It took the combined work of several Job Squadders, but they were eventually able to reassemble a battered wagon from its disparate pieces. The barn that had sheltered their transportation had only half collapsed, allowing them to extract the materials they needed with only residual difficulty.
As time wore on, the cold snow and ice blanketing the fertile valley began melting. This oversaturated the earth, reducing the farmland soil into a shallow lake of consistent puddles and muddy embankments. Wildcard, Bard, Rainbow Dash, and Ariel had to use their combined strength to lift the wagon at multiple spots while Logan ad Remna pulled from the front. It took much struggle, but the group eventually cleared the deepest ruts, exiting the east end of the ranch and taking a descending path down a sloped valley of rocky soil.
Kepler, Flynn, Echo, and Nicole sat in the wagon. Kepler and Flynn performed a thorough check of the supplies that the group had freshly acquired for the trip. Nicole—in the meantime—kept her slitted eyes forlornly cast on the farmland growing more distant and distant behind them.
As they exited, the foster children of Blue—along with neighboring sharecroppers—had gathered in the center of the farmsteads. Together, the locals heaped wreckage into a central mountain of debris. A few dozen meters to the west, fresh graves were being dug for those who had recently perished during the windigo stampede. Nopony spoke, and there were few breaths taken that weren't shuddering.
Even as the Herald passed—along with their wagon—nopony dared to look up at them. As Nicole observed from the vehicle, she saw many familiar faces—all too sorrowful and melancholic to summon even a smidgeon of anger. Ray and James busied themselves with their work. Mike hugged his significant other while Kelly and Marie quietly sobbed along the sidelines.
No one bothered to leave.
Nicole sniffled. She gazed towards the front of the procession.
Bard marched firmly, his eyes on the east horizon. Wildcard and Rainbow Dash trotted alongside him.
Concerned, Echo reached over and placed a hoof on Nicole's shoulder.
Nicole patted his fetlock reassuring. Then—spreading her wings—the female sarosian took off from the wagon and drifted forward. She touched down next to Bard, struggling to march in pace with him.
Bard slowed his steps—which affected the entire procession. But not a single member of the Herald protested... especially when Bard reached a wing out and drew his adopted sister closer. Held tenderly in his embrace, Nicole closed her eyes and quietly wept.
Wildcard said nothing. He remained close by. Rainbow Dash exchanged a few quiet glances with Applejack and Twilight Sparkle—but even her ghostly companions were silent.
Step by step, the group descended into the rocky valley... and marched deeper into Twilight.
In another part of Rohbredden...
Deep within the Frosted Shelves...
...a stallion sat... slumped... hunched over in bulky, haphazardly-crafted armor. A large stone chamber stretched around him, lit ceremoniously by candles. A tomb rested before the stallion. It was more akin to a sarcophagus fashioned by concrete slabs layered on top of one another. Flowers, prayer beads, and delicately sealed scrolls lay all over the shrine. Through the respectful detritus of Frostknife's mournful populace, the barest hint of engravings could be seen—depicting an equine monarch with a loving face and warm forelimbs outstretched.
Brye Chandler lifted his melancholic face up. Trembling hooves nervously turned and turned a newly-crafted helmet in his grasp. Swallowing a lump down his throat, the Defense Minister of Rohbredden gazed into the candlelight. The image of Verlaxion's tomb faded into an amber fog before his eyes, but it didn't stop him from murmuring:
"I need you..."
His voice was barely a whisper. It shook and wavered, like a sad colt's.
"I need your guidance." His ears drooped as he sat in place, turning and turning the helmet around. His eyes searched... searched... and found nothing but more empty, pleading words. "I need your blessed spirit to tell me that I'm doing the right thing..." He clenched his teeth. "For once in my life... beyond all of the money... beyond all the muck and filth and dying imbeciles of this world... I need to know that I am right."
Candlelights flickered. Flower petals shook, danced in the breath of his voice, then were still. There was no reply. There was never a reply.
"Why did you choose me?" For a brief moment—like lightning—Chandler's face registered anger. "Why did you choose me?"
More silence.
"I don't understand faith," he said. "I only understand power." He gulped. "I thought I had the power once to save your children... to save all of us. But it wasn't enough. And yet still... you chose me." He slowly shook his head. "When I hadn't even thought of choosing you. When I didn't even believe in you." He shuddered. "But your dead now. And your power... your power..." His eyes clenched shut. "...can I even compare?"
The helmet fell from his hooves. The echo it produced was like a gunshot in the chamber. Chandler didn't bother picking it back up.
"If... if it is what you wish of me... I will stop the Rainbow Rogue," Chandler murmured. "I don't know how killing her will restore your power. But I promise that I will restore your honor." At last, he tilted his head up... and it was with an iron frown. "As you have gone so far to restore mine."
The metallic joints of his armor creaked as he stood up. He was just picking up his helmet when he heard claw-scrapes from the back of the room.
Without looking, Chandler exhaled. "We are clear to leave?"
"Yes, Defense Minister," Seraphimus said. She wore a full set of Central Guard armor—with golds and amber plates replacing the usual silver of Talon design. A sharp-pointed helmet clung to her face and beak while charcoal eyes peered out through the visor. "Your batallions await your command."
"Then let us go." Chandler raised the helmet to his head—but paused. "But first..."
Seraphimus lingered, gazing at the Defense Minister.
"...do you wish to pay your respects?" Chandler said, pointing to the grave. "They will likely have relocated her to the Mausoleum at Starkiss by the time we return."
Seraphimus took a deep breath. She did not even look at the grave. "I will pay my respects... the moment that I've torn the heart out of the monster that tossed her into the void."
Chandler bit his lip.
Seraphimus bowed, turned tail, and made to leave.
"Seraphimus..." Chandler fitted his helmet on. "We may not have much opportunity to speak during our hunt. I would have you know that despite the events that brought us together—divine or otherwise—you have my everlasting respect, and I... I believe that you will bring great honor to the legacy of Verlaxion."
Seraphimus spoke without looking back: "I would not hold much weight in it."
Chandler raised an eyebrow beneath his helmet. "Honor?"
"Belief."
"Belief in what?"
"Anything." And Seraphimus was gone.
Chandler stood alone, bogged down in his clunky armor. The Defense Minister gazed at the grave one last time. With a cold shudder, he hobbled forward, and made his noisy exit.