129 - Every dog has its day
Extended Holiday
Ch 129: Every dog has its day
Act 20
Vital Spark sighed as he plopped himself down on his bed. His head still reeled from what essentially was one of the most upfront and blunt ultimatums Clover had ever said.
“Vital Spark, you have a choice to make at this stage, and you need to make it in the next twenty-four hours. Either you can fully dedicate yourself to the magic this world has to offer you, and continue under my tutelage or you can cling to your past, and end that relationship. Your magic and skill won’t grow any further, unless you choose the former. And should you choose the latter, I need time to find another apprentice. There will be no lessons today, no assignments, other than that. Man up or Pony up, whatever you call it, but whichever you do, make a decision, and stick with it. I don’t have time for somepony to try fitting two sets of horseshoes at once.”
A cheerful chirp brought his attention to the fledgeling Aria, and he smiled weakly. “Hey, Aria. It’s good to see you, too.” He got up off the bed, walked over, and stroked her back. Then he offered a piece of frozen food, which she swallowed happily. With that feeding done for the time being, Vital Spark levitated the leather covers of his scriptures, those of Faust, and the many tomes Clover had given him to study in his time in Equestria. He knew she was right. The question was which to choose. He’d seen too much of magic here to try to make Melody’s prophecy seem false, and that meant that eventually, he’d be faced with a massive challenge in Zebrica. Prayers and faith were well and good, but they wouldn’t mean a thing here without action.
He bowed his head as he felt the familiar warm streaks of tears. He listened to the patter as they fell to the floor. He looked over to his desk, where a surprise picture Lunar Fang had taken of him and Trixie sharing a plate of lo-mein at the Kirin restaurant Grif had recommended to them sat. Both muzzles had bumped together in their quest for more of the delicious substance, and the blush on their cheeks was visible through their fur. The frame soon joined the articles, along with Watcher, his violin, and a group photo from Hammer Strike’s wedding. He looked to the armor stand, and then walked over to the wardrobe, opening its doors to reveal the sets of human clothes Rarity had made for him back when he first arrived in Equestria so long ago. Images of family and loved ones from Earth lashed through his mind, and his breathing hitched as his vision passed from the closet back to his other belongings.
In the end, he knew the choice he had to make. He just wished the consequences didn’t have to be so high. He took the book Pensword had given him what felt like such a long time ago, and laid it down on the wardrobe floor between the set of dress shoes and sneakers. A single shot of concentrated magic from his horn, and a beautifully carved ice chest sat on four stout legs where the book had been. A magic circle surrounded it, pulsing gently to maintain the temperature. A distorted black mass inside the chest’s walls was the only thing to mar the presentation. He stroked the lid with a hoof as the tears continued to roll.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He turned, and motioned the doors shut with a toss of his horn as he made his way back to his bed. The articles he’d picked up returned to their proper places, save for the two pictures. Vital Spark buried his muzzle into the pillow as he sobbed, taking the frames between his hooves, and clutching them close to his chest as he let the tears go. The pain would fade eventually, but to bottle things up would do nobody any good. And so he let it go, turning onto his back to stare at the ceiling, until his tears would cease. Then … well, he’d decide when he got there.
“So, Hammer Strike, any word from Daring Do? I’d like to know where we stand there, before Grif and I head out to Ys,” Pensword began in Draconic as he sat in his beanbag chair in Hammer Strike’s office.
“Yearling has just started the search,” Hammer Strike replied.
“Ah, so her book will be out soon, and we’ll get to read it while we wait. I like that.” Pensword grinned. “Out of curiosity, where are you storing your stuff from Earth?”
Hammer Strike simply opened the side of his coat, revealing the pockets within.
“Of course. Pockets of endless space.” He looked down at a hoof, then back up. “Oh, I know I wanted to do some small talk, but I’d better let you know. We have plans in place for what to do, if we are attacked again. That means that the Thestrals will fight, until they have to retreat to either the compound or the walls, whereupon they will be folded into defensive units. Also, while I am gone, you’ll be talking to Lafayette again as the go-to for whatever counts as official military currently.”
“I’ll be sure to inform the Shields of this.”
“Sounds good,” Pensword chirped happily. “Also, did I see you starting on the second wall this morning for the Hall of Paragons and the Thestral compound? Oh, and thank you for the plans for the air docks. They should be finished by the end of February, assuming we don’t have any interruptions.”
“Since the layout has finally been settled, and there haven’t been any more … complications, we’ve been able to move forward, and build the secondary wall, securing the land for the residential and commercial district.”
“I am glad. That means you’ll be getting more troops, and … we won’t risk any setbacks, if we’re attacked again. You do know that one of my first missions with my full army is to march and find that hive to give that insect a taste of her own tactics.”
“If she lives long enough to see that day, that is,” Hammer Strike said with a faint grin.
“She’s a Changeling Queen. Unless we do something, like drop a thaumic bomb on her, and destroy her soul utterly, I think I will have my campaign against her.”
“I wouldn’t be opposed to such options. With all that she has done, I don’t think I’d have a problem doing it.”
“Then I guess that will be a project for you to work on,” Pensword said with a smirk. “Speaking of projects, when I get back, can we start on that man cave idea we had?”
“Simple enough,” Hammer Strike nodded. “I’ll make a design over time.”
“Come on,” Grif said as he was searched for the third time. “Just a stiletto? What if the yellow bellies turn on me? You're going to leave me there completely unarmed?”
“The Diamond Dogs have a spell applied to them by Clover that blunts their claws and fangs. If any of them tried to bite you, it would feel like being bitten by the fangs of a plush alligator. Clover will be doing the same for your talons and beak,” the Thestral guard from the Bear Clan spoke. “I should warn you, Pensword is there only to act as a pincushion. He will step between any fights you or the Diamond Dogs may start.” The Thestral looked about nervously. “It … doesn’t exactly help that the Bulldog asked for him by name. Whatever this is, they’ve stacked the deck against them quite thoroughly.”
“Yeah, yeah. “Grif rolled his eyes as the guard finished his pat down. “Are you satisfied you got everything?”
“No, but I’ve already exceeded my allotted three searches. You probably have more weapons hidden away someplace, but I urge you to remember not to kill anyone today. That is an order that came directly from Hammer Strike. You know the bounds for that, and the rules of exceptions associated with it. Please, act accordingly.”
“Yeah, I know. Now open the door, and let’s get this farce taken care of,” Grif growled.
The stallion gave a curt nod to the other guards manning the entrance. The double doors were tall and broad, arching upwards to grant entry to even the largest of creatures, barring the older dragons, of course. They opened to reveal a long table littered with folders, papers, and multiple pitchers and glasses filled with water for the discussions. Pensword sat waiting at the head of the table.
Two Diamond Dogs sat on the Pegasus’ right. The first was stout, and his many furrows of fur and droopy jowls left him with a natural frown as his canines jutted up slightly from his lower jaw. His white fur had been carefully groomed, and his dark eyes gazed placidly at the Gryphon. His expression betrayed neither fear nor hatred, simply peace, neutrality, and a hint of regret. The bulldog had likely had much time to prepare that face. The fact he managed to keep up that expression in the face of one of the most dangerous of their natural enemies was quite a feat. The second Diamond Dog was tall, and well toned. His muscles were neither bulky nor lean. His fur glinted in the light, the black patches letting off a brief flash of blue as he turned to face the Avatar of Winds.
Both stood as Grif entered the room proper. The Gryphon eyed the last chair, which lay to Pensword’s left, giving him a proper view of both Dogs, and giving him a chance to gauge them properly. He strode slowly to the chair, not trusting himself to speak. Every instinct in him screamed that he should kill the traitors on the spot, but his oath to Hammer Strike forbade it, at least for now. He clenched his hands, before laying them on the table, and turning to stare the representatives down.
The two Dogs bowed low, raising their paws up to expose their rough pads. Grif recalled the papers Pensword had prepped for him. According to the information they had gained on the canines’ culture, this was a huge sign of submission towards whatever person they mimed this action towards. They also wore only robes. There were neither chest plates nor cuirass to protect their chests or bellies. And unlike Grif’s previous encounters with the creatures, these two didn’t seem to stink up the room.
Grif was a bit surprised, but did his best to hide it as he took his seat.
Pensword nodded his head towards the German Shepherd. “This one is the representative from what equates to the tech tribe. They are the ones who designed the device that delivered their initial request for an audience to Hammer Strike. He has asked that he be given the honor of speaking first to properly explain why they wish to speak to you, Avatar of the Winds. I will not be contributing to this discussion, save in the role of mediator. You cannot ask me for advice, nor can you expect me to defend you, save if the words spoken are slanderous or without base in fact. I will offer the same courtesy to these delegates. Do you agree to these terms?”
“I agree,” Grif growled out as he crossed his arms.
The Shepherd rose from his position of submission, and nodded to his companion, who took a seat. His accent was thick and clipped, but not impossible to understand. “First, I vish to speak on ze behalf of mein colleagues at ze monastery. Zey all send Zeir greetings, unt Zeir well wishes.” He cleared his throat. “If you would grant us a small indulgence, I wish to begin with a piece of history. You do not trust us, unt we do not expect you to do so. However, what I have to say this day is truth. Long ago, the one you call Anubis became ze leader of our nation, or rather, vat once vas a nation. He vas a ruler not unlike ze line of emperors vich dominate your society today.”
Grif let out a snarl as he stood to his full height. “The Cult of Anubis was nothing like the emperor.”
“I refer to ze nature of his power as head of state, herr Avatar, not by acts or deeds, which, as I am sure history has taught you well, vary from person to person for good or ill among all rulers.” He cleared his throat, and continued. “As canines, a rule is held sacred above all others in our culture. Indeed, it is embedded into our very beings, and in a way, the very magics our race once wielded long ago. That rule, nein, that compulsion, was simply this: to obey ze alpha. It was this compulsion zat pushed our ancestors to acquire certain … artifacts of great power at even greater risk to themselves, all at ze alpha Anubis’ request. I believe you are familiar with zese artifacts, yes?”
“The gems later used for the Crown of Berenziah, your other short-lived king,” Grif stated.
“Exakt,” he said as he nodded. “However, vat history does not mention is zat zere vere not five gems. Nein. Zere vere seven.” The Shepherd paused to take a sip from his glass, and allow the gravity of his words to sink in.
Grif slammed a fist on the table. “There were only five used in the binding, and I went through hell to get them. I still have no idea where the khopesh is hidden, and you’re telling me that I have to find two more?”
“Nein.” The Diamond Dog shook his head. “Zey are safe, well hidden, well protected. Our ancestors made certain of that at great peril to their lives. Zey broke ze taboo, unt zey paid ze price. For to break ze unspoken law, even in the pursuit of a goal to prevent an evil that could come to pass, is still to bring down wrath. Ve no longer have magic. Such was ze price zat our whole race paid. However, our gods were … somewhat merciful to our two branches. Ve do not degrade as our former pack brothers do.”
“You lost magic?” Grif roared in rage. “My people were damned to thousands of years of war upon ourselves. Diseases we once could fight now kill thousands! Our law code has degraded to a bunch of arbitrary standards that only apply on those weaker than yourself. Do you understand what your people did, how many Gryphons die needlessly? And you claim the loss of your magic is a price even comparable?”
The Bulldog shook his head. “No, but you have your emperor, and your cities. Our race is scattered, and save for our two sects, live in the caves, having many alphas who fight and die for their dominance on a regular basis. Our packs are scattered and strewn about with neither rhyme nor reason. Our once great cities have long since crumbled to nothing, and knowledge has slipped from them to the point where some can hardly even be considered sapient anymore. We have reaped the consequences of our actions, and they have reaped theirs. Outside of our two packs, many dogs don’t read, and even less can write. They don’t even remember the truth anymore. They search blindly for a gem powerful enough to restore even a semblance of the glory our people once bore.”
“Either way, it seems you have me at a disadvantage here,” Grif grumbled. “If you truly possess these gems, then you stand in my way of bringing the Winds back, and possibly keeping my race from becoming extinct before the millennium is out. Have you come to ransom them, to hold them to my face? What do you want?” Grif sneered at the last part.
“Ve vant vat our ancestors vanted, Grif Grafson,” the Shepherd said simply, “to repair ze wrong zat was done. Ve have hidden ourselves from our brothers and sisters, because ve have vat zey seek. However, ze gems have told us ze time for hiding is done. They sense ze gathering. And, indeed, if ve are not mistaken, it is zese gems, or rather, zeir source, that keeps our own packs from becoming no better than ze others.”
“And that,” the Bulldog continued, “means one thing. If you are to gather the gems together in their true full power, either we suffer our two packs to become no better than our brethren and sisters within two generations’ time or … we move with the gems, place them into your keeping, ... and designate you our alpha. Should you accept, then if you wish us to worship the Winds, we will do so. If you would have us fight for you and die in the field of battle, we will obey. Your word would become law to us, just as Anubis’ once was so many years ago.”
“I don’t care who you worship, and I don’t want to be your alpha,” Grif spat. “But I will take your help, if for no other reason than I have little choice in the matter.” Pensword could tell it was clearly hard for Grif to say this. “But I won’t be returning the five to you, once the Winds return.”
The Bulldog looked like Grif had shoved an entire lemon into his muzzle. “We would never demand such a thing in the first place. Do with them as you please. We have no need for them. We only ask that we be allowed to keep the two we have protected, after they have been used, so that our packs may continue to survive.” He balled his fist, and coughed into it, his cultured English voice ringing in the air. “The gems have a magic, and whether you like it or not, you’ll be considered our alpha, simply by possessing them, should they accept you.”
“Then why have your ‘brothers’ warred with us for so many years to try and retrieve the other gems?” Grif asked.
“The reason why they war for the gems is as varied as there are members of our packs. From the misguided thoughts that we would regain our former glory to bringing Anubis back from the dead to just wanting to hold onto a piece of our heritage, our history,” the Bulldog answered. “They’ve warred with us, too. They know as well as we that our packs are still the same as the day of banishment.”
“Regardless, it is ze will of our leaders zat ze gems be reunited, so zat ze best outcome may come to pass for all, and so prophecy may be fulfilled, both from your Vinds unt from our more spiritually minded counterparts, ze monks. Long ago, one of your party journeyed to our twin monasteries to study. If ze rumors are to be believed, she is also ze same mare who cast ze spell to blunt our claws and teeth. If you wish to gain an unbiased opinion, perhaps you should speak with her on ze matter,” the Shepherd suggested.
“I will,” Grif assured them as he narrowed his gaze suspiciously. “For now, what do you intend to do? You can’t stay in this fortress, for the time being. You know that.”
“We understand that. That is why we have also sent envoys to Princess Luna. Until you come to a decision, our packs will move into the caves around Filly De Ys, under a form of sanctuary. This will allow us to continue to live in peace, and should assist in the deterrence of any rogue packs that might seek to destroy us or the precious artifacts we guard,” the bulldog said with a smile. “She has most graciously agreed.”
“Then I’ll contact you, when I have Anubis’ khopesh. Then we can make the preparations,” Grif said as he thrust his chair back unceremoniously. “I have preparations of my own to make for a journey that cannot be delayed, so I will bid you all adieu.”
“May ze faithfulness of Father Fenris keep you,” the Shepherd said with a bow.
“May the strength of his teeth deliver you from harm,” the Bulldog continued.
“As they have our own,” they echoed together.
Pensword stared in confusion, then tilted his head as his eyes glazed over. His body soon followed, and he nearly fell out of his chair. “Fenris?”
Just inside the border of the Everfree Forest came a sight not often seen. Several Royal Guards stood on the Ponyville side of the border. They were dressed in their polished armor, and brandished their spears. One had a red cape denoting his rank as a squad leader. Just inside the border, Grif stood glaring at them grim-faced. Behind him stood several Rohirrim in full armor.
Between both groups sat a Unicorn and a Pegasus. The two took turns swapping nervous glances at the Royal Guards, and pleading looks at Grif and the Rohirrim. Grif had been taking a small group, in order to cover the new patrol routes he wanted them to take while he was away, when they’d discovered the duo being chased by the guard. When they had touched the border, Grif had naturally told the guardsponies to back off as he established who he was, and that he would take the pair into custody.
The squad leader was obviously bred from higher nobility, because he immediately made a point of sneering at this claim, and boasting how the two were wanted criminals, and he would be the one to take them into custody, despite Grif’s pointing out the lands were Hammer Strike’s, and as such, they had no authority past the border. It had resulted in several thrown insults, before one of the Royal Guards pointed out to his superior that they really didn’t have the right to cross into Hammer Strike’s lands without permission, unless they had an order from the princess. They sent a Pony running to Twilight, and Grif penned a message, and sent it straight to Hammer Strike. So it was that the group sat at odds, waiting for their superiors to come and settle the matter.
Grif took his time to observe the pair of fugitives in the interim. The Unicorn was on the taller side, and leaner. He had a dark gray coat with a pitch-black mane and tail. He wore a pair of spectacles, and his dark gray eyes seemed to burn with an a strange intensity, even in their current worried state. Grif couldn’t make out the Pony’s cutie mark, as he was wearing a long black coat. The part in the coat over his front revealed what seemed to be a formal vest, although the collar reached right up to his neck, so Grif couldn’t be sure. He wore red hoof covers on his forehooves, and seemed to actually be wearing black dress pants that almost completely covered his hind legs. Black chains had been wrapped around the fetlocks of both sets of legs. Black saddlebags and several sheathed daggers were visible.
The Pegasus was a shorter mare. Her orange-red mane was long and straight, hanging almost to her front knees. Her coat was a lighter pink, and her eyes were a startling shade of violet. Unlike her companion, she wore a less conspicuous costume consisting of a green windbreaker with a hood full of white faux fur, and a white loose-fitting shirt beneath it. She wore a pair of black headphones that seemed to go behind her mane with red ear cushions. She wore a set of black leg warmers on her back legs, and her cutie mark seemed to be a red splat not unlike a bloodstain with white flowers in a line near the bottom.
The strangest thing to Grif was that the pair hadn’t said anything, hadn’t pleaded their innocence or demanded any kind of asylum. They hadn’t spoken a word since this standoff happened, but they hadn’t come by accident. They were making a beeline for Hammer Strike’s lands specifically. Why they had could be worked out later. For now, all he could do was wait for Twilight or Hammer Strike to arrive, and get these Royal Guards off his case.
“I was requested?” Hammer Strike asked aloud as he emerged from the road into the Everfree.
Grif cut the squad leader off, before he could say anything. “Could you please inform this gentlecolt that these supposed thieves are on your lands, and so we’ll take them into custody? He doesn’t need to take them to Canterlot.”
“I can’t believe this,” Hammer Strike grumbled, before turning towards the guards. “I’ve argued with every guard from here to Canterlot over this issue. This is my land, meaning it works under my rules, and is policed by my guard.” He drew closer to the squad leader, putting emphasis on each word with every step. “I have a mountain of paperwork sitting in my office right now. And while I love arguing with every guard that feels they have a higher authority, let me put this simply. You do not have control of my land. They are here in my land, and my guard will handle them. So you are free to leave, and let me and those under my employ return to work.”
“Sir.” Grif nodded “All right, my friends. You heard Lord Hammer Strike. Follow the boys in the shiny armor nice and quietly, and no harm will come to you. I doubt you’ll get such an offer from the monsters in the forest.”
“Aren't you going to take their weapons? Or at least search them for weapons?” one of the Royal Guards queried.
“If we’re attacked on our way back to New Unity, they’d be more useful with them. And if they want to try using them on us–.” The guard felt a breeze past his left ear. “They’ll be dead, before they finish drawing their knives,” Grif finished, walking over to retrieve his throwing blade as he gestured to a small pile of white hair on the ground. “All right, everybody. Three ahead, three behind me, and Hammer Strike will follow behind. Thank you, gentleponies, and good day.” Grif waved to the guards with a smug grin as he and the rest of Unity’s guards entered into the forest with their new prisoners.
After some time of walking, Hammer Strike finally spoke. “Now, why would a duo of wanted individuals make their way to my lands?”
The stallion looked over to his companion, before giving a small nod. “We’ve come to ask for your help.”
Hammer Strike raised a curious brow. “And what help are you seeking?”
The stallion looked nervously towards Grif, then back to Hammer Strike. “Help in dealing with our record. Our last job didn’t end the way it was supposed to.”
“We were set up,” the mare interrupted. “I should have seen it coming.”
“What she said,” the stallion frowned. “It was supposed to be a simple job. In and out, without an issue, but upon our exit, we were confronted and chased, eventually leading to our criminal record.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself. “So, you’re what, thieves?”
The stallion shook his head. “Not in the traditional sense, though it wouldn’t be hard to manage that.”
“A gentleman thief and his intelligence gatherer,” Grif chuckled. “People hire him to steal things, usually information, and as the rumors go, he can steal traits, and she can find out just about anything for him.”
Hammer Strike hummed again to himself. “So, you’ve come to me for help in clearing your record.” A small smile appeared on his muzzle. “What other skills do you two have?”
The stallion rubbed the back of his neck. “I can manage things, and perform a lot of different tasks.”
“I’m good at organizing information and documents, and am able to keep track of many different assets,” the mare commented.
“If my sources are accurate, these two were at one time being investigated for being part of a much larger group,” Grif noted, “but the information on said group is sparse, so the Guard couldn’t push anything”
“My name is Silent Collector,” the stallion commented after a time.
“I’m Oracle,” the mare followed afterwards.
“You know what?” Hammer Strike’s smile widened into a smirk. “I have an idea for how to deal with the two of you.”
“Okay, Nanami, so remember. Starting tomorrow, Day Moon will be coming to you at three. You’re to run him through forms five, eight, and ten. After that, you can advance at your own discretion, until I get back, but keep notes for me. If any documents come in, place them in my office, and remember to lock it behind you.” Grif handed her his key with some trepidation. “You can handle that, right?”
“You act as though I’ve never had to train an acolyte before,” she said with a smirk. “We’ll be fine, Grif. Go. Enjoy your time with your mates. You have a future to attend to there just as much as you do here.”
“When those scouts get back, start sending regular flight patrols out in that area. Best to keep it under surveillance. If there is an attack, the clan should know what to do.” The Gantrithor hovered overhead, ready to leave. Grif, Avalon, Shrial, Gilda, and the cubs all waited to board the ship. Some more patiently than others. Each gave their goodbyes and well-wishes, while Pensword, Lunar Fang, and Fox Feather did the same not far off. Pensword had decided it was best to leave the foals behind this time, a decision Moon River did not approve of as she held onto Bellacosa with a grip of iron.
Pensword sighed as he shook his head. “Moon River, would you please let Cosy go?”
Moon River shook her head adamantly.
Pensword sighed again. “What do you want?”
“Cosy!”
Pensword was glad to know she liked him, but her stubbornness here was a problem. “He has to go back home to Cadence. Don’t you think his sisters and Shining will miss him, too?”
Moon River just shook her head, and shrieked at the top of her lungs. “MINE!” Cosy wasn’t exactly helping when he chuckled at her antics. That only gave her more motivation.
Pensword facehoofed. “Moon River, you have till the count of three to let go, or I will have you moved, and you won’t have any desert till I get back,” he threatened.
She hissed, and flared her wings wide.
“One,” Pensword began. Lunar Fang narrowed her eyes, and while Moon River was the focus of her gaze, the others around the mother shrank back from the rapidly flaring glare. Moon River stood her ground, but her wings began to drop.
“Two.” Pensword twitched a wing towards Vital, whose horn began to glow and hum. Lunar Fang’s eyes began to flash as she raised her brow and pawed a hoof menacingly on the ground. Her wings twitched at her sides as she bore a hint of her fangs in an intimidating snarl.
“Three,” Pensword finished. Moon River was still clinging to Cosy, but her eyes watered, and her lips began to wobble as the first streaks came down her cheeks. The full force of Lunar Fang’s glare bore fruit, and her eyes seemed to glow with an unholy flame. Her wings snapped fully open as she tossed her mane, and snorted adamantly, before stomping her hoof on the ground.
Moon River still didn’t budge.
Pensword nodded to Vital, and sighed. He hated doing this to her, but it had to be done. She needed to learn her limits, and this discipline would be the best thing for her. “Do it.”
“Sorry, Moon River,” Vital said as his magical aura surrounded her. In a matter of seconds, he’d pulled her forelegs apart, followed by her hind legs. Then it was a simple matter of binding her wings with his will, and levitating her towards Lunar Fang. The unholy wailing was enough to cause even the stoutest of hearts to cringe as Lunar Fang took a firm grip on her daughter, and promptly nipped her sharply on the ear.
“That’s enough of that,” she snapped. “Cosy has to go home. You’ll have plenty of time to spend with him later, young lady. Now you stop it, and behave, or so help me, I’ll take away your toys for a week!”
Moon River’s eyes went wide at the threat. Her muzzle quivered.
From the side, one of the Thestrals from the Dream Clan stepped forward, and gingerly took Moon River into her winged embrace from Lunar Fang as she hummed an ancient tune. That seemed to work as Moon River drifted off to sleep, though the look she gave Vital made him worry about what he would find in the coming days.
“Stop looking so nervous,” Grif told Gilda as he walked up to her, and wrapped a wing around her. “That's a long way off for you yet.”
“I ... I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it,” Gilda whispered as she looked at the other mothers and their cubs.
“I don’t know if I’ll be good at it either,” Grif shrugged. “It’s an adventure we’ll have to work on one step at a time, okay?” He kissed her gently.
“One step, one flap of the wing,” Gilda responded as she looked at the ship. “I … I never thought my life would recover.” She stopped, before a very sure cocky grin spread on her beak. “Though a thought just occurred to me, Grif. You may just have a new sister-in-law. Dashy’s my little sis, after all.”
“So you want me to invite her and Kahn over, so I can loom over him while cleaning my extensive knife collection?” Grif chuckled.
“You know it.” Gilda broke into a fit of laughter.
“Once we get back,” he promised. “For now, you should enjoy the trip, and maybe get some pointers from Shrial. If what Zecora said is true, your talons are going to be full.”
“Don’t remind me,” Gilda groaned. “Let me just focus on the trip, okay?”
“I’ll try,” he chuckled, “but it is a husband’s obligation to tease his wives from time to time, you know.” Then he winked at her.
Pensword leaned down to nuzzle Day Moon, Cristo, and Inigo. “My dear sons, my dear nephews, please know that It hurts me to leave all my children behind, but this is something I must face on my own. I have not been home since the end of the Third Gryphon War. It feels like ages ago, and I must … face this demon alone with those that saw me at my rawest.” He looked up at the other Demon Slayers. “You watch over the base and the castle. Be ready to fight, but also help in the construction.” Pensword got hugs in return, before the three turned, and flew up to the entrance of the Gantrithor. “I don’t know why I even called this the Giant to begin with,” he muttered.
Grif gave a nod to Hammer Strike, who stood at the back of the group of people seeing them off. He’d come back to a virtual mountain of paperwork, so the fact that he’d shown up at all meant alot. With that, Grif led his family aboard, letting them head for their quarters as he made his way to the bridge to begin prepping.
“You want me on the Bridge, Captain?” Pensword asked Grif as he walked at his side. “Also, which cabins will I be assigned to in Filly De Ys?”
“You can pretty much pick your own, Pensword,” Grif chuckled “There’s only us here. You can hang around, if you want to, though” he noted as he flipped a few switches, relaying everything so a single person could steer the ship.
Hammer Strike led Silent Collector and Oracle through the New Unity corridors. “Based off of the information Grif has given me, I believe I can use your unique talents,” he smiled. After some travel, they came across a longer hallway leading towards his office. “How well do you both believe you can handle sorting and managing through paperwork?”
Oracle almost laughed. “Piece of cake.”
Silent Collector hummed. “It’s been awhile, but I can manage.”
“Good.” Hammer Strike opened the doors to his office, revealing stacks of paperwork all over his desk and nearby tables. “Here’s my deal for the two of you. I am in need of assistants to help manage all the paperwork I have to deal with on a daily basis. If you help me manage all of this, and keep everything nice and orderly, I will ensure your protection, and potentially offer you some proper employment.”
Oracle went wide-eyed as she looked at all the paperwork, while Silent’s expression dropped ever so slightly. “What in the world do you manage to have this much paperwork?” Oracle cried out in surprise.
“City management, letters from nobility, dealing with the guard. You name it, I’ve probably got it.” Hammer Strike turned towards the two of them. “So, I ensure your security, and you take the job of my assistants. Do we have a deal?”
Silent Collector’s expression shifted to a smile. “I’m sure we can manage this,” he responded with confidence.
Hammer Strike smiled. “Perfect. Perhaps I’ll actually get some more free time after this.” He chuckled to himself. “Unlikely, but I’ll look forward to your assistance.” He gestured for them to follow him as he turned to exit the office. “Follow me. I’ll lead you to your own quarters, and … your workspace.”
He led them through the corridors once more, though it wasn’t long, before he stopped once again, directing them through another door. Inside were a few oak desks with a large circular desk in the center. The floor was covered in a deep blue carpet, while the windows were blocked by curtains of the same color. The status of the room was above par, leading the group to believe it was recently refurbished.
“This will be your workspace. I’ll move some filing cabinets and other means of storage into this room later to help with your organization. Other supplies will be managed later.”
Silent Collector looked around the room in wonder. “Question, sir. Do you by chance know of a Gryphon with a long beak?”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he scratched at his chin. “I can’t say that I do.”
Silent frowned for a moment, before returning to his neutral expression. “Oh well,” he shrugged. “It was a stretch, anyways.”
Oracle, on the other hoof, was busy looking around the room, muttering to herself as she planned how to go about their future.
“You know, I was expecting something in response about having to work for me. Perhaps some concern or something, but the two of you seem content,” Hammer Strike commented as he looked between the two.
“Well,” Oracle started, “to be fair, it’s either we do this, or rot in prison.” She turned towards Hammer Strike with a smile. As soon as her eyes met his, she looked away, and rubbed at her foreleg nervously.
“Quite.” Hammer Strike hummed, before moving towards the door. “I believe I can find some use of your service in both dealing with paperwork, and perhaps some other tasks fitting to your skill sets, but we’ll save that for another discussion. Come now. I’ll lead you to your quarters. I hope you both don’t mind sharing a room. We’re not done with the new residential buildings yet. You know, hotels, some houses, etcetera.”
“Oh, that won’t be a problem,” Silent Collector chuckled as he used his magic to shift his mane, revealing a golden band while Oracle lifted her coat to reveal another golden band around her hoof. “We’re happily together.”
Hammer Strike smiled. “That makes things easier.” He gestured the two of them to follow. “Come. I’ll show you your room.”
“Now don’t worry about me getting back to New Unity. I’ve been told that Luna has a surprise to show me in Ys that will help with travel,” Pensword said as he and Grif sat at the table. The meal had long since passed, and Cosy had been tucked into bed, leaving the adults alone to have their discussions in peace.
“Good, because I’ve drawn up the route to go straight back to Unity afterwards. And honestly, I don’t like both of us being gone at the moment, with the way the scouts have been,” Grif noted as he took a drink of his favorite raspberry cordial.
“Wait, what did the scouts find this time?” Pensword asked, concerned. “Besides, Luna said this was needed for me and my return to becoming full Commander again.”
“They found tracks, and noted unusual wildlife activity. It’s nothing too large at the moment, but they have suspicions,” Grif noted.
“I am suddenly regretting leaving my children at home,” Pensword muttered as he facehoofed. “But then we wouldn’t have been able to tear Moon River away from Cosy when get got off at Ys, and that could mean a month of her staying in the Crystal Empire.” Pensword buried his muzzle into his wing. “I never was this bad as a two year old in either world, so why do I have to deal with it?” To Grif, it sounded for just a moment as if the two minds had spoken as one.
“Because children are children. And honestly, Thestrals are warriors. That means a never-back-down spirit. I know the twins are going to be tough when they get there. I just hope I’ll be ready.”
“I’m sure you will be,” Pensword assured him as he sipped at his tea. “Still, I am nervous. The last time I was in the mountains, the scars were still visible, the ruins standing, and I felt like I was living it all over again. I ... don’t know how I’ll handle it this time.”
“If I can visit the Farflyers, you can do this,” Grif told him. “It’ll be okay.”
Pensword took a steady breath. “I know. I know. It’s just … something feels like it’s coming full circle, but I don’t know what it is. I just feel … nervous. How does it look? How did the Dream Clan maintain it? What’s changed?”
“You trust your mother's clan?” Grif asked.
“I do. It doesn’t help stop the fear, though. Gramma called the town’s space sacred and hallowed, so I don’t know what will happen.”
“Have faith, Pensword. All will be well,” Grif promised as he took another sip of his drink.
Pensword sighed. “I suppose I have no choice. Matthew, seems to be very thoughtful for some reason.” Pensword frowned as his brow furrowed. “Grif, I can feel myself shifting to be more loyal to Equestria than Earth, than the United States. I think, if a conflict were to arise, I would side with Equestria, too. Is … is this normal? Was that normal when you and Taze merged?”
“I can’t say if it’s normal,” Pensword. I can say that, for me, it’s what felt right. You have to understand. What I went through wasn’t a simple merging. Both my other selves ceased to be. What was left over is just Grif. I know that before it happened, both Grif and Taze were a little frightened, but who isn’t a little scared to die?”
“I am not scared to die, but … do you mean to say that when that happened, it could be technically be called your birthday?”
“When you talked to me later that day, it was the first time we actually met. I remembered you. I knew you both from Taze and Grif’s memories, but it was the first time I met you as the new me,” Grif explained. “I’ve got both sets of memories, but I’m not like either of them, really. Not fully. I share many traits. I like to read, and I enjoy the thrill of combat, but I also have things neither did. Taze couldn’t take a lot of spicy food, and the old Grif never really cared for it. I actually enjoy it. I enjoy poetry and abstract art more than either of them, too. Little things like that. I’m not either of them, but I come from both of them. Can you accept that reality?”
Pensword shook his head. “No. The two of us would rather have an accord, or the like, but … something in my gut says that your path is a bad one for me. Still, thank you for helping to explain that part of your … creation to me.” He yawned. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get some sleep. Are you still up for some Thaumic crystal training in the morning?”
Grif smiled. “You know it, Pensword.”
Pensword stood in the dream realm. He felt his fur rise on the back of his neck as he scanned left and right. The world rippled, and he found himself somewhere else entirely. Clouds surrounded him on all sides, and he could feel the familiar cold of extremely high elevations. Looking down, he noticed he was standing atop what felt like a pillar of some sort. It clopped against his hoof as he tapped it. Off in the distance, he could just make out another pillar with a familiar Alicorn standing tall and proud.
“HO, MY COMMANDER!” Luna shouted in her Canterlot voice. “WELCOME TO YOUR TRAINING TONIGHT! FOR NOT ALL YOUR FIGHTS SHALL BE UPON OR CLOSE TO THE GROUND. TONIGHT, WE FIGHT IN THE ELEMENT THAT ALL WINGED BEINGS CALL THEIR HOME: THE AIR!” With those words, Luna launched herself into the clouds, and Pensword followed, finding himself suddenly holding his Gryphon bow without so much as a thought. He raised his hoof, and fired an arrow.
Luna dodged it easily. “USING WEAPONS! HUZZAH! AND ONES THAT ONE WOULD NOT EXPECT A PONY TO USE! MOST IMPRESSIVE!” She grinned, and slammed her wings together to create an air current that warped and boiled in front of him, spreading around her. Pensword tilted his wings, and rode out the disturbances as he dipped and rose to pass through the next volley. Suddenly, Luna was upon him, kicking him low, and he found himself trapped once again in the turbulence. He fought with all the strength he could muster. And while he knew he scored hits, a sudden blow from Meteor Impact slammed him all the way down through the clouds to crash into the earth below, leaving a rather sizable crater. Luna alighted at the lip, and smiled down at her pupil.
“That is good, my commander. Like Grif, I shall, in his words, ‘dial it up’ each night as I see fit. Tonight, we will cover aerial tactics, including personal combat and utilizing manifestations of airships to conjure at will. I shall teach thee more about nightmares and ways to combat them, before they are fully entrenched in the minds of their victims.” She sat down. “But first–” a familiar pouch appeared, hovering gently in her magical grip. “–I shall teach thee how to hide thoughts. Matthew is very giddy tonight. That is a weakness, one which I was able to exploit to find a secret you sought to bury.” She prodded the bag curiously with her horn. “So, you have a storm core.”
Pensword bristled, and grit his teeth. Luna grinned as she raised a hoof to rest on the shaft of her mighty hammer. “I see you will fight to protect your war prize. Personally, I would build a warship with that storm core. Hide the secret there as the power source. Then it will merely appear as a manifestation of the defenses you are building in your mind. This flagship would also prove a powerful defense for your dreams, would it not?”
Pensword nodded as a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, and rapidly widened into a grin. “Another battle?”
Luna slowly unfurled her wings. “Aye, and it shall be glorious!” She charged her horn, and vanished, bringing Pensword up on alert as he dove into the air. He barely avoided the magical blast as rubble and dust flew upwards to pepper his flanks and armor.
The battle raged for what felt like hours on end, always ending the same. Luna would either slam him into submission, hold him at sword point, or cleave off a wing. When regular aerial tactics became tiresome, she taught him how to manifest a vehicle for a swift retreat or a head-on assault. The Pegasus was nowhere near ready to call up a battleship, but he did manage to summon a small sky schooner, where he practiced evasive tactics, while Luna attacked in the form of Nightmare Moon with her own flying galleon, complete with Thestral Night Guard crewmates that, for some reason, were playing trumpets in perfect unison, rather than manning their battle stations. Much silliness ensued as Luna taught him to twist his creations into effective deterrents against a Nightmare’s influence through complete randomness. All seemed lost, until Pensword pulled out the one manifestation of his subconscious he had fought for years to contain.
“Cry havoc, and let slip the Pinkie Pies of war!”
A veritable onslaught of Pinkies bounced, hovered, flew, walked on thin air, poofed, vanished, reappeared, and struck with all manner of techniques including pie throws, streamer ropes, party cannons, riding the Thestrals like bucking broncos, and at one point, strangely enough, holding Twilight Sparkle as she pumped the princess’ tail to fire off magical blasts like a minigun.
Luna grinned as her troops were thoroughly engaged. “Now you’re thinking like a dream hunter!” she crowed as she lunged into the air. Pensword rose to meet her with an equally vicious grin as they clashed once again.
Finally, Pensword found himself tired, but satisfied as he drifted lazily into the courtyard of the training arena from his first night with Luna. The princess soon alighted next to him.
“Huzzah! If I were a mortal Pegasus, your last couple of blows would have killed me. You are getting better, but are you learning what I am teaching you?”
“I think so, Chieftess.” Pensword smiled tiredly as he looked up at her. Luna moved a wing tip over, indicating for him to go on. “You’re trying to teach me how to predict what comes next, so that I can anticipate and overcome Grif when he attacks.”
“Good, good. I want you on the fast track with your training in the waking world, too, after all.” She stood stock still for a moment, staring off into space. After a time, she came to herself again, and shook her head. “Sorry about that. I had to deal with something. Another dream walker required my assistance for a moment. There are so many Ponies to deal with in the kingdom, especially with the addition of the Changelings and my Thestrals. There’s no way I can handle it all by myself anymore.” She smiled kindly. “But you and the foals of Ponyville, and soon of New Unity, you will be under my personal protection.”
“So, being a master of the dream realm, you can split yourself off into multiple selves, like how you separated me from Matthew?”
“Exactly,” Luna replied, “though I am unable to divide my psyche between the manifestations, so I must concentrate on the one projection or the other. That is not a technique you will be learning, but you may be able to learn how to project shadows of yourself in time. That will prove useful in your fight against the coming shadow.”
Pensword bowed his head in gratitude. “I look forward to it, Teacher.”
Sweat dripped from Grif’s form as he finished his two hundredth wingup. It was late, and the night was dark around him. Inside the ship, his family and Pensword, Lunar Fang, and Fox Feather each slept in their rooms, but Grif found himself adverse to sleep tonight. Not that he’d been known to get much sleep lately. He still chuckled, remembering Zecora’s reaction when he’d answered her question of how much sleep he was getting.
‘To work so long with so little rest, it’s a miracle your heart still beats in your breast.’
Surprisingly, rather than forcing him to get a better sleep schedule, the Zebra had added meditation lessons to Grif’s nightly work schedule with her. Zecora had long ago developed a meditation style that replicated the action of sleep upon the body in a more condensed sense, though he’d been warned he should still sleep when possible. He found this method of respite to be both effective and refreshing, and it would no doubt be an asset on nights like this, where he stood the lone sentinel as the ship barreled through the night.
Once he’d finished his physical routine, Grif spent the next hour shooting at targets in the shooting range. After that, he spent another hour practicing his forms and katas with swords, then daggers, then small knives. He spent some time throwing knives in the range, too, to keep his edge. The Thestral tomahawk he’d received was his next objective.
While he hadn’t the skill some of the Thestral weapons masters had with the weapon, he found the small axe was easy to manipulate in his talons. He could maneuver it easily between hands, flip it frontwards or backwards with a gesture, and he enjoyed the powerful overhead chop the weapon specialized in. Furthermore, the weapon’s dual nature as a throwing weapon pleased him, especially since his raptor-feline eyes allowed him to throw the weapon with greater accuracy than most Thestrals in any light.
When he had gone through his weapon training, he carefully sharpened and oiled each weapon, checking the wraps and cords for wear and tear, and strengthening anywhere he felt needed it. When he was pleased, he put the weapons away carefully, keeping only a knife within an arm's reach. He put on his suppression ring, and proceeded to work on molding his thaumic energies. True to Hammer Strike’s words, he felt the new weakness in his field, but he also felt the new possibilities. Currently, he could only increase or decreases momentum on his body, but if he kept working the applications could be endless.
Once he’d finished his Thaumic training, Grif suppressed his field by force of will, and as Zecora had instructed him, he reached for the fire that was his life energy.
“There is no time in battle to focus your concentration.
You must find the energy through a different alteration.”
Zecora had taught him to dig deep within himself. Life energy was in everything that lived, and constantly at work. One didn’t need to blank one’s mind to draw it out. One need simply know how to stoke the furnace, and Grif found the furnace quickly. He reached in, and connected with it, willing it to gain heat and ferocity. Soon the result was clear as blue energy began lapping at his body, covering him from head to toe in a sapphire-blue blanket. It didn’t lick at him like flames or crackle like electricity. It flowed over him in jet streams, like the wind that was so tied to his soul. Experimentally, Grif moved his body, and watched the energy follow, tied to him like his own skin.
Laughing, he turned to the sliver of sunlight signaling dawn on the horizon. He clawed at the air, as if attacking an opponent, concentrating on the energy, and forming what he needed it to do in his head. Over a year ago, he’d probably have attempted to replicate the kamehameha wave, the hadouken, or some other attack from Taze’s never-ending source of fictional inspiration. But he wasn’t Taze. He was Grif, and he had something different in mind. He clawed the air faster and faster, blue slash marks hovering there as his talons continued their assault. Finally, when the air around him seemed covered in thin blue marks, he threw his talons forward, and the marks shot out in every direction. The ones that hit the ship scored the metal as Grif roared, “Feral hurricane!” The marks that didn’t hit the ship carried out into the slowly lightening sky for a few seconds, before fading out of existence. Tiredness flooded Grif’s limbs as they did.
He dropped to all fours, and chuckled as he panted. He had something new, neither thaumic nor magic. This was something that he could truly call his own style, an ace in the hole. He panted for several minutes, before he returned to the first position, and reached for the fire within once more. He needed to practice.
Pensword stood on the bow of the ship above what he had dubbed the Yamato Cannon. A grin formed on his muzzle as he watched the towers of Filly De Ys peeking above the horizon. The former the fortress undefeated, held by Gryphons so many years ago, was now his own barony, had served as a refuge for Thestrals during the Lunar Princess’ imprisonment, and now served as the capital of the Lunar Court. A thrill of anticipation flowed through him at the thought of being able to see Luna in the flesh again.
The castle loomed head of them as the clouds dispersed. A thousand years of regular maintenance and Luna’s own personal modifications had done the fortress well. Black onyx and marble had been added to the outer wall to give the building a darker look. Banners hung over the long wall as they approached. The first and largest bore Luna's cutie mark with an ursa major superimposed over it. Four other banners, each bearing the animal of major thestral tribes stood on either side. The lion, dragon, manticore, and ursa minor stared bleakly at any potential intruders that might arrive. A stray wind caused another piece of fabric to wrap around the corner of the wall, and Pensword smiled at the sight. Of course the princess would make sure all the tribes were properly represented. It was doubtless the other animals of the tribes would be watching from each side, standing as silent guardians against unwelcome forces. The tops of the fortress’ towers had been plated in finely polished silverite imbued with moonlight and studded heavily with moonstones, resulting in a soft silver gleam that shone by day and night.
The wall-walks were lined with armed watchponies decked in ebony chainmail. Large blackwood ballistae had been constructed at the corners of each wall. Pensword’s eyes widened as the ship passed over what had once been the courtyard of the structure. The massive pasture now housed the construction yards for three airships. The one in the middle had recently been finished, and its envelope filled with magic gas. Its hull was encased in mithril, and the metal shell had been chemically blackened, save for a single highly polished crescent moon that had been painstakingly engraved at the port and on the starboard bow. The undercarriage consisted of four separate decks, with the top two decks lined by gun ports, while larger portals had been constructed to allow flyers to enter or depart the ship at will. Slits surrounded the openings for archers and crossbowponies to defend the entrances. The wooden structure had been painted black to match its metal shell. As a final touch, a fancy script at the bow proclaimed the name of the ship: MV Moon’s Throne.
Grif let out a low whistle. “For a Pony ship, it’s not a bad design.”
“Well, Thestrals think tactically,” Pensword said with a shrug. He couldn’t help but smile. He was finally getting used to Grif appearing out of nowhere. “I am guessing Shrial is piloting the ship?”
“Circlet,” Grif corrected. “The girls are getting Gilda ready for what's to come.”
“Which is?” Pensword asked curiously. “Because, if I am not deaf or blind, she makes wife number three for you, doesn’t she?”
“I figured you’d have figured it out,” Grif said as he reached into his saddle bags, and pulled out a small tin. He flipped it open to reveal an assortment of round pink tablets. He took one, and popped it into his beak. “Wow, Bon Bon knows her work. These things might actually be stronger than the ones back on Earth. Anyway, I figured you’d be the first to question just when me and Gilda would have a chance to elope.”
“Okay, when are you two going to elope? And what was that, a mint?” Pensword asked.
Grif offered the tin to Pensword with a grin. “Care for an supernaturally strong British-like mint?”
“Don’t mind, if I do,” Pensword said, using his Queen's English accent. Grif put the mint on Pensword’s extended feather, and then Pensword popped it into his mouth. “Woah,” he gasped. “Now that is good.”
“I bought a tin back with me, only managed to give them to Bon-bon just before we left for the empire. She handed me these, when I went to Ponyville on Wednesday, said they were on the house. Apparently, Ponies seem to really like them,” Grif chuckled.
“I can see why. It really is a novelty, and the strength in the mint really rouses the senses. I am happy to see you helping Equestria progress. Maybe this will cause more innovations with candy and the like in the future.”
“Yes, but Pensword, this is all natural. That's what's amazing. Bonbon replicated it with no synthetic ingredients.”
“Dang,” Pensword muttered as he shifted the mint to the side of his mouth. “That is impressive.”
“Anyway, Gilda and I were hoping Luna would help us smooth everything over,” Grif noted.
“I’m sure she would love to marry you,” Pensword warmly.
Grif cleared his throat somewhat nervously. “Thank, Pensword.” Then he turned back to the viewing window. “Looks like they don’t have any room on the dock. I’ll have to find a place to tie us down.” Grif turned to make his way towards the bridge.
“Sorry about that. The fortress was built before the Gantrithor. But I’m sure you’ll find a place….” Pensword trailed off as he looked upon the scene. “Grif, look over there,” he called. “I think they’re building a dock for your ship.”
Grif turned to observe the the metallic skeleton of the thick metal girders rising from the ground below. “Yes, but at the moment, it’s not big enough to hold us,” he noted clinically.
“At least she’s planning on you visiting enough times to need it,” Pensword said.
“Yes, or she’ll need a dock large enough to hold many airships,” Grif countered.
Pensword sighed. “You go ahead and find a place to dock the ship. I’ll get my family ready to disembark. I think I see my ride to Mountainside Falls coming.”
“We’ll disembark within the next half hour,” Grif promised, and then he was gone.
Pensword blinked in surprise. “And here I thought I was used to that,” he muttered, before turning to approach the bow of the ship once again, enjoying the feeling of the sun on his fur and the wind teasing welcomingly through his feathers and ear tips. He couldn’t wait to see what the tribes had been up to in his absence.
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They have been sharpening weapons, hunting animals, killing witches, turning ponies into vamponies using voodoo tribal magic. The normal tribal stuff.
So, while I can't remember their names, there will diffidently be a estrangement in Pensword/Matthew's family if there was ever conflict between the United States and Equestria. Technically the Hurricanes as well since "Scott Cloud" married into the family. Pensword/Matthew are both becoming more loyal to Equestria, but the human side is still as loyal to America as they ever were.
Luckily, any sort of conflict could only happen if Earth's countries have the ability to create and control stable portals into Equestria's World....I wonder if all humans get power-fields like Shawn, Grif, Vital, and Matthew have upon entering.
Guess thats what Human Magic is than.
8629682
can't speak for most of it as thats american brony's area, but as for the end part, there energy feilds where aquired from being exposed to the void as they passed through it, thaumic energies attached themselves to them and created there fields, so no most humans wouldn't have access too it, there is a reason humans have no magic at this time and it well be explained later in the story.
Hope teh holidays have gone well at least. Thanks for the chapter.
Vital is having real problems there, after all, he could ask why not a third way, and Clover would maybe respond there isnt a third way because she would have to enforce it through all means necessary?
Hammerstrike has now got both a personal Grey and Black Clerk? The way they arrived and how theyve been treated for employment to me suggests that between Grifs intelligence, Penswords death squad and Hammerstrikes overlook, theyve not just been fully background checked, but possibly set up in order to guide them to the job?
Pensword and Luna Dream realm training? Given his special weapon, I wouldv thought Discord would be at least tuned in and watching it on TV back in his place, maybe be even making a recording for personal perusal. Totally not selling bootleg copies or anything like that.
I thought the reason it was called the Giant, is because given the sequence of letters, far more people know the word Giant, as in Iron giant etc, than Gant, the pilot of Firefox. as otherwise it would Ulysses S Grant?
Im wondering by what method Moon River will be waiting for Cosy at the Crystal Empire by the time he gets there as theres all sorts of fun?
If the Dogs are moving into the location, how many Changelings will be inserted steathily or vsibly, given both are subsurface dweallers and Hammerstrike has extra intrest in order to not only not affect the surface fortifications, but also enhance them with troop and material tranpsort and long range ballistic delivery abilities?
If the Airships are using Magic gas for lift, couldnt spells be used, discovered, that allow for rapid inflation, deflation, so that the actual lift strucure wouldnt need to be accomodated, meaning a Gant sized hanger would be able to contail entire fleet in racks?
Wonder if theres any place on the Gant for a small flight of Whoa Nellies?
I see someone has seen