//------------------------------//
// Chapter 55 - Pinkie Promise 
// Story: Bad Mondays 
// by Handyman 
//------------------------------//

Crimson was staring angrily at the silver war hammer.
 
As was tradition.

Once more, she swung the thing around and around and around. Still nothing. She smashed it into the floor, the walls, and even flat out tossed it end over end in frustration. Still nothing. She suffused it with her magic and got nothing. She analysed it as best as she could, and she still could not find any incantation.
 
However, whenever she charged a particular spell, an offensive bolt of magic or perhaps a gout of flame, the war hammer shone in the way Master’s armour did when the sunlight struck it. Only then did she see a semblance of the magic running up and down the hammer’s length, ethereal flames or sparkling, crackling magical energy.
 
Then, when she struck the ground with the war hammer, the magic dispersed violently, just like Master had said it did back in the changeling city. For the life of her, she couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t enchanted—no wizard had put their time and energy into this thing. The process of enchantment, at least as it concerned creating a magical object, would have left obvious elements she could then analyse. This? Nothing. There was something else going on here, and she wasn’t sure what it was, but Master had left it to her to figure out, so she’d be damned if—
 
“Crimson?”
 
“Ah!” Crimson yelped and dropped the war hammer, spinning around with her horn blazing. Handy raised an eyebrow at her.
 
“Any luck?”
 
Crimson drew in a deep breath to stop her panting and wiped her brow with a fetlock. She had been at this for hours. She didn’t hear him coming—the construction upstairs had been so noisy that she had stopped paying attention, and she didn’t notice it had all stopped.
 
“No, Master, sorry.” Crimson lifted the war hammer and handed it to the human. “It is not a typical enchantment; I am not sure how it is doing what it is doing. It might take me quite some time to unravel it.”
 
“That’s fine. Right now, I have something more important for you to be working on.” Handy took the hammer and placed it by his side. Crimson looked up.
 
“What is it?” 
 
“The pony delegation from Equestria brought with them many experts in various fields. Apparently there’s to be an exchange of culture and technology to solidify relations.” She stared blankly at him. “Basically there are a lot of ponies around, and I snagged a farming earth pony to help with the fields of the Haywatch Estate. I was hoping you could tag along with him and his helpers to keep an eye on them, maybe assist them in case whatever is poisoning the fields turns out to be magical in nature. Can you do that?”
 
“Of course, Master.” Despite her words, she seemed to be holding back a grimace. Handy smiled.
 
“What's wrong, Crimson, afraid of strangers?”
 
“What? No!” she said defensively.
 
“Listen, I understand, but these ponies are here to help… supposedly, and I trust you more than them in either case.” Handy paused. “Also, you need to get out more.”
 
“What… What do you mean?”
 
“I’ve been talking to the alchemists and uh… you tend to scare people.”
 
“So do you!” She pointed a hoof accusingly at him.
 
“Yes, but the difference between us is that I occasionally go to the pub. Look, Crimson, you trusted me to look after you, right? This is me looking after you.”
 
“I don’t see how it is.” Crimson raised a foreleg to her chest.
 
“You need to be somewhere with other people that isn't either a cluttered office or a dank, underground dungeon.” 

Crimson huffed. “I like it here!” she protested. Handy briefly looked around.
 
“Crimson, this is literally a dark, cavernous basement cut out of rock. There are creepy mage lights hanging in the air casting dark malevolent shadows everywhere, and there is an empty coffin in the corner.”
 
“Yeah, well, you sleep down here!”
 
“At least I acknowledge how strange that is!” Handy retorted. Crimson looked down and kicked a hoof.
 
“...But it feels like home,” she whined softly. Handy was momentarily struck by that, but shook his head and sighed.

“And that is why you need to get out more. The further you get away from the Mistress and her lair, both externally and internally, the better.” Handy walked over to her. He patted her on the head while she was still looking down, and she flinched in surprise. “Now go on—they’re waiting upstairs. I gave the construction crew the rest of the day off.”

Crimson grimaced, but nodded. “I’ll try my best with them.”
 
“I only ask that you don’t crush them like bugs,” he joked.
 
“...Not even a little?”
 
“Crimson.” 
 
“I am joking, Master. Alright, I’ll go, but I don’t have to like it.”
 
“That’s the spirit!” Crimson flicked her horn and turned off the lights before walking up the stairs to the surface. Handy left the basement but didn’t follow her out of the shell of the manor. The builders had managed to finish the exterior walls, the first floor, and most of the roofing, but quite a lot of work remained to do on the inside. At least it kept the cold out.
 
She left the front of the building and pulled her hood up. The sudden chill of the air made her shiver, the thin coat of sweat on her pelt suddenly making her regret the excursion. She brought the cloak closer about her, looking about and trying to spot the ponies she was being sent to babysit.
 
Turning the corner and heading towards where a new well was being dug, she all but ran head first into a living wall of muscle. She blinked up at the towering crimson stallion who regarded her with placid, deep-green eyes. He blinked once, slowly and lazily.
 
“Umm… hello. Are you the Equestrian I was supposed to meet?” She took a step back and looked around. There didn't seem to be any other ponies around.
 
“Eeyup.” She waited for him to continue, but he didn’t.
 
“I… take it there are more of you coming around?”
 
“Eeyup.”
 
“So they're not here yet?”
 
“Eenope.” His short orange mane was blowing in the breeze, but the cold didn’t seem to so much as faze him. Crimson cleared her throat.
 
“Well, my name is Crimson and I am here to assist you in… the soil analysis.” She looked down at the ground and realized just how boring a mission she had been given. She’d rather have a dozen more unsuccessful hours with the warhammer than this.
 
“Eeyup.” The large stallion blinked once and switched the long reed he was chewing on from one side of his mouth to the other. Crimson gave him an odd look.
 
“You don’t talk much, do you?”
 
“Eenope,” he answered.
 
“Huh,” she said, before muttering to herself, “maybe this won’t be as bad as I thought.”
 
“Pardon?” 
 
“I said we should probably begin then. Pretty much all of my Ma— I mean Baron Haywatch’s estates have had poor harvests, even since before he owned them, and it is not just his lands affected. We should probably start with the western fields since they had the poorest harvest,” she explained, walking off through the snow.
 
They walked in silence for a few minutes as she led him through the fields in question. There were plenty of griffons out and about. Just because it was winter didn’t mean the farm work stopped, after all. The stallion eyed them all curiously as they went about, occasionally stopping, watching as a few of the serfs mended fences, or shored up an old shed, or fed the few grazing animals. She occasionally stopped and waited for him to catch up, wondering what he found so interesting.
 
They toured the western fields for a bit, Crimson explaining the local areas and boundaries, which ones had the worst crop yields, and who tended to them. The stallion seemed to simply nod in acknowledgment each time, mentally noting all that she was telling him.
 
Eventually the other ponies began appearing, being directed to their position by the local griffons. Crimson carefully studied the faces and marks of each of them on reflex as they received their orders from the stallion, who she learned was Big Macintosh. After the last of them was directed to their respective fields, Big Macintosh watched them for a minute and then, almost idly, scraped the snow off the ground and dug a small hole out with his hoof. He leaned down close and looked hard at the soil, as if looking for something.
 
Then he snorted, turned, and walked towards a nearby hill with a lonely sycamore tree at its apex. He walked up to it, turned, and sat beneath it, watching over the western fields. Crimson followed him up and stood beside him. She raised an eyebrow and looked around, waiting to see what he’d do.
 
“So, you can help then?” she asked as Macintosh sat beneath the sycamore.
 
“Eeyup,” he said simply, smiling lightly as he watched several of the ponies move about, digging at the ground to check the soil beneath the snow and talking with the farming griffons. He seemed calm, solid, and didn’t appear unnerved by her in the least. In fact, she felt awkward standing there beside him, seemingly at a loss at what to do now.
 
“So, uhm, that’s it then?”
 
“For now.”
 
“Do you, uhm… need my magic to help?”
 
“Not yet. Might just be an irrigation problem.”
 
“Right.” Crimson settled back down to watch the ponies go about their business. Her eyes wandered to the ground in thought for a minute, then she looked back at him. “So what’s irrigation?”
 
Big Macintosh looked over to her and she kicked a hoof into the snow, avoiding his questioning gaze.
 
“Well, it's when you work the ground to make sure water regularly gets to the plants, help them grow,” Big Macintosh explained.
 
“Oh. Doesn’t that happen anyway?” she asked.
 
“Eenope. S’more complicated than that. Plants need a lot of work. You need to keep them watered, and till the soil, all sorts of stuff.”
 
“Oh. Well I think M— the baron said the water seemed to be fine. I… think,” she explained, trying to wrest control of the conversation.
 
“That so? Well, we’ll find out then,” he said with an air of content finality, and continued watching over the ponies at work. Several of the local griffons were being brought in to help out, given their expertise in farming the land over their lifetimes. Crimson just stared.
 
“That’s it?”
 
“Eeyup. For now.”
 
“Can’t you just tell if there’s something wrong with the soil?”
 
“Eenope.”
 
“Why not?” she asked.
 
“Can’t you just magic the soil and find out what's wrong with it?” he asked.
 
“Well yeah, I actually coul—”
 
“Have you?” He looked at her out of the side of his eyes.
 
“Well... yes.”
 
“And did you figure it out?”
 
“Well… no. It seemed fine.”
 
“Mmmhmm,” he hummed.
 
“Well, I could if I had enough time!” she protested.
 
“Oh?”
 
“Yes,” she said proudly.
 
“Over all this land?” Crimson looked out and saw exactly how much land she would have to cover, and how much time it would take to analyse it all.
 
“Uhh…” she said, uncertainty entering her voice.
 
“Eeyup. All we’re doing here is narrowing the possibilities down. If it's not the water, it's something else. If the soil is fine in some places, and not in others, then that narrows it down further, and so on. Once we find the problem, it won't take us all winter to begin fixing it.” He took a few seconds after that, seemingly unaccustomed to speaking for so long.
 
“I… guess,” Crimson conceded.
 
“It ain’t like your fancy magic, ma’am. Farming requires patience.” Crimson gave an indignant huff.
 
“I’ll have you know magic requires a lot of patience!”
 
“I’m sure. I’m just saying, farming can’t be a quick fix with a simple wave of a horn. You need patience to find the problem. If it’s magical, we’ll need your help. Right now, I suggest you just try to relax. We might be here a while.”
 
Crimson snorted but said nothing, instead turning away to watch the fields. She glanced back at him before taking a seat herself beneath the tree, shuffling to ensure she sat on her cloak and not the cold snow.
 
They sat in silence for some time.
 
“So… your name is Macintosh?” she asked in time.
 
“Eeyup.” The wind tussled his mane. She looked away, idly kicking a tuft of snow near her hoof.
 
“Right. And you’re a farmer?”
 
“Eeyup.” She looked at him in thought for a moment.
 
“Where are you from?” she asked.
 
“Ponyville. Nice little place, right beside the Everfree forest. And you, miss?”
 
“I uh…” She was suddenly lost for words. “Around. Here and there.”
 
“You one of them travelling ponies?”
 
“...Sort of,” she lied. “So, uh, Ponyville. Sounds nice.”
 
“Eeyup.” The sycamore gently swayed above them, the white bark stark and beautiful even in the midst of the all-encompassing snow around them. Crimson pulled her hood up and stood.
 
“Do you, uh… Would you like some tea?” Macintosh gave her a light smile.
 
“Eeyup.”
 
“Great. Uhm, I’ll just go and get some then.” She awkwardly hurried towards one of the nearby houses. Thoughts whirred in her head, thoughts of a sunny day and swaying sycamores. She shook her head. She needed something to clear her head, something mindless but productive.
 
“Time for tea,” she quietly said to herself.
 

--=--


Handy struggled to get the second gauntlet off his arm. The clasps were in a different configuration, and taking off his new suit had been something of a chore. He placed them on the makeshift stand one of the griffons had purchased with his money, which of course looked odd because while compact, such things were designed to hold gryphonic armour. He shrugged and pushed the entire thing into a corner after casually tossing his remaining gauntlet onto it.

Looking around, he couldn’t quite keep a strange nagging feeling from his mind. It was odd, not unpleasant, but odd nonetheless. He was in the hallway, which had nice wooden panelling halfway up the walls, darker than the light wood that made up the floor, which was covered in a variety of comfortable-looking rugs. Nothing matched, but neither did any of them look out of place. The lights were lit with long-lasting tallow candles housed in glass, a little addition Crimson had suggested which Handy had not thought of, but one which he appreciated.

He let his hand slide along the wall as he walked into the common room, the most fully furnished of the finished rooms and, Handy was pleased to note, currently the warmest, even if half of the upstairs was exposed to the elements. A fire was blazing, safely contained behind an iron grating which valiantly stood between it and Handy, right where it belonged.

He smiled and moved to take off his cloak before it finally struck him.

This was his. All of it. For the first time in his life, he owned a house of his own, and it finally hit him after all this time that, materially, he was better off than at any other point in his life. That had been his goal in life, hadn’t it? Money, power, fame, or well, at least infamy. He paused in the room, the only sound the crackle of the fire and the occasional howl of the wind pressing against the shuttered windows as he contemplated it.

There he stood, in a grand house and dressed in fine clothes, master over his land, with servants to tend his fields, with businesses and revenue flooding in to keep him where he was, and with power quite literally at his fingertips. His name was feared and respected across the land and beyond, with high station and honours his to command, with the ears of kings and lords leant to his word. So why wasn’t he happy?

The thought troubled him. He was dead set on vengeance and getting home, but had he actually stopped to seriously consider what he has now and what he had back home? Was there any real comparing the two? Why would he even want to go back home?

‘Because it’s mine,’ he told himself. It was true as well. Even if he cared nothing for Earth, for his home, his country, even the assholes he knew and who cared nothing for him in return, it was still true. It was his, and it had been taken from him. That was an injustice he would not stand for. He had been wronged, and he would see it made right and recompense paid unto him for the trouble it caused.

But this was his as well, he now realised. If he did make it back, what would become of the businesses he owned? His serfs and tenants, would they be handed onto the care of someone else or split between the local lords? Would his tenants lose their homes at the behest of some baron or merchant landlord who grew impatient or fickle?

‘I’ll leave it to Klipwing. He can manage it.’ But could he? Gethrenian law wouldn’t allow him to simply pick an heir. He could always just request it of Johan as his will, and simply trust the king to dispense with his estate at least in a somewhat equitable manner, but he could not guarantee that. Did he not owe his servants something? What of the pilot of his airship? What of Featherbrain, the alchemists, and all of his brewery workers and the rest of the jobs that rely on his properties and businesses? What of Crimson?

He couldn’t, he realised, be absolutely sure they’d be alright without him. Even when he was not here, his title and office gave people meaning and security in their lives, gave them jobs and roofs over their heads. The more he thought about it, the more he found it difficult to, in good conscience, forget about them. It was different before he had people who actually relied on him. He'd never had that before. He would have to ensure, somehow, they’d be taken care of if he ever did take his leave of them for good.


But that wasn’t what was bothering him.

‘Stop it.’

There was something else about going home that was really eating away at him. All the rest was just window dressing.

‘No.’

Even if he did defeat the odds and make it home, it wouldn't really be home anymore, would it? Not for him.

“Stop it,” he snarled under his breath, trying hard to suppress his thoughts. But he couldn’t, not when he had opened the door he had kept quietly shut since the very morning after he had made his transformation. It had haunted the back of his mind ever since he was on his hands and knees, retching up his guts not twenty metres from where the Equestrian Express had stopped to refill its water tanks. Every day since then, he had been slowly, but surely, pressing down on this thought.

“No… Damn it.”

About whether or not, even if he could get back home, should he?

“GET OUT OF MY HEAD!”

Knock knock.

Handy whirled around and looked down the empty corridor behind him. It was dark, the candles had not been lit, and the light from outside was woefully inadequate, giving the corridor an ethereal quality. The knocking came again, and he shook his head. It was coming from the front door.

He rubbed his face and eyes and looked about him, brushing down his tunic and cloak to be presentable. He wondered who it would be and realised he actually had been expecting someone to be arriving, sooner or later. He coughed, clearing his throat and standing up straight. He was going to have to get this over and done with sooner or later. The knocking came again, this time more forcefully, and he heard multiple voices from the other side of the door.

He frowned but walked to the door, turning the corner into the antechamber. The front door was rather unimpressive but heavy and dignified-looking. There were no windows other than five rounded segments of a semi-circle at the top of the door. He vaguely made out various colours through it that had nothing to do with the sky. Sadly, before he could contemplate that any further, he opened the door.

And something large and pink barrelled him to the ground.

“...Three, ouchie,” Pinkie Pie said, pushing herself up and shaking her mane out of her face. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise as she looked down at him and she smiled broadly. “Hi!”

If Handy had not seen the princess standing in the door behind the pink mare, his response would have likely been far more kinetic than it turned out to be. As it were, he simply let his eyes glow and then glowered up at the pony in customary welcome.


--=--



“Is everyone settled?” Handy asked amicably. Twilight gave him a smile from where she was seated. Handy had arranged for the princess to be seated on the left side of the fireplace, directly across from him. Clustered around her were her little entourage of ponies. The pink one who had barreled into him was sitting on the floor, busy being obnoxiously cheerful and looking around at everything in the room.

The white mare with the curled mane and ridiculous eyeshadow was there, sitting daintily on the couch nearest to Twilight. Wait, eyeshadow was what you called it when women painted their eyelids, right? Whatever. Makeup on fur was an inherently stupid concept, and Handy wondered why ponies put up with it. There was an orange pony with a stetson, who was closest to him and seemed to be sending the most disapproving glare out of all of them. Given that the blue pegasus he had had arrested was there as well, that was saying something.

Handy roundly ignored them all and pretended they did not exist—hopefully one or more of them would take offence at that—and focused on the only pony in the room who actually mattered.

“Yes, thank you.”

“My pleasure, Princess,” Handy said easily. He kept his face neutral as he recalled what the High King had told him. Well, time to get this over with. “To what do I owe the honour?”

“I reckon y’all owe an apology,” the orange one said, and Handy’s eyes rose in surprise at her accent. It wasn't the strangest he had heard coming out of an Equestrian’s mouth—the ones he’d met in Equestria’s east even had a slightly different dialect of English to the rest of the kingdom. No, this woman sounded like she had been plucked from the American South somewhere. Louisiana? No no, Alabama. No no, it was that one state that was big, obnoxious and something something illegal immigrants...

Utah! Yeah, that was it. All those Yanks were interchangeable anyway. Apparently Twilight interpreted his surprise the wrong way and rushed to pick up from where the mare had left off.

“Ahah, I’m sure there’s no real need to—”

“Now hold yer hay wagons, Twi,” hat pony said, holding up her hoof to the princess. First name basis with the princess—that was interesting. “I don’t agree with what Dash here did not one bit, but her heart was in the right place, and she’s going to apologise to the baron here like we discussed, right, Dash?”

The pegasus did not respond to her, provoking the orange mare to nudge her in her crossed forelegs.

“Hey!” she protested.

“I said, ain’t that right, Dash?” hat pony asked. The blue mare muttered something under her breath. The white aristocrat cleared her mouth daintily, and Rainbow Dash sighed, looking at Handy.

“I’m sor—”

“It’s quite alright, your Highness,” Handy said to Twilight, cutting off Rainbow Dash quite deliberately and not so much as looking at her. “I am already over it, and the king’s word is final on the matter.”

The look on the sputtering blue pegasus’ face was worth it, and Handy tried his best not to smile. He had deduced the pegasus had been released from incarceration the moment the High King had warned him that the princess would seek him out after the incident, which meant a deal had been made. Handy was not best pleased about it, but if she was here with the princess, and amongst those who were on first name basis with her, it was worth it to keep his mouth shut on the matter.

Didn’t mean he had to treat the mare as if she were a person, however. Or as if she was even there.

“Now it’s your turn,” orange pony said as she finished reigning in her friend, who was busy angrily muttering something to her in hushed tones. Handy, despite his best intentions, looked back at the orange one.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked in surprise. “I am not apologising for placing a criminal under arrest, no matter how diplo—”

“I don’t mean that,” she replied before Princess Twilight tried to interject.

“Applejack, really, it's okay. You do—”

“You’d best be apologizing for that mean prank you pulled on Twilight here back when you first met.” Applejack seemed to look down disapprovingly at Handy as if she were his older sister. It’d be funny if Handy wasn’t busy trying to suss out what she was referring to. Then it hit him. The delightful afternoon he had spent feeding the young princess before him mountains of bullshit regarding Earth, and his little scare tactic that he played upon her not long after they were done.

“Oh. Yes,” Handy said in as dignified a manner as he could manage. “My apologies for not immediately recalling. I had other matters on my mind.” He then looked over at the princess, who seemed to be much more still and nervous than she had been before. Briefly he wondered just how rattled he had left her at the time but pushed the thought aside. Time to simply smooth this over and then get the ponies out of here before something regrettable happened. Therefore, he summoned up his most sincere-sounding courtly tone of voice and proceeded to give an apology he didn’t mean in the slightest. “Your Highness, you have my sincerest apologies for my behaviour back then. I am afraid I was still rather sore towards your kingdom for my circumstances at the time, and could not resist the opportunity for the prank as it appeared to me. A form of petty vengeance you understand, but for that, I am sorry.”

The look on the orange pony’s face seemed to sour noticeably as he spoke. However, Twilight’s reaction on the other hand was considerably more relieved.

“I understand,” she said, smiling once again. “If it's all the same, I still want to say how much I am sorry for Rainbow Dash’s actions the other day.”

“Oh come on, Twilight!” Dash whined. Rarity shushed her.

“Think nothing of it it, Princess. I am sorry for all the circumstances that have made this little meeting necessary and my part in them. On behalf of my king, I wish for nothing more than continued good relations between our kingdoms. Please give my regards to your ruling Princesses,” Handy said diplomatically, rushing things to their conclusion and rising from the chair. “If you want, I can arrange for an escort back to the city for you and your entourage.”

“Oh no, my friends and I can handle ourselves.” Twilight waved a hoof. Handy cocked a brow but didn’t comment. Okay, so they were friends then, not servants. Ladies in waiting perhaps? Assuming the Equestrians had a social equivalent.

“Very well, as you wish.” Handy then noticed none of the ponies had moved from their seats. He resisted the urge to frown. “Was… there something else?”

“Oh yes, just a few things if you would be so kind,” Rarity said primly, with her best smile and the tell-tale tone of voice of a woman who wanted to get someone to do ‘just one more thing’ before letting them off the hook. “For starters, Pinkie Pie here has just been dying to know how you and her sister became friends.”

“Fri—?”

“YOU HAVE!?” Suddenly pink. Pink everywhere. Handy backed up and nearly fell back into his seat as Pinkie Pie had seemed to all but fucking teleport from where she sat to just an inch away from Handy’s face. But she hadn’t, Handy had people teleport right in front of him before, hell Twilight did that before. Pinkie Pie was simply one place and then she was at another.

“I... what?”

“Oh, which one? Marble? When did you visit the farm? Marble doesn’t normally like strangers. Oh oh oh, was it Limey? Awww I knew she’d make friends sooner or later. She’s always so standoffish with ponies. Actually, now that I think about it, that doesn’t sound like her either. She’d just growl and push ponies away. It’s not as if she’d be one to go wandering around and meeting pon—” Pinkie sucked in half the room’s air as she suddenly gasped loudly, her eyes widening in realisation. “MAUD!?”

“Maud? You mean she’s your sis—”

“Oh, why didn’t she say something. I mean, we were talking all night before the train trip over here, and I thought for sure if there was anything to talk about she would have—”

“Pinkie!” Twilight suddenly cried. “You weren’t supposed to tell anypony about this!”

“Oopsy?” Pinkie shrunk and smiled sheepishly. Handy’s surprised and confused visage melted away at that and he allowed himself a frown.

“So, I am to take it you had planned on seeking me out from the outset?” Twilight briefly looked away and rubbed the back of her neck in a very unprincessly manner. Handy sighed and glanced out the window. It was getting dark, and Crimson hadn’t come back yet. He had somewhere to be and needed to get this over and done with. He sat back down. “Very well, if we have our apologies exchanged, what else do you want of me, Princess?”

“There’s no need to be snippy, mister,” Applejack said. He ignored her as Twilight cleared her throat.

“Yes, well, I actually came her to ask you for…” she tapped the armrest of the chair in thought, “for a favour of sorts.”

“...A favour,” Handy repeated, his voice flat.

“Yes. I mean, that is if you would be willing to.” Rarity rolled her eyes and muttered something about letting her do the negotiating. Twilight frowned at her but turned back to Handy, her smile hopeful but nervous.

“Princess,” he began, “exactly why would you think I would ever be disposed to doing you or any Equestrian a favour? We are acquit of our differences, are we not? I owe you nothing.”

“I understand that, I do. I know you don’t want anything to do with us but uhh…” She looked over at her friends for support. “It would really mean a lot to us if you could help. I-It could help further the friendship between our two kingdoms!” she hurried to add. Handy was unmoved.

“And say I should consider this. Exactly what is it you would ask of me, Princess?” 

“W-Well, it's just… Have you heard about the Dragonlands?” Handy’s face was like flint.

“What about them?” he asked carefully.

“It’s complicated, but... we need somepony to go into them. Not anything dangerous! We just need some help only the dragons can give and uhm…. well… the dragons would respect you because of your reputation but—”

“No,” Handy said simply. Twilight blinked.

“W-Wait, just hear me out!”

“I have, and my answer is no, Princess. I am sure Equestria has resources enough to give you the aid you need. You are a princess, are you not? I am sure there are enough knights in Equestria willing to do your errand for you. I have my duties to my kingdom to consider.”

“I understand that, but you need to listen. We can’t do it ourselves!”

“And why not?” Handy pressed. Twilight played with her tail nervously.

“We tried. The Dragon Lord who borders Equestria is… was a friend. However, things have changed. Ponies are not allowed in; the dragons have all been recalled, plus they don't respect Equestrians any more.”

“And what is it you need from this dragon lord that is so important that you’d be desperate enough to seek me out?” Handy asked.

“Desperate!?” Dash protested before she was hushed by Applejack.

“We… need their help. A friend of ours is sick. They already won't let us in to get the help we need, but we have to bring him there.” Handy paused for a moment and leaned back in the chair, joining his hands as he did so.

“And your friend, I take it, is a dragon?” he asked. There was a palpable silence in the room before she answered him.

“Yes…”

“Then that certainly clarifies matters. My answer is still no.” Twilight looked distraught and the others gave out a variety of weary sighs and disappointed grunts.

“Please,” Twilight begged, “you have to help us. Spike, he… we don’t know what's wrong with him, and I’m afraid…”

Handy didn’t answer, keeping his peace. Pinkie had returned to her friend’s side and placed a hoof on her foreleg for support. Twilight looked down.

“Uhm, excuse me?” a sweet voice broke the silence. Handy turned in surprise. The mare with the light pink mane poked her head from behind the couch the other ponies were seated on. Handy had completely forgotten she was even there when he had first let the small army of ponies into his home. She had kept herself quiet and out of the way this entire time. Hell, he could barely hear her hooves as they struck the floorboards, so softly did she move. “Uhm, if you don’t mind, Spike really could use the help. We know you don’t like dragons all that much. That's okay, I was scared of dragons too for the longest time.”

“What? Madam, I am not scared of dragons,” Handy protested. Rainbow Dash snorted.

“Sure sounds like it…” she said under her breath. Handy favoured her with a caustic sideways glance.

“And that’s okay,” Fluttershy said, “but really, he is quite a young dragon, and he does seem very sick. He really means a lot to us, and we really would be ever so grateful if you could help him out. I know we’re asking much of you, and we don’t mean to be a burden, but we wouldn’t be here if we had other options. I hope you can understand that.”

The sincerity in the mare’s voice was almost disarming, and Handy had to take a moment to recompose himself. He cleared his throat. “I am sorry, but my answer is unchanged.” Handy got back to his feet and studiously ignored the looks on the ponies’ faces as he moved towards the door. “I regret you had to waste your time seeking me out, and I wish you all well and hope you do find a solution to your friend’s ailment.”

He opened the door and gestured to the corridor beyond. The girls hadn’t moved at first, looking over at Twilight, whose face was still downcast, with only the crackling of the fire to fill the silence. Then the first hooves hit the floor. Applejack had left the couch and began walking towards the door, Rainbow Dash following after her. The first two ponies’ faces were nakedly disapproving. Dash’s was hostile; the yellow mare’s face was sad. Pinkie was smiling, mostly trying to cheer up her compatriot. Rarity’s face was studiously neutral as she followed the princess, who had been trailing behind.

Handy stepped out of the way and allowed them all to pass. Twilight slowed as she neared the door, with Rarity overtaking her. She stopped, causing Rarity to look back at her from across the threshold.

“Twilight?” Rarity called, causing the others to stop. Twilight faced her but still looked down, and the last thing Rarity saw before Twilight slammed the door shut was the hard look on her face. Twilight’s horn glowed on the door, and the hammering and shouts of the ponies outside were deafened. Handy took a few steps back, reaching for his hammer in surprise.

“We tried, you know,” Twilight began, her voice level, though brittle somehow. Handy stopped but didn’t release his weapon. It was one pony, sure, and he wasn't about to attack a visiting princess, but he had paid the price for underestimation before. He said nothing as Twilight turned around to face him.

“We tried everything we could. I even tried to go there myself but was stopped every time, as if they were expecting me to do that.” She looked over to the fireplace again, the light dancing in her eyes as she studied the flames. “Fluttershy was right—we really don’t have any other options. The dragons are having none of it. They won't even hear us out.”

The pair were quiet for a moment, the door shaking as the others tried to get back in, but the sound of their yelling and hammering was muted. What alarmed him most, however, was the ponies were trying the handle constantly, but the door wasn't budging. Handy hadn’t even installed a lock on it, yet somehow Twilight’s spell was keeping it shut. Considering the last time the two of them were in a room with a muted door, things did not go well for Twilight, Handy was more than a little wary at the change in circumstances.

“So… Why come to me? Really?” Handy asked after a moment’s silence. Twilight took her time in answering.

“I just thought…” she began, though she trailed off, the look in her face distant. “He’s like a brother to me, you know? I raised him from when he was in an egg. Celestia helped.” She smiled, a fond memory coming across her thoughts. “I’d do anything for him, and I thought you could help him. The dragons would have to let you in, even if only out of curiosity. They’d have to.” She shook her head and looked away back towards the door, pointedly not looking at him. “I realise now how stupid that was. Dangerous. But Spike can't go on his own… not anymore.”

“Why not?” Twilight shrugged. She was quieter now, more distant than she had been earlier. It was almost eerie.

“They won’t let him in either,” she admitted.

“Then why did you think they would treat me any different if they’ll do nothing for their own?” he asked.

“I just thought you would… I don’t know. I don’t know what I thought.” Twilight shook her head and looked back up at him. “I know you don’t think much of me, or us, or of anypony. But I thought you’d do something for something in return.”

“...Like what?” Handy asked carefully.

“A favour,” Twilight answered. “I… I thought I could help you, ever since… Nevermind. Thank you for your time. I’ll be going with my friends. Sorry for bothering you.”

She turned to leave, her horn lighting up as the door opened and her gaggle of worried friends almost barreled into her before she put up a hoof to stop them, silencing their protestations. More than a few of them cast dubious glances Handy’s way before the princess simply insisted they go on, not answering their questions. Handy watched them go, still puzzling through the alicorn’s actions and words.

He lessened his grip on his hammer as he looked outside. It was getting dark, but he had to wait a bit for the princess and her friends to get a head start before he headed into town himself. He went to the front door to wait, and that was right around when he found a very surprised-looking Jacques standing in the snow, his rapier lightly cutting a trail through the inches of deep snow as he went.

“Jacques?” Handy asked, blinking. He had not been anticipating him. The swordspony turned his gaze from the road back into the city as the group of mares crested the rise, and greeted Handy with a very self-satisfied smile.

“Welllll…” he began, rolling his tongue on the word. “Well, well, wellity well, mon ami.” 
  
“What?” Handy asked, frowning at the tone of his voice. Jacques simply shook his head. 
  
“Here I am, wondering how my dear friend Handy was doing and hearing he had finally left the castle.” He shifted as he waved his foreleg in a sweeping gesture. “So I come all the way out here. Because I know just how joyful and happy a stallion you are, I figure you’d appreciate my offer to come into town, go drinking, forget about worries for a while.” 
 
“...And?” Handy gave Jacques a suspicious look. 
  
“And lo and behold, I find out my dear ami Handy already knows how to have a good time, with six beautiful mares strutting out of his home no less.” Handy’s mouth was agape as he tried to word a response to that. Jacques put up his hoof up to stop him. “Say no more, mon frere, I see you are a stallion who likes to keep to himself, and I can respect that. Maybe all that talk about feigned righteous and restraint was to keep up appearances. Say no more, I know the power of a good reputation—I shall say nothing. I’m just so happy you could see things my way eventually, and fine taste I must say.” 
  
Handy kicked the nearest snowdrift into the smartarse’s face, causing Jacques to sputter and shake the snow from his head, still laughing. 
  
“Wise-ass.” Handy sneered. “What are you really here for?” 
  
“Oh, nothing really,” Jacques said as his laughter died off, “I really did come to see if you wanted to go out. Also, to be nosey and see what all this fuss is about your new house,” he added, whistling appreciatively at the manor. Handy relaxed. 
 
“Can’t really, already got plans.” Jacques’ ears perked up in surprise. 
 
“Oh? You never have plans.” 
 
“Ha ha, but really, I’m meeting someone.” Handy turned to see Crimson approaching from the direction of the farms, sans earth ponies. Seemed like they would be staying with his serfs and tenants. “Me and Crimson have an appointment with the King’s Marshal.” 
  
“Ah, government business?” he asked. 
 
“Yes,” Handy lied. “Maybe another time.” 
  
“Ah well, I’ll join you on the walk back to town then. 'Sides, I do so enjoy needling your little mare.” Handy frowned. 
  
“Careful, what I said about messing around with my servants still applies. Besides, remember what happened the last time you fooled around with someone who looked like Crimson?” Handy asked, closing the door to his manor and locking it. 
 
“Very well, yes, and everything turned out better than expected.” 
 
“Yeah, well, Thorax couldn’t make the ground swallow you and then crush you in an instant,” Handy said casually. Jacques held up a hoof. 
  
“Hey hey, I’m only teasing. Besides, she needs to lighten up sooner or later. I don't know how you can stand her morbidity.” Handy thought about that. 
  
“Hmm,” he all but grunted in agreement. “Anyway, you feel like coming with us?” 
  
“Oh no, I’d rather not get roped into another government’s clutches, thank you very much,” Jacques said, which meant Gethrenia’s spymaster had yet to capitalize on the little gypsy despite everything Handy had said. Interesting. 
 
“Alright then, try not to get into too much trouble then,” Handy admonished. Jacques put on a faux hurt look. 
 
“Handy, mon ami, come on,” he said, flashing a winning smile. “This is me we’re talking about.” 
 
 

--=--


They lost Jacques sometime after making their way back into the city. He had excused himself and disappeared down one street or another while Handy made his way to meet Shortbeak once more as he had promised.

It was a surprisingly difficult promise to fulfil.

“And then what?” the girl asked. Handy found it hard to look at her. It was hard to imagine how anyone in that state could smile. Didn’t it hurt? Nonetheless, he allowed himself a smile for her sake. Whether she could see it or not was immaterial.

“Well, then I had a nice long chat with the princess. It was all very civil,” he said, suppressing a chuckle for effect. “Well, as civil as it can be. She is a very big pony after all. It does not do to make someone who weighs twice as much as you angry.”

That got a small laugh out of her. Amelia coughed a bit, and Handy’s smile shrank a little and apprehension briefly crawled along his skin. She recovered after clearing her throat.

“Sorry, did you call her fat?” she asked.

“Heavens no. I am nothing if not a gentleman,” he lied. She chuckled again. “Well, as much as I can be. But that aside, we got along quite well.”

“Really?”

“Really really. After everything, we had a happy ending after all,” he said, grossly glossing over the matter for her. He had been doing a lot of that. There was no reason to depress the girl with the full truth, and he had turned to embellishing some parts and dramatising others as he told the story. She had been enjoying it immensely.

Shortbeak had excused herself after a while, leaving Handy to entertain the sick griffon without interruption. He had lost himself in the process of telling his story, all the while trying not to think too hard about the hard, grey substance that was slowly consuming the griffon in front of him. She was much smaller than Shortbeak now that he thought about it, but she couldn’t have been too much younger than her. How long had she been bound to this bed?

“Then what happened?”

“Oh, and then we got to go met the old King of Firthengart.” The door opened and Handy glanced around to see Shortbeak carefully move back into the room. “To tell him the truth about the pirate ring.”

“Pirate ring?” Shortbeak asked in an amused whisper. Handy shushed her with a finger to his lips.

“Sounds better,” he explained.

“She’s not a child, Handy,” Shortbeak admonished

“You’re never too old for a good story.” 

“Hey, what are you two whispering about?” Amelia asked.

“Your sister was just being nosey.” 

“What?” she asked.

“Feely,” Amelia started with a frown, “can you at least wait long enough for me to get a good story out of him before you chase away another young suitor? I’m not a kid anymore.”

“What!?” Shortbeak squawked. Handy just laughed.

“It’s alright, we were just about done. I kind of started off with the pirate ring anyway.

“Hey hey, wait, what happened to that pony with you? The one with the sword?” Amelia asked.

“Oh, he’s around somewhere.” Handy stood up. “I brought someone else to see you.”

“Oh? Who?” Amelia asked.

“Was this that pony you left downstairs with Mimae?” Shortbeak asked after tutting her sister for her teasing.

“Aye, the same. You remember Crimson, right?” Amelia all but sat up, before trying her best to settle herself back in the bed, the illness all but completely immobilizing her. It was painful to watch, and Handy swore he saw Shortbeak’s face shift slightly at the sight.

“The wizard who traveled with you!? She’s here!?” she asked excitedly.

“The very same,” Handy confirmed. “Would you like to meet her?”

“Yes! I have so much to ask her!” Amelia said happily.

“Alright then. Now mind she’s shy and may seem a bit unfriendly at first.”

“I remember from what you told me. She takes no nonsense. I like her.”

“Alright then. That okay with you, Shortbeak?” Handy asked. Shortbeak hesitated. She wiped a claw over the black feathers of her head in worry, looking at her sister. He had explained to her that it would probably be best to at least let Amelia have someone regular to talk to other than herself and her caretaker. It was not an easy thing to sell. From what Handy knew of the sickness Amelia had, it appeared very similar to an old plague that had decimated the continent once upon a yesteryear, yet not contagious. The more people who knew of her affliction, the more dangerous things would be for her, and Shortbeak had to undergo the horror of Geoffrey finding out about her and using her safety as leverage on her. She was right to be fearful and paranoid, so Handy elected to expose her to someone he knew for a fact could keep a secret, by force if necessary.

Besides, Crimson needed to get out more.

“I… I guess,” Shortbeak conceded, seeing Amelia’s smile. Handy nodded his head once and opened the door.

“Crimson?” he called. A short while later and the tell-tale clop of hooves on wood sounded up to them until Crimson poked her head into the room. She wore her typical neutral expression she did whenever there were more people in the room than Handy. Her mask cracked when she spotted Amelia into a mixture of shock and surprise.

“Sir?” she asked. Handy had explained the situation to Crimson as best he could when he was sure no one had been within earshot when they had walked here, but the sight of Amelia had still been more than enough to shock anyone, it seemed.

“There you are. Crimson. There’s someone here who would like to meet you,” Handy said gently, stepping away from the bedside chair. Crimson cautiously approached the bed, looking back once at Handy before taking her place on the chair.

“Uh… hello.” Amelia smiled.

“Hello. Your name is Crimson, I take it?”

“Yes,” she said, her neutral tone never wavering.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

“You have?” Crimson asked skeptically.

“Yeah, I heard you were a powerful wizard.”

“I… I am proficient in the magical arts, yes.”

“I had an interest in magic once, but that was a long time ago. Didn’t really work out.” Amelia smiled sadly. “Handy told me about how you rescued him from the changelings.”

“What?” Crimson turned to look back at Handy. He said nothing, looking at Crimson expectantly as he stood there with Shortbeak. “I mean… I certainly helped him, yes.”

“Nah, tell me about how you escaped kidnapping and fought your way through a desert to break into the changeling city.”

“I didn’t really do all that much.” Crimson looked down.

“That's not true!” Amelia said excitedly. “You animated the skeleton of a giant dragon and laid siege to the changeling ziggurat!”

“Is that true?” Shortbeak asked Handy, her voice low. Handy nodded.

“More or less. It was a hell of a sight. If she hadn't done that, I’d have been swamped.”

“Well… I did do that, true. It wasn’t easy. But uh… what's your name?” Crimson asked by ways of deflecting the topic.

“Amelia,” she said with a smile, holding out her good claw. She couldn’t move the elbow, but the gesture was obvious. “It's an honour to meet you.” 

Crimson hesitated, looking at the claw, glancing to the side a few times before gingerly reaching her hoof forward to shake the claw.

“Crimson Shade,” she managed after a moment. Amelia chuckled.

“I gathered. It’s a pretty name. So, can you tell me how you and Sir Handy met?” 

“Uh… sure?” Crimson asked, looking back at Handy. Handy’s eyes widened slightly. It was all she needed to keep a lid on it. “We actually first met in a frontier town on the Badlands…”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Shortbeak asked Handy as Crimson began stumbling her way through her first proper attempt at storytelling that wasn't a convenient, short term lie.

“How long has Amelia been on her own?” Handy asked.

“What?”

“You’ve been dragging her all over Griffonia, terrified someone would find out about her, kept her away from everyone with only yourself and maybe the odd caretaker for company. No wonder she was so excited to hear some stories.” 

“I… I didn’t mean―”

“I am not blaming you. In fact, it's a compliment you trusted me enough to bring me here just so you could fulfil a promise to her. I’m just saying that she probably needs more than just her sister and some random like me to keep her company.”

“So… you brought your wizard pony?” she asked as the pair left the room. Handy nodded.

“Your sister needs a friend, and my wizard needs to get out of her basement more.” Handy rubbed his left wrist and chewed the inside of his cheek in thought for a moment before continuing, “I admit, I had an ulterior motive. Crimson is… something of an expert on dark magic and its effects.” Shortbeak’s eyes went wide, and Handy held up a hand to forestall her. “And before you object, I want you to know something.”

“What?” Shortbeak had gained a hard edge in her voice.

“I trust Crimson with my life, and I am even less of a people person than you.”

“And that’s supposed to reassure me?” Shortbeak looked back at the door to the room.

“Shortbeak, it's me. When do I trust anyone with anything?” Handy pointed out. Shortbeak didn’t look entirely convinced. “Look, Crimson is the most secretive person I know. I trust her not to hurt your sister the same way I trust her never to turn on me. If you can trust me, you can trust her.”

“But… I just don’t want Amelia exposed to any more dark magic,” Shortbeak muttered, looking down.

“I already discussed it with Crimson beforehand. She’ll never practice it right in front of her. She’s just there to keep her company from time to time and spend time researching a cure. I think she can share a perspective on this you may not get anywhere else, and I’ve put resources aside for her use. The worst that can happen is nothing. Crimson won’t endanger her.”

The pair stopped as they heard the pair laugh from the room. Handy had never heard Crimson laugh before and briefly wondered what they were talking about to bring that about. Shortbeak’s face was expressionless for some time. Handy allowed her the time to think.

“I’d do anything for my sister.” Handy said nothing while she continued to stare at the door. It was partially ajar, letting a little of the light to spill into the dark corridor along with the sounds of the two girls talking. She shook her head before looking up at Handy, studying his face. “I’ll trust you on this. You promise me nothing will harm my sister because of it?”

“I swear,” Handy said. “I’ll do you one better, Crimson will make sure nothing bad happens to her.”

“Really?”

“So long as she has a say in the matter, she won’t,” Handy said, noticing the more animated speech coming from the room. “And she won’t have access to her either you nor Mimae won’t allow.”

Shortbeak seemed to be chewing the lip of her beak. It was an impressive action and a further reminder to Handy about the annoying physiology of the griffons around him. She seemed to have come to a conclusion.

“Alright. I’ll allow it, for now,” she finally said. “Are you sure she can find something to help?”

“To be honest, I have no idea. Still, I’m making it a point to find strange magics for my own purposes. Crimson is a part of that, and she knows more than I do. She might be able to point you in the right direction if nothing else.”

“Alright, Handy, if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” he replied.

“You two want some soup?” Mimae called up from down the stairs. Shortbeak smiled down at her while Handy shook his head.

“No thank you, Mimae.” He turned back to Shortbeak. “Well, I had better go. Crimson will stay a while.”

“Right. And… thanks, Handy.”

“Think nothing of it.” Handy turned to walk down the steps. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

He waved to Mimae in the centre room without saying a word. The blind griffon didn’t wave back but bade him farewell nonetheless upon hearing his boots hit the floor. He was then left to his thoughts as he walked through the streets of Skymount, heading towards home.

He really hoped he had made the right judgement with Crimson. He knew she’d never disobey him and hurt Amelia, but there was no guarantee she would hit it off with the girl. Still, she really did need to get out more, though he knew there was hypocrisy in doing that given how he felt about people in particular. However, there was a difference between Handy and Crimson in that respect. At least Handy actually had exposure to society before he turned his back on it. Crimson was just broken, and easily threatened. He couldn’t just take her out on a bender with him and Jacques and hope for the best.

Still, that was making a lot of assumptions. He wasn’t sure if Amelia was the best option, even if she was literally tied to a bed and less of a threat to Crimson than the common cold. However, it gave her a purpose outside of serving Handy directly and made her interact with other people regularly on a somewhat equal manner, rather than the superior-subordinate relationship Crimson seemed to interpret everything as.

If nothing else, at least she might be able to help the poor girl. Handy suppressed a shudder and wrote it off as the cold getting to him. He was reminded of Shortbeak’s words about needing others to drag him to get the help he needed because he was too stubborn to do so himself. Perhaps this was exactly what Crimson needed? Only time would tell.

He continued on through the city. The streets were surprisingly empty tonight, so he was mostly alone with his thoughts. The burning candles of the lamps illuminated the streets and cast stark, flickering shadows everywhere as the snow continued to softly fall. He reached a crossroads leading to the main bridge across the Opaltear River, his ordinary route back to his manor on his left, and the city centre and castle to his right.

He looked at the bridge and the empty boulevard of the marketplace before it for a time. His conversation with the High King lingered in his mind, as well as everything else that had happened that day. He considered his immediate future and what he’d need to do and accomplish in order to actually achieve his goals.

And then he realised how much of that was being hampered by his own pride.

He could follow that pride, and simply do nothing about it and continue blindly bullying his way through things without heed nor care for the feelings of others, traipsing back home and leaving things as they were, and let whatever doors were open to him close on his face. Conversely, he could keep his options open for longer and swallow his pride until he got what he needed done. He wondered which was more valuable to him right then, and which perils were worth suffering through.

He sighed and turned away from the bridge and the trail back home, and faced the castle. He looked up and saw the castle illuminated with innumerable lights in the winter’s night, and wondered whether he had one more trip up those godforsaken stairs in him.


--=--


“Joachim, you are drunk,” Handy said.
 
“No I’m not,” the king said defiantly, refilling his goblet. Handy eyed the three pitchers of wine on the table, mostly empty. How the fuck was that griffon still standing, much less speaking coherently?
 
“How long have you been drinking?” Handy asked.
 
“Since the ponies and their… whatever that was downstairs.”
 
“The party?”
 
“Sure, that. One moment it was all tense, and I was working myself up to prepare for a full day of diplomatic disaster to cap off my week, then something pink happened.” Joachim seemed confused even though he was there for every second of the experience. “That earth pony is weird.”
 
“All ponies are weird.” Joachim snorted.
 
“You’re one to talk.”
 
“Joachim.”
 
“I know, I know, I’m…” He put down the goblet and fell back into the large chair by the window. “I’m just tired, Handy. About everything.”
 
Handy walked over and, while Joachim had his claw over his face in exasperation, scooped up the goblet of wine.
 
And tossed its contents into the still unlit fireplace.
 
“Hey!”
 
“Drinking is not going to solve anything, Joachim.” Handy placed the cup on the table behind him and sat on its edge.
 
“Well, it’ll help me cope at the least!” Joachim shouted.
 
“Cope with what? All it’s doing is making you angry and stupid,” Handy commented calmly.
 
“What do you think!? This year hasn’t been all sunshine and roses for me! I’m allowed to drink myself into oblivion so long as I fulfil my duties. What’s it to you?”
 
“You are my friend.” Joachim guffawed.
 
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
 
“I mean it, Joachim.”
 
“How about you show it?” The remark bit, but Handy held back the retort on his tongue. He had thought about it. It still rankled him that Joachim had publicly demoted him, misguided as it was. He looked off to the side, rotating his jaw in thought. There was a large part of him that wanted to just cut everything and walk away and damn it all. He liked that part; it had kept him alive, and he would hold onto it for as long as it did him good.
 
However, he wasn’t sure if it really was the best thing for the job at hand. He looked at the bird for a moment, thinking to himself. It wasn’t enough that he could rationally understand what Joachim did. It was practical; on one level, he could understand it, and if he were in his shoes, he’d probably even do the same thing. The problem was why Joachim did what he did, and that was the difference between the two of them. Handy was almost entirely selfish, whereas Joachim was a touch too selfless for his own good, even to the point of alienating his own best friend if he thought it was what was best for the kingdom.
 
He weighed whether or not that trait was worth having in a friend, then decided whether that kind of judgement mattered.
 
“I’m sorry,” Handy said after a moment. Joachim blinked.
 
“What?”
 
“There, I said it.” Handy crossed his arms. “I am not repeating myself.”
 
“Sorry... for what?” Joachim asked, still blinking. Handy shifted and let out a breath.
 
“Sorry… I have been such an ass to you.”
 
“You haven’t been acting like a donkey.”
 
“Oh, don't be fucking obtuse, you know what I mean. Look, I’ve been thinking, and yes, I am still pissed at what you did. I don’t care why you did it, and yes, I still resent you for it. For all of that… I admit that I haven't been that great of a friend personally as I could have been. I should have been more upfront about what was going on behind everything... Maybe if I had been honest about everything about the Mistress, old magic, the reasons why I have that pony mage following me around… I don’t know.”
 
Joachim didn’t say anything, but he slumped back in his chair. He sighed for a bit and eyed the pitcher of wine longingly.
 
“You know, I was worried when you asked for an audience that you were going to tear my head off.” Handy nodded.
 
“It was on my list, but I am tired from walking around in this armour all day.” Joachim chuckled.
 
“Excuses.” He waved a claw. “Speaking of excuses, I’ve been making too many of them.” He sat up and pushed himself off of the chair.
 
“At the end of the day, our friendship aside, you have served me as best as you are able. I literally owe my kingdom to you.”
 
“And your life.”
 
“Details,” Joachim said as he went to refill his goblet again, and Handy looked at him. He glanced at the human, then at the wine and back again. Sighing, he put the empty goblet back down. “Spoilsport.”

“It’s literally my job to look after you. I imagine that includes protection from raging hangovers come morning. Speaking of headaches, what was the deal with you and the High King? With the kid?”

“Oh All Maker, that’s a long story.” Joachim waved the question away. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Done.” Joachim snorted as he sat back in the chair with a foreleg over his face. “But as for the Equestrian headache...”

“I heard they had visited you today?” Joachim asked, lifting his leg to look at Handy.

“They did. Apologies were traded. I was very well behaved, I promise.” Joachim glared at him. “Honest.”

“You accepted the blue one’s apology?”

“Begrudgingly,” Handy said through gritted teeth. “I assume by the fact she was out of the dungeons means the Equestrians made a deal for her freedom?”

“Oh yes.” 

“Did it at least cost them?” 

“Oh, yes.” Joachim chuckled, Handy nodded.

“Good. I can live with that.” The two sat in silence for a few moments, digesting what had been spoken. Joachim was the first to break the silence.

“But I mean that. I am sorry, Handy, and I wish I could make it up to you.”
 
“...Perhaps there’s a way you can,” Handy said thoughtfully.
 
“Oh yeah, and how? You want your old title back?”
 
“Actually, no. The position of Sword, as useful as it is, was more trouble than it's worth. I want something else.”
 
“Land? Another title?”
 
“No. Tempting, but no. I want something else from you.”
 
“What is it?” Johan asked with a touch of exasperation.
 
“Two things. The first, and I need you to trust me on this one, I need a Gryphonic equivalent to the writ of passage I managed to get out of Celestia.” Joachim cocked his head.
 
“What, are you planning on abandoning everything and becoming a sky merchant?”
 
“I don't have nearly enough of a head for the numbers involved. No, I merely wish for it to cover my travel over griffon lands and to grant further legitimacy to my rights.”
 
“Why?”
 
“In case my hunt for the Mistress brings me over some of the other lands of Griffonia. Anything that lessens difficulty in doing that is a plus in my book,” Handy explained.
 
“Alright… Odd, but doable. And the second thing?” Joachim asked.
 
“When we go to the delegation tomorrow, whatever I do, I need you to roll with me.” That caused Joachim to freeze.
 
“What are you going to do, Handy?”
 
“Do you trust me?” Joachim opened his beak to respond but closed it, thinking hard for a moment. “Well?”
 
“...Yes. Yes, I do. All-Maker help me, but I do. Fine, just…”
 
“Just what?” Handy asked, smiling.
 
“Don’t… do whatever it is you do that causes countries to collapse.” 
 
“I promise nothing.”
 

--=--


The Equestrian delegation had been, by most measures, a success. They were received warmly, platitudes were exchanged, gifts accepted gratefully, and everybody got along with smiles, laughter, and God knew how many private business deals. The delegation, after all, had more than a few traders in its midst and quite a few professionals who’d be staying in Gethrenia on various contracts. King Johan, in return, allowed griffon merchants and tradesmen to return with them to Equestria with similar commissions and allowances. Princess Katherine had said all the right niceties and invitations to Firthengart as a good diplomat should, and the massive presence of the High King had all but cemented the Gryphonic seal of approval on the entire affair.

It was the last day of the delegation, and Handy had made himself scarce for most of it. After all, it wouldn’t do to put anybody on edge with his presence before it was strictly necessary. He had been putting his powers to use and simply meandering his way about the city disguised as a plain-looking grey griffon with a scarf using his glamour. Practice made perfect after all, and this was as good an excuse as any.

He found the princess and her little gaggle of friends wandering through one of the marketplaces, heading towards the train station at the centre of town. He all but froze when he saw the dragon following along beside them. He quickly shook it off and hurried into a side street to refocus on his glamour more. The last thing he wanted was to draw their attention because he dropped the disguise because he lost focus like an idiot.

He walked back out once he was sure he had his focus back and calmly studied the group as they made their way through the city. He wasn’t close enough to hear their conversation, but he got a good look at the dragon. It was taller than the ponies but was the shortest dragon Handy had ever seen. About a foot shorter than Handy was tall at the least, it was rather on the wiry side, but he had no idea if that was normal for dragons his age or not. One thing was for certain, he definitely lacked the ferocious countenance of the dragon he had fought at the festival months ago. No wings, no horns, just rounded green spines running down its head to its tail. That was bizarre. Could dragons be wingless?

The drake was following along beside the princess with a quill and scroll, apparently asking questions. The alicorn seemed… deflated somehow, even though she smiled at the dragon as they talked. The others were doing their best to look around them and trade smalltalk, but Handy could see their worried looks. All except the pink one, who was smiling for some reason and literally pronking along behind the group. She seemed to be humming to herself as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

She paused for a minute, going wide-eyed and scratching the fetlock of her left foreleg intensely for a second before looking around her expectantly for a moment before prancing along to catch up with her cohorts. Odd.

Well, that accounted for where they were, and so Handy headed back to the train station. Sadly, no matter how hard he tried, he could not find Fancy Pants again. The pony really did seem to have found his own way back to Equestria. He couldn’t find Maud either, which was mildly disappointing. If her sister was that close to an Equestrian princess, she would have been a fantastic contact to cultivate.

He settled himself near the stage set up beside the station where the last ceremonies would be taking place. It was there Handy saw more photographers than he had even seen since coming to this world. Most of them were similar to those ancient flash cameras you saw in old movies, with the tall stands filled with a heap of powder and a cover for the photographer's head. Surprisingly, most of them didn’t have a tripod to hold them up, but were rather held to the photographers by a simple harness around their neck. Hell, he even saw one that was made of wood—must have been some poor desperate paper slate that wanted a piece of the story.

Ah well, it was all immaterial as far as he was concerned.

The festive atmosphere continued on until mid-afternoon, when the trumpets declared the arrival of the king and his entourage. Surprisingly, he opted for a landing arrival from the castle rather than a procession through the streets. There was probably some functionary somewhere blowing a gasket at the change in protocol. That should be good for a laugh with the castle staff when all was said and done. Well, at least Handy knew why the guard griffons were keeping a large stretch of the thoroughfare clear.

Joachim’s chariot landed with relative ease, and Handy’s stomach squirmed at the memory of when he had shared a chariot flight with him. He feared neither heights nor flying, but somehow that damn thing turned his stomach. Briefly, he wondered how they got those things to land without immediately crashing into the ground as the pullers decelerated.

There was swell of cheers from the citizens of Skymount when Johan hopped off and made his way to greet the Equestrian dignitaries one last time before sending them off on their journey back home. Handy discretely made his way to a street behind the stage before dropping the glamour. Nobody was going to let a random griffon approach the stage, after all.

Johan made a speech for the benefit of the crowd as Handy approached, paying no mind as the griffons parted when they saw him approach. One of the guards thought about halting him approaching the stage, but thought better of it when Handy gave him a look.

“Friends, on behalf of all of us here in Griffonia, I am honoured to say it has been a pleasure to receive you with open wings, and we gratefully accept Equestria’s outstretched hoof of friendship,” King Johan said to the gathered crowd. Princess Twilight was standing on the stage beside him as he spoke, and a few of the photographers flashed their pieces as they snapped their frontpage picture for the printing presses. “And may we always enjoy as close and as open a relationship as we do now.”

Johan stepped aside as Princess Twilight approached the podium to speak.

“Thank you, your Majesty,” she said, smiling brightly. “When I came to your beautiful country, it was on a mission of peace and friendship. It warms my heart to see you all gathered together in friendship and harmony and that you have accepted us with such openness and wholeheartedness.”

Johan kept his royal smile on his as he casually scanned the crowd, searching for something. That was Handy’s cue; the princess was distracted and Joachim was actively looking for him, seeing what he was going to pull. Johan’s nerves were getting to him as he tapped the stage, evidently fearing that Handy would pull some grandstanding show or another.

Honestly, this would have gone a lot smoother if Handy had simply told Joachim what he was going to do today, and while a part of him regretted not doing so, another part enjoyed seeing his friend squirm. In the end, though, that wasn't why he kept his mouth shut. Joachim was placing his trust in him, and what was more, he had told him to prove he was a friend. To keep his trust, that was exactly what Handy planned on doing. Friends don’t make friends look bad, now do they?

Handy stepped up on the side of the stage. A few of the crowd had noticed him there, but most of the attention was still focused on the pony princess’ speech. Joachim turned when he noticed the guards shift behind him and looked at Handy in surprise. Handy gave him a reassuring smile before bending down to whisper into his ear. Johan cocked a brow, then asked if Handy was serious. He simply smiled and left it for Johan to figure out. The griffon gave him an incredulous look but quickly recomposed himself as Twilight seemed to be drawing near the end of her speech. He gave one last, uncertain glance to Handy before resolving himself to his task.

“—And I am glad to leave Skymount with such happy memories and to have made so many new friends to remember during my journey home. I am sure we have laid the seeds for a fruitful future to come for both of our kingdoms!” she finished to applause and more photography, stepping back from the podium to smile back at the king. Her smile dropped when she noticed Handy standing at the side of the stage. He wore a stoney face that gave nothing away.

Johan stepped forward, smiling and with a sweeping gesture indicated the gathered crowd as he began the final farewells as was his right as host.

“As one last gift to solidify the friendship between our two realms and to show Gethrenia’s commitment and sincere intent to repair relations, I have elected to acquiesce to Equestria’s special request for aid.” Princess Twilight now focused squarely on Johan in alarm as the crowd began murmuring. Good old Joachim, milking it for what it was worth. Johan turned to Twilight. “As you wish, Princess Twilight, and after consulting with my council, I entrust to you the temporary services of one of my royal knights.”

Twilight’s mouth remained open. One could practically see the gears turn in her head as she looked from the king to Handy. He took that opportunity to step forward. He strode and bowed to Twilight. It was against Griffonian law for a knight of the realm, royal, hereditary, or otherwise to kneel before a foreign sovereign for any reason. That suited Handy absolutely fine.

“Your Highness,” he began, smiling slightly as he watched the photographers furiously stumble to refill the powder on their stands out of the corner of his eye. “It is my honour and pleasure to aid you in your endeavour on behalf of king and country. I can only hope you would accept my lord’s help.”

“I, uh, yes. Yes, of course!” Twilight said happily. She still had this odd look of confusion on her face, “I-I thought, I mean, didn’t you— Ahem, right. Yes, I uhm, graciously accept your kind offer. Em, your Majesty,” she added, giving a slight nod of the head to Johan. Johan kept his regal mask perfectly throughout the exchange, and Handy happily withdrew before the flash photography started again after the frontline finished reloading.

He went behind the stage as the king went on with the last of the farewells for the peanut gallery. The stage’s back was covered by a curtain to disguise the sootstained train station behind it, Handy opted to walk the thin space between the two structures to avoid the crowd out front and those gathered on the station platform for the next train heading to Equestria. He thought of putting on the glamour again and slipping back into the crowd and letting good old Joachim to handle that little diplomatic fallout for him.

It could’ve looked bad if Handy had done anything himself, for both the king and for Handy himself. Had he approached Twilight in private, it would have looked like he was crawling back to them. Had he interrupted them on stage, it would have appeared all kinds of bad, so he did the best way he could: he left it in Joachim’s claws to spin it to his best interests. To the Equestrians, it looked like he put the pressure on Handy, regardless of whether they had made the request of the king himself or not, and it kept up the fiction Handy was under the griffon’s strict control on a public stage.

There was also the possibility people could take it the Equestrians pressured Gethrenia somehow to at least, in some way, get their hooves on Handy. However, little Twilight solved that problem very nicely with her obvious shock, surprise and stuttering. Shame there were few pictures taken of that, but it would definitely be reported. This would clearly be seen as a Gryphonic gesture as a result. Besides, it—

“CALLED IT!”

“JESUS CHRIST!” Handy backed up and drew his hammer out in a flash in raw shock as Pinkie Pie popped out of the window of the station beside him, hanging upside down from her side and swinging in front of Handy’s face, hoof to his nose, a wide smile plastered on her frizzy-maned head. She dropped down with a skipping twirl. Handy wasn’t even sure how she did that, but that nonsense was succeeded by the pink pony doing a little happy hoofy dance in the snow and blocking his escape.

“Calleditcalleditcalleditcalledit~” she singsonged, before stopping and looking up at Handy happily. Handy blinked and looked up at the window she had come from. It was closed, but he didn't hear it slam shut. “I told the girls that everything would work out fine, but they didn’t believe me, which I can’t blame them for because at one point even I didn’t believe me, which is silly, but it happened anyway, but then I had a Pinkie Sense that something good was going to happen anyway, so I just went along with with it—”

“Where did you come from?” Handy asked.

“Oh, silly.” She waved a hoof. “That’s not important. It’s where we’re going that matters.” She bounced off along the path towards the side of the stage where Handy had, back when sanity once ruled his world, planned on making a neat exit into the anonymity of the crowd. Now that the speeches seemed to be finished and the crowd was meandering to and fro, he was left with little chance of capitalizing on the main distraction to keep himself from being unnoticed, especially not with the pink pony waiting patiently for him at the stage side. He looked behind and above him, just in case any more mystically appearing ponies popped out of thin air or something. He hooked his hammer, turned, and walked the opposite way.

And walked right out of the space between stage and station to find the energetic pink pony waving down a familiar group of ponies excitedly. Handy’s eyes widened, and he looked back and forth to where he last saw her. She was gone. How fast was she to get where she was now? She turned to face him as her friends began trekking their way over.

"Now did you mean all that?" Pinkie asked.

"Meant what?" 

"On the stage, what you said about helping." She asked, leaning her head closer, smiling widely.

"I... Of course why would you-"

"You promise?"

"Promise?

"Do you Pinkie Promise you'll help us?" she asked.

"I don't see what a pinkie promise has to do with anything." he replied, she gasped excitedly.

"You already knew what a pinkie promise is!?"

"I think every child knows, ma'am, now if you'll excuse me-"

"Cross my heart, hope to fly stick a cupcake in my eye!" Pinkie mimed some horrifying contortion act which ended with her hoof all but punching her in the eye. Handy stared blankly at her.

"What was that?"

"A Pinkie Promise!" she replied.

"That's... That's not how they're made." he said, she frowned.

"It's not? Then how is it made?" Handy frowned at her and held up one hand with his little finger extended. She blinked a few times, then smiled widely.

"I'll take it!" she said, reaching up and shaking it with the crook of her hoof before Handy could react, she then let go and bounded just a little off to the side. He grimaced at the situation as the ponies drew closer. The dragon was following as well but keeping a wary distance behind them. He looked around. Joachim looked like he was wandering off somewhere. He sighed. Well, if he was left to negotiate his price with the inexperienced princess, all the better.

“Well howdy, lookie here.” Applejack leered as the group approached. “I reckon y’all had a change of heart after all.”

“Yeah, well, I still think he’s a jerk.” Rainbow Dash obnoxiously flew low to the ground and disturbed everyone’s hair with the gusts kicked up by her wings. None of the ponies seemed to mind, however.

“Rainbow, hush,” Rarity said, admonishing her friend. “This gentlestallion has kindly decided to help out.”

“Oh come on, he’s only helping because his king is making him!” Dash replied.

“And we should be grateful nonetheless.” She turned to smile at Handy. “Isn’t that right, my dear knight?”

“Quite,” Handy confirmed as they closed in, looking up and trying to avoid the far-too-happy face of the princess. He breathed in deep through his nose. “I suppose this young fellow is the dragon in question?”

“Uh…” Spike froze. “Uhm, hello.”

“This is Spike,” Twilight said happily, gesturing to the young drake. Fluttershy nudged him with her head to get him to step forward and into the embrace of Twilight’s squeezing one-legged hug. Spike looked up at Handy with something approaching pants-shitting terror. That was gratifying. It seemed at least one of the people present took the Dragonslayer title seriously. “He’s the one we were talking about. Spike, Handy here has agreed to help you get to the dragonlands.”

“What!?” Spike’s demeanour broke at that, and he turned and looked at the princess. “Twilight, I told you a million times that I’m fine. I don’t need help, and certainly not from them,” he said, crossing his arms and looking angrily to the side.

“Spike, you need help. You’re sick,” Twilight said, her ears flat against her head.

“I’m fine. I don’t need any help,” the dragon replied in a huff. His childishness was irritating Handy, but he kept his peace as he watched the scene play out. Rarity stepped forward and put her hoof on his shoulder.

“Spike, darling,” she said in a reassuring tone, “there’s no shame in admitting you need help. You know something’s wrong, and we’re only trying to do what’s best for you. We came all this way to try to get you this one chance to see the ponies… dragons rather, who can help you. Can you not at least give this a try, for Twilight’s sake if not your own?”

Spike looked down at that, before glancing up at Handy and then quickly to the pleading look in Twilight’s face.

“Okay… I’ll… I’ll go with him to the Dragonlands. I don’t see what good it’d do because…” He looked up at Handy for a minute before looking back down again. “Because you know...”

“Oh thank you, Spike!” Twilight exclaimed, squeezing him in a hug. The pink pony seemed to explode into a small shower of confetti and was blowing on a party horn before it was plucked from her mouth by Rainbow Dash.

“Nuh-uh, no time, Pinkie, maybe later,” Dash said. Pinkie almost visibly deflated with a dejected ‘Awww’. Handy turned his mind away from wondering where the hell she got the party poppers from and turned back to the princess.

“I assume you know we will not be leaving right away,” Handy explained. “It is still winter, and I need to prepare. I propose I shall come to Equestria and pick you up come spring. Will that suffice?”

“Uhm, sure?” Spike said uncertainly.

“That’ll be fine!” Twilight beamed. “You can stop by Ponyville and then head on to the Dragonlands from there.”

“That will do then. Now, your Highness, I will need to speak to you alone regarding what my king expects in return for this service.”

“Oh uh, of course.” Twilight laughed, looking at her friends nervously for a moment. “Where exactly?”

“By the stage should suffice. I would be most grateful if your friends could remain a respectable distance away but somewhere in sight, if you would.” Her friends looked at her. She nodded, and they made their way some distance from the stage while Handy walked closer to it, just on the very corner so he could ensure there was no one behind the stage nor on the stage who could eavesdrop and that they were well in sight. Twilight stepped closer, looking around and rubbing her foreleg nervously.

“Is this okay? Here?”

“It’ll do.” Handy looked down at her sternly. “I hope you realise exactly how much this is going to cost you.”

“I uh… of course. A favour, a big favour,” Twilight said.

“And do you fully comprehend how big?” Twilight said nothing. “Everything you told me yesterday tells me three things: you used to be able to go into the Dragonlands, whether you were wanted or not; the dragons do not respect status nor kinship in keeping everyone out of it, and that you are betting everything on my status of dragonslayer as being of note enough to at least make the dragons curious despite their sudden bout of extreme xenophobia.”

“Uh… well, if you put it that way…”

“And thus, this is more dangerous than it normally is, hence your desperation to seek me out for the sake of your friend. Do you know, Princess, what I am going to be asking of you in return?”

“I… guess I am about to find out?” she asked, wincing in anticipation.

“Gold,” Handy said. “A rather substantial amount. Or the same value in gems if you’d like.”

Twilight visibly relaxed.

“For starters,” he said, causing her ears to perk up once more. “I am aware that Equestria’s magical knowledge and advancements far outstrips Gethrenia’s, and I would require access to such for my own research purposes.”

“Research?” Twilight said, her interest piqued.

“Worry about that later. What immediately should be of interest to you, because you have hinted as much when we talked, is some manner of aid in my… affliction.” 

“But… I don’t have anything to begin on doing that.”

“I’ll provide what is needed on my half. I just need your word on the aid you’ll bring to the table.”

“I guess I can do this,” Twilight said uncertainly, rubbing the side of her neck. “Is that all?”

“No. I will require something for my own benefit that would take too long to explain in depth. A pint. Of Alicorn blood.”

“What!?” Twilight cried out in alarm, her friends suddenly taking note. Handy raised his hand placatingly.

“It doesn’t have to be yours. I can even supply the containers to keep it fresh if you’d like.”

“I just... You can’t be serious!?” Handy’s expression was deadpan.

“Princess, I am a blood-sucking abomination unto God, courtesy of no less than your own kingdom. I am quite serious.”

“...Alright. Alright, I think I can give that. Can you wait until after?”

“We’ll see,” Handy replied. “One more thing.”

“There’s more?” Twilight all but whined. Handy looked up at the dragon in thought for a minute, bracing himself for the decision.

“One year,” he said at last. Twilight cocked her head.

“A year? A year of what?”

“Service. If I do this, I would require the services of your young dragon for a year.”

“What? Thats ridiculous!” she decried. “No, I can’t agree to that.”

“Fine, get another dragonslayer to hop the border for you,” Handy said airily. “Go back on your word up on that stage before God and everybody.”

“I… I can’t!” Twilight said. “I don’t own him! I can’t just do that to him!”

“Sounds like it's not my problem to resolve. Those are my demands. Take them or leave them.”

She stomped her foot down. “No, I’m not accepting this. You’re asking for too much!”

“I am asking after my own interest, Princess,” Handy said calmly. “What is a year of service aiding in my research to his health? I would have a vested interest in seeing him through the Dragonlands, would I not?”

“That’s not the point!”

“That is precisely the point. He wouldn’t be a slave, and I guarantee you his safety, or how do you think my kingdom would look if I went back on my word? Besides, is it not hypocritical of you to ask of another to risk their life, nay, to accept the services of one who is sworn to serve another, but then refuse to return the favour when it is asked?”

“I… I… That’s not fair!” Twilight protested.

“Life rarely is, your Highness. But soothe your own worries if you must. Spike is a free dragon, is he not? Ask him.” Twilight looked back at Spike and bit her lip in thought as she saw him coughing once again. She turned back up and looked at Handy angrily.

“You’re a piece of work, do you know that?”

“Amongst many other things, Princess. Take your time.” Twilight sighed and walked off towards Spike. He watched as she parted the dragon from the group to talk to him off on their own. The ponies alternated between looking over at Handy and Twilight while speculating amongst themselves. He briefly wondered how she was going to spin this to her friends if she agreed to it, but then, he didn’t much care, did he? If she refused, what of it? Then he didn’t have to go into a pit of murder lizards, all the while saving face and helping Gethrenia look good while Equestria looked bad.

And if she did, he got a dragon to help with magical research. Perhaps Crimson could get a crack at it given how much she talked up those old dragon bones she had managed to take from the changeling city. Although the more he thought of it, the more the former seemed both more likely and more desireable. Come to think of it—

“Deal,” a masculine voice said. Handy was shaken from his reverie of a life of not having to deal with multiple hundreds of tons of fire-breathing murder lizards.

“What?” Handy asked in surprise, looking down. The dragon was looking up at him with determination in his eyes.

“I said deal.” Twilight was standing not far behind, as surprised as he was. From the looks of it, the dragon had strode straight over to him and the princess was playing catch up. The dragon put his claw forward. “I’ll agree to your terms on one condition.”

Handy all but snorted in surprise. Where did this thing think it got off demanding concessions? Still, it was a dragon…

“I’m listening,” Handy said.

“Every week, whatever we’re researching goes back to Twilight, unfiltered and unedited,” Spike said, “and I get to wear a location amulet the entire time, so if anything goes wrong, Twilight can do something about it immediately, so don’t get any ideas.”

“Spike…” Twilight began. She seemed to have been heavily stressed out by the negotiation and it was starting to show. Perhaps that was what triggered the sudden bout of bravado from this overgrown gecko if they were as close as Twilight had said. Handy narrowed his eyes at the young drake, his voice low and dangerous.

“I don’t have very fond memories of Equestrian location spells…”

“Yeah well, either way, they’re coming with me as part of the package whether you want them to or not. No condition, no dragon. Got a problem with that?” Spike challenged. Handy glared down at the drake.

‘Well, get a load of this little shit,’ he thought to himself. He looked up. Most of the crowd had dispersed, although some of the journalists from before seemed to be lingering around and a few had noticed the princess taking her sweet time. Better wrap this up.

“Fine, but know this: we will be watching you, Spike. Do not do anything to betray the trust of Gethrenia while you are here. The consequences thereof will go far beyond merely yourself. Am I understood?”

The dragon seemed to waver for a moment, and Handy swore he saw the thing swallow nervously. “Got it,” Spike said. Handy let out a breath and relaxed his stance.

“Very well then. I trust that suits you, your Highness?” Handy asked, looking at Twilight.

“I… Yes,” she managed, looking at Spike with surprise on her face, then blinking it away to face the human again. “Yes, I agree.”

“Very well then. Keep an eye out this spring. I shall arrive by air and will not linger. Make whatever preparations you need by then.”

Spike seemed to deflate as the air left him when Handy turned to walk away. Twilight immediately went over to him. Handy left them as the group coalesced around the adoptive siblings as they hugged. Handy ignored the scene. He got what he wanted out of the bargain—no sense lingering around in case something else happened.

“Hey, wait up!” That sounded like the orange one. Handy turned, and sure enough, Applejack seemed to be bounding over to him. She slowed as she approached and turned to the others, waving at them. “I’ll catch up. I gotta sort out something about my brother since he’ll be here for a while!”

The others seemed to accept that and continue on their way. To Handy’s surprise, they all seemed to be smiling and fussing around the young dragon. Perhaps Twilight had yet to tell them the whole deal? Applejack turned and smiled up at him.

“You know, I’m an awfully bad liar,” she began. Handy raised a brow at her. “So I really am just checking up on my brother. You don’t be treating him badly now, ya hear? I know he’s working on your farms for now.”

“I assure you I ha—”

“But that also don’t mean I can’t have more than one reason to do something,” she interrupted. “And I know a liar when I see one moving their lips. Got a right knack for it, I do.”

“Excuse me?” 

“I know the real reason you didn’t want to be helping us none. For all your talk, you’re just too plum scared, aintcha? T’was obvious when you flatly denied it after Dash there brought it up,” she stated, smiling confidently at him. Handy glared at her.

“Ma’am, can you please get to the point?”

“My point is this: thanks.”

“Thanks? For what?”

“For helping us anyway.” Handy just looked at her.

“I doubt you’d be saying that if you knew how much it is costing you,” Handy said stubbornly. Applejack grimaced.

“I reckon I might not be inclined to, no,” she admitted. “Twilight seemed a mite troubled by it while it was happening, but given her smile now, I can’t imagine it’s beyond her. But the fact of the matter is yer doing it, maybe not fer th’ right reasons, but what's being done is being done, and don’t you worry none.”

“Worry?” Handy asked.

“I won’t be telling nopony you’re scared out o’yer britches,” Applejack said, her eyes bright and dancing with mischief. There it was yet again, another odd twinkling shine in a pony’s eyes. “Least not ‘til ya get back with Spike, y’hear?”

“I…” Handy said, not sure what to come back with for that, but before he could, the mare had said her farewells and trotted off to her friends by the station. Handy just watched her go, half-annoyed and half-bemused about what had just transpired. He snorted and turned his back on the issue, brushing it off with the snow on his shoulder.

The king had already left. Handy knew he’d want a proper explanation of what had just occurred but apparently had more pressing concerns. That was okay—Handy didn’t feel like going over it then and there. In fact, he felt like putting up with very little, and blithely walked through town irrespective of the griffons in his way or what they were doing. Most very wisely got out of his way.

He found Jacques not long after asking around at what were becoming his usual haunts. He was asleep at a table with his forelegs crossed, and his head lolled to the side a bit as he leaned back in his chair, snoring loudly. Handy slapped him on the back of the head, waking him up and causing the hat to fall forward on his face.

“Que diable était-ce!?” Jacques swore, lifting his hat up and looking around. “Handy? What did you do that for!?”

“Wake up, not the time to be sleeping,” Handy said, turning and walking out of the cheap inn.

“What?”

“Come on,” Handy said.

“Why? Where are we going?”

“To get drunk.”

“...I can drink to that.”