’t he? A shudder ran down his spine as he finally realised just how different the world was he’d suddenly found himself in. Thestrals aside, the crew aboard the King Sombra’s Revenge were as equally alien to him in other ways. Was that why he’d found himself so attracted to Gretel? Because she was different? Perhaps she felt the same way about him too, but…was that really…love? Goddesses, he was so confused!   A hoof clopped him on the shoulder,   “Go see your friend, Chalk. The two of you need to talk things over.”   Chalk nodded. He’d been dreading this. The two of them hadn’t really spoken since their shouting match the other day and poor Bracken had been left chained to the wall of his cell all that time. At least he’d been well fed and watered, the crew even slipping him some ale on occasion. But…He sighed, he’d have to apologise.   The door creaked open, the cell beyond looking surprisingly empty.   “Brack?”   A figure in a cloak suddenly appeared from the foot of the bed, making him yelp in fright.   “Come to see me at last have you?” The figure said, throwing back the cowl of the travel cloak, “Big of you.”   “Bloody hell, Brack, I thought it was the grim reaper for a minute there!” Chalk cleared his throat, “And…well…look, I’m sorry about the other day.”   “You bloody well should be!” Bracken snapped, “You left me here stuck in a cell with nopony to speak to and…and…” He hung his head, “Oh, damn it all Chalky. I don’t want to fall out with you, you’re my friend. I’ll respect whatever decision you want to make.”   “Does that mean you want to stay aboard?” Chalk asked.   Bracken looked away, his voice distant, “I…Chalky, look…”   There was a sudden sensation of slowing and the muted roar of water as the ship rocked from side to side. Bracken’s eyes went wide in alarm, his mouth hanging open. Chalk held up a hoof,   “We’ve landed on the sea, Brack. We’ll be in port soon and then we can go ashore!”   “You mean I’ll be able to get off this bloody tub?” Bracken leaned against the bed in relief, “Thank Celestia for that!”   Chalk frowned. He’d taken quite a liking to the ship and to hear of her like that rankled. He wanted to say something but decided against it. After all, Brack didn’t really understand. How could he?   “Stay here, I’ll go see what’s happening.” Chalk announced suddenly and raced for the steps.   “I’m not going anywhere!” Bracken shouted after him. “Damn it all!” he cursed, “This is becoming a bloody habit.”   Up on deck, Chalk dodged around ropes, crew and a glowering Cyclone before reaching the quarterdeck.   “There it is, Chalky,” Gretel announced, waving towards the shoreline, “a more rotten stinking hive of filth and depravity you’ll never see. The beer’s like gnats piss and the whores diseased and scurvy ridden. Welcome to the carbuncle on the arse of all that is decent in the world; Welcome, to Spurs Anvil.”   Chalk blinked. Gretel’s description didn’t sound so inviting, “Suddenly, I don’t feel so keen on going ashore.” He said looking out at their destination.   “Got your sea legs have you?” Gretel laughed clopping him on the shoulder, “Good, but you still need time ashore from time to time. Gives the crew a chance to let their manes down and spend their loot.”   “Loot?” Chalk asked intrigued.   “Pay.” Gretel corrected quickly, “Oh! And I nearly forgot, here’s yours.”   She tossed him a small pouch of bits. Opening it, he nearly fell over in shock,   “Bloody hell, Gretel! There’s…”   “Don’t wave it around!” The Captain admonished, pushing the pouch back at him, “You earned your cut for helping us out back at Nightmare Moon’s camp, in more ways than one. There’s a little bonus in there from me too, so don’t spend it all in one place. Oh, and…Chalky?”   “Hmm?”   “I don’t want us to have any…’misunderstandings’” Gretel shifted uncomfortably, “But, please, steer clear of Madam Pickles’ place, okay? Its bad news, and ponies get hurt in there. I don’t want you…”   Chalk shook his head, “- Don’t worry, Doc’s already warned me. I’d like to go ashore with Bracken and have a look around. Besides, I think he…” he closed his eyes. He didn’t want to say it, he didn’t want to think it, but…“I think it may be the last time I see him, Gretel. He wants to go back to the army and…I want to stay here…that is…” he trailed off.   The Captain leaned on the balustrade with a sigh, watching the port growing nearer by the minute, the large sails above her snapping in the breeze. The Revenge skipped through the water just as she always had, the carefully crafted hull leaving barely a ripple in her wake. This was her home, the only one she had ever known. Somehow, now, she felt more aware of that fact than she ever had. Gretel ran her hoof along the old carved woodwork and spoke softly,   “I promised you I’d have an answer for you, and I shall.” She looked up, “I want to see the harbour master while we’re here, so you go and enjoy yourself with the crew. But, Chalky, come to my cabin tonight after four bells.” After spotting his already forming question, she quickly added, “That’s after ten o’clock.” Gretel lifted her hoof, “Have a look in the pouch.”   Opening his pannier, Chalk spotted a smaller package inside. Resisting the urge to use his magic, he used his teeth to pull out the cloth parcel and began carefully teasing out the contents. Something flat, rounded and cold dropped out onto his hoof. It was brass by the looks of it, with a long thin chain.   “My goddesses!” the white stallion exclaimed in surprise, “Gretel, it’s…”   “-It’s a spare, you can have it.” She said absently, “Just, take care of it, okay?”   “Of course!”   Chalk lifted it up to his ear, listening to the steady ticking of the seconds and popped the lid. Inside was a picture of a pony. Who it was, he had no idea, but she was quite the looker. It was painted, and nicely too, the pale pink mare with the plaited blue mane looked out with a pair of bottle green eyes. She was…beautiful. Chalk closed the lid and lifted his head to see Gretel watching him intently.   “Bring your friend up on deck, Chalky.” She said absently, “We’ll be going ashore as soon as we’ve got our cargo shifted.”   By ‘cargo’, no doubt Gretel meant the ponies in the hold. Chalk leaned on the balustrade while the ship’s Captain trotted off to shout at some poor crewpony. He sighed inwardly. It can’t have been much fun being stuck in the hold all this time, no matter how thoughtful their hosts had been. Being confined away from the sun was no good for anypony, and the already ‘interesting’ smell emanating from below decks was becoming an almost sentient being in its own right. It stank!   Taking a deep breath of the salt air, Chalk set off back to the hold where Doc hoofed over the keys to the brig. Much to the relief of the single occupant, in short order the shackles holding Bracken’s legs to the wall fell away to land with a loud metallic clank on the floor, and he was free. The black coated stallion sank to his haunches in relief and rubbed his forelegs. They weren’t too sore thankfully, but they’d still rubbed some of the fur away where they’d been attached. The crew had looked after him, after a fashion, but to lock him up like he was some sort of…of dangerous freak was really too much! He could feel anger and frustration beginning to bubble up inside himself, but right then, all he wanted was to get out of this gloom and see the sky. With a whinny, Bracken shoved past Chalk and bolted for the hatch. By the goddesses, he wanted to see the sun! He had to!   Bursting out onto the deck, Bracken’s senses nearly overloaded with the deluge of sensory information. The sun, the sea, the seagulls crying overhead, the sound of the crew, the creak of the ships timbers…it was all so much, far, far too much! Chalky grabbed him as he teetered,   “Easy there dude, don’t want you going overboard there.”   A pair of grey eyes peered up at him, “It’s all…so bright.”   “Yeah it’s called the sun,” Chalk grinned, “usually hangs about in that blue thing call ‘sky’.”   Bracken pushed him away, “I know that, you…you…Argh!”   “It’s more…Arrgh!” Chalk corrected, “You need to put more emphasis on the ‘r’, as in ‘arrgh, matey’.”   “Oh for goodness sake!” Bracken laughed, “You really are a bloody idiot, you know that?”   Chalk shrugged, “Meh, maybe a little, but come on, who wouldn’t want to look as good as me?” He struck a pose, standing up on his hind legs, one hoof on his sword, the other gripping part of the rigging, “Cap’n Chalk Dust, fearless adventurer, pirate lord of the seven seas!”   “I thought this was a flying ship?” Bracken asked, furrowing his brow.   “Yeah,” Chalk shrugged, “but it sounds good!”   A voice spoke softly in his ear, “Aye, that it does, ‘Cap’n Chalk Dust’.”   Chalk squeaked in surprise as Gretel loomed over him, “G…Gretel!”   “That’s Captain Gretel to you. Mister Chalk, I’m sorry to say you’ve been demoted.” She chuckled, giving him a sly wink, “So soon after becoming a Captain too, how sad…”   Bracken rolled his eyes. The chemistry between these two was so powerful it was even beginning to affect him. Suddenly, with everything that had happened: the war, being chained up for days, and now this…he felt like he was losing his friend. He could feel a tear stinging his eye and rubbed it away surreptitiously in case the flirtatious couple saw him. Inside, his heart surged, the emptiness and loss he’d felt lurking in the background all this time, those strange dreams of dark skies and a black mare watching him with azure eyes, it was beginning to take him over. And now, seeing these two virtually all over each other, he began to wonder whether he’d taken the wrong turn somewhere in life, making some terrible mistake and yet was still mindlessly oblivious about what it was. He stared out at the sea and let his mind wander. Goddess above, he felt so horribly alone…   Gretel bumped Chalk’s flank with hers and whispered in his ear,   “Remember, four bells.”   Her warm breath tickled the fur around Chalk’s ear and sent a shiver down his spine. He couldn’t wait, not till then! But, he sighed, he had to didn’t he? Gretel was the Captain and had her duties, and besides, he needed to spend time with his friend. He’d neglected him too much recently and he had so much to tell him too! Except…he’d had his memory arsed around with hadn’t he? He nodded to himself, affirming his decision. He’d take Bracken out, they’d have a drink (not Balta, naturally) and have a laugh like old times. He stomped a hoof,   “Now then, young Bracken me lad” he chirped, “ye be prepared fer some time ashore?”   Gretel burst out laughing, and gave the two of them a wave as she disappeared down the steps to the main deck. Bracken rolled his eyes,   “Aye, aye, Cap’n Dust.”   ******************************   The stench of fish was overpowering, mixing with the smell of salt air and the goddesses knew what else. It was more than enough to stretch the endurance of even the strongest of stomachs. Like some living sea monster, a slick film of odorous sewage floated atop the water nearest the dock wall, liberally sprinkled with years of detritus carelessly cast in by the inhabitants of the port. This was Spurs Anvil, the town on the coast. Once a symbol of prosperity where ponies, griffins, minotaurs and numerous other races would gather to trade and further relations with other nations, it had begun a long slow decline into the seething morass of filth it had now become.   Symbols of a more affluent past lay everywhere, most of it covered in a layer of grime that was reminiscent of the sewage floating in the dock. Many years ago, the port had been created as an outpost of the Crystal Empire. With Sombra banished and the empire lost, the fortunes of the port too began to drain away. What was left eventually became little more than a shadow of its former greatness; a place where the strong preyed on the weak and less fortunate. It was here, in this place, that Gretel and several of her crew walked. Passing what must have once been magnificent statues of mythological and historical figures now lying broken and defaced by drunken vandalism, down the streets so choked with the build up of hundreds of years of excrement, the once immaculately maintained cobbles were now all but invisible under the compacted coating of dirt.   The weather was warm, but did little more than aggravate the already overpowering smell of the port. At least it kept the filth dry so it wouldn’t stick so readily to hooves. Around them, the shouts, curses and blood curdling screams never ended; the sound a fitting accompaniment for what, Gretel imagined, could be readily mistaken for purgatory, if not one of the circles of hell itself. And if indeed this was hell, she reasoned, then the devil presiding over this pit of damnation and all its machinations was the very griffin she was intending to speak to. She looked up at the large building before her. It was several stories high with crumbling red brick and white marble archways, clearly once an imposing civic building in its day. In a certain light, at a certain angle, it was possible to see just what a magnificent construction it had once been. Now, years of rot and neglect could no longer be hidden by superficial painting and the years of thoughtless apathy, together with nature itself, were taking their toll.   Gretel paused, checking her sword was free in its scabbard before turning to her crew ponies,   “Remember, keep your mouths shut and your eyes and ears open in there. Ready?”   “Aye Cap’n” The two echoed.   “Right then”, she half muttered under her breath and stepped forward.   “Stop right where you are.” A large stallion stepped out from behind a pillar, lowering his wickedly hooked halberd. Beside him an equally large griffin strode out carrying a spear. The strange eagle and lion hybrid narrowed it eyes at Gretel menacingly. The Captain yawned,   “Tell your owner that the Captain of the King Sombra’s Revenge is here.”   “Do you have an appointment?” The griffin sneered. It was no mean feat with a beak.   Gretel was unimpressed, “Oh, he’ll see me. I have something that will make him a lot of money,” she smiled, “and I know how much you griffins love cash.”   The creature made a rumbling noise in its throat and nodded to the stallion, “I’ll tell the boss, you keep an eye on these three.”   Gretel watched the griffin disappear into the darkness of the buildings interior. The pony left to guard them was a big fellow alright, his muscles and overall build no doubt the reason why he got the job. Few would tackle him head on in a fight.   “Got you well trained, hasn’t he?” Gretel obseverved sarcastically.   The pony’s brows pulled down, “Huh?”   “I said I think it might rain”   Gretel smiled helpfully, but the huge chestnut stallion appeared to be so dense you could have used him for building material. Finally, he moved his lips,   “You stay there!”   “Yes, yes, big boy, you’ve already said that once.” She waved a hoof at the ground, looking him in the face intently, “We. Are. Staying. Here. Okay?”   The burly guard suddenly looked almost painfully happy, “Yeah!”   “I bet he’s easy to please”, Gretel muttered to herself.   Mind you, she thought eyeing the fellow up, judging by the size of him he’d be quite a hoofful for most mares when you came to think about it…   A few minutes later, the griffin reappeared, “Boss will see you now, ‘Captain’” it said snidely, “Leave your weapons with me.”   “What? Go buck yourself, beaky!” Gretel snapped, “I’m not giving up my sword for anypony, or griffin.”   “Please yourself.” The creature replied.   “Come on boys,” Gretel announced loudly, tossing her mane, “We’ll take our business elsewhere”   A voice called out, “Miss Gretel?”   The Captain halted and smiled to herself. The old coot was just as cagey as he’d ever been. Gretel slowly turned back to face the arched entrance to the ports old administration building and the equally ancient looking griffin leaning on an old vine staff,   “Please, won’t you come up?” it asked politely.   Inside the building the all pervading odour of damp was everywhere. Black mould patches on the walls had been painted over at some time in the past, only to re-emerge and bring reinforcements with them. Paintings, those still in situ, were stained, torn or just suffering the same general level of neglect that seemed to embody the spirit of the whole of the town.   The old griffin by comparison, was quite spry despite his stick and apparent age. Moving at a fair pace, they turned one corner then the next, following corridor after corridor, until finally they reached a large set of oak doors that were already standing open. Gretel smiled to herself inwardly; this was all a show, a display to demonstrate to her that despite the notoriously high level of crime in Spurs Anvil, nopony would dare steal from him, the equally notorious Hay Wain. Odd name for a griffin, she’d often thought to herself. Maybe his parents were vegetarian.   “You appear in good spirits, Captain Gretel.” The griffin observed politely.   The red mare looked up from her ponderings and smiled, “I am, Mister Wain. It is always a pleasure to see you in such good health.”   The ancient creature blinked it large golden avian eyes and squawked out a laugh,   “So formal, Captain!” he waved to a series of old chairs for his trio of visitors while he walked round to the other side of the desk, pulling his lion hind quarters into his own heavily carved, seat. He was a strange character, and notoriously difficult to deal with, but at least he was a good payer if nothing else. Still, he had that reputation which stretched way back to his days as nothing more than a street thug, and as much as his appearance suggested her were a kindly old coot, the calculating shrewdness in his eyes still bore a hint of the mindless cruelty he had been know to inflict so readily on his enemies.   “I’d heard the King Sombra’s Revenge was in port”, he said, leaning his elbows on the leather lined desk before him, “So, what can I do for such a handsome vessel’s fearless Captain?”   Fearless? Gretel kept the question from her lips, “We need supplies and minor repair work while we’re in port, Mister Wain. I expect we should be here no more than four days.”   “But that’s not why you’re here though, is it?” Wain said quietly, “You can see the harbour master for all of that, so…why are you here, Captain?”   Gretel leaned on her foreleg, “I want to buy more of the ‘special’ barrels. As many as I can cram aboard.”   The old griffin clacked his beak, “Straight to the point, eh? Good.” He picked up a small pair of glasses and a sheath of parchment, “Tell me, Captain, what happened to the last delivery? I understand things didn’t quite work out as planned?”   “Oh, the delivery was made Mister Wain,” Gretel smiled, “I can assure you of that.”   “And you received payment as promised, I trust?” he asked.   Gretel nodded, “Indeed, we were paid in full.”   Hay Wain motioned to one of Gretel’s ponies who trotted over to close the doors to the already stiflingly hot room. The griffin took a breath and closed his eyes, his voice lowering,   “Captain, I’m sure you are aware that both sides in this conflict want these ‘goods’ and will pay a very good price for them.”   Gretel shrugged, “I’m aware of that, and you will also be aware that I have no interest whatsoever in taking sides. I’m a free trader Wain, and right now my ship has an empty hold that needs filling.” Gretel sat back, “So, can you help us?”   “Perhaps” The griffin said tapping his quill against his beak, “But I don’t carry much here, you understand, certainly not anywhere near enough to fill your ships hold.”   Gretel nodded. This was what she had been expecting, “I know”, she replied, “That’s why I thought we could arrange something a little more, ‘interesting’.”   “Hmmm…” Wain squinted at her, “I’m listening.”   “I propose we collect the barrels directly from the source.” She explained, “They are bound to have a goodly supply there and…”   “-No” the griffin replied bluntly, “Out of the question. My supplier demands anonymity above all else and would never allow direct contact with a trader.” He gave her a wry smile, “No matter who they are.”   “Everypony has their price, Wain.” Gretel clopped a forehoof on the arm of the chair, “Two hundred barrels.”   “Two HUNDRED!” Wain squawked, his eyes going wide with surprise, “Good gods, do you know how much that would cost?”   “I can pay.”   “I doubt it!” he barked, wiping his forehead with a feathered foreleg, “I doubt there’s enough gold in all of Equestria to pay for that many!”   Gretel smiled knowingly. She’d let the tension build a moment. Leisurely, she clopped her hooves and one of her crew pony’s passed her a parchment tube. Lifting the tube up to the light, she peered at it, her voice tantalisingly low,   “You know, Wain, you’re right. I probably don’t have that much money, however, I suspect somepony, or perhaps I should say, some griffin, does.”   “I don’t work like that, Captain” Wain said levelly, “If you want goods, you pay for them on collection or else…”   Gretel raised her hoof, stopping the griffin in his tracks. She had his attention alright, the greedy thing was eyeing the scroll hungrily.   “I understand your rules, Wain.” She gave a lilting laugh, “how long have we known each other now?”   “Long enough” He replied, “I knew your father.”   Gretel nodded, knowingly, “That’s right, and I know that you two had a special interest in a little project way back when.”   “What are you…?”   “What if I said”, Gretel said absently tapping the rolled parchment, “I’d found what you’d been seeking?”   Wain’s tail flicked anxiously, his eyes widening, “Wh…my gods, you mean…?”   The parchment flew through the air and landed on his desk. The red mare smiled, waving a hoof for him to continue. His claws shaking with anticipation, the old griffin undid the binding and stared down at the inscriptions,   “It…it is! But…” he looked up at her, “This is only part of it, where is the…” he paused, “Ah…” Wain took a breath, “One hundred barrels.”   “Two” Gretel replied, “With that, you can make as many as you want Wain, and I’m sure one side or the other would be more than happy to pay handsomely for…”   “-Two hundred barrels” Wain slammed his clawed fist on the table, “For the complete scroll. It has to be complete Captain, not pieces, but the whole thing.”   “I have the rest, Mister Wain, never fear. I just wanted to give you some ‘evidence’, to prove my sincerity. After all, she winked cheekily, the streets around here aren’t safe for a lady these days.”   Wain shook his head, “You remind me of your father, Gretel. You have his nose for business.”   Gretel grinned, “Oh, I don’t know.” She chuckled, “Mines a lot cuter.”   The griffin’s expression didn’t waver, “I’ll send instructions by personal courier. He can be trusted.”   “Very well.” Gretel smiled, “I look forward to completing our business venture, Mister Wain.”   “Indeed” The old griffin returned the smile, “Meanwhile, please, enjoy all that Spurs Anvil has to offer.”   “Thank you, Mister Wain, may I bid you good day.”   Wain bowed formally, “A pleasure Captain.” He held out a claw, indicating a thin piebald mare standing patiently beside the now open door.   Gretel’s eye twitched. By the looks on her crew’s faces, none of them had heard the door open, let alone noticed the mare stood there. Whether Wain saw their discomfort or not, he never let on. Gretel had met the griffin several times before, but had always tried to avoid dealing with him directly if at all possible. Dad had warned her about him and his cunning. She had to admit though, that despite his reputation he’d done a lot to try and save the port from dying completely and, it also had to be said, like some horrific magical experiment, the once magnificent jewel of the Crystal Empire had transformed into a half alive, half dead shambling corpse of a place. She turned to go, giving Wain a pleasant smile as she did so. He said nothing, merely nodding his head. The sly old goat had a face perfect for a poker game.   Outside, the day was still warm, if now feeling a little muggy on the hide. Gretel didn’t look round, but she could feel the eyes of the thin mare following her. She spoke quietly,   “Stock?”   “Cap’n…”   Gretel knew all too well that the old griffin would be having them watched, it was his port after all. However, it didn’t stop the hair standing up on her back,   “Triple the deck watch when we get back. Let the crew have their fun ashore, but keep alert for any trouble.”   Stock raised an eyebrow, “You don’t trust him?”   “No.” She replied tossing her mane, “But then, neither did my father.”   The dark brown stallion wouldn’t question her methods, in fact he rarely even offered his opinion despite encouragement. But, if there was one thing Gretel liked about the ships master, it was that he was reliable and, most importantly, he was damned good at his job.   The three carried on in silence until they reached the dockside. Cyclone was waiting for them,   “Cap’n the cargo’s been unloaded as you ordered.”   “Any trouble?” Gretel asked.   Cyclone shook her head, “No, Cap’n. The local agent is arranging for them to be returned home.”   Gretel nodded, “Good work, Bosun. You’ll be off to enjoy some shore leave later?”   “Aye, Cap’n”   The Captain of the King Sombra’s Revenge knew all her crew, but the Bosun was another matter. Cyclone was quite the enigma, in many ways. There wasn’t much she didn’t know about what went on board her ship and she didn’t miss the furtive glance she gave Stock as he walked past her. It was only the briefest of looks, but it was still there. Inwardly, she sighed. Some day…   Back on board, Gretel trotted down to the lower deck to inspect the hold. Now that the ponies had all been offloaded the place looked huge, her breathing sounding surprisingly loud in the large empty space. She smiled to herself, imagining two hundred barrels of the most lethal substance known to ponykind just sitting there, waiting to be delivered. But best of all, was the amount of money she would be paid for it. The Celestians were on the back hoof now, and would probably pay through the nose for such a cargo. Nightmare Moon’s army on the other hoof, were keen for a decisive victory and they too would pay handsomely for this amount. That is, if they didn’t simply kill them for what they’d done first and simply take the cargo.   Gretel shook her mane angrily. Everything had been going so well too! And then that bloody arse of a First Mate hit the balta and then the bloody thestrals found out they were being ripped off. It wasn’t like ‘all’ the barrels were duds, only some of them had been, and once they’d been launched at the enemy the effect would have been lost in the rush anyway. Any surplus barrels would have fetched a nice bonus from the other side who would be all too keen to reply to their foes in kind. And then, Chalky happened, and those bloody thestrals. What the hell had she been thinking?! She could have simply stolen the money from them without dropping the cargo on the damned creatures. And yet, she scratched her head, it had balanced things out in a strange way, and she liked balance. ‘Balance in all things’ dad had always said, and those words had stayed with her all her life. Maybe, just maybe, Chalk was her balance. His intelligence, his comical behaviour, those big green eyes…   “Damn it!” She hissed as a flood of warmth ran through her making her ears tingle. How the hell did he do that to her? Magic? She looked up at the strips of thin metal inlaid into the walls. All sky galleons had these fitted now, ever since that incident on the Ravens Eye. She’d heard Salty’s tale many, many times. Good goddesses, they all had! Each telling was a little more embellished than the last, and yet, every time she heard it, it sent a cold shiver down her spine. Dad and all the other sky galleon Captains had installed magical protection in their holds to prevent any more tragedies. The metal protected the vessel from a cargo’s magical energy leakage, but from two hundred barrels? No…nothing would contain that if it went off. It was a dangerous cargo, insanely dangerous if she were honest with herself, but the rewards would be enough to buy a whole fleet of sky galleons; if such a thing even existed anymore.   The red mare leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. One day, when she’d made enough money and had had enough of adventuring, perhaps she’d settle down, leaving the ship to her children. Two foals would be nice, earth ponies preferably, but it didn’t matter that much really did it? It wasn’t like it was that difficult to comprehend. Being a mother, nursing her foals; Gretel’s fur tingled and her cheeks flushed. Just the thought of it, of leaving her ship and her crew, could she do it? She’d always thought she’d die on the deck like her father had, but to have a normal life…   Gretel leaned her head against the wall and groaned. Why was everything so bloody difficult!?   “I need a drink” she mumbled and headed off back to her cabin.