An Extended Holiday

by Commander_Pensword

130 - Old Wounds, New Stitches

Extended Holiday
Ch 130: Old Wounds, New Stitches
Act 20

---

“To this day, it amazes me how many hidden passages and chambers there are here,” Hammer Strike commented as both he and Silent Collector wandered through their newest discovery. A distinct lack of torches and mounts left Silent to use his horn and Hammer Strike to ignite his hooves to light their way.

“My curiosity of my surroundings led me to explore these underground chambers,” Silent Collector started explaining. “After wandering around, I just … stumbled across it.”

“Stumbled across a blocked passageway that blended in with the other walls?” Hammer Strike questioned with a raised brow.

“You’d be surprised how many times I’ve done that.”

Hammer Strike rolled his eyes at the comment, before focusing on their progression through the tunnel. A faint light was visible nearby, signifying something at the end. When they reached that portion, the walls opened up into a large circular chamber. The stone brick was whole and undamaged, with segments pulling off the wall to form pillars that led up a curve towards the ceiling. In the center of the ceiling was a large crystal that refracted every piece of light the two were giving off, lighting the entirety of the room.

The center of the room was elevated with steps leading to the center, where a pedestal was kept. There, embedded into the pedestal, was what appeared to be the hilt of a sword. Based off the scale of the crossguard, Hammer Strike figured it was a decent size. Yet try though he might, Hammer Strike was unable to determine the material, even when viewing it thaumically. The aspect was completely unfamiliar. Looking up, the darkness of the wrap greeted him. Hints of color and brightness broke through the night in small, intricate patterns he could barely recognize.

He frowned to himself as he moved towards the hilt, and brushed the dust off, revealing a deeper darkness. Still more visible were the spots of light and color across the material, resembling the night sky. Near the end of the hilt, the material continued on, leaving two ribbons off the hilt hanging free to the outside. The pommel of the weapon was made of the same material as the crossguard, and resembled a bear's head. Its mouth stood open in a teritorial snarl.

“What’s a weapon like this doing down here?” Silent Collector muttered, before shifting his attention around the room, scanning it further.

“I don’t know, and I want to know more,” Hammer Strike said as he looked closer at the weapon. “I’ve never seen any metal like this before. While it closely resembles that ebony, it’s different somehow, and I lack the words to describe it.”

“It could be a metal that was lost to time,” Collector offered.

“Unlikely, but not impossible. I’ll have to bring this out to examine it properly.” Hammer Strike sighed as he grabbed the hilt of the sword, and pulled, only to meet resistance, an immense resistance. “What?” Hammer Strike frowned, pulling at the blade harder. After some more effort, he stood on his hind legs, and grabbed the blade with two hooves, pulling with more might than he ever thought would be needed.

After several minutes of applying more and more strength, he exhaled heavily, and dropped to his normal stance. “What the heck is this thing? I can’t even move it.”

Silent Collector moved around the hilt, looking it up and down. His horn glowed for a moment, only for him to shake his head. “I can’t read any enchantments, but there is something about it....”

Hammer Strike grunted as he looked to the weapon. “I’ll figure something out. Come on. I’d like to keep this place between just the two of us for the time being.”

Silent Collector nodded. “Understood.”

---

The throne room of Ys, much like the fortress itself, had gone through a major renovation. The whole room had been painted in a darker shade of blue. The molding had been overlaid with silver or silverite where possible. Banners declaring each of the Thestral tribes lined the sides of the room. Luna’s own banner hung on the right of the front of the room behind her throne. A smaller banner in token of Celestia hung on the left with a large blue-and-gold banner hanging directly behind her throne. The familiar mark of Hammer Strike, the sword on top of a pair of wings, spread wide inside of a circle. A long deep purple carpet filled the center of the floor, and traced with silver tassels on either end. Thestrals stood at attention every few feet in Hammer Strike’s Thestral armor. Grif held Athena and Gentle Wing on his back as they walked down the aisle with Shrial at his right and Avalon on her right. Gilda stood on Grif’s left side. Tazeer slept peacefully in a carrier on Avalon’s back.

When they approached the raised platform that held Luna’s throne, Grif proceeded to kneel before her, followed by each Gryphoness in turn. “It pleases me to see you so well, Your Highness.”

“‘Tis well to see thee, my monster hunter,” Luna replied with a kind smile. Her full armor shone in the torch light, while her helmet sat on a table by her throne. “I see thy pride has grown once again, both through offspring and wives.”

“Actually, that's why we wanted an audience with you, Princess. I need to call in a boon,” Grif noted.

“Oh? And what is it that you would ask?” Luna raised a curious brow as her muzzle pulled up into a playful smirk.

“Could I first ask that we be alone? I’d hope that I’ve proven myself trustworthy enough not to merit guards.”

Luna laughed as the guards slowly filed out. “They’re merely for show, something to unnerve any Solar nobles brave enough to enter my throne room. They guard me for their pleasure, not because I need them.”

“I know, Luna. As one who has fought beside you, I know only too well.” He chuckled ruefully. “The truth is, I need you to perform…” He looked to Gilda, and signaled her forward. “... a private marriage ceremony.”

Luna’s smirk widened into a grin. “After handling Pensword’s, yours will be a piece of cake. When do you need it done, and how do you wish to be wed? Would you prefer to be skyclad?”

“Whatever can be swift, and without too many knowing. It’s … not a request I’m proud of,” he said, hoping she would understand.

Luna eyed the pair carefully, then nodded. “I see. I had wondered why your mind felt so troubled these last few nights. We can perform it right here and now, if you’re ready.”

“Gilda?” Grif looked to the young Gryphoness. Her wedding garb turned out to be an odd mixture. Avalon wasn’t a warrior, and thus had dressed Gilda for beauty. Shrial, however, being a warrior trained by Grif himself, had dressed Gilda according to warrior tradition. The result had turned into an oddly fetching combination. Gilda stood there nervously in a deep blue gown, over which she wore a finely polished breastplate and pauldrons. Her crest had been combed down, and a silver chain hung beneath it. A small ruby had been fastened to the end in a rounded setting that hung just above her beak where it met her forehead. A new pair of axes hung holstered at her hips, giving her a beautiful, yet fearsome appearance that Grif realized he was getting to see for the first time.

“I ... I’m ready,” Gilda said with a gulp.

Luna smiled kindly. “Very well.” Then she spread her wings, and cleared her throat. “Let it be known in the ‘official’ records that I shall bind thee together for your elopement. Your wives will act as the witnesses.” She looked between the two. “Now, I must counsel you to have your blood ceremony performed at your compound. We have neither the artifacts nor the authority to perform that portion of your ceremony here, and to do so would be an affront to your gods, as well as the empire. It is an affront we would rather avoid, if possible. We can at least bind you under Equestrian Law, however.”

Grif and Gilda both nodded mutely.

“Good. Now that that’s settled, I will give you the short, short version. Do you two promise to love each other, care for one another, and defend one another, should the worst come to pass?”

“I would rip out my own heart, if it would save her life,” Grif said resolutely as he turned to Gilda. “And I will try to make your days happy to the best of my ability,” he promised.

Gilda looked to Grif, and then to Luna. “I would pluck my own feathers, and walk into the barren north, if it meant saving Grif. And I’ll do my best to make him smile.”

Luna looked between the two, and nodded. “Then by the power of the moon, and by my authority as a crown princess of Equestria, I proclaim thee mates. You may kiss the bride.”

Grif swept Gilda up into his arms, and kissed her, receiving a few surprised squawks from the twins at the sudden movement, but Grif didn’t notice as he sustained the kiss with every piece of passion he had for Avalon or Shrial. He smiled as he felt the same fire raging in his heart as had the days he’d wed his other wives. It would seem the beast wasn’t the only part attracted to her, after all.

“And now we get to enjoy having a new babysitter,” Avalon said with a mischievous wink.

“It’ll be nice to have someone else share the burden of feeding these little rascals, that’s for sure,” Shrial agreed, even as she smiled contentedly. “Just so long as she’s gotten better control of her instincts now. I think we’d all prefer to keep that in the combat arena. Speaking of which, once you’re off probation, guess who’s giving your battle examination, Gilda.” Her smile widened into a grin.

Gilda shuddered. “I don’t know how to feel about that, but I’ll do my best not to shame you.”

“You’ll be fine,” Grif reassured her, before looking to Luna, and fixing her with a relieved smile. “Thank you, Princess.”

“You are most welcome, my hunter. May you be successful in your attempt to bring back the lost arts. You have my blessing, for what little it’s worth.”

“And may your rule never be eclipsed. We will take our leave now, to see to restocking our ship with what we may need, and to allow you and Pensword privacy.”

“I am happy to hear it. I’ll make sure to note what you stock your ship with to repay my Thestral merchants out of my own personal funds. Consider it a wedding gift,” Luna said as she winked at the pair. “But I expect you all to stay the night. I rarely get the chance to visit these days, and while I may not be related to your children by blood, I still wish to spoil them all the same.” She chuckled. “I also wish to give you records from my own hunting career. Considering all your ordeals, I think you are prepared to read them now. After all the time that has passed, it may well be one of the most authoritative scripts on the art left, and you will need them in the days ahead, I think.”

“Very well, Your Highness. We will see you tonight.” Grif nodded respectfully, before he turned to leave with his family.

“Go with the Winds, Raven of the Night,” Luna called out as they left.

---

Pensword slowly stepped into a room he had never set hoof in when he took the fortress a thousand years ago. It was massive. Solid stone towered above him on either side, before breaking off into painstakingly crafted stained glass windows. Either side of the chamber had been lined by a series of pews. A plush deep blue carpet carpet had been tacked to the stone floor down the aisle. Its borders had been done up in red, while white images of each of the animals for the many Thestral clans ran around in a chain, separated by stars and phases of the moon.

The most prominent stained glass window showed Luna as a caring mother with wings outstretched as she protected her Thestrals from arrows and stones at its base. The middle part showed Luna chained and crying, while the Nightmare wore Luna’s face as a mask. Finally, the top appeared to portray the promise of Luna’s eventual return. Phases of the moon, constellations, and bats circled around the edges of the piece.

Luna stood in front of the glass, decked in her full armor, complete with helmet as she looked down upon the chiefs and chieftesses of the Thestral tribes. Pensword found it strange that Luna asked that he and Lunar Fang wear their armor and ursa minor robes, but it appeared to be the dress code, judging by the armor the other leaders wore.

“Commander Pensword,” Luna’s voice boomed, “step forward. There will be time enough to admire the chapel after tonight's ceremony. Come to the front.” As Pensword picked up the pace of his approach, Luna’s voice continued to echo over the room and its guests. “It is a long held belief that an Alicorn such as myself has the power and authority to wed Ponies together with ties that will last into the glade, just as the high priests of Faust. However, most mortal Ponies do not have this same authority. Thestral tribes here can only marry till death takes one or the other, or, if fate is kind, both at the same time. This is something I cannot stand. As your High Chieftess, and as an Alicorn, I will bestow that same authority which I hold upon each of you, so that the tribes may marry properly, and that this joy may spread to all tribe members.” She looked to each Thestral, and then to Pensword as he stepped up beside the Bear Tribe leader.

“Commander, please come before thy High Chieftess, for I wish to bestow a gift upon thee,” Luna said. “Faust has her chief priests among the Ponies of the day, but we Thestrals do not worship Faust in such a manner. It is time for the Thestrals to also have their binding, their ceremony, their unity beyond death. Let it be known that you, Commander, he who sees past mortal eyes, and who has taken the path given by thy High Chieftess, shall be the first to receive this new gift, this authority. Such shall be the reward for your diligence and sacrifice.”

Pensword knelt before the princess. She moved a wing, and dipped it into a silver basin. When she pulled it out, what could only be described as magically refined liquid moonlight dropped from her feather, glowing gently in the evening air. She brushed the wing tip over Pensword’s forehead and eyes to create a glowing crescent.

“May the moon mark thee as it has marked me. May this show thou art able to wield the power and authority that I wield here this night. May you tie souls together, so all clans may be one in the great glade.”

Pensword shivered as Luna pulled her wing back to her side. “Lunar Fang,” she said, “please step forward. While I have studied Earth’s cultures from the Humans’ time visiting, I feel that for one to be a spiritual leader as a Thestral, one should be married. So, too, must husband and wife share the burden.” At those words, the mates of the tribal leaders stepped into view to join their spouses.

“Commander, come. Dip your wing into the basin, and repeat after me, so that you may pass this authority to your wife, and thus share in the responsibility inherent with this gift.”

Pensword bowed his head respectfully. “Of course, High Chieftess.” He would never be able to describe what he felt as his wings made contact with the substance. All he knew was he felt power, peace, strength. This … whatever it was, was holy, pure, blessed. As his eyes wandered over the space, they fell on a beautiful glass case lined with gold on each of its corners. A large shimmering stone glowed white within the confines as the moon shone through the skylight above to bathe the artifact. Pensword recognized it instantly, and his eyes widened in surprise. “Is that…?”

“Yes, Pensword. A moonstone taken from the first cave. This is meant to be a sacred place. This stone will add weight to that sentiment. Now, proceed.”

Pensword nodded, then turned to face Lunar Fang as he slowly did the same to her as had been done to him by Luna. This process repeated itself for each of the tribal leaders, until all had been ordained.

When the Ceremony was complete, Luna conveyed new titles to each of the leaders and their mates. The Wolf Tribe leaders would be known as the Pack Papa and Pack Mama. The Fox would be Trickster Vixen and Cunning Fox. The Dragon Tribe received the titles of Clutch Mother and Cave Guardian. The Lion Tribe leaders became the Pride Father and Hunt Mother. The Vipers were called Hidden Mother and Father Hiss. For the Bear tribe, the titles Mama Bear and Father Claw were born. Lastly, the Manticores gained the titles of Mother Protector and Papa Stinger.

Luna turned towards Pensword and Lunar Fang. “As clan leaders, your responsibility is different from the others. You need not spread your authority to others within your clan, for it is only just beginning to grow again. As such, it is my will that you shall only ordain another to this power, if that individual is to become our nation’s next military advisor to me, for thou art the Moon’s sword and shield.”

Pensword bowed. “I am honored, my Chieftess.”

---

Princess Luna smiled as she sat in the nursery she and the Thestrals had built together. Images of stars and nebulae swirled around in a constant dance, following the order of the very skies they replicated. A series of cribs, beds, and toys lay scattered about the room, including a mountain of plushies, some of which had been torn. “I hope this room will suffice for your children. If things are happening the way the rumors tell, I know I need to learn about young Gryphons. It will make it easier to adapt for when the time comes to work with your grandchildren. Seeing as the Hippogryph kingdom has long since disappeared, the only way to learn how to help these future foals is to gain an understanding of your progeny, as well as that of my children of the night.”

Grif chuckled as he took a large portion of what appeared to be fresh venison. “Just be careful, Luna. Their talons are just starting to really come in, and they don’t know how sharp they are.”

Luna laughed. “Try raising an ursa minor as a pet.”

Grif raised a curious brow. “And how is your pet doing?”

“She does well. The cub is a feisty one. She’s growing at a steady rate, and has begun to grow her claws. We’ll have to see about providing some proper stones to help her sharpen them soon.”

“So she’s adjusted well, after whats happened?”

“We believe so. She sees me as a surrogate mother, or at least something to be protected. It has worked out better than I could have hoped, given the circumstances.”

“That should be useful, if you ever need to go to war.” Grif chuckled. “Knowing you, you probably already have designs drawn up for battle armor for it.”

“And half of it is already forged,” Luna said with a smirk. “By my own horn and hoof.”

“Don’t you need it to be full sized first?”

“I didn’t expect her to grow, hence the armor being half made. I’ll wait for her to finish growing, though I might finish this project just for the sake of having something in the case of an emergency.”

“Well, I hope that works for you,” Grif chuckled. “I understand you intend to see Pensword to Mountainside Falls?”

“That is correct. It is Thestral territory, after all, and I haven’t visited there yet, truth be told. It didn’t feel right without Pensword there first. It was his home, after all. Besides, this will give us time to talk about certain pressing needs Pensword has to address.” Luna smiled as she looked down to see an eager Gentle Wing climbing up her left forehoof.

“Well, I hope your trip is fruitful. We’ll be heading for the Empire, and then directly for the evoker fortress, so we probably will be heading straight to Unity afterwards.”

“Excellent. Pensword asked me to let you know that he has the Santa Maria patrolling over the Everfree Forest to help your scouts.” She smiled. “That makes five storm cores under his authority now, doesn’t it?” She giggled at the change in Grif’s expression. “Let’s just say that Matthew was rather talkative last night.”

“And you’re not to touch any of them.” Grif shot her a deadpanned look. “And don’t play innocent. We both know you're curious.”

“Of course I am. I just find it humorous that the dread Demon, a Pegasus Thestral, one who has sundered many of your people’s icons from the very fortress we reside in, now owns not one, not two, but five of the very cores your race had sworn never to let any other than a fellow Gryphon see, let alone handle. I know Pensword’s honor would have him scuttle his own ships, before letting anyone outside of him or Moon River see a Core, and I say Moon River, because locked doors don’t seem to be an obstacle to her when she wants something.” She stretched a wing out to give Gentle Wing more climbing room to reach her back.

“Yes. I’ve been wondering if you could explain where she learned to pick locks, Princess.” Grif slid a few thin steel implements across the table. “She didn’t get these from me.”

Luna frowned. “Nor from me. I would never go around Pensword’s back like that. I thought she was merely channeling Thestral magic to accomplish her goals. After all, how else do you explain her ability to appear and disappear with nary a sound? Only Hammer Strike can do anything even remotely close, and his abilities are far more advanced than hers.”

“Yeah, well I can only imagine what she’s going to be like when she gets older.” Grif chuckled as he watched Gentle Wing start batting at Luna’s mane with her paw. Rather than cause it to change directions, the paw seemed to pass right through it. Gentle Wing grinned, and started passing her taloned hands through it as rapidly as she could, enjoying the sparkles she managed to separate from the main host of the ethereal projection. “A Lot of trouble, if I have anything to say about it.”

Luna smirked. “Only if you let me help.”

“Speaking of helping,” Avalon said with a smile as she cradled the sleeping Tazeer in her arms, “would one of you mind helping young Athena here join her sister? I think she’s had more than enough of her fill for the evening.”

Shrial sighed as she reached down, and flicked the young Gryphoness on the beak. “That’s enough, Athena. We don’t want to spoil your appetite. Go play with your sister. Maybe you’ll be able to figure out how to handle all that star stuff, hmm?”

Athena frowned as she disengaged from the teat, but she knew better than to argue with her mother at this stage. Her frustrations were soon forgotten, however, when she watched her sister pulling at the air with sparkles dancing through her fur. The cub was gone in an instant.

“Careful, Athena. We don’t want you to get sick. Take your time,” Shrial warned, then sighed. “Cubs.”

“Lets just hope they’re not as attached to Luna’s mane as Moon River is to Bellacosa,” Grif added.

“Winds help us, if they are,” Gilda said, then laughed.

“I can create an illusion on a pillow to simulate my mane, if that’s the case,” Luna added.

The two cubs grinned, then cooed in delight as they grabbed Luna’s neck, and proceeded to hang on either side as they embraced her.

---

Grif yawned as he flicked the switches on the Gantrithor’s controls. Ys was already shrinking quickly in the distance, and Grif, for his part, sighed with relief at the fact. It wasn’t that he disliked the time spent with Luna, but he’d planned this trip without the delay of staying the night. They would have docked at the Crystal Empire by midnight, and thus been able to leave first thing the next morning. Now he found himself working to make up for lost time. While the ship was completely capable of making it to the empire in an hour, the strain would be bad for the engines. After a few test flights, Grif and Hammer Strike agreed the higher speeds were best saved for emergencies. So it was that he found himself doing his best to plan around airflows and find favorable currents as the ship moved farther north. He could already feel the ship beginning to create the internal shielding that would allow it to ignore the sudden cold.

“You do realize staying with her was unavoidable, don’t you?” Shrial pointed out as she strode up behind her husband.

“I can hope.” Grif chuckled dryly. “Those scout reports bothered me.”

“And the others can handle it. Hammer Strike is there, after all,” she pointed out.

“Maybe, but it’s home, and the family’s there. If I don’t worry about them, am I any better than the clan lords back in the Empire?”

“Point. But you trust them, too, don’t you?” she asked as she preened his feathers.

“Yes, they’re good fighters, and they made me proud during the last attack.”

“So how long till we reach the Crystal Palace?”

“Noon, if the winds stay favorable. We won’t be staying long.”

“Just to drop off?”

“Yes. We have a bit of a trip to the fortress, and the Empire is surrounded by mountains. The sooner we get in and out, the better. I don’t want to get stuck in any freak storms.”

“They do seem a bit more violent up here, don’t they?”

“And how are you doing? I’ve noticed you’ve given feedings over to Avalon. I take it you’ll be training at full speed again soon?”

“Probably. Somebody has to smack that head of yours when it gets too big,” she joked.

“That's a vicious cycle. I have you, which is something I’m quite proud of. You smack me down for being prideful, and thus remind me you're here, and thus make me proud again,” Grif said in mock horror.

“So how do we resolve this paradox of yours?” she asked as she kissed his cheek.

“You could just kiss me every time you would hit me?” he offered.

“How about we just go as I see fit? Sometimes I’ll kiss you–.” Her wing smacked him on the back of the head. “And sometimes, I’ll hit you.” Then she kissed him once more. “But I’ll always love you.”

“I can live with that.” He winked at her. “I know I’m not looking forward to this, but what about you? What happened last time we were at that fortress? You saw a piece of me no one should have seen.”

“And you learned to control it, end of story. Don’t make me have to add whacking you for self-pity.”

“As long as you're okay,” Grif said. Then he shifted topics. “So, our little nest is growing pretty quickly. You ever think you’ll have another?”

“Grif, you’re on my good side right now. Let’s not ruin the moment.”

“I feel it’s a reasonable question.” Grif shrugged. “And I’ll understand, no matter how you answer. It’s quite clear Avalon has plans for more, so it’s not like my bloodline’s in any danger.”

Shrial chuckled. “Let’s just say I don’t plan on having more any time in the near future. Talk to me after a few years.” Then she kissed him on the cheek. “Besides, four or more cubs will certainly be enough to have to handle on their own for now.”

“That, I’ll agree with,” Grif chuckled as he steered the ship into a jet stream to speed the journey.

---

Pensword stared blankly after the Gantrithor as it faded from sight. His mind felt troubled, but he couldn’t quite place the sensation. He started passing through Matthew’s memories, a task that seemed to be getting easier for him as time passed, and ultimately settled on the identification as a form of melancholy. They had felt it when they visited Arlington. They felt it every Memorial Day, and every Veteran’s Day. “The eleventh day, of the eleventh month, on the eleventh hour,” Pensword whispered.

“The guns fell silent,” Luna replied in Draconic as she alighted next to him. “I remember Matthew teaching me that,” she said as she switched back to Equish, “back when they were first settling. I asked him in his dreams when he felt inclined to let me visit.” Luna looked down on Pensword with a motherly smile. “I must say, when you took your form for the first time, I was shocked at how similar to my commander you appeared. And then came the Crystal Empire.”

“Why’d you let me get away with that, anyways?” Pensword interrupted. “I mean, I picked the name out of the blue. How was I to know I was impersonating an officer?”

“Remember, you warned me before you left to Baron’s mansion that a young Pony who did not yet grow into his horse shoes would use your name, and to go easy on him.” She chuckled. “I see you’re using Matthew’s old debating privileges.”

Pensword shook his head in disbelief. “I told you that?”

“I don’t blame you for forgetting. You had thoughts of home weighing on your heart. Those words confused me for quite some time, until a scant three months later, I got message from a Pony that looked like you would have, if only your Pegasus blood had been more prominent. I was tempted to strike you down there and then, despite the role you played in saving Alto and Bellacosa, but your words stayed my judgement.”

“Luna, thou dost not need to practice the modern speech with me. It feels good hearing the old speech at times.”

“That may be so, my Commander, but we must change and adapt to the ways of the present. We must not be like we were during the Second Gryphon War, where our mighty flyers were wiped out in minutes. Were it not for the Earth Movers, that battle would have been lost. That goes for you, too, Commander.” She smiled warmly. “However, occasionally, it’s good for us to speak in the old tongue with a friend.” She winked. “We may slip from time to time, but that doesn’t change the fact that we need to adapt. Let us save the old speech for our more … personal moments.”

“I shall endeavor to do my best, My High Chieftess.”

“That is all I can ask of thee, or rather, of you.”

Pensword’s face pulled up in a smile as he turned to look back on the horizon. “We leave tonight, so we may arrive by dawn tomorrow. An all night flight on the Moon’s Throne.” He paused, and furrowed his brow. “Though I have been curious. What does the MV stand for?”

Luna giggled. “Moon Vessel. And you are correct. Arrangements have already been made. You’re all packed, I hope.”

Pensword chuckled. “You already know the answer to that.”

“I live out of my pack,” both said in unison, then burst into a fit of laughter.

As the pair finally got their breathing under control again, Pensword sighed in relief. “Thank you, Luna.”

“For what?”

“For making me feel better.”

“You’re most welcome, my Commander. Come, let us retire. I would love to hear how you plan to take care of those cores of yours.”

“Oh, my Gryphon children will be taught how to maintain them by the ship crews, so the secrets can remain among Gryphonkind. Then they will teach the cubs they choose from the next generation, and so on. Once I pass, each of them will get their choice of one of my airships as an inheritance.”

Luna grinned. “And no provisions for me or any of the other rulers in Equestria. I approve. Those cores are yours either by conquest or gift, and they should remain yours alone. You have a high honor, being the first Pony to wield such power. Then again, that’s only one of many firsts you have achieved.” She chuckled. “Perhaps the Demon Slayers should add the number one to their colors. It certainly seems to fit.”

Pensword’s eyes widened. “First to win a battle against the Gryphons in the Third Conflict, first to take land from Gryphons, first to capture colors, first to take a fort.”

Luna picked up as Pensword took a breath. “First Pony to live, after seeing inside Fort Triumph; first unit to take the fortress; first Pony to see the evoker tower; first pony to be in the first Avatar’s tomb.”

“And First Pony to have Gryphons call him Father, not to mention first Pony Father-in-Law to the Emperor.”

“We might not add that part to the list, but based on these statistics alone, not to mention the more recent … dubious performance of my sister’s guard, your unit is first among all.”

“Well then, I suppose I should await that new patch at the start of the bill.” Pensword chuckled as he winked at her.

“You’ll have a revised copy to read on your way home. And I shall be accompanying you to New Unity. I think a surprise visit to our foster father would be good for me.”

“I am looking forward to it already. I’ll even avoid telling Hammer Strike, so you can surprise him.” He smirked. “This reminds me of the time I conspired and succeeded in plotting a surprise visit for my brother and his family back home. It shocked my mom half to death, when she turned around the kitchen, and there he was.”

Luna smiled. “Then I will trust in your confidentiality.”

---

“Triple maximize magic: Greater Magic Wall!” Clover’s words echoed as her focus glowed brightly. The refortification to New Unity since the last attack had been slowed, due to the winter weather. As such, only small brick outposts and incomplete wall systems were currently in place to repel anything that might come. As a way to circumvent this, Clover the Clever had taken the time to teach her class about the power of preparation through proper enchantments and pre-planned spell traps. The incomplete wall in front of her glowed a brilliant sapphire as a magic circle appeared at its center, spinning in place as more blue energy covered the area around the wall, forming a massive standing construct of energy, which then faded from view.

“By using this technique, we make sure these walls would provide more during an attack than simply serving to trip our enemies up. By casting through magister Ooal Gown’s casting method, the spell will only activate when a threat becomes valid, thus keeping the energy for when it is needed. I doubt most of you could cast the triple maximized version, but it is still a good place to practice,” Clover noted, before turning to the empty area between the wall and the trees. “Triple maximize magic: Exploding Mines!” A magical wave spilled over the ground, forming several large orange blobs, which proceeded to fade. “The exploding mine spell allows us to set a trap that will activate, should anyone enter this ground with an intent to harm us. Any questions so far?”

“Would that include friendlies who have a dispute they want to settle the old fashioned way, or is it fine tuned enough to sift that from a legitimate threat, like an invader?” Vital Spark asked.

“It’s based on whom the caster would consider a threat. There are some weaknesses, I’ll admit, but it’s still more selective than normal trap spells. Anything else?”

“Where did you get ahold of his works?” Twilight wondered. “I’ve never heard of this Ooal Gown before, and that’s saying something, since I’ve read through practically the entire Canterlot Archives.”

“Because, Miss Sparkle, Master Ooal Gown was a genius in the magical arts around the same time as Star Swirl, but the two had differing theories on magic and its expression in this world. It’s likely when he reclaimed his title as court wizard under the princesses, that Star Swirl had Ooal Gown’s books removed, as he did many great mages’ works at one point or another,” Clover said bitterly.

“What, were they dangerous or something?” Vital asked.

“Do you remember, Mister Spark, how I mentioned necromancy could be used for benevolent acts, such as healing? That was a work Ooal Gown discovered. That, and many other applications for what are considered the darker arts. Ooal Gown believed, quite simply, that darkness wasn’t, by its nature, evil,” Clover explained.

“So he used the power to help others without actually allowing his morals to be corrupted by the access he had to said power?”

“Ooal Gown served a very powerful king, a being whose strength surpassed his own. He believed if that king could wield such power and not be corrupted, then the strength to resist must be inside every one of us. We simply need to find the kernel of goodness in our souls, and build our resistance from it.”

“Is it a separate system of magic from the standard Equestrian, then?”

“Not entirely. The casting is similar, but this system goes with the idea of constructing the entire spell mentally before you cast it, rather than constructing it as you cast.”

“So, rather than letting your will shape the spell, you have to essentially memorize it, and then have it firmly set in your mind, sort of like a … a spell slot.”

“Prepared magic isn’t until next week. For now, we’re working on simple preparation enchantments, so this will mostly be open book.” She gestured to a pile of spellbooks.

“Can we work in pairs?” Vital asked, even as his eyes wandered towards a certain blue Unicorn.

Clover sighed, and rolled her eyes. “Very well. Make sure everyone comes forward, though, to receive a section of the grounds to do,” she insisted as she levitated a pile of maps, each with sectioned off portions.

Vital smiled as he trotted over to Trixie, and levitated one of the books without looking. “And would the beautiful mare be gracious enough to let this poor apprentice be her partner today?”

“Trixie supposes she can allow the apprentice to benefit from her wisdom,” Trixie giggled.

“Well then, shall we, oh great and powerful?”

“We shall.” Trixie nodded as they took a map, and headed off.

---

Pensword stood upon the bridge of the Moon’s Throne as the ship pulled silently out from its air dock, and began its exodus to Mountainside Falls. The commander watched as the land slipped by, eventually becoming more mountainous. Snow covered the peaks, and evergreen trees dotted the earth, their snow-covered boughs sparkling in the moonlight.

The crew manned the ship’s controls silently, while Luna, Pensword, Lunar Fang, and Fox Feather stared out the front windows. Pensword’s left ear twitched for a time, and he took a deep breath as he finally allowed himself to give voice to the emotions that had been stirring within him for so long. He began to sing a song that had only just been composed when he was a foal, and now was a time-honored classic around Equestria. “When family cannot be here, having journeyed far and wide, we sing a song to honor them, to remember days gone by.”

Lunar Fang and Fox Feather joined in next, “So take your cup, and raise it high, just as surely I’ll do mine. And laugh we will at stories told as we smile at days gone by. As we smile at days gone by.”

Luna smiled, joining in on the impromptu quartet with her soldiers standing stoutly behind her. “For family not here, my dears, having journeyed far and wide. For loyalty and kindness both, we smile at days gone by.”

The magic of the heartsong took hold as the bridge crew oohed and ahhed in accompaniment.

Pensword took up the next part as the mares watched him sing in a rich tenor. His voice carried strong and pure as, for this one moment, the pasts of two separate lives merged in glorious harmony. “Our paths will cross again one day, in time to reunite, for family is always near, even when the seas are wide.”

Lunar Fang and Fox Feather joined once more. “So take your cup, and raise it high, just as surely I’ll do mine, and make a toast for family, and the tales of days gone by.”

The entire bridge broke into song at this point. “For family not here, my dears, having journeyed far and wide. For loyalty and kindness both, take joy at days gone by. For loyalty and kindness both, we smile at days gone by.”

The crew was silent as Pensword bowed his head, and tears fell silently to the floor. After a good ten minutes of silence, the captain coughed softly. “Coming up to Dream City.”

“Dream City?” Pensword’s face began to pale as his body trembled, until he felt a reassuring wing brush his back.

“Don’t worry, Pensword. Dream City is no monument to the dead. It is a place where the living dwell. Mountainside Falls is still maintained. Nopony has dared step hoof there, save to take care of the land in your absence. They’ve been waiting a very long time.”

Pensword relaxed as he felt the reassuring nuzzles of his two wives, and watched as houses began to appear in the darkness below. It looked almost like another Ponyville from their vantage point. A freshly constructed airdock came up in their view, where another airship had already been docked. The ship was clearly not designed for combat. It was completely unarmored, and the fabric was a patchwork of black and white. The ship underneath it reminded Pensword of pictures Matthew had taken with him portraying cargo ships on the Great Lakes, only this one was on a smaller scale.

Busy figures worked tirelessly below, unloading crates from the ship’s holds. The line stopped, however, as the shadow from Luna’s flagship fell over them. Crates were dropped, and cargo forgotten as the docks flurried with activity. The second berth was ready to land on in a matter of minutes.

Pensword watched all of this in silence. He paused as he recognized something in the middle of the village. It was the main dormitory that he had lived in, where he first learned how to be a military officer. Next he noticed a ribbon of steel heading out from the town. They’d built a train out to Mountainside Falls. He was shocked at the idea. He saw now that he had been so lost in his thoughts that this was, in fact, where he had ordered–. He shook his head. No, they were still days away. The mountains weren’t right. That meant they had deconstructed and moved the entire base, or rather the core buildings, to create the center of this new town.

He maintained his resolute silence as they docked, following Luna toward the doors. However, here, Luna stopped, and stepped to the side. “It would only be fitting for the one who left home, the sole survivor of his town, to be the first to exit, and step foot upon the lands he fought to avenge.”

Pensword froze both mentally and physically for a few moments, then bowed his head towards his princess. He felt strange as he realized both Pensword and Matthew had performed the action together. He turned his head, then, and looked out over the docks. All the Thestrals stared at the door, unable to see inside, due to the sun casting such thick shadows over the doorway.

He took a steady breath, and stepped out onto the gangway. He held his head high, doing his best to keep his composure. He could still feel the wet fur cling to his checks as he continued down the ramp. He was startled momentarily as the sound of stomping hooves tumbled into a cacophony of applause. But as he twitched his left ear, he realized that the princess, nor anypony else had stepped hoof upon the gangway. The gathering below was just as silent. The only logical explanation left was the spirits of the past. He looked beyond the crowd, and felt the tears sting anew as he eyed the ghosts in the distance. It felt like how he had imagined returning home after his tour as a guardspony would have been. There was sorrow, but over that, he felt an abiding sense of love and respect, of welcome, of peace. Something shifted inside. He didn’t understand exactly what, but the best way he could think to describe it was a small part of himself, lost and torn out by the Gryphons, had been tenderly placed back where it belonged. The scars would still remain, but he was whole again.

Pensword stepped fully upon the ground, and the moment was broken as he was set upon by a swarm of foals and residents giving an enthusiastic greeting. Hugs were given, salutes exchanged, shouts of welcome offered. He saw a shadow pass over them, and looked up to see the familiar golden form of Haymin flying overhead. He smiled when he noticed the Thestrals didn’t even flinch.

The cheering rose in a mighty crescendo as Princess Luna appeared wearing her Ursa armor, and carrying Meteor Impact. Pensword couldn’t help but smile at the sight. It seemed the princess wished to surprise him. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. It felt right as he joined his hooves with the others to stomp the ground and cheering for their high chieftess and her first visit to Dream City. Then he chuckled again, and shook his head. “Well, what do you know? Another first.”

---

“So, have you ever hunted a shade before?” Grif asked across the table. They were in the Crystal Empire at the moment. Bellacosa’s goods were being unloaded from the ship’s cargo hold, a task that was certainly taking it’s time. Shrial had escorted the prince to his home with the intention of making peace with Cadence for what happened earlier. Avalon had gone to the library to scour it for as much as she could learn in the time they had, and Gilda had gone to observe the training of the Crystal Guard. With free time on his hands, Grif had slipped away to visit Jäger. The ancient hunter was the closest thing Equestria had to a true master at this point, and he could use any advice he could get. “I know Sombra’s returned, but I have no idea where to look for him. You’ve hunted for so long. Where would you look?”

“Shades are a tricky bunch.” Jäger hummed aloud. “I wouldn’t know for certain. I’m sorry.”

“He’d need a place to set up a power base, right? Or can shades create their own servants? What would he need?”

“He could have potentially taken over somepony to progress his plans. It would take as little as a fragment of him to manage. But from there, it becomes more obvious. Until he moves forward, and breaks free from his hole, he’ll be nearly impossible to track.”

“I suppose I’ll have to let him make his move first then,” Grif sighed. “How are you, anyway? I know we’ve never exactly been friends, but hunters should at least look out for each other. You kept this place safe long before I was born.”

“I’ve been learning about the world, since it passed all of us by for a thousand years.” Jäger gave a faint chuckle. “It’s strange, to say the least.”

“I know what it’s like to be a thousand years out of your time.” Grif nodded. “Though I suppose that's not a fair comparison. Old wolves get set in their ways, after all.”

“Some things never change, though.” Jäger’s eyes lit up. “Hunters are always needed to break down the beasts that prey on the weak.”

“Listen, Jäger. I’ve recently been given an apprentice by the ties of fate. I don’t suppose there’s some way I could persuade you to travel to Unity? We could both really use your wisdom.”

Jäger hummed softly as he looked beyond Grif. “I don’t know. While it would be interesting to see the world as it is now, I’m still worried for the Empire.”

“I understand. Just think about it. We need more than just more hunters, if we want to reduce the monster risk. We need knowledge and experience, too.” Grif sighed. “I worry I’m leading him towards his death.”

“I’ll think about it, Grif,” Jäger sighed. “You’re still in Unity, correct?”

Grif nodded. “If this goes well, and Hammer Strike is willing, I’m considering extending the offer to any who wish to learn, but I’m young yet, and as you know, the young can be rash, driven to act before we think. That’s why we need the older generation to show us the way.”

“A piece of advice, then, while I decide. Keep your group small to start. While the more hunters there are, the better, when it comes to training, you want to ensure that each of them don’t stumble and fall between the cracks.”

Grif nodded as he pulled Jäger’s blade off the table. He produced a whetstone. “Let me do this for you,” he offered as he began to sharpen the blade. “It’s the least I can do.”

---

The sun was hot over the desert near Equestria’s eastern coast. Hard caked earth lay as far as the eye could see, dotted with the occasional cactus. All manner of desert animals crawled, slithered or moved in various ways to get between shady spots, stopping only when sustenance was needed. The only thing breaking this landscape was the large stone fortress that stood proudly in the middle of nowhere. Magical spells and enchantments had been used to preserve the fortress over time, but even magic had its weaknesses, and a thousand years had left its mark on the structure. The stones were worn from years of weathering. The wood was beginning to rot in places, and more than a few of the roofs had developed wide holes. Yet despite all this, the large wooden gates remained as the day they had been sealed, strong and unyielding.

So it was over this large imposing landmark that the Gantrithor arrived with a boom as the air was pushed out of its way. The massive airship seemed menacing over the old fortress, its long shadow blanketing the area. Grif personally let out a shiver as he examined the building from above. “Okay, everybody, you can leave the cabin now. We’ve arrived,” he called into the intercom as he pulled the ship carefully along the eastern side of the fort, and let it drift there.

Avalon was the first to disembark. She circled gracefully around the tower four times, before coming to a halt at the tower’s base. Her medallion glinted in the afternoon sun, its scale shining in a rainbow of light. “Well, at least one of the Winds seems to approve,” she chuckled.

“Lets hope you treat what's inside better than the last owners.” Grif laughed as he caught up with her. “I’d say you're like a cub in a candy store, but frankly, that would be understating your excitement.”

“That much knowledge, all in one place, and I actually have the sanction of the Avatar of Winds to view it? Of course I’m going to be excited. On top of defying centuries of precedent, I get to be the first female evoker in recorded history. You have the key to the protection spell, right?”

Grif laughed as he pulled out a scroll, and showed it to her. “I can unlock the door, but don’t you think we should make sure we’re all ready first? Or is this just me and you going in?”

“Well, you are the technical owner, Grif. What do you think is best?” she countered.

“You go and check, and I’ll get ready at the east entrance, okay?”

“Because of this?” she asked curiously as she raised her focus.

“No, because the east side is shaded right now, and I’d rather not be stuck under the sun for too long. Not all of us are white,” Grif teased as he ruffled his feathers for emphasis.

“I suppose that works, too.” Avalon chuckled. “So, do we include Gilda, or is she still grounded?”

“Anyone who wants to come. If Shrial decides against it, don’t push it. Last time we were here wasn’t pretty.”

“I’ll be gentle,” Avalon promised. “So, just to clarify, do we want to have Gilda come if she wants to, then?”

“As long as she keeps Athena and Gentle Wing with her.” Grif nodded. “They might as well see some of their history, before we gut this place.”

“The better parts or all of it?”

“Back on earth, there was a people with a rich, vibrant history. They didn’t hide the one horrible thing they did, and neither will the Gryphons. We’ll show them everything.”

“Are you … ready to go back there?”

“I’ve been through worse,” Grif shrugged. “If we ever want Gryphons to cast spells again, we’ll need all the notes they had.”

“And the Dragon feller?”

“I’d rather not disturb the tomb, unless necessary.”

“Good. I’d rather not either.” She smiled, and kissed him gently. “If you need time, let us know. We can stop, and wait till you’ve got your second wind.”

“I know. Don’t worry. I can handle this.” He kissed her on the head. “The east entrance. Fifteen minutes.” With that, Grif launched himself into the air, angled to the side, and dove towards his target.

Fifteen minutes later, Avalon, Shrial, Gilda, and the cubs all stood outside the old structure. Caring Circlet had activated the ship’s defense measures as a safety precaution, leaving the family all the freedom they needed to have a proper exploration. Each had a bag Twilight had enchanted with a spatial distortion charm combined with a weight reduction spell to ensure they could carry all the records they could get their talons on.

“So … this is the place, huh?” Gilda asked as she looked up the wall to the tower’s heights.

“The place where one of the greatest and most terrible conflicts of the Third Gryphon War erupted, second only to the desolation Hammer Strike and Celestia left in their wakes respectively,” Shrial said. “It wasn’t a pleasant time, to say the least.”

“And it hasn’t been opened in over a thousand years. Let’s see if this technique Luna used works.” Grif unraveled the scroll, revealing a large key drawn in deep black ink. He sucked in the deepest breath he could manage, then blew on the scroll, the ink making the key instantly lift off the page. It blew across the space between Grif and the gate. The moment it made contact, the large wooden door was just … gone.

A deep sigh filled the air, as if the tower were releasing a breath long held, and Gentle Wing wove her tail with Athena’s for comfort, while Athena cocked her head curiously at the sight of the magic’s execution. Tazeer continued to sleep soundly in his basket on Gilda’s back, while Shrial laid a steadying hand on Grif’s shoulder.

“Are you ready?” Shrial asked.

“I’m fine,” Grif assured her. “Let’s see wha–” Grif trailed off as his eyes caught something inside the grounds of the courtyard. He moved in to take a closer look. “That's not right….”

“What is it, Grif?” Avalon’s feathers rose with her fur as she clasped at her focus.

Grif traced the ground. Small hoof-shaped indents could just be made out in the dirt. Just ahead of them, deep gouges that usually characterized Gryphon claw marks dug into the earth. “These tracks are fresh.”

“How is that possible? The spell is keyed to you, isn’t it?”

“Keyed is a tough term. When we vanished during the Third Gryphon War, Celestia and Luna weren’t sure if I’d be back with Hammer Strike. They keyed the wards to only open for us or a very close blood relative.”

“In other words, blood magic?” Gilda asked.

“Yes.” Grif nodded. “You girls head for the library. Keep together. Shrial, Gilda, you’re armed, right?”

“Always,” Shrial said.

Gilda nodded her agreement. “I can’t really fight with Tazeer on my back, though,” she said.

Grif nodded. “Keep together. Don’t let the twins out of your sight.” Then he looked to the tracks. “I’m going to follow these.”

“How long before we search for you?” Shrial asked.

“Don’t.” Grif shook his head. “If I’m not back in two hours, go back to the ship with everything you can carry.”

“You know at least one of us is going to disobey that order,” Avalon pointed out.

“I know. I just hope it doesn’t come to it.”

“Winds willing, it won’t. And if it does, we’re pulling your spirit back, if for nothing more than to smack you across the head for being an idiot.” Shrial pulled him into a rough embrace. “Don’t make us do that.” Then she pulled back, and looked expectantly at Gilda.

Gilda chuckled nervously as her tail kicked up some dust from the ground. “I’m, uh … not so good at this sort of thing, but … if there is trouble, kick its butt for us, okay?”

“Count on it.” Grif winked, then moved in, and kissed the three cubs, before turning to follow the tracks.

---

Grif followed the tracks through the grounds, until they came to the stone floor of the inner fortress. Naturally, with stone being harder than earth, there weren’t any real markings to track. He cursed his luck, until he spotted a book lying haphazardly on the ground out of the corner of his eye. It lay on its spine with the covered splayed open. As Grif moved towards it, he noticed a second book close by, then another, and another. He followed this new trail deeper into the holds, until he reached the stairs leading him deeper into the stronghold. Cold and damp clung at his wings and fur as he descended into the familiar setting of the structure’s dungeons. The books ended a ways in, but were replaced by firelight within one of the nearby cells. Grif moved silently toward the opened cell, and drew a knife. He readied his strike, but stopped quite suddenly as his eyes took in the figure within.

It appeared to be a massive Gryphon. From what Grif could make out of his body, he had to be a liger-albatross cross, but this was, by far, the biggest specimen of the mix he had ever encountered. The strange Gryphon’s fur and base feathers where tan with a sort of peach-colored blanket of feathers near his head. His crest was tipped with bright red.

From his vantage point at the door, Grif couldn’t see the Gryphon’s face or underside, but he could make out one massive foreleg topped with talons more savage looking than any Gryphon he had seen. He crept toward the beast on silent paws and talons, then braced himself when he was within striking distance.

“If you value your life, turn around slowly,” Grif growled. The knife was already prepared for a hamstring, if necessary.

The Gryphon tensed up, and after a moment, began to turn slowly. Slight tremors passed through his body every now and then, until he faced Grif. Blue eyes greeted Grif’s own, though only for a moment as they darted around fearfully.

“Who are you? And how did you enter this fortress?” Grif asked slowly, keeping the knife in plain sight.

“M-my name is G-Gilgamesh. T-the door was open. I walked in to escape the h-heat.”

“This fortress has been sealed by magic for over a thousand years,” Grif countered as his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What clan or band are you from?”

“I … I don’t know. I just wokeup out there. I tried to escape the heat in here. I didn’t know I w-was trespassing, honest!”

“So, just to get your story straight here, you don’t know where you came from?” Grif said as he raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“I … kind of do?” he replied with uncertainty. “I-I know a mark, a name, a couple locations, but it’s all just a mess.” He placed a hand on his head, and shook it, as if to dispel dizziness. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave. I won’t bother you. I don’t have anything. I-I can just find somewhere else….”

“The next settlement is thirty miles away. Frankly, I’m surprised you made it here.” Grif stared into Gilgamesh’s eyes. Despite being nervous, the ferocity behind them felt eerily familiar. “Hand over all your weapons. You can stay here, and when this is over, we’ll drop you off somewhere. I may not know you, but I can’t have you dying of thirst out there.”

“I don’t have anything,” Gilgamesh replied as he looked around himself.

“How do I know you're not going to attack me or my family?” Grif challenged.

“What would I attack you with?” After a moment, he looked to his hands. “Oh, yeah. I mean, I guess these are kinda–.”

It was at that moment one of the books inside the room fell from its perch, crashing to the ground with a loud snap as it landed flat. This caused Gilgamesh to let out a yelp. At that moment, a flash of blue blinded Grif. Once he regained his sight, he was greeted with a dome of ice, and within, he could see Gilgamesh on the ground, covering his head with his hands.

Grif backed slowly towards the door to the cell. “You stay here. I need to get someone,” he ordered as he backed away from the room, before flying at top speed to the stairs, then banking down a hall towards the library. He needed Avalon.

---

A half an hour later, all the Gryphons had gathered in the library. Grif and Shrial were currently pouring through records of old clans. Gilgamesh had provided them with the symbol he remembered, a circle with a downward-facing sword wrapped in a pair of closed feathered wings. Avalon, meanwhile, was looking Gilgamesh over both physically and with her medallion to try and determine how he was using magic.

“Frankly, I still don’t understand how this is even possible,” she said as she peered through the eye of her focus. “The very idea that a Gryphon could be capable of utilizing magic without the aid of a focus is positively unheard of outside of the Avatar. If anything, I’d say your magic is closer to a Pony’s than a Gryphons, assuming these charts are correct. Are you sure you’re not a Hippogriff?” she asked again as she lifted the long silky furry protrusions over the Gryphon’s hind legs to reveal a pair of broad, sturdy hooves.

“He doesn’t have any of the other noted traits for Hippogriffs. He’s too bulky. His muscle mass is focused forward, rather than towards the back; and his talons are fully formed, rather than sprouting from a hoof-like limb,” Grif noted.

“C-can we please stop?” Gilgamesh asked as he began closing in on himself. “T-this is a b-bit uncomfortable.”

“There is no sign of a clan symbol like the one he described. Of course, these records are a thousand years old, but I’ve never seen one like it. Have you?” he asked Avalon.

“I can’t say that I have,” Avalon said as she shook her head.

“And has he lied about anything so far?” he pressed. They had managed to find a truth spell among the cluttered scrolls. It was beyond Grif’s ability, but Avalon had been able to cast it with help from her medallion.

“It’s essentially designed to block his airways, if he tries to tell a lie. He wouldn’t be able to breathe, so long as he tried to.” She winced as she looked back at Gilgamesh. “Sorry about that.”

“I-it’s fine. I mean, I think I can trust you all.” He scratched at his head. “I’m not sure. P-part of me feels fine around Grif, while the other part screams out that it isn’t right or safe to be here right now.”

“Listen, Gilgamesh. It’s a very dangerous world to be out alone in, made more so by the fact you remember nothing. I have friends back in New Unity who might be able to help you. I won’t force you to come with us, but I’ll offer you this. We’ll be leaving this castle in a couple of days, and you're welcome to join us on the trip back. If you decide to stay here or leave, no one will stop you. We’ll leave you what water and food we can spare.”

“If it will help. I mean, I-I wouldlike to go with you, if it’s all right, that is.”

“Very well, Gilgamesh.” Grif offered his talons. “I am Grif Grafson Bladefeather. Though our meeting wasn’t exactly on the best terms, I hope we can look past it, and get along.”

Gilgamesh stared at the hand for a moment, before lifting his own to meet Grif. “T-thank you.”

“No problem.” Grif turned to Avalon. “So how's the knowledge mining going? Find anything interesting? History? Magic? Blueprints? Recipes?”

“You really expect me to do the research here and now, when you want us to clear this whole place out in the next couple of days?” Avalon asked as she raised an eyebrow.

“All I asked is if you found anything interesting while you were peaking,” he said, giving her a knowing smile.

Avalon walked over, and tapped him teasingly on his beak. “That, dear husband, is for me to know, and you to find out later.”

“Well, we can be less rushed now, since we don’t have anymore unknown elements to deal with.”

“How less rushed are we talking?”

“Well, we don’t need to be out in a matter of hours now. We originally planned for two to three days. I figure that will be enough, unless you don’t think it’ll be enough to get what we need most?”

“That depends. Do you still have the organized layout from the accounting at the end of the war?”

Grif pulled out a scroll from his bag, set it on the table, and unrolled it.

Avalon grinned as she rubbed her talons together. “Excellent.”

“Never change.” Grif chuckled, and kissed her on the cheek. “I should go give Gilda the all clear.”

“W-what should I do?” Gilgamesh asked. “Or should I just s-sit in the back, and not bother you?”

“Would you mind helping with sorting some of this stuff?” Grif asked. “You were reading quite a bit, so you might understand what Avalon’s looking for more than the rest of us.”

“I … I can try.”

“And you’ll succeed, if I have anything to say about it,” Avalon said as she patted him on the back. “So why don’t we start off by you telling me what you found while you were here, hmm? Besides, a few basic memory exercises might help you sort out what’s real and what’s made up in there,” she said as she pointed to Gilgamesh’ head.

“Uhh,” Gilgamesh looked away from the group. “W-well, besides the books, I found a few odds and ends.” He reached towards one of his wings. “I-I don’t have a bag, so I just kinda held on to a few of them. One did stand out to me, because I could never find the other.” Gilgamesh held out a small green twenty-sided die with a dark purple border. “I-I mean, don’t these usually come in pairs? A-and, do they normally have some sort of energy about them?”

“Where did you find that?” Grif asked. His eyes flashed briefly as they focused on the die.

“I-it was near one of the bookshelves.” Gilgamesh took a step back. “I-is it bad I found it? S-should I get rid of it?”

“I’m not sure. A similar object gave me this,” Grif said as he unsheathed his katana partially.

Gilgamesh looked to the die, then back at the katana. “Umm, but … how?”

“I’m still trying to figure that out. It’s some kinda contest, I guess? Roll the dice, and win a prize matching the number? That's the best I can tell.”

“That’s ... cool.” Gilgamesh looked at the die. “W-would one of you like it?”

Grif shook his head. “You found it, you keep it.”

“I.…” He looked from Grif to the die once more. “I’ll save it. F-for later.”

“Very well. I’ll leave you two to it.” Grif nodded, before he left the room.

---

Pensword and the others had been booked into the top floor of one of the hotels. A series of suites stretched elegantly throughout the floor, each with a nocturnal theme. Considering the main population of the surrounding area, it was understandable. Luna had insisted on booking an extra royal suite for Pensword and his wives as a sign of her favor and friendship. While he had accepted the offer with grace and aplomb, It was still humbling to think she had so much faith in him.

However, that humility was currently taking a back seat to the sight that lay before him on the balcony. A large arch rose high over the stone wall that enclosed the hotel, bridging over what the manager had described as the local museum. The keystone glowed like a bright red star in the cool night air. The poppy that had been painted on illuminated the rest of the stone with its gentle light, while a black circle stood in the center. “That–.” Pensword was speechless as he looked on the mark. He blinked slowly, then took to the air, gliding to settle gently in the museum courtyard. His hooves clopped heavily on the cobblestones as he looked with some surprise at the giant fountain in the courtyard’s center. Each of the Thestrals’ tribal animals surrounded a massive pillar, spewing water into the fountain pool below. A carved crystal bowl pulsed with gentle white light as pure water poured from each of the four cardinal directions to cascade down into the pool below. Pensword flew to the top to get a better view of the curious stone. The edge of the bowl was rough and uneven, but as Pensword peered closer, a familiar pang struck in his chest. Letters. The ridges were letters. Letters that chained into names, and names into ranks. He knew them all. They were the guards who had encouraged him so very long ago, and they had all made the ultimate sacrifice for their home, for his home.

A closer examination revealed one space that had yet to be filled, and he chuckled. “Left a spot for me, did you?” he asked. Then he heaved a sigh, and struck to attention, keeping his eyes on the fountain, before offering a crisp salute. Next, he turned to the giant wooden doors. Nostalgia struck again as he ran his hoof over the familiar carvings. He recognized the design, and felt the moisture pooling in his eyes at the memory of the Hooves estate. The originals had been decimated, picked clean of all the gold, metal, and stained glass artwork. Now it stood before him, resurrected from its mangled grave. He smiled as he looked up to the stained glass image of the surrounding landscape that had been so painstakingly crafted above the doors.

A minor clank sounded from within, and the doors swung open slowly on oiled hinges to reveal a large lobby with a diorama of the original village of Mountain Side Falls. He moved far enough in to let the big doors shut, and his eyes locked on the model. He could trace his route home from the schoolhouse through the market. And there was the old meadow he and his siblings used to play in, after school. A melancholy smile crossed his muzzle again. “Home,” He whispered.

Despite being so engrossed in this recreation, he was still partially aware of those in attendance around the lobby and information desk. His ears flicked, and he could hear their breathing. The room was silent as the Ponies watched a legend, darting their heads back and forth between a massive portrait of the commander on the east wall and the Pony that now stood looking over the diorama. That legend continued to ignore them as his eyes followed the winding streets and rolling hills, until a small Thestral Foal with a light blue coat, red eyes, and a violet mane walked up, and nudged the warrior timidly with a hoof.

“Um, … Mister Pensword, are … are you staying?” the foal asked.

Pensword looked down at the brave foal. He was silent for a time, then reached out a wing to lay on the foal’s head. “I am here to turn the final page on a chapter in my life that has been open for far too long.” He smiled sadly. “I have much to do, little one, and I won’t always be around.” His smile grew, emanating a gentle warmth. “But know this. These lands were my first home, so they will always be important to me. The next time I visit, my entire clan will be with me to see this, this place, the beauty that you all have built in memory of those we lost. You’ve truly made the villagers proud.”

“What? You didn’t bring your clan this time?” An older stallion balked as he stepped forward. The mark of the Wolf Tribe hung prominently around his neck. “And you call yourself a Thestral.”

Pensword had his hoof at the presumptuous stallion’s throat in less than a second. “I chose not to bring them here, because I don’t know what may set me off,” he said coldly as he glared down at the colt. “And I don’t wish them to see me, if something should, because I may do something I would regret later, and something they won’t be able to unsee. Or have you forgotten what this place, these lands, mean to me? Do you think it so simple, to let go of a pain that’s festered for over a thousand years?” he snapped as he flared his wings. “I came to this place to confront my demons at their source. Do not be so quick to judge what you cannot know. Or are you truly so arrogant as to believe the persecution you faced in your youth was anywhere nearthe trials I have had to endure?”

The Ponies in the room shrank back from the commander’s fury, even as the stallion trembled against a wall Pensword didn’t remember backing him into. The foal Pensword had shown kindness just a few moments earlier now cowered, covering his head with his wings. Seeing this, Pensword’s heart ached, and he sighed as he lowered his hoof to the ground to step back. “I am … sorry,” he apologized as he turned back to the little Pony. He left the other stallion, and lowered himself to the foal’s level, then nudged at the colt gently with his muzzle. “I am especially sorry for upsetting you, little one. It is … difficult, when someone judges me. It hurts in a place nopony else can see, but I know it’s there.”

The foal slowly opened his wings, and looked up. “Like when Misty Rain keeps yanking my tail, even when I ask her to stop?”

Pensword chuckled. “Yes, something like that.” He ruffled the colt’s mane with a wing, then stood up again.

The foyer remained silent as Pensword continued on his way. A series of stone reliefs above buttresses and crown molding portrayed a series of battles, the bestowing of the moon’s gifts to the Thestrals, the emblem of a first cave blessing, and much more. They all led to the great wooden beam that rose over the hall leading into the museum proper. Banners from each of the tribes hung on either side, and the largest banner of all showed a two twin peaks with a waterfall dropping to a lush green bottom. Mountainside Falls had, indeed, been remembered.

Pensword marched over to the ticket counter. He looked down over the desk’s intricate carvings, and his eyes alighted on a familiar symbol. His own cutie mark stood starkly as the centerpiece of the design. He pulled out a coin purse, and the ticket seller went pale.

“W-we could never charge admission for you, Sir,” she squeaked out as her wings fluttered anxiously behind her. A pink tint showed under her fur coat, and her blue eyes watered.

“Then take it as a donation,” Pensword said as he laid a pile of bits onto the table. The seller knew better than to argue, and transferred the bits into her till. He nodded gratefully to her, and pressed inside, turning back only the once to take in the spectators. Each had been garbed in some manner of pelt or hide with accessories indicative of their tribal association and clan. It wasn’t much compared to the elegance and frippery of Canterlot, but then again, this wasn’t meant to be Canterlot. He smiled, grateful to see that his people had chosen a different path, a hubler path. Then he returned his attention to the main body of the museum, and passed under the beam.

The first exhibit he came to drew him immediately. A stone statue of Baron Happy Hooves stood, protective over a broken horn segment. His heart skipped a beat as he recalled the dreadful vision of the slaughter, and the pain that had come from the loss of so many horns. He approached the paque, and read of the horn’s origins. It had come from the statue of Luna that had once stood at the entrance to the Hooves estate. A familiar pang ached in his chest as he remembered that statute from his youth. He looked up to the Baron’s statute, and it seemed almost to be smiling down at him. Pensword chuckled to himself as he wiped his tears. “You always did know how to encourage me, didn’t you?” he asked.

He then took in the rest of the room. Exits and halls spread up and down in stairwells and other display rooms. This visit would likely be a long one, but he had the time. After all, Lunar Fang and Fox Feather had been asked to attend to Luna, while she held court at the High Chieftess’ hall in the center of the city, smack dab in the middle of the Grand Lodge. Finally, Pensword decided to take an opening on his left, where the history of Dream City awaited him. Just because he had come to confront Mountainside Falls didn’t mean he felt ready for it ust yet. He would work himself up to it as he passed through the other exhibits. He muttered a silent prayer to Faust and the Moon, before pressing forward. Hopefully, he’d be able to stand it.

“Don’t worry about the time, Son,” Iron Pen’s voice echoed. “If you stay past closing, they won’t kick you out. This is your land, too, after all, and your history.”

“Thank you, Dad,” Pensword whispered as he walked under a carving of the great ursa bear with Luna’s crescent moon embedded on its forehead. The lost son of Mountainside Falls had finally found his way home.

Comments

[Dravkwn]

“Triple maximize magic: Greater Magic Wall!”

I see what you did there. Ah... the animemories.

[Booster Spice]

Welcome New Year.

For all those hidden corridoors that keep getting found, theplace is starting to look more like Archives, where thers only ever one hidden corridor in use because all the others are zero size. The Sword In The Stone wasnt Excaliber, it was just a symbol of leadership, like a crown, but didnt actually imbue any powers of its own?

Luna almost getting to the short, short, short version? but that would mean Sean Connery turning up.

If a defensive spell can have such power, throwing things around, then how much of a wall can that spell throw togethre by reversing the trajectories of the pieces so they start randomly and end up together? Or is the targeting factor that much more complex and costly in casting terms?

The Gants engines really need a major redesign if they are stressing over atmospheric operation, given the higher speeds are easier due to the compressed, dense atmosphere, reaction fluid can be handled by more compact spell forms and energy flows?

Did big Griffon turn up given the die, or is he an area clear companion with bonus reward? In usual storylines, the only combatant currently equivalent would be Hammerstrike himself, if his companion cant be found?

Pensword comes home.

Robert Heinlein, Tom Jones.

[Night_Striker]

this chapter was trully tuching

[damnaion]

8657452
yep

[Charedfirescale]

Gilgamesh is Taze/Griff's little brother who should be in Canada and a child. Isn't he?

[Jirodyne]

8659596
Someone related by blood. Tho it begs the question of why is he here, and why now?

[ihatehaters1994]

Pensword is finally getting his closer over Mtn. Side Falls. Who brought taze's little bro to Equestria, discord, the element tree or Faust?

[Charedfirescale]

8660306
Well there's obviously some Doctor Who, time and space shenanigans going around. The spell lets only those related by the blood of Hammer Strike/Shawn and Grif/Taze in. We can cross out Hammer Strike's kin as he's an only child; who'd no doubt have felt something going on if it was a cousin or his Dad and Uncle.

Taze/Grif comes from a large clan-like human family; so it could be a cousin, an uncle, or even his dad. But do to the die ending up in Gilgamesh's possession him being Taze's brother seems more likely. His form most likely represents the mixed nature that many humans would have do to their personalities and ancestry in regards to their Equestrian forms.

[Commander_Pensword]

8657363

So, Booster, I have a question, why have you mentioned Robert Heinlein and Tom Jones. with this icon?

Is it based upon the old saying you can never go home again? I know Heinlein is a sci fi author and the Tom Jones I am familiar with is the animator. Would like a little clarification with that.

8657452 8658428

To both of you, I am humbled to hear that you feel this chapter is touching, and I hope you all enjoy the continued reading of it.

8660649

A closure and hopefully a new beginning.

I will not be commenting on the comments on Giglemesh, as that is the brain child of some of the other writers, so it is their position to be talking about him.

I have a question for you all, what do you think about Dream City? And Pensword's first heart song?

[ihatehaters1994]

8661466
Dream city seems awe inspiring, and the heart song was both sad and happy the right amount of both.

[Booster Spice]

8661466

Sorry for the confusion, was thinking of two things.

Robert Heinlein, Green Hills Of Earth

And Tom Jones, singer. Green, green grass of home.

[graphicalerror]

Another great one, guys!

[Teraunce]