• Published 17th Dec 2012
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Where Loyalties Lie: Ghosts of the Past - LoyalLiar



With Equestria facing a war on three fronts, Princess Luna, Rainbow Dash, and Shining Armor must join forces to unearth a secret buried years in the past before it's too late.

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XVII - Ancestry

XVII

Ancestry

- - -

Rainbow stepped through the shimmering portal of Morty’s magic, out of the glowing sunlight of the Summer Lands, and onto what felt like dry grass. She could barely make out anything more than a jagged fuzz, given the surreal fact that no light was actually coming through the portal behind her. Her eyes were left to struggle in the blur of midnight blue and gray, leaving her concerned when Typhoon and Cyclone pushed past her, standing in a sort of wedge between her and the outside world. Typhoon extended her wings, and Cyclone mimicked the motion with his right.

“How many do you count?” Typhoon asked her brother, keeping her head focused outward into the darkness.

“Seven,” Cyclone growled back. “No, eight.”

“Fourteen total.” Typhoon turned to Cyclone, unease spread across her face. Whatever was bothering the mare, it seemed just as unclear to Cyclone as it did to Rainbow.

“Fourteen what?” the stunt flier asked.

“Thestrals,” Gale replied, stepping out of the shimmering portal and taking up a position beside Rainbow. “They’re out there, waiting for us to get away from the portal.”

Somehow, as if the magic were aware of her words, the portal to the Summer Lands spasmed, its perfectly circular edges going wavy and contorted. Morty’s horn poked through the brilliant surface, its magic struggling the way Rainbow had seen whenever Twilight attempted a spell that was just a bit too hard. No more than a few spare seconds later, the unicorn stallion fell through the portal and onto the dry grass. With a rather violent pop, the portal collapsed, and the magic around his horn disappeared.

“Are you alright?” Rainbow asked. The other ponies seemed too preoccupied with the darkness to notice the stallion’s fall. “Was the portal that hard?”

Pushing himself up halfway with his right foreleg, Morty wiped several beads of sweat from his brow with his left. “Oh, it’s no big…” His sarcastic retort dropped away momentarily when he felt the need to suck in a tired, desperate breath. “...no big deal. Just… overpowering Celestia’s magic… even if it’s only… for a few seconds.”

Rainbow!” Typhoon snapped, her tail flicking in irritation. “Eyes forward. Be ready to fly.”

“Why? I don’t even see anything out there!”

Typhoon ignored the comment, flexing her wings. “We can’t take them without weapons and armor. They have to know that. Why aren’t they coming in?”

“Because you do have―” Morty winced as his lungs fought his explanation. “Look, just remember the feel of your sword, and…” This time, his words trickled away as all eyes turned toward the shimmering veil of mist appearing in Typhoon’s mouth. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the haze took on the form of a sword; a slender saber with a gentle curve, whose dimly blue blade seemed to be made just as much from ice as steel. Even when it had fully realized, the weapon still projected an aura of mist in the air, as if it were cold enough to freeze the surrounding air.

Typhoon herself nearly dropped the weapon from between her teeth in her slack-jawed, wing-spread state of utter shock. Turning toward Morty, she thrust the blade into the ground. The surrounding grass immediately took on a layer of thin frost “What is this? Some sort of spell?”

“It’s part of your soul.” Morty managed the entire thought without wheezing. Confident in his strength, he pulled his head up fully off the grass, letting his ears perk up in a show of relief. “It’s why Rainbow’s wings are here.” Rainbow’s eyes fell to the grass, and her ears folded back against her skull. From his place on the ground, Morty didn’t notice her reaction, and continued. “You should all get your weapons,” he warned. “That’s why…” the now young wizard shook his head. “…why they aren’t attacking. Cyclone, can we survive that many?”

“Don’t ask me,” the gigantic pegasus replied, briefly turning the scarred side of his face back to look at Morty. “I’ve never fought a thestral. Typhoon, can we do this?”

The sharp breath from her nostrils formed a thick fog as it passed near the sword clutched in her teeth. “If these are the fourteen I’m expecting, no.”

“Wait,” Gale darted forward, worry in her eyes and in her hooves, which she bounced between nervously. “You think these are those thestrals? The ones you―”

Typhoon’s hoof came up, its flat side signaling the mare’s younger sister to be silent in no uncertain terms. Typhoon’s eyes narrowed. “Gale, Cyclone, get your swords. I have an idea.”

Rainbow almost didn’t notice Gale produce her weapon. One minute, the air was empty; the next, her magic was holding a long, slender rapier which swished in the night air like the cut of an athletic wing. Even in the starlight, its golden handle glimmered, illuminating the gemstones of its guard and pommel. Smiling, the unicorn turned toward Rainbow. “You like it? Daddy got it for me when I turned seventeen. Aestas Melos. It means ‘Summer Song’ in Cirran. Mom hated it when I wore it with my dress to the ball.” For a glimmer of an instant, Rainbow thought she saw Twilight’s grin on the similarly purple unicorn. A moment later, a slight wind caught Gale’s wild blue mane, and the illusion was broken. At the feel of the wind, she ducked to the side with a frightened expression. “Watch it, Cyclone!”

The infamous stallion had produced his sword, if one were inclined to call it such. Rainbow reflected that it resembled a paddle nearly as much as it did a blade. Easily four feet long, it matched the massive pegasus’ height at his shoulder, and its blade was wider than his hoof. Its guard was plain and its handle simple, so that all Rainbow’s focus was directed to where the point of the blade curved back in what reminded her of nothing so much as a vicious fish hook. Though it lacked the visible aura of Typhoon’s weapon or the musical quality of Gale’s, Rainbow could feel the heat radiating from the plain-looking steel. In fact, the only quality of the sword that suggested its almost stifling power was the thin line of orange-red that separated the flat of the blade from the point where it’s metal narrowed toward a cutting edge.

“Are we ready?” Cyclone’s rumbling, accented voice asked. With each syllable, his spike of heavy black beard quivered, but like another red giant Rainbow knew from Ponyville, he used those syllables sparingly. “We won’t have another chance.”

Let’s do this,” Gale announced, in a voice that strangely seemed to remind Rainbow of an action hero.

There was some unspoken agreement in the way the three siblings moved, spreading out to surround Rainbow and Morty. Once all three were in position, Typhoon called out.

“I know you’re out there. I know what you want.” The autumn mare spread her wings wide, beckoning to the fiends hiding in the darkness. “Why wait? She’s right here.”

The first sound Rainbow heard was the crunch of the dry grass under hooves, slowly approaching. Then, in the darkness, she saw their eyes. They shone, the slitted blues and greens and yellows and reds, piercing and hungry, from all directions across the uneven ground, and in the air above it. Leathery wing beats gave the approach a rhythm, and from the sound, Rainbow could count at least five of the creatures in the air.

Cyclone took a deep breath; Rainbow would not have noticed, were it not for the distinct cracking the air made in his nostrils, and the orange light that escaped from beneath the feathers of his wings. Then he exhaled. The fire would have put most dragons to shame, burning the stars from the sky and painting the world a vivid orange. In the few moments before the inferno became smoke in the darkness, Rainbow saw them: twelve creatures whose coats had shifted toward utter blackness, fangs in their muzzles, curved horns, leather wings, and vicious claws spread throughout. The thirteenth and fourteenth fell to the grass as piles of ashes, reduced without so much as a scream by the power of Cyclone’s Empatha.

“Two,” the stallion announced, smiling. “Race is on, girls.”

Rainbow winced at the stallion’s bloodthirsty grin, visible even through his heavy beard. Her mind conjured the images from her imagination, as he had stood by, laughing hysterically as River Rock burnt. Seeing the stallion in the flesh, hurling fire like his toy, left her with a pit in her gut. Almost by reflex, her head twitched away, and her focus fell on Typhoon.

Whether spurred on by Cyclone’s words, or simply sensing the right moment, Typhoon launched herself into the sky by all four hooves. Three bolts of golden magic shot past her, narrowly missing her wings and hooves, but she felt no need to look away from her target. Rainbow watched her icy sword, glinting visibly even for the flashes of light surrounding her, as it clove into a winged thestral. Like the body, she felt herself grow cold when it fell, lacking any trail of blood for the solid coating of frost containing its wounds. When the thestral struck the ground, it shattered like glass, its remains glimmering and twinkling in the starlight.

“Three!” Typhoon cried out, before ducking away from another burst of magic and back into the fray. Rainbow’s eyes followed her, until a flare of blue inches from her face left her nearly blinded. At her side, a raptor-clawed earth pony thestral lay shuddering, as Gale’s magic rippled along its flesh. The young, friendly mare’s attention remained on the battle, hurling up spell after spell at the horde even as she approached the fallen enemy and lifted her right forehoof.

Rainbow closed her eyes. All she heard was the wet crunch, and the failed wheeze that should have been a gasp or a scream. The struggling stopped.

“Four,” Gale announced, and then without missing a beat, “Five.”

“Six,” came Cyclone’s heavy voice, though it trailed off into a grunt of pain when another of the clawed thestrals slammed into his side. Its terrifying weapons dug into his sides, scrabbling to break his ribs and reach his heart.

“Cy!” Typhoon shouted, outstretching a wing. Her Empatha gathered into a single icicle, flying like lightning to strike the creature through the throat. Even gasping for air and bleeding to death, it tore at Cyclone’s wings for two more seconds before the giant pony lit his entire body on fire, disintegrating it completely.

“He was mine,” Typhoon announced. “Seven.”

“Eight!” Gale interjected, before hurling a brilliant blue shield up in the space between Rainbow and a diving pegasus thestral. Overhead, the creature smashed its hooves against Gale’s barrier, though it was a golden glow of another horn that ultimately ended the spell.

“How proud of you three to count us like that.” The unicorn thestral laughed, watching as the thestral above Rainbow curved, tackling Gale and wrapping its fangs around her horn. The thestral’s curved horn illuminated a slender blue face. “It’s been a very long time, Gale. You two,” he ordered, turning between Typhoon and Cyclone. “Stop, or your sister loses her horn.”

Shattered Gem,” Typhoon hissed, ears pinned to her skull and wings ever so slightly unfurled in distrust.

“Mortal Coil, I believe you called the colorful one here ‘Rainbow Dash’?” The unicorn walked up to her. “Don’t mind Typhoon, Rainbow,” he told her. “We didn’t get much of a chance for introductions when you were flying the Eagle of Lubuck. My name is Shattered Gem, although my friends call me Jewel; at least, when I’m not Seventh Brother.”

“I know who you are,” Rainbow told the thestral, looking straight into his slitted yellow eyes. “I read your story.”

“Oh, you did?” Jewel smiled, as if proud that he was remembered, even as a monster. “Typhoon, tell me, is Rainbow here one of ours? Or is she Gale and Coil’s?”

Typhoon looked between Gale’s prone form and Rainbow, and her gaze briefly flicked to her icy sword which lay in the frosted grass at her hooves. “She’s my granddaughter,” the pegasus soldier announced. “But you’ll never be a part of our family!”

“Oh? Blood doesn’t lie, Typhoon. I’m certain your necromancer friend could tell you that.” Jewel chuckled to himself; Rainbow watched his muscular body shake with each cruel laugh. “I don’t see why you hate me so much, when you fight alongside your brother. He and I were the same.”

“We were wrong,” Cyclone noted, his teeth still wrapped around his massive sword.

Jewel shook his head, ignoring the other stallion completely. “At least I gave you something other than a scar. I thought you liked our son; I would have expected you to be grateful. And what a ladies stallion he turned out to be," Jewel offered a saccharine smile. "A chip off the old block." Jewel managed a single step toward Typhoon before a burst of blue magic struck him in the side. He toppled suddenly, slitted eyes rolling back and legs flailing wildly.

All eyes flew to Gale who was standing beside the pegasus thestral that had previously held her prisoner. It lunged at another of its kind, a horned undead approaching Cyclone from behind. The unicorn thestral didn’t even have time to recognize its assailant before its throat was stolen.

Before Rainbow or any of her company had any time to even process what had happened, a single lightning bolt fell from the sky in the distance. The remaining four thestrals turned tail and fled straight back into the darkness; only the strangely helpful winged creature and the unconscious form of Jewel remained behind.

“What was that?” Typhoon asked. “You!” Her eyes locked on their thestral ‘friend’, harsh and suspicious. “What just happened?”

“I serve my master,” the former pegasus mare answered, bowing her head.

“Your master?” Typhoon’s tail flicked to the side out of irritation. “Give me a straight answer, corpse!”

“That,” came a tired wheeze from near Rainbow’s side, “would be me.”

Mortal Coil slowly pushed himself to his hooves. Ribbons of shadowy purple smoke trailed away from the corners of the stallion’s eyes, which glowed a fiendish green.

“What is that?” Without hesitation, the cyan mare pounced on the pale stallion. His back had barely hit the grass when she pressed her hooves onto his shoulders, glaring into his eyes. “Are you Sombra?!”

A blue aura wrapped around Rainbow, and though she struggled, the unicorn magic hoisted her into the air. She was turned slowly, made to stare at Gale as Morty once more reclaimed his posture. The warrior-princess smiled, speaking with just a hint of sarcasm. “Let’s try and stay calm, Rainbow. I don’t know who this Sombra pony is, but as we’ve already discussed, this pony is named Morty, and he’s trying very hard to be your friend.”

“Sombra was a thestral who conquered the Crystal Empire,” Morty explained. “I suspect he had some part in Luna’s fall,.”

“Whoa, what?” Rainbow struggled to turn around, failing to change her position in Gale’s magic and resorting to talking over her own shoulder. “Sombra was part of the Night Guard?”

“Not all thestrals are part of the Night Guard,” Morty replied. His hoof gestured toward the frightening mishmash of green, purple, and black issuing from his eyes and horn. It then motioned rather lazily to Gale, and her magic released Rainbow to drop gently onto her hooves. “All it takes to raise a thestral is some knowledge, a lot of willpower, and ‘alicorn magic’. The third is what you saw just a moment ago when you tackled me.” Morty rubbed a hoof over his brow. “It takes a lot of magic, though, and you don’t get it back as long as the thestral is running around. The average unicorn doesn’t have enough magic to do it. An archmage, like myself, can support one. Princess Luna can manage up to twenty.” His eyes flicked briefly toward some look of distaste on Typhoon, though by the time Rainbow turned, the mare had again masked her anger.

“In any case, I didn’t want Gale to be hurt, so I took control of this thestral.” Morty indicated to the pegasus. “You don’t need to worry; I’ve taken away her free will. She can’t hurt any of you.”

“Taken away her free will?” Rainbow turned the the former pony, who stood almost frozen, and then back to Morty. “That’s a little creepy, don’t you think?”

“Would you rather I let her bite Gale’s horn off? Or possess you and go on a rampage in Equestria?” Morty rolled his eyes as Rainbow opened her mouth to protest. “Necromancy is a thankless job, Rainbow. I’m used to it. I don’t intend to keep her like this forever. I’ll probably just disperse her when we’re done, but first we should talk to her.” He turned toward her. “Thestral.”

“Yes, Master?”

Morty winced. “Don’t call me that. It’s Morty.”

“Yes, Morty,” the creature replied, treating his name with the same reverence it afforded the prior title.

The unicorn chuckled. “There’s a place somewhere near here, where you can see into the living world. Do you know where it is?”

“Yes.”

The ponies waited for a good few seconds before Gale stepped forward. “Well, where is it?”

“Cloudsdale. The fountain in the lobby of the Curia Haysarea.”

“Cloudsdale?” Rainbow wondered aloud, looking up at the sky. “This doesn’t look like Equestria to me. Actually, does anypony even know where we are?”

Cyclone nodded once. Rainbow took silent note of the way his glee from the battle had worn off, leaving him once more stone-faced and dour. “The Compact Lands, before the blizzard. This is Northwind Basin, where I won command of the Praetorian. In your time, these lands are covered in snow and ice. Cloudsdale isn’t far north of here.”

“Thestral,” Typhoon addressed the creature coldly. “Where did that lightning come from? Why did it scare your companions?”

“It was mine.”

The voice was new. It stole across the plains, strong and authoritative. As one, the heads of the assembled ponies swiveled toward the silhouette a mere dozen yards away. He stood out against the night sky, a true black against its mere dark blue. One by one, his strides carried him closer, until Rainbow could tell apart his coat from the plates of his sheer black armor.

He was tall, for a pegasus. Strong legs and mighty shoulders led him closer, and with each step his piercing magenta eyes studied the group anew.

“Father?” Cyclone asked.

Gale, in contrast, lacked the hesitation. The unicorn charged forward, lunging at the dark stallion with both forelegs for a hug. The first light Rainbow truly saw from the stallion was the glint of his teeth as he smiled in the embrace.

“It’s been too long, Gale.” His head tilted up. “But you shouldn’t be here. And… Typhoon? Cyclone?” Commander Hurricane released his daughter, and a controlled anger overtook his expression. “Coil. What are they doing here?”

Under Hurricane’s focus, Mortal Coil took an active step forward. Despite his confidence, it wasn’t hard for Rainbow’s eyes to track the unicorn’s gaze to the cross-shaped golden hilt of Hurricane’s sword, hanging beneath his left wing. “They insisted, Hurricane.”

Commander,” the dark stallion corrected. “And they couldn’t have escaped the Summer Lands without a shade’s magic, necromancer. Did you drag anypony else out? Do you intend to damn Silver Sword? Or Swift Spear? Pathfinder?” With each name, Hurricane stepped forward, and before long, he was glaring down three inches to meet Morty’s gaze. “Or is it just my children you wish to see as wandering spirits?”

Dad.” Gale’s voice was sharp, cutting through the night with a force to turn the dark stallion’s head back. “Stop. We convinced him to take us because we want to help Rainbow. He’s not out to get us killed or anything.”

Hurricane took a slow breath, and then returned his focus to Morty. “Fine. Let’s take care of this as quickly as we can, and get them back to safety.” His peace made, Hurricane pushed past Morty on his way toward Rainbow.

“Why?” Morty asked.

The single word prompted Hurricane to spread his wings, flap once, and turn in place a perfect one hundred and eighty degrees. “What do you mean ‘why’?”

“You want me to take your foals and shove them back in a prison of pointlessness and illusion? A place where every day, they’ll know that their continued existence is completely meaningless? Have you even asked them―”

Hurricane’s hoof collided with Morty’s chest, releasing a crack like thunder. Its wind flitted through the hairs of the crest on Hurricane’s helmet, as well as every mane and tail in sight. Gasping in agony from the blow, the unicorn toppled over.

“You would rather they get eaten by spirits? Dispersed until they forgot who they were? Until every semblance of your Gale is dead? We survive because Celestia and Luna remember us, Coil. We have their magic. But Celestia put away her memories of Gale centuries ago.” Hurricane made no notice of the way Gale flinched at his harsh words. “You’d condemn them for the sake of a bit of freedom.”

“Those who sacrifice liberty for security deserve neither,” Morty grumbled from the ground.

“This isn’t about liberty, Coil, this is about survival.” Commander Hurricane shook his head, turned his back to Morty, and drew his sword from its sheath. The Gladius Procellarum was nothing like what Rainbow had imagined. It was a long, heavy blade, but rather than rigid edges, it had a gentle curve like Typhoon’s weapon. Most interesting, however, was the hole in the center of the blade. The long thin oval ran nearly the length of the weapon’s edge, releasing a hissing noise not unlike a furnace when it was swung through the air.

Hurricane had only swung it once. A few drops of blood were shed by the motion, but far fewer than Rainbow would have expected. Morty’s captive thestral fell to the ground. A moment later, its severed head followed suit. The flesh of the stump was in some places seared, and in others frozen. And for all the cruelty of the action, Rainbow was most disgusted that she caught herself feeling almost nothing. In the end, it was just a tenth corpse to add to the pile strewn across the grass.

With frightening precision, Hurricane thrust Procellarum back into its sheath, and then turned his head to Rainbow. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” she lied.

“You aren’t used to death,” Hurricane observed. “It will pass.” Then he stepped forward, and moved to wrap a foreleg over her shoulders. Without hesitation, her wing batted it away. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Whatever.”

Hurricane turned back to his offspring. “We’re taking Rainbow to Cloudsdale. Is that correct?” He received three nods. “Alright. We’ll go in two teams. Coil, make an illusion so that Typhoon looks like Rainbow. Gale, use the cloud walking spell Star Swirl taught you. The three of you will go to the main street of Cloudsdale. Cyclone and I will take Rainbow through the Silver Mountain catacombs.”

“Wait up,” Morty cried out. “Shouldn’t I be going with Rainbow? I know my way around the Between.”

“There are two of us,” Hurricane countered. “You go with Gale.”

“Can you even reattach her soul?”

“Better than you can,” Hurricane replied. “Soul magic is Empatha, as I’m sure you’re aware. Not your Arcana.”

“But I―”

“Morty,” Gale interrupted. “Give up. This isn’t worth fighting over.”

Beneath his black robe, Morty’s foreshoulders drooped. “Well, Rainbow, it was a pleasure to meet you. Give Celestia and Luna my regards.”

As he and Gale turned toward the north, walking out into the night, Hurricane and Typhoon shared a focused look. Hurricane’s hoof came up to his eyes, and pointed forcibly at Morty. Typhoon nodded once, and then spread her wings, ready to move after her sister and brother-in-law.

Only when they had left did Rainbow suddenly come across the feeling that she’d let her only friends in the strange darkness of the Between wander away.

- - -

Solo’s first sight was a sort of purple blob, sitting squarely in the center of a gray blur. A ringing in her ears settled to the discernible sound of an equine voice.

“...awake?”

“I…” Solo’s head throbbed, but when the pain disappeared, the world came into view with it. “Twilight?”

“Oh, good. I was worried he’d hurt you… Uh, permanently, I mean.”

“Too soon,” came a voice echoing off a nearby wall, accompanied by a growling few words that Solo didn’t understand. Her head turned slowly, avoiding a resurgence of her aching head, toward the dreaded Marshal Serp. Without his left foreleg, the grain-colored stallion was far less intimidating. One of the sleeves of his heavy black jacket had been ripped off, wrapped tightly around the stump that remained of his shoulder.

“Sorry, Serp.” As Twilight spoke, one of Serp’s quills danced along the wall, scratching out words in the pegasus’ spilt blood, and echoing them in Stalliongradi to his ears. “Don’t move so much; you’ll reopen it!”

Solo took a moment to take in her surroundings: the three ponies had been placed in a cell clearly designed to hold only one, two pony-lengths deep, but only wide enough for two to stand in its width if they were shoulder to shoulder. Serp was sprawled in the back of the cell, a mere leg’s reach from Solo. Twilight was seated near the barred door, which seemed to be made of some metal far darker than iron or steel. With the jagged edges that spurred out of the bars, it reminded Solo of obsidian. Outside, through the cell’s bars, a barely-lit torch illuminated a hallway that the captives couldn’t see down.

Serp growled when Twilight stepped toward him. “You think it matters? I’d rather bleed out then let Fenrir kill me slowly.”

Twilight’s eyes widened slightly. “That’s the name of the big one with all of the canid sigils, right?”

Solo prepared to sit through another of Twilight’s academic explanations. “What’s a canid sigil?”

“Well, Diamond Dogs and Vargr both have magic, but they―”

The rough tones of both Serp’s native Stalliongradi, and the translated echo from the wall, were almost music to the Canterlot guardsmare’s ears. “She срала on it, Twilight, and so do I.” Focusing on Solo, he bared his filed teeth in a smile. “Vargr carve magic spells into their skin, and then самки fill the scars in with powdered gems. It’s the only way they can do magic. Fenrir has the most, so he’s their leader.” Turning to Twilight, he continued. “And how in Tartarus do you not know who Fenrir is, книгодрот? Next you’re going to tell me you don’t know what a yeti is, or that you’ve never heard of гребанной Baba Yagaur.”

“I’ve met several yetis, thank you very much.” Twilight rolled her eyes. “And Baba Yagaur is just a foal’s story; gaur can’t even use Arcana; they’re like buffalo, who only have Endura. That’s beside the point that they can’t even be found on this continent―”

Oh,” Serp interrupted. “Well, then my memories of fighting with that мандой and her magic house must have just been a drunken dream. I certainly can’t think of any other блядских monsters that everypony said were made up. Nightmare в пизду Moon certainly turned out to be fake. I bet― agh.” The sudden gasp of pain came from Serp’s simple motion toward Twilight; though his shoulder was nowhere near the ground, the trivial action of moving it in pantomime of a step was enough to pause the battle-hardened officer.

Without saying a word, Solo’s hoof moved to her cuirass, only to find her guardspony armor missing. Though her shoes were likewise missing, Solo was surprised to find that the vargr had left her vest. A quick run of her wings over its pockets brought a smile to her face, which went unnoticed, hidden by the others’ bickering.

“I’m telling you, Serp, you need to stop moving your shoulder around.”

Why, you stupid долбанная шлюха? We are literally going to die in this tiny cell. Maybe you’re looking forward to a happy little tea party in the Summer Lands with your stupid woodland friends, but I’m going to be spending the rest of time licking Tirek’s salty жопу. And it’s your клятой Celestia fault, pile of дерьма.” By the end of his rant, Serp was panting, leaning forward into Twilight’s face with his jagged teeth and unleashing the rank force of his foul, booze-tinged breath in her direction.

Twilight pulled back, and the corners of her lips twitched as if struggling to come to grips with a newfound emotion. “I… I just thought…” The purple mare’s head hung low. “I’m sorry.”

Solo rested a wing on Twilight’s back. “We aren’t dead yet, right?”

Serp’s hoof slammed on the ground, with the sound of a crack of thunder that echoed in the tiny cell, nearly deafening the other pegasus. She could see his lips moving in time with his Stalliongradi, but it was only after a few moments of his shouting that she began to hear his words. “―pony ever makes it out of the mines; Celestia’s sunny flank knows Blood Stroke and Hammer and I have tried. We’ve lost probably a dozen good ponies down these tunnels, and unless Blood Stroke shows up himself from where Celestia stuck him, we aren’t going to do any better. So take your optimistic horse-гавно and your hugs and hearts and жрущие навоз butterflies, and―”

Solo’s hoof smashed into the side of the Black Cloak’s jaw with enough force to leave the three legged stallion on his side, crumpled at the base of the cell’s wall. “You want to play this way, fine! I can’t stop you from giving up if you think we’re already as good as dead. But do you really want to go out like this? Shouting at the last pony who could ever be your friend? Because let me tell you something, Black Cloak: I’m not gonna forgive you.” Solo took two steps forward, glaring down at the toppled soldier and pointing a furious hoof at his chest. “You’ve spent your whole life being a complete asshole to everypony you’ve come across. And you’re right: if you do die here, I’d bet all the money I’ve got Celestia would have your flank burning in Tartarus. You’ve got one chance to change that, and you can spend it helping Twilight and I get out of here, or bawling in the corner like the playground bully you are. I’m getting us out of here in one piece.”

Serp stared at Solo, cowering with his eyes locked against her glare, unable to look away. Sighing, the ex-smuggler turned away from the pathetic stallion and pulled off her vest.
“Uh, Solo, they searched you; they took my bags, and Serp’s sickle, and everything. They just left us the clothes.”

“Then it’s a good thing they don’t know about Canterlot fashion.” The pegasus turned her vest around, revealing a half-dozen small pockets stitched into the inside of the garment. “These are padded on lining that faces the outside, so you can’t feel them if you’re patting the wearer down.”

Twilight’s eyes widened. “Why does your vest have hidden pockets?”

Solo cracked a cocky smile. “You can ask your brother when we find him. Give me a second.” The mare’s hooves danced over a few of the pockets, pulling out her single bladed steel shoe, a bag of marbles, and her precious crumpled matchbox. Without hesitance, she slid it open and withdrew a single narrow chartreuse crystal. “Serp, eat this. It’ll help your shoulder.”

“What the―” the stallion seemed to catch himself in some mixture of self realization and pain. He popped the crystal into his mouth and crunched down prior to asking, “What is it?”

“Whispersalt,” Solo replied casually, closing the matchbox.

Twilight’s eyes widened. “But… that’s illegal!”

The flat stare Solo answered with spoke more than any words could have. After a moment of silent reproach, the ex-smuggler took a slow breath. “I’m assuming you can’t teleport us out of the cell?”

Twilight shook her head. “The bars are lodestone; it’s like a sponge for magic. I could probably overload them, and actually just break it, but that would make a really loud noise.”

Solo shook her head. “No good. Serp is right about one thing: we can’t fight these varg-whatevers.”

“Vargr,” Twilight corrected.

“Gesundheit.” Solo chuckled as she stuck her head beneath her wing.

“Why are you laughing?” The unicorn of the group frowned. “We’re in serious danger, Solo.”

“I noticed,” the pegasus replied from beneath her wing. “But if you let the danger get to you, you start making stupid mistakes.” A moment later, her head returned with a robin’s egg blue feather clutched in her teeth, its rigid quill sticking forward. Her hooves moved confidently toward the barred door, where she transferred the feather to sit on the flat of her wing.

“What are you doing?” Twilight asked.

The momentary leader of the group decided not to answer. Instead, her eyes clenched tight in focus. Her far wing reached under her chin to lay flat atop the feather, and she gritted her teeth. Moving slowly, she guided the feather toward the keyhole. It wasn’t a hard target to hit; Solo imagined it was sized for a key that fit in a vargr’s massive claws. Running the feather across the top of the lock, she felt two tumblers. Foal’s play.

“What are you doing?” the unicorn repeated.

A little growl escaped Solo’s throat. “Shut the buck up, Twilight; I need to focus.”

“Sorry.” Twilight sounded hurt, though in her focus, Solo didn’t have time to apologize..

The first tumbler took more than a moment of prodding; Solo wasn’t worried about the lock getting jammed by her tampering as she was of the weight of its parts snapping off the tip of her quill. Two, three, and finally four taps held the little weighted head up. With a slow breath to regain her focus, Solo moved in for the second tumbler.

The sound of a crunching footstep down the hall froze her in place. It was followed by another, slowly approaching.

“What was that?” Twilight asked.

“Quiet!” Solo’s wings twitched through the bars. The tumbler moved up, and then dropped with a brutal force. She gasped, twitching again and again. Echoing down the hall, the heavy footsteps continued. “Come on…

She gave one last desperate twitch as the footsteps continued, but before she could even feel the tumbler fall, Twilight yanked her back from the door. The pegasus and the unicorn held tight against one another for the next few painful seconds as the footsteps drew closer.

Fenrir’s claws were immediately obvious by the glowing runes carved into his skin. Only a moment later, he stepped into proper view. The greatest of the Vargr was an imposing sight, even taller standing fully upright than Solo recalled from his silhouette running through the fortress. At least nine feet in height, the monster would have loomed over even Princess Celestia, with shaggy shoulders nearly as wide as the average pegasus’ wingspan trailing down into long, patchy arms. His entire torso seemed to brim with a combination of muscles and scars, glowing blue and bulging all over. Mere inches from his massive clawed feet, Solo’s feather sat on the floor. She struggled miserably to avoid looking at it.

A single mark beneath his left arm caught the pegasus guardspony’s attention for its distinctive lack of a glow. In fact, to her eye, it looked as though the long scrawl was written in Stalliongradi, though she had no way to comprehend its meaning.

“Ponies.” Fenrir’s words came out as a throaty growl, like the rumble of a dog trying to scare off an intruder. “You were foolish to tread on my ground.”

“We were just looking for my brother,” Twilight told him.

“Liar!” the walking wolf shouted through the bars, with a force that folded back the ponies’ ears. “You killed Maugrim! You and your soldier came into my home, and killed my packmate.”

“I swear, Fenrir, we didn’t want to hurt anypony!”

The vargr’s skin ignited to an even brighter blue as his lips curled back from his fangs. His feet stomped down frighteningly close to the feather. “Any pony? Your kind are all the same; so content to label us monsters, and to hunt us down in the snow. I came hoping that your fear in the cell would crack the truth from you, but it seems you are sticking to your idiotic lie.”

“It’s not a lie!” Solo shouted, leaning up to the bars. “Shining Armor was here!”

Fenrir’s gem-covered claws lunged at Solo’s muzzle, and though she was fast enough to escape his grip, the motion came at the cost of a thin scratch near her nostril. “No pony would ever come here, save the soldiers. It has been that way since the icy corpse. If a pony had come here in a year, we would have known.” The vargr shook his head. “No, your story is a lie, and I see I will not break you from it. The only other use I have for you is as rewards for the miners. I think I might try one of your wings next, bitch.” Fenrir’s claw indicated to Solo. “The soldier’s flesh is harsh and bony. I would prefer to offer something more tender.”

With that thought, the glowing wolf-beast turned back to the hallway. Twilight rushed up to the bars. “You’ve got to listen to me, Fenrir! I can talk to the ponies in Stalliongrad if you want! I can get you― Please!”

Solo could not see the wolf disappear, but she did hear the door slam in the distance.

Twilight collapsed onto her back, looking at Solo with confusion and desperation. “Are we gonna die in here?”

“No.” Solo put a hoof on Twilight’s shoulders, smiling. “No, we’re not.”

Then she slid the cell door open.

- - -

Rainbow Dash and Commander Hurricane shared confused expressions as they flew mere feet off the plains of the Compact Lands. The sun was beginning to rise that morning, though its light was repeatedly blocked off by a long flat skysteel blade, being hurled up into the air and then caught by the teeth of the walking pegasus, Cyclone. Unlike his father and his great-niece, the scars of the pegasus’ shoulder kept him from flying. For his part, the ancient soldier seemed untroubled. Casually, his neck turned to catch his weapon, which Rainbow was sure would come down by its blade instead of its handle to decapitate him. Further, every time he completed the motion, Rainbow was certain the weight of the weapon would break his jaw. Yet, every time, he caught it deftly without so much as losing his balance.

Finally, Rainbow’s curiosity cracked her silence. “How do you lift that thing?” she asked Cyclone.

The soldier looked down his muzzle at the sword, then back to Rainbow. "With my mouth," he replied bluntly, ignoring the handle between his teeth.

“It’s a boat paddle!” His great-niece retorted. “I mean, what is it, four feet long? And a foot thick? It looks like a baseball bat slept with a fishing hook!”

“Is it your cutie mark?” Hurricane asked.

Cyclone rolled his eyes, stowing the weapon on his back. “Yes, Father. I shaped it to match my cutie mark. It’s a cumulus blade, reinforced with a line of stratus in the core.”

“Cumulus?” The weather-manager and grand-daughter of a cloud architect in Rainbow both rushed to the forefront of her mind. “Why? It isn’t very dense.”

“The metal is not chosen for its strength; it is merely a tool for my Empatha.” Cyclone’s wing wrapped up to touch the weapon. “Infernus does not cut. It melts.” At Rainbow’s cringe, he added another note. “I did not use it against ponies, Rainbow, though it would be a kinder weapon than most if I did.”

“Or you could not kill them.”

“I could…” Cyclone began, letting the word drop off as his eyes wandered to the corners of their sockets. “...but then where would you have been a few hours ago? You would not have survived those thestrals without us.”

Hurricane swooped down on near-black wings, landing at his son’s side. “Don’t press that issue, Cyclone. Rainbow comes from a very different time than us. There are no legions anymore.”

“I know, Father. I saw the end of the legions. Cirra died with you.”

Ante Legionem nihil erat, et nihil erit post Legionem.”

“Uh, what?” Rainbow asked.

Hurricane sighed. “Before the legion, there was nothing. After the legion, there will be nothing. It’s ancient Cirran. As I was saying, Cyclone, less than half a percent of the modern population serve as soldiers.”

Cyclone released a sort of snorting noise that Rainbow recognized as his form of laughter. A moment later, he turned to Hurricane. “You are serious? How do they survive?”

“I couldn’t tell you.” Hurricane turned toward Rainbow. “They haven’t disbanded the Royal Guard, have they? Or the E.U.P.P.F.?”

Rainbow cocked her head. “The what?”

“The Earth-Unicorn―” Hurricane cut himself off. “The National Guard, Rainbow. The reserves.”

“Oh! Yeah, we’ve got both. My friend Twilight’s older brother has the fancy purple armor―”

Again, Cyclone unleashed the sound of a throttled goose. “A stallion is wearing Gale’s armor?” And then, without breaking his even expression, the huge red pegasus put on his miserable interpretation of an effeminate stallion’s voice. “Oh, look at me, I’m a soldier. Does this armor make my hips look fat?”

“Hey! Shining Armor is―”

“His name is Shining Armor?” Cyclone actually stopped walking, holding a hoof to his immense beard as if he were deathly afraid of revealing his teeth outside the bounds of mortal combat.

“Alright, that’s enough, Cyclone.” Hurricane waited for a good five seconds as Cyclone’s mirth passed slowly into nonexistence. The older of the ponies spread his wings again, taking to the air with what Rainbow recognized as a decent degree of agility. Hurricane would probably never fly for the Wonderbolts, but she imagined most ponies couldn’t outrace him in a straight line. “What do you do for a living, Rainbow Dash?”

“I’m head weathermare of Ponyville,” Rainbow announced with a small degree of pride. “It’s a hard patrol because of the Everfree Forest, but I keep it under control.”

“Everfree Forest? Everfree City was on a plain.” Cyclone’s head rotated like a confused puppy, before an even stranger thought occurred to him. “This may sound rude, Rainbow, but if your job is just to manage the weather, why did Celestia raise you from the dead?”

Rainbow grimaced. “Well… I…”

I’m the Bearer of Loyalty. Those were the words she intended. Yet a torrent of memories left her tongue as cold and still as the stallions she traveled beside. She could see Twilight, her mouth hanging agape as she watched Rainbow clear the sky over Ponyville that fateful day. She saw her hooves meet with Applejack’s, struggling to prove her strength against her stubborn friend. Pranking with Pinkie. Dancing through Fluttershy’s garden in the company of all her animals. Flying alongside Rarity’s glittering butterfly wings. Riding on Papa’s back as he climbed the steps to their Cloudosseum box seats. Racing with Gilda at flight camp. The sensation of Luna’s wing on her back. Riding Twilight’s hot air balloon up to Cloudsdale with Deadeye.

I left them all behind. The thought was a rock weighing her down, and she felt her wingbeats slow. I gave up. Her hooves touched the dry grass. I don’t deserve to be called Loyalty.

“Rainbow, calm. Open your eyes and breathe.” Hurricane’s voice had a definite strength to it, piercing through the fog of her emotions like the sword at his side. With a tug, Rainbow’s eyes flicked open to find herself standing in a circle of frost stretching at least a wingspan away from her in each direction.

“Typhoon would be impressed,” Cyclone noted.

Hurricane’s eyes flicked momentarily toward his son, before the black-armored legend approached Rainbow. “What’s bothering you, Rainbow?”

“I…” The pegasus forced a breath into her lungs, struggling for words. When their eyes finally met, those words froze to death. There was something about the way he looked at her, as if he was seeing past her, judging her. It left her with the strange feeling that she was somehow falling, wanting desperately to spread her wings and catch herself. “I… I don’t want to talk about it…”

“You will.” Hurricane’s hoof crunched down on the frosted grass for emphasis. Rainbow’s imagination painted a thestral’s throat there. “For the sake of your soul, if not to regain your focus.”

Rainbow took two steps back, pulling her tail more tightly against her back and letting her wings flare out just a bit. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Father, you’re scaring her.”

Hurricane’s head snapped toward Cyclone, and then slowly moved back to Rainbow. He took in the way her wings sat uneasily at her side, and he stared at the expression on her lips for what seemed to Rainbow a very long time. Then, with a slow motion, he brought his hoof to his jaw, pulling off his crystalline black helmet. A mane of far more silver and gray than steel blue barely stirred as it felt the morning wind, short cropped down his neck and loosely brushed back atop his head. With care, the helmet was placed on the frozen grass.

Commander Hurricane sat. His posture was still harsh, but his eyes stayed on the ground beneath Rainbow’s hooves. Without the brutality of his focused gaze, Rainbow found she could see more of the stallion. His shoulders hung with fatigue. His cheeks had grown gaunt, and the shape of his flesh beneath his coat was lean, his musculature revealed just as much from hardship as from fitness.

“Rainbow, I am not trying to frighten you,” he explained. “I am trying to help you. Perhaps you think I’m cruel. Perhaps you know me as the racist villain from Clover’s damn fairytale. I understand if I make you uncomfortable, but I am not here to be your friend.” His eyes rose to meet hers, driven and sharp. “I’m here to save your life.”

Rainbow gritted her teeth. “What difference does it make? I won’t have my wings when I go back, will I?”

“Celestia can give them to you,” Hurricane answered.

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Great, more of Celestia’s magic. I’d rather ask Luna.”

Absolute silence followed those words, as force returned to Hurricane’s glare. “Rainbow Dash, listen to me very closely. Luna is not your friend. She is not to be trusted.”

“Oh great, here we go again.” Rainbow glared right back at Commander Hurricane. “I don’t really care what Nightmare Moon did to you, but―”

“Four hundred twenty four.” Hurricane’s interjection came like a knife to the throat, as if he had somehow been waiting to catch Rainbow mid-word. There was hatred in his eyes, though his voice was steel. “Four hundred twenty four thestrals, Rainbow. Four hundred twenty four ponies she not only murdered, but then damned to wander this place, hungry and half-mindless, still bound in loyalty to Nightmare Moon but unable to serve her. She made me cut down my soldiers, Rainbow, one by one. My friends.”

Fluttershy bared her fangs, pacing forward with her leathery wings unfurled.

“I know you understand that, Rainbow.” Anger built in Hurricane’s voice, and the air grew hot around him.

Pinkie’s claws scraped against the stone floor in the old Everfree castle. Rainbow walked backward on the stone floor, until her tail brushed against a wall.

“So until you know what it’s like, Rainbow, to put a sword through the throat of a friend you couldn’t save, knowing you had damned him to an eternity of this―

Father!” Cyclone stepped closer to his father, inserting himself between the militant commander and the subject of his irritation.

“I am getting tired of betrayals.” With a single forehoof, and a strength more reminiscent of Soldier On than any pegasus Rainbow had ever met, Cyclone was tossed aside, and the black stallion turned back toward the young mare. “She’s a monster, Rainbow.”

Though Rainbow backed away from the stallion, she tried to answer his voice with determination of her own. “Luna isn’t Nightmare Moon.”

“Nightmare Moon was Luna’s choice. Beneath that shell were Luna’s feelings.” Hurricane scowled. “And make no mistake, Rainbow, those feelings are still there.”

Rainbow was prepared to carry the argument forward, but the dark red form of Cyclone made for an effective barrier to shout over. “Father, we are done.”

“Do you want her to go back and turn to Luna?”

“You are letting your emotions best you.” Rainbow couldn’t see Cyclone’s face, but the tone of his voice made his frown quite clear. “A thousand years have changed you, Father. She isn’t a soldier, and you’re clearly scaring her. Clear the path ahead. I’ll escort Rainbow to Cloudsdale.”

Rainbow heard Hurricane’s hooves crunch on the frosted ice, and then the beat of his black wings, before she saw him over Cyclone’s back, launching off into the morning sky. The red stallion watched his father until he was merely a black speck on the horizon, and then began walking without a further word. Rainbow hesitated a few moments before following after him.

Their path went on as the sun rose, revealing miles of rolling plains and hills. Ahead, Rainbow got her first glance of Cloudsdale from eight millennia in the past, anchored atop the peak of a jagged mountain alone amongst the flat lands. It lacked the rainbow falls of the modern city, but otherwise, little seemed to have changed amongst the clouds in thousands of years. She spread her wings, and then looked toward her guide. Her ears folded back when her attention landed on Cyclone’s scarred wing.

“Hey, uh… Cyclone?”

The behemoth pony turned to look at her. Even the simple glance from his rusty brown eyes cowed Rainbow back a few steps.

“I don’t bite,” Cyclone uttered, in a voice that could not have been farther from reassuring Rainbow. “Do you want something?”

Rainbow swallowed down her apprehension and forced herself to spit out her thought. “What was it like not to fly?”

The question seemed to have slapped the giant pony across the face. When the shock settled, Cyclone’s even expression seemed to take on a pensive light. Without answering Rainbow, his head swiveled away and his hooves settled back to the path.

“Sorry… I guess that was an awkward question.”

“I am not angry,” Cyclone replied. “I’m thinking. My first thought is that I deserved it. That scar, more than banishment or loneliness, was the cost of my choices in River Rock.” Brown eyes swiveled to the south. “For years, I served River Rock because I felt it was my duty; but with each passing day, I started to believe I was no good even for that.”

Cyclone paused, and then turned his flank toward Rainbow. Emblazoned on it, she saw a massive Cirran sword ending in a cruel hook, the mirror image of the one slung across his back, raised high and wreathed in flames. “I was a Cirran commander, a legend of battle, second only to my Father.” Those words came painfully, though Cyclone didn’t stop his story. “All that ended in River Rock… you know my story. Without the skies, I was stripped of my strength. Father always said a Cirran was as good as his weapon, and mine had been shattered that day in River Rock. I got so used to feeling the shards in my shoulder.”

Rainbow shivered, as her own thoughts drifted back to the little cell in Suida, where her body was trapped without its wings. “Did you…” She hesitated, struggling with her words. “Did something ever take its place? Flying, I mean?”

Cyclone offered her a softer version of his usual level gaze, no doubt intending to be comforting. “It came to me when I got my chance to save my sisters. When Father wasn’t there…” he let the thought trail off, as if unsure why he had said it in the first place. “I didn’t need my wing to be who I am.” He gestured to his flank. “I didn’t need my wing to protect River Rock. I made Infernus after the sword on my mark, to remind me of that.”

Rainbow sucked in a breath, and then sighed. “But… but my special talent is flying!”

Cyclone’s brow rose. “Your wings are well. I do not see…” Whatever it was Cyclone had intended with the thought, realization dawned on his cruel gaze to cut the words short. Rainbow was truly surprised when a red wing settled over her back, holding her gently. She looked up into the stallion’s face, encouraging, though it nearly lacked expression. “If your mark truly means for you to fly, then you will fly again, Rainbow Dash.” His wing patted her on the back twice, and then folded against his side. “But first, we must find you a way back to your world.”

As strong as the heat of his body was, Rainbow had to reflect that she felt warm inside for the first time in recent days. “Hey, Cyclone?” He turned back without word. “Thanks. I, uh, well, I was kinda expecting you’d be a jerk or something. You know, after what you did… but you’re pretty cool.”

The corner’s of the stallion’s face twitched, as if considering a smile. Nothing came of the motion. “I had thirteen foals, Rainbow. Father taught me to be a perfect soldier, but my children taught me to be a better pony.” His eyes moved toward the mountain. “We aren’t far now. We should hurry.”

- - -

“Silver, excellent to see you.”

The aging pegasus held a hoof to his side, just below his right wing, as he landed on the balcony of the palace. “As always, Princess, the pleasure is mine.”

“Is your wing bothering you?” Celestia extended a wing slowly, brushing it across the stallion’s side. “Do you need a doctor?”

Behind his moustache, Celestia could see his lips twitch in discomfort at her touch. “I’ve seen six, Princess. My usual, a second opinion, two specialists, a hack, and an acupuncturist of all things. Turns out there’s no cure for old age.” And then he smiled. “Well, apart from yours, but we had that unpleasant discussion six months ago. Just don’t tell Rainbow I’m not up to fancy flying.”

“Oh?” Celestia pulled her wing back, ushering it toward the glass doors that led into the palace. “I seem to remember your stories of flying with her. Won’t she notice?”

The old stallion walked through the open doors and onto the marble floors of the palace hallways. His wing twitched as it folded at his side. “Not with her new stallion.” His immaculate silver moustache curled up with his grin. “He’s one of your guardsponies, you know? Met him in Zebrica… Is something wrong, Princess?”

Celestia’s expression had frozen solid. “Dead Reckoning?”

The stallion’s brow ground down upon itself, and his hooves stopped in place. “That was his name. Is there something I should know about my daughter’s coltfriend?”

“No,” Celestia answered. “Just something I need to speak to my sister about.”

“Urgently?”

“Not enough to interrupt our meeting, if you’re certain you want me present.” Celestia gestured with her wing once more, and the old stallion began to walk once more. “Though I still don’t understand why you insist on having me join you. You must have been through dozens of these sorts of negotiations.”

Silver Lining nodded. “Let me be frank, Princess. I’m a grandfather, an artist, and a business-stallion in that order. I am not a politician.”

“I wasn’t aware there was going to be any politics,” Celestia observed.

The old stallion shook his head in a show of visible fatigue. “Believe me, Princess, when we’re negotiating with griffons, there will always be politics. The last time we talked, I took an airship to Manemphis and then, I swear to you, a canoe down the Stile and across the Congallop to get to the griffon captial. What do they call it? Agna-something?”

“Angenholt.”

“That’s it, yes.” Silver let himself be led through the palace, around corners and down winding stairs. “Well, I got to Angenholt, and I sat down with this… whatever they call their stallions… and halfway through our negotiations, when I thought I had things in the bag, their Emperor comes walking through the door. And believe me, Princess, I am not easily intimidated in the boardroom over drinks, but Magnus is frankly not somepony easy to play the game with.”

“He can be rather intimidating,” Celestia observed.

“He’s enormous,” the old stallion retorted bluntly. “I don’t mean anything by this, Princess, but I had thought you were as big as speaking creatures came.”

“Oh, have I been helping myself to dessert too frequently?" Celestia answered with a smile and a chuckle. “Yes, Magnus is an interesting sort. Hard to predict, certainly. This Naia Julia, though, is a fairly pleasant griffoness.”

“I know a thing or two about dealing with young griffonesses, if you’ll recall,” Silver told the Princess, who had stepped up to a single polished chestnut door. “Is this the room?”

“Ready?” Celestia replied.

Silver Lining brushed a hoof over his chest, and then his thick bar moustache. “As I’ll ever be, I suppose.”

Celestia’s magic pushed the door open, revealing a rather plain sitting room with two couches, two legchairs, and a coffee table adorned with a frankly boring potted plant. Thick books adorned one wall of the space, while a globe sat on the other, between a pair of windows looking out on the palace gardens and grounds.

The most interesting thing to see in the room was its sole occupant. Silver had to reflect that the griffoness, Naia Julia, was nothing like his granddaughter's friend Gilda. Where the young, troubled griffoness had been rebellious and rough-around-the-edges, Naia was well groomed and sharp eyed. She sat in the center of the pony-sized couch, taking up the better part of both seats, with her back upright and her hawk eyes sharply focused on her new negotiating partner.

“Councilor Lining, is it?” she began, in a surprisingly gifted imitation of a Canterlot accent. “And Princess Celestia?” She stood, and bowed in the griffon manner, with a claw tucked across the line where her body switched from bird to beast. “I am truly honored by such noble company.”

“Oh, there’s no need for formalities.” Silver offered the griffoness a wing in greeting, and tried not to wince too obviously when she shook it with her taloned claw. “You can call me Silver. I understand you’re Frumentarius Julia?”

“Naia is fine,” the griffoness observed, “if we are doing away with titles. And Princess, if I may ask, will you be staying for our rather boring, though likely short, negotiations? I am certain my uncle’s peer must have more significant matters to attend.”

Silver smiled behind his moustache, noting Naia’s hesitance to host Celestia.

The alicorn took her place in the room with a friendly smile, reclining with her forelegs draped over the side of a smaller pony’s chair. “Actually, Naia, I was hoping to sit in precisely because there is little else going on. Most of my castle staff are out, and I’ve already taken care of open court for the day.”

“Oh?” Naia asked. “What holiday?”

“We call it Saturday,” Celestia replied, expertly hiding her amusement. “It’s one of our most popular days.”

“You ponies seem to take so many holidays,” Naia reflected. “I’ll have to study your calendar more closely it seems. Now, Silver, let’s get down to my uncle’s stipulations. Trading such a volume of skysteel outside of Grivridge is unprecedented, and we want to make sure we understand how it is intended to be used; if you took military action with weapons made from our clouds, there could be ramifications for us.”

Silver shook his head. “I assure you, Naia, we won’t be using your clouds for our military contracts. Though I wonder why you’re even worried; Equestria hasn’t been the aggressor in an open war in…” He turned toward Celestia. “Well, ever?”

“Certainly not in a very long time,” Celestia replied.

Naia’s wings rose and fell in a dismissive shrug. “Lord Krenn would disagree, but that is neither here nor there. We understand that you managed all skysteel for the Equestrian army, Silver. That is correct, isn’t it?”

“More or less,” Silver Lining began. “Most of Equestria’s domains have a standing guard who serve more as police than a real army. Our cloud cities lend their populations to guards of the domains they sit above. Of the remaining domains, my foundries supply the armor for Canterlot, Bitaly, Stalliongrad and Zebrica.”

“Oh, so it’s your armor we keep finding on it’s way over our borders, then?”

Silver rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to get involved in border politics; I’m old enough to remember firsthoof how much of a fiasco that was. If you want to talk about being a guardspony, there’s another Lining you… should…” His words trailed off in realization of where his casual conversation had steered him.

“Are you alright, Councilor?” Naia asked, as the stallion stumbled.

“...I’m fine,” Silver lied. “Just… a memory.”

“Silver,” Celestia whispered aloud, more for gentleness of tone than to keep a secret. “If you need a few minutes,”

“No, no.” He waved a stiff wing. “I’ll be fine. Naia, I’m sorry for that brief…” He spared himself a deep breath. “…interruption. In any case, I’ll agree to your restriction about military use.” His leathery chest moved in and out again, and another sliver of his businesslike demeanor returned. “I proposed this deal with Angenholt in the first place because we’re building some major railroads in Stalliongrad, and our own weather factories can’t artificially produce the quality of cumulus I need for the rails. That’s what the clouds will be going towards.”

“Excellent,” Naia noted, producing some paperwork, an inkwell, and a quill from a bag hidden under her wing. With a flourishing motion, her talons took brief notes on the pegasus’ explanation. “Secondly, we will have a griffon representative along for the entire transit of the―”

All three occupants of the room turned when the door was flung open. A gold-armored, green stallion stood in its frame, panting as he folded his wings at his side. “Princess, I have an issue that requires your attention.”

“Sergeant Crack.” Celestia rose from her seat with poise that didn’t match the posture she had used while sitting. “I take it from the fact that you’re interrupting so boldly that this is urgent?”

“There’s a gazelle in the main courtroom saying he’s here on behalf of Lady Valdria. He was shouting something about ponies fighting on neutral ground, and something about ‘between’ and an oath you’ve apparently broken. I’m not sure I could have made head or tail of it even if he weren’t shouting straight into my brain, and I don’t know the first thing about dealing with elk. I thought you should at least know.”

Celestia nodded. “You made the correct call, Sergeant.” The Princess turned to her guests. “Councilor. Frumentarius. It seems a Princess’ work is never done; even on a Saturday.”

They watched her go in shared silence, before turning back to face one another. The silence persisted as Silver looked over the sleek feathers of the griffon’s head, and the sharp hook of her beak. Her eyes were watching him in turn, judging him.

“Where were we?” he asked.

Naia looked down at her papers. “We’ll have a representative along for the entire transfer, to ensure the clouds arrive where they’re intended. Now, I understand there is some racial tension between our peoples, but―”

Silver held up a hoof to stop the griffoness. “It won’t be a problem. You see, following our border disp…” The councilor paused.

“Another memory?”

“No, just realizing that I don’t feel like beating around the bush today. Naia, we had a war not all too long ago, and as part of the conditions of peace, we took several young griffons to learn about Equestrian culture as a way to support future peace. Now, I don’t know the slightest thing about who arranged this, because in all honesty I am far more of a business-stallion than a politician. What I do know is that one of my granddaughter’s best friends was a young griffoness living with a good friend of mine and his husband, who went by the name of Gilda. She was a nice enough little… what’s the term you use for your young? Not filly, but…”

“Fledgling. Or cub, if she was old enough to fly.”

“Well, she couldn’t fly when she got here; pretty much all she knew how to do was to pick fights.” Silver chuckled. “I’m sorry, that probably makes her sound terrible. She was a nice enough griffoness.”

“She sounds proud; is she still in Cloudsdale?”

“No,” Silver answered. “She flew back to Grivridge a few years ago.”

Naia looked up. “Well, if you’re comfortable around our kind, that takes care of our second issue. The last thing I’ll need from you is a tour of your foundry.”

Silver’s silver brow rose. “I’m certainly glad to offer tours; we do them twice a day for the public after all. I’m curious why that’s a stipulation for our agreement, though.”

The griffoness smiled, and for just a moment, Silver was reminded of the predatory nature of her race. “It isn’t entirely a matter of pleasantries,” Naia told the stallion. “Cloudsdale skysteel has a certain reputation even amongst the dragons and my own kind as the highest quality in the world. I have no intention of stealing your secrets, Mr. Lining, but I wouldn’t mind having them delivered
to me on a silver platter.”

“I keep a few tricks locked up in my head,” Silver replied, plucking a quill from his wing and dipping it in Naia’s inkwell. “You’re welcome to whatever you can figure out with your eyes.”

His elegant signature completed cleanly, Silver Lining stood up. “Well, Naia, it has been an absolute pleasure to work with you.” He offered his wing again, bracing for the grip of her claw. The second time, however, her talons were gentler.

“The pleasure has been all mine, I assure you. Shall we say a week’s time, for the tour?”

“Certainly,” he told her as he walked out the door. “Saturday will be wonderful.”

Naia looked down at her paper, and then up to the door as it swung shut. Then, carefully, she scratched a quick note.

Send ‘Gilda’