> CRISIS: Equestria - Divergence, Book 2
>  by GanonFLCL
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue: Taste
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was never a dark night in New Pandemonium City. The sickening orange light of the Beacon and the aura it dispersed throughout the sky were dark enough that the streetlights remained lit twenty-four hours a day, and yet bright enough that such things weren't absolutely necessary. Even tonight, the same as every other night, the lights all ran as smoothly and brightly as ever, shining down on the crowds big and small that trotted along sidewalks throughout the city at all hours.

As far as Power Flux was concerned, tonight was a dark one indeed, and wonderfully so. He couldn't see the sky from where he was anyway, so he could think whatever he wanted. 

An abandoned building sat in the middle of 18th Street between 57th and 58th, far along the north end of the Mid-East District, and was practically falling apart around him. Yet, the roof was stable enough to not let exterior lights through and the windows all boarded up to do the same. Within the building it was pitch black, and without the flashlight Flux carried he would be unable to see anything whatsoever.

He'd been extra cautious making his way here, more so than usual, and even out of the public eye as he now was he tugged the hood of his coat a little further over his face. He could not be recognized under any circumstances, lest word get around to the authorities. He was supposed to be a ghost, vanished from the city's documentation system; those who were looking for him would assume he had fled the city months ago.

These thoughts plagued him every minute of every day, from the moment he woke up in the morning to the moment he went to sleep at night in whatever bed or surrogate thereof he could make due with. Even now, as he flicked his flashlight about the dilapidated building's filthy, wreckage-strewn floor, he was worried that somepony might have glimpsed him coming here and would come to investigate. 

He needed to hurry.

Flux found what he was looking for after a moment of searching: a nondescript section of tiled floor that had been cracked enough to reveal the dingy concrete underneath, marred by grit and grime that to even a well-trained eye would appear natural. But Flux knew it was placed here specifically, marked by an empty, rusted tin can atop a particular arrangement of dirt, placed upright without its lid or label.

It took several minutes of running his hooves along the tiles near the can to find one that lifted, filth and all, from the floor, revealing not concrete underneath but a hole that led down below the building. It was a tight fit to get inside that hole, worse than squeezing into an old jacket. Once he did, he slid the tile back into place with a satisfying, quiet click, then moved on.

He was in a tunnel now, one that went on for hundreds of feet with no discernable features or markings, far past where the light of his flashlight could reach. The concrete walls alongside him smelled of sewage, for the tunnel ran parallel to the sewer line beneath the street above, and it had never been properly filtered of the stench. 

After exactly two hundred eighty-one feet—meticulously measured in Flux's head without a ruler—he stopped and set his hoof firmly on the wall beside him. It slid open to reveal another tight hole and a ladder, which he immediately descended. The wall slid closed behind him without a sound, and as he climbed down the ladder, his light flickered and died; it would work again when he left. Down here, mundane technology and magic were dulled. A match would do for now, and he lit one as soon as he reached the bottom of the ladder.

The match even helped alleviate the pungent stench.

It was only here that the surrounding architecture changed. Gone was the machine-made concrete of the city up above, replaced by discolored, old, hoof-laid bricks, stones, and rotten wood. This was all that remained of a building and road that had once been here long, long ago. Whether it was decades or centuries old, or maybe more, Flux didn't know or care, but he did know that it was old. 

He also knew that down here in the bowels of the city, he was safe at last from prying eyes and danger. He took a breath of moldy, mildewed air and delighted in it.

He wandered the halls of the old, forgotten structure beneath the city, briefly wondering what it had once been before its upper floors had been demolished and replaced by the buildings and streets above, or what had even done so to leave it intact enough to be built on top of safely. It was of no real importance, just a fleeting curiosity about how the city might have once been before all the streetlights and concrete-and-steel skyscrapers took over.

All that actually mattered was that at the heart of this foundation, there was a chamber that had been claimed for a greater purpose. There was no need for doors down here, where none could find him or anypony else if they didn't want to be found, and so no need for protection or security. Even now he could hear the shuffling of the hooves of his fellows that had arrived here before him, and he was not worried that they were anypony but his fellows.

The chamber itself was spacious enough to hold a large table that comfortably seated ten chairs, round and covered with a black tablecloth. Upon it were numerous lit candles and sticks of incense which washed away the smell of mold and replaced it with sandalwood and cinnamon. 

The room was otherwise empty of furniture; it's only purpose, glorious though it was, was to host these round table congregations, and so there was no need for the frivolous accoutrements one would expect at a mundane business meeting. No tables with snacks and coffee; no plants or decorations to "elevate" the room; no projectors to showcase graphs and slides. 

It was wonderful.

The other nine ponies present all turned and nodded at his entrance as he took his seat at the table; he could tell they hadn't been waiting long, though he hoped they'd forgive his slight delay. Like him, they all wore hooded coats of varying colors to protect their identities when they entered from their own points, some of which he knew were much farther away than his own had been. He was certain one of his comrades had taken an entryway into the undercity via a tunnel in Mid-West, miles away; she'd likely set out this afternoon to make it here in time. 

Such was the nature of these meetings; everypony using the same entrance would be suspicious and draw attention they couldn't afford.

He knew the other ponies's identities—stallions and mares both—but down here, their city identities were of no importance. They were all equals now in the eyes of their Mistress.

Well, relatively speaking, of course. Two amongst their number, a pair of identical twins, unicorn stallions with yellow coats, were a cut above the rest, for only they had been given the glorious privilege of communing with their Dark Lady. Flux envied the twins for their deeper connection with Her than his own. He coveted that power more than anything, even more than seeing his wife and daughter again.

It was one of the twins that spoke first. "Now that we are all present, we may begin," he said, his tone polite and presentable. "These have been interesting times, I daresay. Wouldn't you agree?" he asked, turning to his brother.

"Oh yes, of that we can all agree, dear brother mine," said the other twin with a nod. "Interesting indeed. In all our years in service, never before have we been given such curious purposes by our Dark Lady."

Flux and the others nodded in agreement. 

He remembered well the oddity of the assignment he had been tasked with, not quite understanding what made the mare he was to capture so important. This "Fluttershy" had seemed so innocuous at first; surely her bodyguard, the gray-coated mare that had nearly castrated him with just her hoof, was the more interesting of the two. 

More confusing had been why he'd been assured that failure was not just tolerable, but almost… encouraged? Was that accurate? He'd been rewarded well despite failing to foalnap Fluttershy and deliver her, or for cracking and revealing the other plans to take other mares who Fluttershy knew.

He was just glad he'd not been one of those three assigned to… what was her name again? Applejack? Those three acolytes had fled the scene instead of making an attempt on their target, and that was seen as an actual failure. They'd been duly punished for their inadequacy. 

Then there were those who'd been tasked with the pink one, Pink Pie? They had all been ripped to shreds, from what he'd heard, too stupid to pick off the correct mare apparently and grabbing a near look-alike. To die in the Dark Lady's service was an honor and a privilege, but to go out due to such a blunder, well, there was no glory in that.

The first twin added: "And never before have we been treated with such… silence, in the aftermath."

There was a brief murmur among the crowd as they muttered more to themselves than anypony else.

"What do you mean, 'silence'?" asked one of his comrades, an earth pony stallion with a green coat.

"Our last congregation was three months ago," continued the first twin, shaking his head briefly. "It followed one of the clearest visions we have ever witnessed from our Dark Lady. Meticulously clear it was, was it not brother?"

"Meticulously indeed, meticulously indeed," repeated the second twin. "To feel Her presence in my soul was… an indescribable sensation. I wouldn't dare attempt to sully it with words. But it was almost as though I was speaking directly with Her."

"And yet, following the purpose She gave us… nothing," said the first with a grimace. "Two months of silence. No visions. No dreams. No whispers. Not so much as a subtle feeling of guidance in the back of our minds. Just… a deafening silence. We called to Her like foals for their mother, only to receive no reply."

Flux frowned. The twins often had visions from the Dark Lady over the years as far as he knew, and for longer if the elder officers were to be believed. Never quite so strong as that fateful day three months ago, but clear enough to guide them in their actions and deeds. For Her prophets to go so long without hearing Her voice was unheard of.

"Until a month ago," the first continued, a small smile creeping to his lips. "We heard our Dark Lady again, and though not as clear as it had always been, it was still Her voice. Her vision. And She has graced us all with a glorious new purpose."

One of his comrades, a cobalt-coated pegasus mare, placed her hooves on the table. "You communed with our Dark Lady a month ago? Why'd you wait so long to call the congregation?"

"The vision was clear, but the purpose was… let us say, enigmatic," said the first twin, looking to his brother for confirmation. "Would that be appropriate?"

"Enigmatic indeed it was, old chum," his brother replied with a nod. "Clear, yet muddled, for the purpose is explicit and yet the means are most complicated if taken at face value. We communed with Her as much as we were able in these past weeks, hoping for clearer visions, and now we come to you with your new purpose."

"What purpose are we tasked with?" asked another comrade, a pegasus stallion with an off-white coat. "What would She have us do?"

The twin smiled, and in unison said. "Reduce this city to ash. Burn them all."

Flux raised an eyebrow. "Burn the city?"

"And every last pony within it, yes," replied the second twin, his grin widening. "Nothing is to remain but ash and blood. Our Dark Lady demands vengeance against those who have wronged Her."

The hooded figures around the table looked to one another in confusion.

"'Wronged Her'? What does that mean?" asked the cobalt mare.

"She has been betrayed by another not among our number, one whom She said possessed a tongue of silver," said the first twin with a scowl. "The true Betrayer is beyond our reach… but his allies are not. We are to ensure that they suffer in his stead. This entire city is made to suffer in recompense for this treachery."

"And suffer they shall indeed, dear brother," agreed the other. He looked to the congregation one by one. "Our foes have many advantages that we do not yet possess: wealth, influence, power, resources, and information." 

A murmur went through the others in the congregation.

With a grin, he added: "But we have one piece of information that they lack. We know who our enemies are, while they do not know they have enemies at all."

"We strike from the shadows, as our Dark Lady wills," continued the first twin. "If it takes weeks, months, years, or more, our Dark Lady's vengeance will rear its head upon Her enemies and rend them all asunder." He turned to Flux. "Brother Flux, you have already encountered some among their number, so you will be tasked with planning out their demise."

Flux blinked and pointed at himself, stunned. He knew of which enemies the brothers referred to now: that gray mare and those with her. "I am to be tasked with this glorious purpose, Leaders? To deliver Her vengeance?"

"Indeed you are, Brother Flux, indeed you are," replied the second twin with a grin. He turned to the others. "And any among you who wish to join Brother Flux in this task may do so, but take heed, for this is not the only grand design our Dark Lady has for us, Her most loyal servants."

The first twin nodded. "As said, we are to burn this city to ash, and all who dwell within, and that will require all of the resources we can muster, for it is not within our means to do so now. Some of you will assist me and my dear brother in this glorious purpose, which will be guided by our Dark Lady's hoof directly."

"And yet still, there is more," continued the second, his mouth forming a deep grimace. "Our Dark Lady's visions have been less clear than ever, less frequent, oh yes. She has been weakened somehow, and this prevents Her from touching our souls and guiding us as She has in the past."

A few at the table gasped. "Say it isn't so, Leader," said another comrade, this one a brown-coated unicorn stallion. "Our Dark Lady cannot be weakened. It isn't possible."

"It is why She desires vengeance, Brother," replied the first twin. "The traitors have done something to our Dark Lady, and they will be punished, yes, but it remains that She has been weakened. Some amongst you will have another purpose entirely: to aid our Dark Lady in Her recovery, that She may speak with my dear brother and I more clearly."

"How?" asked the green-coated earth pony.

The second twin grinned. "Souls, Brother. Souls of the ponies within this very city."

The stallion grinned back. "I shall reap a thousand souls to feed Her if I must."

"Ah, but our Dark Lady has specific… tastes, shall we say?" said the first twin. "You already know what is required."

His brother nodded. "Yes, specific tastes indeed, dear brother, specific tastes indeed. A pony's soul alone is nothing more than a paltry morsel to our Dark Lady. It requires… hmm, yes, 'seasoning'. A tortured soul is a delicacy, oh yes, a scrumptious meal rather than mere crumbs. A broken soul, deprived of its will to live, stripped of hope for a better tomorrow. A soul that willingly embraces death and succumbs to our Dark Lady's hunger."

"The Outer Districts are rife with such souls as it is," the green stallion said. "Few will even notice their deaths or care. Worthless ponies in life who will serve a higher purpose in death."

"A good start, yes, a good start indeed," agreed the second twin. "But you will then move inward, to strike at those who feel they are safe from such things, those who will be more affected by loss and anguish, for to fall into despair from such great heights will better flavor the souls to our Dark Lady's liking."

"Like home cooking compared to fast food, wouldn't you agree?" suggested the first twin.

"Oh yes, an apt comparison. Well spoken, old chum."

"It will be done, Leaders," the stallion said with a nod. He turned to Flux. "Will you aid me in my purpose, Brother?"

"I will, of course," Flux said with a nod in turn. "Anything to aid our Dark Lady."

"Wonderful, Brothers, your enthusiasm will please our Dark Lady greatly," said the first twin. He turned to the congregation as a whole as he rose from the table; his brother and the others followed suit. "Brothers and Sisters, we have been given a glorious purpose. Bring ruination in the Dark Lady's name! Reap vengeance upon Her foes! Burn them all!"

"Burn them all!" chanted the congregation.
> Chapter One: Threshold
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Golden Dawn examined her reflection in the tinted window in the late morning of a late spring day. First impressions were everything, so everything had to be in its proper place and she had to look her absolute best. Her rich, golden brown coat and her cream-colored mane had been treated and cleaned such that they shined with a healthy glow; the latter had been styled in her usual way, long and curled such that it framed her face. She'd put on her best dress suit, a deep purple affair with a matching tie.

Yes, she looked every bit the perfectly professional mare that she projected herself as, modeled after other professional mares that had reputations she strived to surpass, no, would surpass because that's just who she was. There wouldn't be even the slightest glimmer of doubt in anypony's mind that she was here and that she meant business.

She turned and sat in a large ergonomic chair at the office's only desk. Both were just a little too big for her, but then they weren't ever really hers in the first place. Her father's office had been left unchanged for three months now, and as far as she was concerned it wasn't going to change anytime soon, if ever. Though his physical presence was gone from this world, a piece of him still lingered in this room and filled her with a sense of ease. He'd undertaken hundreds of years worth of critical tasks in this very room; she would do the same.

She'd hesitated to even use his office in the first place, but she'd relented when her sister, Curaçao, told her it was only proper. It had taken even more convincing to move her belongings to this floor of Pandora Tower and take over his former bedchambers as well. She knew in her heart that this was her purpose, her destiny, but there was always a lingering feeling somewhere in her head that made her question if she'd earned it, if she deserved it.

But now was not the time for doubts.

She took a breath, then set her hoof on the intercom button next to the desktop computer. "Shroud," she said firmly. "Have you received notification from the Committee that they are prepared for this morning's conference?"

Her secretary—formerly her father's secretary, passed down to her like everything did—answered quickly, as was her style. "Yes, Miss Dawn. They are awaiting your call now."

"Excellent. Thank you, Shroud, that will be all."

"Of course, Miss Dawn. If I may, Curie— er, Curaçao asked me to wish you luck with your meeting today, and I wanted to do the same. So, good luck."

Dawn huffed. "I do not require 'luck'. I have been preparing for this occasion for months, and I have no lack of conviction towards a favorable outcome in this endeavor."

"Oh. Okay then." There was a brief pause on the other end of the call. "Well, if there's nothing else then, Miss Dawn, I'll return to my work. Let me know if you need anything."

"Much appreciated, Shroud."

The intercom shut off, and Dawn leaned back in her seat. She tapped her hoof briefly on the end of the desk, then took another breath and pressed a few keys on the keyboard in front of her. The screen's display changed to show a series of windows: a large one taking up the upper center of the screen, with two smaller ones on either side and three smaller ones below it. 

The large window displayed her own face. Or rather, it would, if not for the anonymity software that protected her identity, as it had done for her father for however long he had been using this technology. Instead it displayed a sort of gray, featureless face against an equally gray, featureless backdrop. The face would move as she did to give the illusion of realism, and seeing that with her own eyes left an unpleasant sensation in her gut at the disconcerting, uncanny image.

The other seven windows winked briefly, then displayed the faces of the seven other ponies invited into this conference call, each of whom was a member of New Pandemonium City's ruling government body: the Committee. These were the ponies that voted on every single bill and proposal that would be used to create, revise, or repeal the laws that governed the lives that every citizen and business were required to follow, as well as the city department budgets, bureaucratic processes, law enforcement and military guidelines, and… well, everything, really.

"Welcome, members of the New Pandemonium City Committee," Dawn said. 

Though her voice in her own ears sounded perfectly normal, she knew that the software that hid her face also adjusted her voice so that it sounded monotone and genderless regardless of what inflections she put into things. Like the filter on her face, the modulator on her voice was a little disconcerting to her ears, like that of a computer programmed for text-to-speech.

She continued: "This conference has been convened to undertake the process of transitioning power between the former Shadow Associate and myself, their designated replacement. You all have received notification of this transition and responded with acknowledgement as such, and so we may process immediately with the confirmation process as per Committee guidelines. If there are no objections at this juncture?"

There were no objections.

"Then we may proceed." She cleared her throat. "Community Administration Secretary Quill Feather, do you confirm this transition?"

One of the ponies, a bespeckled beige-coated pegasus stallion with a brown mane, an enormous pair of glasses, and a noticeable overbite, adjusted said glasses and nodded. "By the power vested in me by the Committee as Community Administration Secretary, I do confirm this transition."

This proceeded through the entirety of the six other members of the Committee, some of whom were ponies whom Dawn knew personally already and others whom she did not, though she did know everything about them that was relevant as a member of the Committee, from how they tended to vote to tidbits about their personalities. All had been provided to her by Curaçao, who'd put together their dossiers with all due diligence to help Dawn prepare for today and days to come.

Dawn did not know Secretary Quill Feather beyond his dossier, so this was the first time she'd heard him speak. He had a nasally voice and dressed in a way that reminded her of Archimedes, the Chief Librarian from the city's central library. Quill didn't quite have the sort of imposing presence that Archimedes did, though, and actually seemed a little on the weasley side.

She did not know Infrastructure Taskmaster Concrete Girder, either. He was an imposing sort in his own way, an overweight blue-coated earth pony with a cropped black mane, but despite his apparent gut he had a broadness to him that hinted at the muscle beneath all the fat. He seemed the sort of pony that had no business being as strong as he was with how he looked, and with the slight upturn in his nose he reminded Dawn of a pig.

She did not know Treasurer Vendetta personally, though Curaçao had provided her with not only a dossier but a personal anecdote. He was a pegasus with a light blue coat and a two-tone gray mane, and the way he slouched in his seat gave Dawn the feeling he considered this meeting a waste of his time. He clearly did not realize the importance of such a critical juncture in the future of the city's governing.

Director Underhoof was the last she did not know personally, and the infamous CIA director seemed to carry herself in the exact opposite way to Vendetta: she looked like she wanted to be here and knew exactly how important it was. The unicorn mare had an orange coat and a light gold mane that was cut short but with long bangs. Despite her professional businessmare appearance, Dawn knew this mare had been a CIA agent for two decades before taking this post a few years back, and thus was trained in a variety of clandestine skills.

The remaining three ponies Dawn knew personally, because unbeknownst to the other four on the Committee, these three had worked for her father and thus now worked for her. Her father had ensured that every iteration of the Committee had three seats that he could count on to vote in favor of whatever direction he wanted the city to take. She'd never asked him why only three rather than four to guarantee a majority vote, but Curaçao seemed to have the answer: any more and he may as well not even have the Committee, and that just left more work for him to do. 

Dawn wasn't sure if that was exactly correct, but it was satisfactory enough.

The first of these three was Chief of Medicine Doctor Blutsauger, an off-white unicorn stallion with a shocking green mane who was almost never without his signature pair of goggles, though they weren't always over his eyes. Beyond just being in charge of the city's medical branch, he had also played a role in Dawn's… unique manner of creation. The architect of the process that had been used to take the genetic material of Twilight Sparkle and her friends to create Dawn and her sisters. A brilliant pony in every sense of the word.

The second was Admiral Hotstreak, the Commander in Chief of the city's military, the NPAF. He was a dull-pink pegasus with a short, graying mane and matching bushy mustache, and from their brief interactions Dawn knew that he was a professional to the letter. She was exceedingly glad that her father—and thus, her—had him on their side, because it would make the next stages of progress that much easier. The military would play a key role in everything that would come to pass.

Last was Champagne Diamond, the Chairpony of the Resource Department and thus the mare in charge of ensuring the city had everything it needed to function, from food and water to raw materials used in manufacturing and construction. She had a pale yellow coat and two-tone red mane, and looked and carried herself every bit as exquisitely as her name suggested; it was this mare's appearance that Dawn had emulated, at least insofar as dress and upkeep were concerned.

Once the confirmations had been completed, Dawn let out a breath. "I acknowledge the confirmations and do hereby accept the title of Shadow Associate of this Committee until such time as I choose my own successor or until my death. I will perform my duties to the best of my abilities without fail." 

It was not a complicated oath, but then hers was not a truly complicated position, considering her official responsibilities. No, the actual complicated matter was the politics, and that's where Curaçao would be lending a much-needed hoof. Their father hated politics, and thus Dawn did too, but Curaçao did not, and in fact relished the opportunity.

"As my first order of business as your new Shadow Associate, I have decided to conduct an adjustment to these proceedings to better facilitate my tastes," she continued. "For as long as this position has existed, the Shadow Associate has always remained anonymous, be it via technological means such as those we are presently utilizing, or through more magical or mundane means when such technology did not exist.

"However, the anonymity of the Shadow Associate is not a requirement of the position. It is merely an allowance to the position that whosoever holds it may choose to remain anonymous. There is evidence that some Shadow Associates in the past have chosen to reveal their identities to the Committee as a whole—few though they may be—and as such I have decided to do the same."

She pressed a button on her keyboard, and in an instant the identity-concealing software shut down. Dawn's face was now fully visible to the others in the conference call, as were her surroundings. Her voice, too, would now sound as it should. Unfiltered, unedited, and raw; Dawn would take responsibility for everything that came after this. No hiding behind a sheet.

Taskmaster Concrete grunted briefly. "Well now, you're a little younger than I was expecting for somepony in your position. Real talk, are we even sure you're qualified for this?"

Dawn glared briefly, and made to speak.

Somepony else beat her to it. "There are no requirements for the position beyond being chosen by her predecessor, Concrete, you know that," said Admiral Hotstreak, bristling his mustache ever so slightly. "If the former SA believed she was qualified, then she's qualified, and that's good enough for me."

Concrete held up his hooves and grinned. "Hey now, don't get your tail in a knot, Hotstreak, I was just joking. Hell, for all I know the last SA was younger than she is, heh heh. Trouble with anonymity, yeah?"

"Well, I for one see no problem with having the opportunity to see the faces of all of the ponies that are part of this little Committee of ours," said Chairpony Champagne as she briefly patted her mane with her hoof. "I always got a little creeped out by the computer voice, to tell the truth. Horribly disconcerting."

"Tell me about it," agreed Director Underhoof.

"So what's your name then, signorina? Seeing as you're so interested in sharing," asked Vendetta, who Dawn had noticed adjusting his slouching the instant her face had appeared.

Good, she thought, at least now he's taking this seriously.

"My name is Golden Dawn," Dawn said with a light smile and nod. "And it is a pleasure to have the opportunity to work alongside you all." 

"Oh no, il piacere è mio, Miss Dawn," Vendetta said with a grin. "I look forward to working with you as well. Closely, I hope."

Dawn noticed Champagne rolling her eyes, but didn't understand why. She'd ask another time, in private.

She cleared her throat. "Now, as I explained in the notifications you all received, this convening of the Committee was for the express purpose of approving the Shadow Associate transition. Beyond that, I merely wished to introduce myself and rid myself of the anonymity you are likely accustomed to. 

"However, I have no further business that I wish to address at this current juncture. Thus, as per Committee guidelines, the floor is yours to address any business that troubles any of you." She gestured out towards them with her hoof to emphasize her point.

Secretary Quill cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses, and brought a datapad up to his face. "Thank you, Miss Dawn. Now, if it pleases the Committee, I have some items to address regarding some of the bylaws involved in the ownership of business licenses, specifically under Article Eighteen, Paragraph Twelve, as we've discussed before. If you'd all open the files I sent, we can begin our review anew."

There were a few disgruntled grumbles among the others, but Dawn honestly couldn't be happier with the results. This had gone just as smoothly as she'd predicted it would. As if there was ever any doubt.


*****


Red Velvet had two major reasons to be at Central Database Holdings today, and so she had done everything she could to prepare herself for the visit. Establishing a fake library card had been the easiest part by far; asking Shroud for a favor was simple enough, especially if it was work-related. She didn't like being in "the system" even with falsified records, but it was for a good cause.

Dressing for the occasion was less easy, but more fun, and she'd chosen the perfect outfit to fit the situation: a cute gray blouse with a matching skirt that was purposefully much too short, as well as a set of glasses despite her not needing them. The colors would draw attention to the rest of her coloration, which was pink in both coat and mane. She'd even done her mane up in a little bun rather than her usual straight and simple style. 

It was the ideal "sexy librarian" look, at least as far as the, ahem, magazines and videos she'd used for reference were concerned.

Now, her first purpose here this afternoon—and the less important of the two, she'd admit—was scoping out the place for a potential partner for some evening enjoyment. Picking up hunks at the library seemed as far-fetched as could possibly be, but stranger things had happened and so she didn't dismiss the possibility of a score.

Velvet was disappointed to see how poorly her mission was going, however. Oh, there were plenty of stallions here, that much was a given. She'd then narrowed that down to just the good-looking ones and further to those that looked single, which thinned the herd substantially and gave her the pick of only about a half-dozen eligible bachelors. 

Unfortunately, few of them really ticked enough boxes for her to go further than a cursory look; they lacked the kind of build she liked—brimming with muscle, ideally—or, lacking that, the sort of presence of self that made up for it. A bulging confidence was typically just as crucial if not more so than bulging muscles.

The exception was the Chief Librarian, ironically. Archimedes was certainly a handsome unicorn, olive green with a lime green mane, wearing a form-fitting, plaid tweed jacket. And though he wasn't exactly hunky he was still rather tall, and he carried himself in a way that suggested he was absolutely alpha male material. 

As luck would have it, she'd need his help anyway with the other purpose she had here, so making her way to his station at the front of the library was practically a requirement. She loved it when she could mix business and pleasure.

"Hi there, are you in charge around here?" she asked, batting her eyelashes.

"I am the Chief Librarian, yes," he replied, adjusting his glasses as she approached. "What can I help with today, Miss?"

She casually leaned against his desk so that he'd have a good view of her flank. "Oh, you know, I just need some good research material for a little project I'm working on," she said, playing with a loose strand of hair from her mane. "Instructional books about taking proper care of young ponies."

He hummed and nodded. "I see. How young do you mean? Our database has assorted reading materials for taking care of newborn foals, development in the early foalhood stages as well as the remainder of foalhood, or the difficulties of adjusting to adolescence and the progression into adulthood."

She blinked, taken aback by how perfectly professional he was. He sounded like Dawn did, only a little less pompous about it, more like he was trying to help. She shook it off, though; he'd given her good information, so he was smart, and she wasn't the sort to dislike a brain in a partner. She generally took them dumb, but not always.

"I think for now the, uh, 'early' foalhood stuff will do," she said. "They're only about three years old, give or take."

He tapped a few keys on his keyboard. "Alright, and for what purpose do you need this material? Is this for your own foals, preparing for a foster program, school-teaching advice, preparing for adoption—"

Velvet held up her hoof to pause him. "Whoa, that's… you're getting really detailed here with all the questions."

He set his hooves together on the desk, and turned his full attention to her as he spoke. "Naturally, Miss. Here at Central Database Holdings, we strive to ensure our visitors are given all of the assistance they require in finding the research materials they're seeking. Normally I would have assigned you a personal assistant, but, well, I'm currently understaffed, so that responsibility sometimes falls to me."

She could hear the slight melancholy in his tone and even see it in his face, and felt kind of sorry for him, actually. Dawn was never particularly forthcoming about her work with Twilight Sparkle here at the library, but from what she'd picked up, Twilight had been the best assistant librarian Archimedes had ever had. Her departure back to her own world would certainly have left a void here.

Well, Red Velvet knew that she was no Twilight Sparkle, and she also doubted sincerely that Archimedes' longing for her was of a romantic or sexual nature, but damn it all if Velvet wasn't going to try and fill this poor stallion's void. Or rather, the other way around. Unless he was into that sort of thing.

"I'm so sorry to hear that," she said, placing her hoof over her heart and setting her other hoof on his. "Well, to answer your question, I need this material for a sort of unorthodox foster program, yes, but some school-teaching material might be useful as well. Our, uh, 'program' took in a few dozen youngsters recently, y'see."

"Wonderful. Let me just get a packet together for you." He tapped some more keys on his keyboard over the next few moments, then took something out from under his desk and passed it to her, a small key drive that she could insert into a computer. "I've loaded your materials for you onto this drive for you to peruse here or at home."

She reached for it; he drew it back.

"First, though, I'll need to see your identification card. I understand the odds of a non-citizen being here asking for this particular material is astronomically slim, but rules are rules."

Velvet reached into the pocket of her blouse for the card Shroud had given her. "Right, sure, let me just— oops!" She "accidentally" dropped the card onto the floor a few feet away. "Clumsy me. Let me just get that."

She positioned herself as she picked up the card so that Archimedes would get a clear view of the goods, fumbled around for a believable amount of time, then lifted herself back up only to see he hadn't tried to catch a peak or even noticed, for that matter. She grumbled to herself as she set her fake identification card down, then watched as he took it and scanned it without so much as glancing her way before passing it back.

"Everything checks out," he said. "I hope this material serves you well. Thank you for your visit, and have a pleasant afternoon."

"Oh? That's it? I don't need to, uh, pay or anything?" she asked, biting her lip gently. "I didn't bring any bits with me, so I guess I could find some… other way to pay."

"No payment required, Miss. All CDH services are free to the public. Your taxes pay for the service. And even if that weren't the case, I'm afraid I wouldn't accept alternative forms of payment as that would be unprofitable."

"Oh. Right." She paused, then cleared her throat, not ready to give up just yet. "So, uh… do you have a lunch break or something coming up? A chance to get out from behind this desk for a lil' bit?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid that I've already taken my lunch break for the day. Why do you ask?"

She fluttered her eyelashes as best she could and set her hooves on his. "Well, I was hoping maybe we could, y'know, enjoy a cup of coffee. A nice… hot… cup of coffee?"

"To be honest I'm more fond of tea than coffee, but as I said, I've already taken my break for the day. Even if I hadn't, though, I'm afraid it would be unprofessional for me to join a customer for lunch. My apologies." He adjusted his glasses and turned his attention back to his computer. "I must return to my duties. If you require any further assistance though, feel free to ask."

Velvet just stared at the stallion, only slightly stunned at his casual dismissal. She'd been rejected by stallions before, that was undeniable, but at least they'd acknowledged her in some fashion first. 

She'd braced herself for the typical responses she'd gotten before, maybe that he was married, or gay, or married and gay. She'd even prepared for the dreaded "not interested" response, rare as that was. She'd not prepared to be completely ignored. The concept was… alien.

With a sigh, she took the drive she'd been given and put it in her pocket with her ID card. "Well, thanks. I appreciate the help."

And with that, she just left, thoroughly disheartened. She was able to shake the feeling a little, knowing that at least she got the information she was after, but it wasn't much of a reassurance. This week-long dry spell was killing her.

Making her way back to Pandora Tower was both a simple and yet complicated affair. Getting into the vicinity of the tower was easy enough: she simply headed for the nearest chariot taxi garage and hired a pegasus-driven chariot to take her into the Inner Districts, and to her disappointment her drivers weren't very good-looking or bulky. The universe was mocking her, it had to be.

From there, she made her way by hoof to the innermost sector of the city, into a dark, nondescript alleyway on a nameless road off of a dead-end street without any homes or businesses, just purposefully empty buildings. At the end of the alley, a secret entrance led into a tunnel that led underneath Pandora Tower, requiring a special keycard issued to her to even get in.

Once she was in the tower, before she headed up the elevator to the upper floors, she pressed an intercom button. She still had no idea how they worked, because all she had to do was say the name of the pony she was looking to contact and they'd be notified and could respond almost immediately. Her father had used it primarily to communicate with his secretary, as Dawn now did; she used it for other purposes.

"Overseer Pedigree, this is Red," she spoke into the intercom. "Can you meet me in the Tower Lounge in five minutes?"

A brief pause, and then the Overseer's voice crackled over the intercom. "Can we make it ten, Miss Velvet? I wasn't expecting you so soon, and I'm finishing up a few tasks at the moment."

"Ten's fine. See you then." She then took the elevator up into the tower proper, twenty-eight floors up to the tower's dedicated lounge area. 

The lounge took up the entire floor except for the central pillar, offering a robust selection of things so that the tower's various employees had anything they needed: a large seating area with chairs, sofas, recliners, and small tables so that ponies could sit and relax while enjoying a meal, a book, or a program on the obnoxiously huge television set against the wall; a small entertainment room offering arcade machines for ponies to unwind with, free of charge of course; and a smaller seating area isolated from the others by soundproof glass that was dedicated to quiet study.

The room was currently occupied only by a few ponies, some of whom she knew were crew working on the reconstruction project after the tower had been damaged, others were cleaning crew or other assorted staff members, and others were guards currently off duty. She'd been tempted once to proposition one of the guards since they were all of the sort that she enjoyed, but thought better of it; sleeping with an "employee" might prove awkward.

Velvet headed for the quiet area, grabbing an unused datapad off the nearby wall for her to use and plugging the key drive into it as she went. She didn't open any files just yet; they could wait until Pedigree arrived. And so, Velvet just kicked back on the outrageously comfortable couch in the quiet room and waited.

Pedigree did not keep her waiting long, and found her with ease. The Overseer was a light gray, handsome unicorn stallion with a short, dark gray mane, dressed in a black lab coat. Velvet hadn't acknowledged it to anypony else, considering that their first meeting had had some hostile undertones, but Velvet could admit that he certainly lived up to his name; she knew good genetics when she saw them. A shame he was kind of a prick. A professional prick, but a prick nonetheless.

"Miss Velvet," he greeted as he entered the room and closed the door behind him. "I assume your little hunting trip went well?"

She gestured with her hoof. "Eh, so-so. I think I got all the research material I wanted, but I couldn't snag a stallion to spend a little time with for later. But hey, like Curie says, c'est la vie. I didn't have my hopes up anyway for finding a stud at the library."

"Uh… I'm sorry to hear that?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Eh, it's no biggie. After we're done here I'll head out to this bar I like to go to, pick somepony up there. Dawn's been riding my ass all week, so I really need somepony else to ride my ass so I can blow off some steam, y'know? Nothing relieves stress better than a good fuck, I say."

"Ah… r-right. Should we get down to business, then?" He paused, then cleared his throat. "To business business, I mean. Not… not to… that. N-not that I'm implying you were asking me, of course. For intercourse, I mean."

She smirked and fiddled with the tie on her blouse, loosening it almost completely. "Hmmm? Oh, why? Is listening to me talk about my sex life making you…" She casually adjusted her hind legs in her seat so that he'd catch an eyeful if he dared to look; he just barely averted his eyes. "Uncomfortable?"

"A little bit, yes. I wouldn't dream of taking advantage of our professional relationship like that."

Velvet blew a strand of hair out of her face, and then took an unnecessarily long moment to readjust herself into a less overtly suggestive position. She, too, wanted to keep the relationship professional, for now anyway. Teasing him was fun, though, so she'd keep at it, knowing one day he'd either admonish her for it and she'd have to stop, or he'd relent and risk ruining their professional relationship to act like a real stallion. 

She'd feel just awful for letting that happen.

"I don't think you could handle me anyway, Pedigree," she said to draw her mind back to the present. "So keep dreaming, or not dreaming, or whatever."

"Of course…"

"So! I got a few books on the proper care of young ponies moving into new environments," she said, fiddling with her fake glasses as she showed Pedigree the datapad. "I didn't read any of them yet, but I was told they'd be perfect for new foster parents taking in youngsters like ours. I figure that's as close to the situation as we can get, right? Foster parents?"

Pedigree skimmed through the material, using his hoof to turn digital pages and nodding along. "Seems appropriate to me. The subjects have been instructed of the upcoming changes in their living conditions and will be—"

"Ahem?" Velvet said, getting his attention. "'Subjects'?"

"Oh! Right, right. Sorry. Still adjusting. The youths have been informed of the upcoming changes in their living conditions and instructed on how to go about it. We will be ready to move as soon as the preparations are completed."

"And how's that going?"

"The repairs on the tower as a whole are complete and the reconstructions of the floors Miss Dawn designated for our use will be finished by the end of the week, so it's only a matter of refurbishing the subjects'— sorry, the youths' new bedchambers. They'll start off relatively minimal and uniform, seeing as we have so many colts and fillies to transition. I don't think it prudent to individualize them just yet."

Velvet grunted. "They are individuals, Pedigree. We gave each and every one of them a name, remember? No more numbers."

"That's… that's not what I meant," he said, tugging his collar. "I meant that as of yet I can't tell what sort of individual personalities the youths possess. I understand that my instructions have been adjusted to allow them some freedom to develop, but I think their living conditions over the past few years have made them hesitant to do so. Typical symptoms of broad social anxiety disorder in the lot, but they'll grow out of it in time."

"They'd better," Velvet said, poking him in the chest. "If these ponies end up traumatized because of how you've treated them for their whole lives until now, I'm holding you responsible for it. Because, I mean, you are, which is why I just said it's your fault. Because it is. Shame on you."

She knew deep down that her father and Doctor Blutsauger also had a hoof in the way the young ponies had been created and raised until this point, but Overseer Pedigree had been forthcoming in his responsibilities in maintaining the project day-to-day, hence his title. Thus, Velvet felt no guilt at all in guilt-tripping him about his role.

He gulped. "Right, of course. I do apologize if my treatment of the sub— of the youths up to this point hasn't met with your standards. You have to understand that your father had different instructions and—"

"No excuses. Daddy entrusted you with their care and development, so it's up to you to do your best. Those kids are lucky we caught on to this before you started getting too rough with them, and you're lucky you're willing to adjust." She paused, then gave him a big smile. "So! Let's get to reading, shall we?"

"Uh… right now? I was going to send a copy to my personal—"

"Oh sure sure, you can do that, but I figured since I've got you here for a little while, we can read the material together. Dawn put me in charge of this little rehabilitation project with you, so the way I see it, we're like their… parents, yeah?"

"If that's how you want to go about this, that's your prerogative," he said, blinking. "I'd rather not form an emotional attachment—"

"Maybe you should!" she huffed. "You've cared for these ponies all their lives until now, and you'll continue to do so for years, so maybe you should think about some sort of personal attachment, bucko. Trust me when I say that it'll help. If you don't want to see yourself as a parent, fine, then consider yourself… I dunno, a teacher, or something!"

He tilted his head. "I… suppose that might be an appropriate level of attachment, yes. A mentor-student relationship is more professional."

She rolled her eyes. "Ugh, you've got a stick up your ass just like Dawn does. Listen, if you and I are gonna do this, we're gonna do it properly. I want these kids to grow up as close to normal as possible. That means having adults to look to for guidance and compassion, and that means us. So, are you with me on this, or not? Because I can ask Dawn to reassign you."

He stared at her for a long moment, then sighed and nodded. "I'll certainly give it my all."

"Good." She wrapped her hoof around his shoulder. "Y'know, Pedigree, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship."


*****


"Yes, yes! Beautiful, darling, beautiful! That's it, work the camera. You're gorgeous, darling. Spectacular!"

Insipid wasn't sure why the photographer—a brown-coated pegasus with a red mane—felt the need to keep shouting about how good she looked, to be honest. She already knew she looked good; she owned a mirror, after all. Hearing him say it was nice, though, and it made her smile warm and wide as she shifted poses in front of the reflective backdrop. 

Her tastefully seductive purple dress hugged the curves of her flank, drawing just the right amount of attention. She was still learning how things worked in fashion, and was told that the purple complimented her black coat and platinum blonde mane to give her a sort of regal appearance. "Regal" meant "royal" apparently, like a princess.

As for how the dress could talk to her coat and mane, she didn't know, and she knew even less about what it could say to compliment them. Maybe it told them how silky smooth they looked and felt? That made sense for a dress, right? Whatever, she wasn't the expert. She was just the model, and that was something she knew how to do, and do well.

There had been a bit of a delay in shooting schedules, but she'd finally been asked to come in for a photoshoot for the highest of high-class fashion magazines in the city, Jument à la mode. She'd heard that the mares and stallions—mostly mares—that modeled in the magazine were destined for greatness, and if anypony deserved that it was her.

The various poses she'd been asked to perform did two things: first, they showed off the dress, which had been one of Rarity's designs. Sadly, Rarity herself hadn't made it, and Insipid could tell just based on how it felt against her body; Rarity's dresses always seemed to have a… something to them that made them feel right. Mares would buy copies of the dress to feel magical and beautiful, and Insipid wondered if any of them would feel that something too.

Second, they showed off Insipid's lovely figure in order to draw attention and acclaim. Ponies with lots of bits to spend would supposedly see her in the magazine and want to hire her for ad promos. She'd seen examples of such things before, of good-looking mares in skimpy clothes holding a brand of beer or perfume or even soup. She didn't understand how she was supposed to help sell anything by just being pretty, but again, she wasn't the expert.

"Ooh, yes, that's wonderful," the photographer said with a chuckle. "Make love to the camera, sweetheart."

Insipid blinked and tilted her head. "Oh, uh… sorry, but I don't, like, feel that way about the camera. Maybe we could just be friends and junk?"

"Ha! What a sense of humor. Lovely joke, just lovely!" called the photographer.

She wondered why he thought it was a joke. She was serious.

He took a few more photos, then turned to his assistants that were manning the lights. "Okay, everypony, that's all for today! Wrap it up!" 

The crew quietly started taking down all of the equipment around the area.

He then turned to Insipid and approached her, giving her a big smile. "You were perfect, my dear, just wonderful. I don't know where you learned it, but you really know how to work a camera."

"Thanks!" Insipid chirped, returning the smile. "My friend Rarity was, like, the best teacher a mare could ask for, yknow?"

From off to the side, two other ponies approached. One, a unicorn mare with a pink coat and long purple mane, wearing a fashionable polka dot blouse; the other, an older unicorn stallion with short orange mane flecked with gold and hints of gray. Chantilly Lace and Peaked Lapel, Insipid's employers and, with Rarity gone back to her world, the only real friends she had.

Chantilly beamed and beckoned Insipid in for a hug. "Insipid, my dear, what a fabulous shoot. I've said it before and I'll say it again, we're lucky to have found a talented mare like you."

"Pshaw! I'm the lucky one, silly." Insipid gave her a warm hug, and then two kissed cheeks as was proper etiquette. 

She'd already learned so much from Rarity on how to be a model and a proper lady, but Lace and Lapel had since taken her under their wings—and they didn't even have wings!—and began teaching her a thing or two about "high society". Even Rarity, smart as she was with that kind of stuff, had barely scratched the surface in their few weeks together, apparently.

"Ah, Missus Lace, Mister Lapel, I'm so glad you could make it," the photographer said, turning his beaming smile in their direction. "Might I say that it's been a real treat to work with Miss Insipid here? It's rare that I get to photograph a mare with such… personality. I think the last model I've had the pleasure of working with that possessed her appeal was Ivory Charm."

"We feel the same way," Lapel said with a grin, winking at Insipid. "She's a treasure, and we're happy to have her on our team."

"Well, I'll leave you to your work, then. I've got to get these photos developed for the magazine, and pronto." The photographer turned to Insipid and took her hoof in his. "And you, my dear, farewell. I hope we have the opportunity to work together again in the future."

"Me too! You're fun to work with, Mister Grain!" Insipid replied.

As the photographer—Film Grain—grabbed his gear and headed out so that the crew could finish cleaning, Lace and Lapel turned to Insipid, who had started stripping out of her photoshoot dress and into her more comfortable casualwear, which was still quite fashionable but wasn't quite high high fashion, as Rarity had explained it. Basically, it looked good and felt good but she'd never wear it down the runway.

"So, dear, now that your shoot is all finished, would you care to join us for lunch?" Lace asked. "Our treat."

Insipid nodded rapidly. "I'd love to! I had an early breakfast and junk, so, like, I'm so hungry right now. Where to? Ooh ooh, I heard about this little hay fries joint in Mid-South—"

"Oh no no, the days of slumming it in diners and dives are long gone for you, my dear. You're part of a different class of ponies, now."

"We heard you got yourself a flat in one of the Romantique District towers. Le Nuage Blanc?" Lapel noted. "Not a bad start, not at all. Right next to the shopping district, too, you clever minx. And you can certainly afford it all with what we're paying you, and that means you belong with us in the upper echelons of society."

Insipid nodded in understanding—minus one word, because she had no idea what an "etch-along" was. The flat they were speaking of did indeed belong to her and she did indeed live there, because she wasn't living with her sisters anymore at Pandora Tower. She was a little sad about not being able to see them every day at almost any time she wanted, especially Gray and Velvet, but it needed to happen sooner rather than later.

When Insipid had complained, Curaçao had explained that Insipid's situation was different from the others'. She had a "real" career and interacted with "normal" ponies day-to-day. So, she needed a "real" place to live so that she wouldn't seem suspicious, whatever that meant. 

Curie said a lot of things that didn't make sense to Insipid, not because she wasn't smart enough to understand or because of her sister's sexy accent, but because Curie was just… mysterious. Even Dawn didn't always understand what Curie was up to.

"Okay, like, I think I get what you're saying," Insipid said, tapping her chin. "So, like, I graduated to a different class or something? Like school? And now I can't go play in the playground because I'm too old and junk for the swings, or whatever?"

Lace blinked. "That's… an apt metaphor."

"What's a metaphor?"

She and Lapel shared a brief look, smiled, and rolled their eyes. They did that a lot when talking with her, and she didn't know why. "Never mind, dear. Yes, that's a good way of looking at it. That 'fry joint' is like elementary school, but now you're in high school. A senior, even! So, you have to do things appropriate to your new class. Which in this analogy means nice restaurants."

"Ooh, so like, fancy fry joints? 'Cause like, I'm dying for a good basket of hay fries for some reason. Cha."

"I believe that the restaurant we had in mind serves sides of hay fries with several of their meals," Lapel said with a grin. "You can look at the menu when we get there, but might I recommend the seared cabbage? It's simply divine."

"Sure, that sounds great! So, are we leaving now?"

Lace nodded. "Of course, dear. We'll take the service elevator down to the side exit. We have our private chariot waiting for us."

"Why are we going out that way?" Insipid asked as she followed them out of the room.

"Because somepony tipped off the paparazzi that the city's next top model was sighted entering the building this morning, and they're hoping to get some photographs when she leaves," Lapel explained. He pressed the button for the elevator as they reached it. "Most of them are going to be at the front entrance and won't get anything out of it, but a few that just happen to work for us or our friends are positioned at the side entrance."

"And the tabloids will pay good money for candid photos of our new star," Lace said with a grin as she wiped her own lipstick residue off of Insipid's cheek, as well as the rest of Insipid's makeup.

"So… they're taking photos of candy?" Insipid asked, closing her eyes to make it easier for Lace to work.

"No, dear, 'candid'. In this context, it means unfiltered. Our dear Mister Grain's photographs are going to be touched up to bring out your very best, not that that'll be difficult at all since you always look amazing. But if ponies can see you without all the makeup and the flank-hugging dresses, well—"

"They'll know there's more to you than just a nice ass and a bunch of photo filters," Lapel completed. Lace gave him a look. "What? Oh come off it, honey, you know that's what they're all thinking."

Insipid blinked. "Ponies like my butt?"

Lace rolled her eyes. "There are times I think Rarity did her job of training you too well, let's just say. You work the assets you've been given just like any other model does, but certain assets are drawing a lot more attention than others. It's actually the angle we're working with for selling your image, to be honest."

"Remember, we're trying to put your image out there as different from the other models. You have a real figure, with real curves," Lapel said, his eyes tracing along Insipid's backside briefly. "Suffice to say, word gets around, and you're a big hit so far and we've already gotten a few offers."

"But making sure that ponies don't think we hired you just because you've got a splendid rear is a must," Lace continued, eyes also drifting along said splendid rear. "You and Rarity mean more to us than that, and while it pains us that Rarity left back south for whatever family emergency she had, we want to ensure that everypony knows how important you are. Not just to the industry, but to us."

Insipid smiled. "Well, you guys know a lot more about, like, fashion and junk than I do. I just know what looks good and how to make it look totally fresh on me, or whatever. So like, if you think this is a good idea, then yeah, let's go for it."

Lace and Lapel pulled her in for a brief little group hug, and Insipid felt all warm and fuzzy inside when they did. The two of them were such good friends to her, and she couldn't imagine how things would be if she didn't have them in her life now that Rarity had left. She probably wouldn't have anything to do except mope around Pandora Tower, probably stuffing herself with ice cream and watching TV.

"Ooh, but hey, can we stop by, like, a sweet shop or something while we're out?" she asked, rubbing her stomach. "All this talk about candy photos is giving me a major craving for some gummy bears."


*****


The Mid-South District of New Pandemonium City was about as close as one could hope to get to the quality of the Inner Districts. It was just a little cleaner, and the offerings for food, shopping, and entertainment were just a little more robust, but this went along with everything being a lot more expensive. Even though it was still quite a ways off from the significantly healthier state of living of the Inner Districts, it was close enough that it tried to emulate it as best as possible and ponies knew it was as close as some would ever get.

Take shopping centers, for example. The Inner Districts had several real indoor malls that smelled fresh, were frequently cleaned, possessed excellent security, and were decorated in such a way that they made the patrons feel comfortable and welcome. Mid-South, however, had an outdoor shopping center that was the next best thing—a distant second, really—and it was the only one in all the Mid Districts. It was stocked with stores, eateries, and activities just like any Inner District mall was, but it was all of a distinctly lower class. 

But it was good enough for most.

Gray Skies sat at a table in the center's food court area, chowing down on a slice of Dolor-made pizza. "Dolor-made" meant that there wasn't real cheese on this pizza, or real bread, or real tomato sauce, or real toppings. It was all Dolor Brand synthetic stuff that was cheaper and easier to provide than the genuine ingredients, and tasted just close enough to the real thing to fool you even when you knew it was fake; the uncanny valley of foodstuffs. 

She didn't really expect much from food court pizza, but her disappointment was still immeasurable, and her day quite nearly ruined. That tended to happen when you were used to eating real food at home made by a world-class chef.

The only thing that kept her from leaving and eating elsewhere was the pony across from her, eating his own slice of not-pizza: Flathoof, the red-coated, blond-maned earth pony police captain. He'd agreed to join her during his lunch break for a date, and she'd agreed to meet here even though it wasn't very good or particularly healthy. It was better than letting him eat junk out of a vending machine at the station, she figured.

She knew how odd they looked, seated across from each other here in the food court. They were both larger than average ponies, for one thing, built with muscle that most others lacked, but that wasn't what she meant. He was a colorful stallion, and since he was on break he was still in his uniform, which seemed to hug his muscles tighter every other week she saw him. She, on the other hoof, was gray in coat, gray in mane other than the fuschia stripe down the middle, and dressed herself in a drab hooded sweater—also gray—that made her look like some street punk.

Maybe they'd assume she was some charity case that the helpful police officer was trying to get off the street and into rehab.

"How's the pizza?" he asked, drawing her attention from her inner thoughts.

"Terrible," she said without a hint of hesitation. After a brief pause, she added, "Okay, not terrible, but—"

"Not what you're used to. I get it, and I apologize. There's nothing worse than bad pizza."

"I can think of a few things."

"Heh. I'm sure you could. I'd have invited you somewhere nicer, but funds are pretty tight right now so this was all I could handle. None of us expected Shorthoof to have a growth spurt like that, and new clothes aren't cheap. Can't rightly send him to school naked."

Gray grunted. "I told you, you could always let me—"

"No. We've had this talk before and I'm not letting you pay, not for his clothes, and not for my lunch," Flathoof said before taking a bite of fake pizza. "And remember, you're always invited over for dinner with the family. For somepony who can't stand this Dolor crap you sure love what my mom does with it."

"That's because she puts heart into it." She shook her head. "I still don't get why you don't take a few bits here and there. What's the big deal?"

"I doubt you'd understand. Listen, it's bad enough we take so much charity from Lockwood as it is, but he's family and we knew him for years before he started whipping out the bureaucracy loopholes. My family would never forgive ourselves if we started taking actual bits from you, even if you've got plenty to spare."

"C'mon, Flathoof, don't be like that. I just want to help."

He set his hooves on the table. "And I appreciate that, we all do, but if we started accepting 'help' from you and your sisters like that, what's the limit? Do we just let you guys pay for everything, move to some ritzy suite in the Inner Districts, start living the high life? You know we'd hate that. Even if we suddenly came into a lot of money, I know my parents and I would still want to work for a living. It's just how we are."

"I get it. Fine, don't take my help, whatever." Gray dropped her pizza down on her plate defiantly. "You've got nobody but yourself to blame if you're having money troubles anyway."

Flathoof blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You didn't take the promotion. Chief Smokestack offered you the Commander position like you thought he would, and you turned him down. You know damn well there was a big pay raise coming with that. Your family would be able to afford real food ingredients instead of Dolor crap, and you'd have the money to get some nice clothes for Shorthoof instead of shopping at secondhoof thrift shops."

"You know why I didn't take that position," he muttered.

"Yeah yeah, you think you're doing better work as a Captain, having direct control over cases and officers instead of just being a glorified desk jockey. Big deal. So you didn't take it, and now you're having money troubles, and you're complaining about how much you hate the new Commander."

"I'm not complaining. Just making observations."

"Bullshit."

Flathoof took a deep breath. "Fine, you're right. I should've taken it. But besides thinking I'd be better suited where I am, I'm also able to better deal with how much a corrupt scumbag he is. Like I said, I have direct control over how to handle cases and which officers I assign to them. Blue Bottle just tells me which cases to take, so at least I can make sure they're handled right.

"You don't think I'm beating myself up already for not taking the promotion? 'Cause I am. I thought it would be fine, that things could keep moving along like they have been, but sometimes shit happens, and I wasn't prepared for it. Now, I'd like it if we could just drop it, okay? I've already gotten enough of an earful about it…"

She stayed silent for a long moment, then sighed. "I'm sorry. Look, I know it was your decision, and… it's not my place to judge you for it. I mean, if anypony shouldn't be judging somepony for their life choices, it's me."

"Hmm?"

She leaned back in her seat. "Moving back into Pandora Tower was… a bit rougher than I thought it would be. I dunno, I just feel that when I did, I was giving up the last thing that made me feel like I had any sort of, I dunno… purpose?"

Flathoof paused, then nodded. "You mean Fluttershy."

"Yeah… Fluttershy. Knowing that my entire life revolved around her was kind of a blow, y'know? I was literally born to become attached to her, but I don't feel like that cheapens what we had, our friendship. But now that she's gone home, I… I dunno, I miss her, I guess. Without her, I just don't feel like my life has any real meaning anymore…"

"You feel… lost?" he asked.

"I dunno, kinda? I just… I don't know what I'm supposed to do with my life now."

"The living conditions can't be that bad, can they?"

She laughed. "Ha ha, hell no, the conditions are great. But I don't want to talk about 'em too much, considering what's going on with you and all. Might sound like I'm bragging, and I'm not about that." She shook her head. "No, that's not the problem. I've got nopony to talk to, y'know? At least back at Southeast Point I could chat up Lockwood anytime I wanted, but I can't really do that now, can I?"

"I'm absolutely certain he'd make time for you if you asked," he responded.

"Yeah, sure, but I don't want to put him out like that. It's not the same as having him just a few floors away. So I basically just sit around all day, nothing to do, nopony to talk to—"

"Considering how much your muscle tone's been growing these past few weeks, I highly doubt you're doing 'nothing'," he pointed out, gesturing at her thick leg muscles. "At least you're keeping yourself occupied."

"But that's all I do! I just eat, watch TV, and work out. Eat, TV, work out, day in, day out, all day, every day. Dawn doesn't bother keeping me in the loop anymore on whatever the hell she's getting up to, and Curaçao tries her best to inform me, but it's pointless now, I'm already too far out to do anything even if I wanted to."

"Are your other sisters doing alright?"

She snorted. "Like I said, Dawn just keeps her distance and is always too busy, Curaçao's always busy even though she tries to be sociable, Velvet's either trying to get dicked or again, too busy, Insipid's got her own life and doesn't live with us anymore, and Havoc's doing her best with me but she's out of the tower more often than in it so, again, too busy.

"So, obviously, I can't talk to my sisters about what's bugging me either. They've all got something to fall back on, some job to do or goal in mind. Me, I just… I don't know what to do other than go with the flow day by day and hope something keeps me occupied." She sighed and hung her head. "Dumb as it sounds, the only pony I feel I can even talk to about anything is you."

Flathoof smiled and put his hoof on the table next to hers. "Listen, Gray… I want you to know that if you ever need anything, you can ask me, okay? I'm here for you."

She stared at his hoof a moment, then pressed hers against his and smiled slightly. "Thanks." 

He glanced at his watch for a moment. "Shit," he swore as he wiped his mouth with a napkin and got out of his seat as he started collecting his things. "Listen, I hate to leave you like this, but I've gotta get back to the station. I'm running late."

"Oh. Yeah, yeah, I understand. Sorry I kept you—" 

"Don't apologize for that. I said what I said, and I meant it, and that applies to now just as it will to any other time."

She stared right at him, then took a deep breath. "Actually… wait a second. Before you go, can I ask you something?"

He paused, then settled back in his seat. "Sure, what's up?"

"So, uh… we've been doing this thing for like a month now, y'know. The dates and stuff. And I've been having a great time with you and everything, but I kind of wanted to know… what are we, exactly?"

That seemed to catch him by surprise. "I… wh-what do you mean?"

She scratched her chin. "I mean, we're obviously friends, but like… are we more than that? I don't really know how these things work, so I figured now would be a good time to ask."

"More than—" He paused, then tilted his head, a slight grin coming to his face. "Why, do you want us to be?"

She blushed. "Maybe I do, but I asked you first. Do you?"

He sighed, but he was still smiling. "Y'know… funny thing actually, my mom just asked me the exact same thing last night."

"Your mom asked you if you and her are more than friends?" she quipped with a little grin.

"You know what I mean."

"And? What did you tell her?"

"I told her that I honestly didn't know, but that if you wanted that, so do I."

"So… you do?"

"If that's what you want."

She smiled. "I kinda do, yeah." She then cleared her throat. "So, uh… you can get back to work now. Sorry to hold you up."

He smiled back, and as he got out of his seat he came over to her side of the table and put his hoof on her shoulder. "I'll call you later tonight when I get off work. Until then."

"Yeah, that sounds—"

To her surprise, he then leaned down and kissed her on the lips. She had no idea how to describe the feeling of warmth that buzzed through her heart, but it was really, really nice and she liked it. A lot. 

He still tasted like shitty pizza, though.


*****


Curaçao thanked the waiter as he set down the cup of tea she'd ordered, then stirred one of the provided sugarcubes into it very delicately before bringing the cup to her lips and taking a sip. 

She let out a satisfied breath once she'd finished. "Mmm, oh la la…"

This little restaurant in Whiteworth had some of the best tea in the city, grown from tea plants that were meticulously cared for over generations in greenhouse conditions. Such a facility was exceedingly rare, expensive, and required dozens of permits and licenses to operate, but it was worth it to claim the tea was their own rather than imported from the southern continent.

"It's pretty good, isn't it?" asked Lockwood, seated across from her at the table. 

"Oui, c'est magnifique," she replied as she set her cup back down. 

The gray-coated, brown-maned pegasus across from her was dressed as he always was, in a drab raincoat and matching fedora, just enough to satisfy the restaurant's dress code. 

To be fair, she wasn't dressed too differently—quality notwithstanding—in her red trench coat and long orange scarf that complimented her blue coat and red mane, but she wore hers because it was fashionable while he wore his because that's what he owned. Insipid wasn't the only mare in the family with a keen sense for her personal appearance, after all.

"A little variety goes a long way to expand one's palate, non?" she continued. "Normally I would order a glass of wine with my meal, but this tea is a more-than-acceptable substitute."

"Well don't let me stop you from ordering the wine if that's what you'd normally prefer," he said, offering her the table's wine list.

She chuckled and shook her head, pushing the list away. "Ah, non, that is quite alright. I am, let us say, 'unimpressed' with the quality of wines here in Whiteworth. It does nothing for me, hmm?"

That was the most polite way she could say that the quality here was little different than drinking the blandest sort of grape juice possible which had then had some alcohol accidentally added to it. It didn't pair well with anything and it wasn't particularly pleasant on its own, so essentially it was only good for getting drunk, and that just wasn't something Curaçao did, especially not at lunch. 

Now, were this a Romantique restaurant, she'd have ordered a bottle for the table, no question, because those ponies knew that a good wine paired with the right meal was like making love: a healthy part of each and every day.

"Fair enough," he said with a nod and a grin. 

"Besides, if alcohol was on my mind I believe it would be more proper to order a beer or lager with the affair that this restaurant offers, non?" she said, glancing about at the brick-and-wood décor. The establishment was closer to a pub than a proper restaurant, but pub culture was Whiteworth culture.

"So, now that our orders are in, to what do I owe the pleasure of this little rendezvous?" he asked, leaning back in his seat. "It's been a few weeks since our last meeting over coffee, and I know you said to always be expecting a call from you, but truth be told it still came as kind of a surprise. Is this a personal meeting or a professional one?"

"The latter, as far as intentions go, but once our business is concluded I have every intention of speaking on personal matters. Si cela vous convient, bien sûr?"

He smiled and took a sip of the coffee he'd ordered. "Oui, that's fine by me. Business first, then."

"I see you're improving on your understanding of Romantique, mon ami. Bien joué."

"I figured if I'm going to be involved in your business propositions, I may as well be able to carry on a conversation without having to stop for you to translate. You're probably more comfortable if you can slip into your native tongue freely."

"Ah, merci, j'apprécie cela." Curaçao took another sip of her tea. "So, to business. You recall me mentioning your rather robust list of professional contacts, oui?"

"I do. I've been waiting to see who's caught your eye, to be honest. Knowing about you now what I didn't when we first met, I'm struggling to think of who'd be of any use to you. You've been clear that you and your sisters have all the resources you could ever need to do anything you wanted, really."

"Almost anything." Curaçao set down her tea and steepled her hooves in front of her. "The one thing that Dawn and I cannot do easily, that even our father could not do easily, is sway public opinion in our favor. Depending on the context, of course."

He raised an eyebrow at this. "Meaning?"

"In the decades since the founding of Hope's Point, a story has been spun that their city is populated by the worst sorts of scum, oui? Each and every 'citizen' who lives there is at best a traitorous hedonist, and at worst a barbaric pirate or terrorist. My sources say that Hope's Point has certainly lived up to that reputation, especially in recent years once Queen Blackburn took over.

"Blatantly mocking the NPAF; exiling undercover NPAF agents within the city under threat of execution; increasing smuggling runs; openly robbing commercial transports carrying southern goods back home. Suffice to say, she is not the laissez-faire ruler her father was or the overly-cautious ruler her grandfather was. She is… vindictive. Aggressive."

Lockwood paused, sighed, then gave a short nod. "Well, can you blame her? The NPAF is responsible for the deaths of thousands of her citizens over the years, including her mother, father, and stepmother. I think if anypony in the world would have a reason to hate the NPAF and the rest of this city with a passion, it's her."

"Oui, c'est compréhensible, and she will be a hard one to convince that we want to make peace between our two nation-cities. However, even if we do convince her, I fear that our own citizens will not be accepting of such peace." She shook her head. "They have lived for decades thinking that the ponies of Hope's Point are vile sorts. We must convince them, too."

"Ah, and that's where I come in?"

"Oui, that is where you come in. You are close friends with Mint and Matcha Tea, non? The owners and editors of the New Pandemonium Times?"

He smiled. "I'm pretty sure you already know I am and are just asking to be polite. Cut to the chase. What's your gameplan here?"

"I have it under good authority that within the next few months, the Committee will be beginning the long, arduous process of organizing some manner of peace treaty with Hope's Point," she said, taking another sip of tea. "There will be some amongst them that will be resistant to that and will cite public opinion for their reasons. 'Riots in the streets', they will say, non?

"However, if the citizens of New Pandemonium were to find the idea of peace between the cities more… agreeable, then the Committee might be more agreeable in turn."

"From my experience, 'agreeable' is hardly the word I'd use to describe the Committee," he said.

She chuckled lightly. "Oh, I am sure some of them will think of other excuses why such a proposal should never be agreed upon. From my understanding, Treasurer Vendetta would never agree to it even if he stood to make a substantial profit from the endeavor. Certain hatreds from deep, non?"

If anypony knew of what she was referring to it was Lockwood: Vendetta's downright loathing of one Virtuoso Fantasia, the former head of a rival crime family, who now lived in Hope's Point and was supposedly in a position of power there.

"I suppose they do…" he sighed. "So, what do you want me to do, exactly? Convince Mint and Matcha to run stories that paint Hope's Point in a good light?"

"Peut-être. I believe spinning some stories about citizens here in the city that share our viewpoint would also be acceptable, non? I think it might be best if I speak with the Tea Sisters directly so that we can work out some details."

"I can arrange a meeting, sure. But, uh… I think you're forgetting one thing."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Let's say, for the sake of argument, that you can convince the ponies of New Pandemonium to accept a potential peace between us and Hope's Point. Great. The Committee sees this and goes along with it, and brings it to Queen Blackburn's doorstep. Great. But how are you going to convince her? I'll remind you again that she hates this city."

"You mean, of course, besides your 'in' with Mademoiselle Thunderbolt?" Curaçao asked with a coy grin.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, an oddity that suggested he knew something she didn't, but she decided not to pry; he was, as always, full of mysteries. "Yes, besides that. Assuming that I did manage to get some sort of audience with the Queen so I could talk to her to help your peace proposal along, I don't know if I could possibly convince her to drop years of loathing so easily. Like you said, hatred runs deep. I'm good, but maybe not that good."

Curaçao grinned. "While you and the Tea Sisters are helping me on this end, I am already working on a method to help nudge things along on that end. As we speak, I have an agent in the field working to present a sort of… let us call it an 'image change' to the NPAF, as far as Hope's Point is concerned."

He raised an eyebrow at that. "An 'agent in the field'? What does that mean? Who?"


*****


Gargantuans. The apex predator of the northern continent, the absolute top of the food chain out in the arid Wasteland that separated New Pandemonium City and Hope's Point. A hideous, horrifying amalgamation of several different species of insects and arachnids blended together to make a creature that could handle the threat of any other creature they encountered, to the point that over hundreds of years they'd completely eradicated every other non-pony species on the continent, and ponies were only safe because of their well-defended cities.

The young ones, fresh from their eggs, were roughly twice the size of the average pony or larger. The adult males were larger than a house. The queens were twice that size. And despite their size, they were all faster than they had any right to be. 

They possessed a spider-like body structure and eyes, the scythe-like front claws of a praying mantis, the long, barbed tail of a scorpion, the tough exoskeleton of an ironclad beetle, the crushing mandibles of an antlion, a deadly venom strong enough to kill an adult pony in less than twenty-four hours, the ability to easily burrow through solid rock, and they could sense surface vibrations from creatures for up to a mile around. All of these features were magnified to the point of sheer lethality; they were killing machines through and through.

Worst of all, they'd steadily evolved a modicum of intelligence, enough to make them both clever and yet sinister, violent for the sake of violence and lacking in any matter of empathy. They killed for sport as often as they killed for food, they could and would feign helplessness to lure potential prey, and they would willingly end their own lives—for young ones, using their stinger would swiftly kill them, much like a honeybee—if it meant the death of another.

They were no longer animals in the eyes of nature. They were simply monsters.

And so, Havoc had absolutely no qualms whatsoever with exterminating them wherever they popped up. Like now, for instance.

She let out a fierce scream as she ignited one of her hooves in flame—a magical "superpower" imbued into her during her birth, despite being a pegasus—and launched a fireball down into the face of a young Gargantuan that was scampering across the dusty badlands. The fireball impacted and seared a hole straight through the bug's exoskeleton before exploding and spraying the vicinity with charred innards.

That particular Gargantuan was one of many that was currently pursuing a trio of ponies that fled across the Wastelands for the safety of the nearby Goldridge Mountains. It, like its brethren, had a taste for pony flesh due to its relative rarity; they normally fed on the weakest in their broods, but when ponies made their presence known then they were the ideal prey. And this trio of ponies, just a stallion, mare, and young colt—all earth ponies—were no match at all for such creatures.

Havoc proved that she was more than a match. Besides her deadly flame powers, she was a pegasus and thus had a distinct advantage; thankfully, male Gargantuans had never evolved flight capabilities. They couldn't reach her as she bombarded the field below with bursts of fire hot enough to melt right through them without fail; the young ones lacked tough enough exoskeletons to protect from the barrage. More mature specimens would be able to shrug these blasts off for a little while, but it was rare to encounter an adult this time of year.

She noticed one of the bugs getting a little too close to the fleeing trio, and so she swooped down to deal with it more closely; she couldn't afford to miss. She zipped in like a missile and, with her hoof coated in intense flame, collided with the bug to keep it away from its prey, knocking it aside before letting loose a gout of fire hot enough to cook it inside its own armor.

More of the bugs approached at blinding speed, undeterred by the threat she presented; they had no sense of self-preservation, only a thirst for blood. She kept them at bay by blasting fire along the ground to create a wall, buying her enough time to gain some distance for herself and the fleeing ponies.

When the remaining bugs tried to get through, clicking and clacking their mandibles as they went, Havoc blasted them in the eyes with more fire, and more, and more, until each and every one of them was dead, a literal mound of little more than seared bug flesh thrice as tall as she was.

Only once she was sure that there were no more of the things in the vicinity did she relax, taking a brief breath and removing her goggles to gaze upon her handiwork with pride. 

"Hot damn, this never gets old," she said aloud to herself. 

She turned to see that the trio of ponies had stopped only a few dozen yards away, clearly just as sure as she was that they were safe. Their coats were all different shades of white, and their manes assorted shades of blue and purple. They wore simple traveling clothes, and the mare was carrying their supplies at the moment.

"Oh, hey. You guys alright?"

The stallion, with the colt on his back, stepped forward and nodded; he looked exhausted, and had likely been running for some time at a full gallop with the extra weight. "We… we are now, Miss… thanks to you." The poor guy could barely breathe. "I… I thought for sure those things were… gonna catch us."

"You saved our lives," said the mare, stepping alongside the stallion to help the colt to the ground, easing the strain. "How can we ever repay you?"

Havoc shrugged. "Just doing my job here, folks, that's all. Can you believe I get paid to do this?"

"You… you get paid for this? Oh! You must be from Hope's Point, then," said the stallion with a grin. He turned to the mare. "See, honey? I told you they wouldn't just let folks cross the Wasteland without help."

"What's your name, Miss?" asked the colt. Havoc noticed he was holding an old-timey sort of camera.

Havoc reached her hoof to the side of her uniform, a drab gray affair that covered her whole body and would protect from small arms fire if necessary, and pulled a cigarette out of the pack she had hidden under her sleeve. She set it in her mouth, then lit it with her hoof; to the observers, it would look like little attachments on the ends of her sleeves were lighting the fire. 

After taking a brief puff, she gave the kid a grin. "Commander Havoc, NPAF," she said. 

"Wait, did you say 'NPAF'?" asked the mare. "You mean, you don't work for Hope's Point?"

"Nah. But hey, let's not stick around and chat, huh? You never know when more of these bugs'll pop up." She gestured for them to follow her east towards the mountains, and they did so without hesitation.

As they walked, the mare pressed the question. "So, wait… if you're not with Hope's Point, then why are you out here helping us? We thought the NPAF wanted to prevent ponies from leaving the city?"

"Yeah, well, things change all the time, don't they? That's why you guys are leaving the city, right? Something changed and so now you're moving elsewhere?" She gestured towards the smoldering pile of bugs behind them. "Looks like you folks ran right over a nest of these creepy crawlies, too. Didn't somepony tell you to stick close to the mountains?"

"We have been, but there aren't exactly any markers so I guess we got a little too far away when we tried to cut corners…" said the stallion, rubbing the back of his neck. "So, uh… thanks again, Commander."

"How'd you do all that stuff with the fire?" asked the colt, staring at the lit tip of her cigarette.

Havoc showed off the little attachment on the end of one of her sleeves. "New technology. We know these bugs resist gunfire except from higher caliber bullets, and the big ones even resist that, so we're testing out methods that can get through more reliably. Works like a charm, don't it?"

All a lie, of course, since the fire was all her, but average folks couldn't know that.

"Sure does…" the colt said with a little grin. "You burned those crawlies up good! Ooh! Can I take a picture, Miss Commander?"

Havoc blinked. "Huh? Oh, uh… sure, why not? Go ahead, knock yourself out."

The colt bit his tongue as he looked into the viewfinder of his camera. "Do a cool pose!"

"Ha! You got it, kid." 

Havoc struck a cool little pose, giving the camera the best smoldering smirk she could manage, cigarette still in her mouth. She didn't think the lighting would be any good out here in the wastes, but she was no photographer. Did the red of her coat come through okay? Did her mane—black with a white stripe down the middle—look windswept enough to be cool? Well, hopefully the kid would capture her essence. Her inner fire.

"How's this?"

The camera clicked and flashed. "Perfect!" said the colt with no small amount of giddiness. "I can't wait to get these developed!"

"Heh, kid's got a thing for photography, huh?" Havoc asked, turning to the stallion.

"Sure does," he said with a smile. He offered Havoc his hoof. "Name's Lemon Twist, by the way." He gestured towards the other mare. "This is my wife, Mint Sprinkle."

Mint smiled and nodded. "A pleasure."

"And our son, Spring Cheer."

The colt gave a little wave.

"Nice family you got there, Lemon," Havoc said, taking the stallion's hoof and shaking it. "C'mon, we're not far from the Checkpoint, and then you folks can take a load off until you're ready to keep heading east."

He nodded. "Lead the way."

True enough, the Goldridge Checkpoint was only a little more than an hour away, enough time for Havoc to prod the little family with questions and answer some herself. Lemon apparently had family that lived in Hope's Point now, having made the journey years ago… assuming they did make it. The two cities didn't communicate together openly, so Lemon had no way of knowing if they had made it safely or at all. If they did, well, they'd be his family's ticket inside, something he called a "voucher".

Once they'd traveled long enough, it was rather easy to notice the large, warm-looking building nestled at the base of the mountain pass that winded up into the Goldridge Mountains up ahead. The telltale sign of safety was the brief rumbles beneath their hooves as they walked, a rhythmic pattern of pounding noises that came from seismic generators placed nearby. The Gargantuans found the sensations deeply unpleasant, so even the adults gave the actual checkpoint a wide berth.

Havoc strode right up to the door and gave it a few short knocks without hesitation, even as the trio approached cautiously, apparently unsure if they were truly safe yet or not. The door was answered quickly enough by a large earth pony stallion with an earth-colored coat and a stone-colored mane.

He smiled when he saw Havoc and the ponies behind her. "Well now, if it isn't Captain Havoc. You find these folks out in the wastes?"

"You know it. And it's Commander now, actually. Got promoted for all the good work I'm putting in," she replied with a nod. 

"Ooh, fancy-schmancy. Look at you, moving up in the world."

"How you doin', Pewter?"

"Just fine, thanks for asking." He turned to the other ponies with her, putting on his warmest smile. "Come on in, folks, and take a seat in the common room for now. I'll get a bedroom put together for you in a moment and you can settle in for as long as you need."

"Much appreciated, Mister… Pewter, was it?" said Mint as she walked past Havoc and made her way inside.

"That's right, ma'am. And you are?"

Mint introduced herself, her husband, and their son.

Pewter smiled and nodded. "Well, a pleasure to meet you all. And hey, you've got some good timing, because I was just about to get dinner for the night started up. You can meet some of the other guests I've got in, maybe talk about traveling the rest of the way together. Trust me, the more the merrier when it comes to getting the rest of the way to Hope's Point."

"Will you be coming with us, Commander Havoc?" Lemon asked.

Havoc shook her head. "Ah, love to, can't. I usually just take these trips to the Checkpoint and back and that's about it. The NPAF isn't exactly welcome in Hope's Point airspace, y'know?"

"Aww…" grumbled Spring.

"That's a shame," Mint said, frowning. "We appreciate what you've done for us though, Commander, more than you could ever know. We'll make sure ponies hear about this."

"Hey, no trouble, guys. Just doin' my job," Havoc said.

"Well, it means a lot to us. So, thank you."

"You're welcome, then." Havoc gestured for the trio to head on inside. "Go on now, get yourselves rested up for the trip ahead of you. And think about what Pewter said, about traveling with the other ponies here. Safety in numbers, y'know."

"We'll certainly consider it."

As the trio left further inside, Havoc turned to Pewter. "'Other guests'?"

Pewter smiled and shook his head. "They're planning on leaving tomorrow, actually. They wanted to wait a little longer in case anypony else showed up, so this is a pretty great coincidence." His smile became more of a smirk. "To be honest, I think it's more that they heard about you and were hoping you'd show up and take them all the way. If you want, I could—"

"You know I can't, bud," Havoc interjected. "It's just not in the cards yet."

"Mmhmm, yeah, I get it. It really is a shame, though. I bet you could do a lot more good if you could make the full trip. There are threats on the other side of the mountains too, y'know."

"Well, you just let me know if things change so that I won't get shot flying in Hope's Point airspace, and I'll figure something out."

Pewter hummed and stroked his chin. "Y'know, a supply ship came in a few days ago to stock me up on foodstuffs, and I might have casually conversed with the pilot and his crew a bit about the state of affairs here over the past month or so. Seems that a few ponies that've arrived in Hope's Point have been talking about being rescued by a mysterious 'Fire Warrior'."

"Ooh, 'Fire Warrior'. I like the sound of that. So, casual conversation, huh?" Havoc asked, raising an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"Oh, y'know, just confirming if some mysterious pony has been doing just that: helping ponies. I might have let slip that there was a mare around that had some kind of new flamethrower weaponry going around saving folks from Gargantuans. Might've even let slip that she was in the NPAF, strangely enough."

"Aha, I see." Havoc shrugged. "Well, so long as you weren't saying anything bad about me, I guess I can let it slide."

"I might've told them you were a little shorter than I expected from somepony with your reputation."

"Hey, I'm only short compared to you, mountain stallion," Havoc quipped, poking Pewter in the chest. "You're bigger than most stallions I know. And besides, I'm not that short. I know plenty of mares shorter than me."

"Yeah, that's fair, I know somepony quite a bit shorter than you, actually. Shame she doesn't help folks cross to Hope's Point either," Pewter said with a sigh. "At least you've got a good excuse. She'd be a big help to ponies out here if she wasn't always in such a hurry. For somepony so obsessed with time she sure never seems to have any."

Havoc knew exactly who Pewter was talking about, but said nothing more; that would just raise questions she didn't exactly have the time or wherewithal to explain.

"Well, anyway, I'd better get back to base," Havoc said, adjusting her goggles over her face. "Take care, Pewter."

"Not gonna stay for dinner? I might just make some of that spicy black bean soup you liked so much last time if you stick around."

Havoc's stomach growled at the mention of it; she hated to admit it, but she loved Pewter's cooking. He'd make some mare really happy someday with the kind of skills he had over a stove. A shame he wasn't her type, really. Too bulky. Velvet would love him.

"Sorry, bud, can't," she replied. "If I don't get moving soon, I won't make it back in time for my reports." 

She gave Pewter a little salute, which he returned, then she leapt off and flew into the air, propelling herself faster with her flames to serve as makeshift booster rockets fast enough to cover the two-to-three-day distance from here to the Gate in less than half that. 

She'd still need to take a break at some point for a nap, but she could easily get back into the city well ahead of schedule so that she wouldn't be late for the Mid-East Rockets' next skyball game. The playoffs were fast approaching, and they were a shoe-in for sure. She owed it to Rainbow Dash to make sure the team got as far as possible.

Her newfound speed still didn't come close to the supersonic velocity that Dash was capable of, but she figured that if she just kept practicing every day, she'd make it there eventually. Her dad and Dash both seemed to think it was possible, so why shouldn't it be?

Once she was a fair distance away from the Checkpoint, though, she reached out with her mind to contact Curaçao. The telepathic bonding spell that Dawn had placed on her and her sisters was far stronger than she thought it had any right to be; instantaneous communication at this distance was practically impossible with the current technology available to New Pandemonium and Hope's Point. Just more of Dawn's showing off, as far as Havoc was concerned.

"Yo, Curie, this is Havoc reporting in. You busy?"

Curaçao took less than an instant to respond. "Oui, Curaçao here. How was your patrol today, Havoc?"

"Pretty good. Saved a small family out here like an hour or so ago from some of those creepy crawlies, easy peasy."

"Bravo, Havoc. That's the sixth group this month. I think we're making excellent progress, non?"

"I mean, if you say we are. You're sure this is gonna work? Not that I'm complaining."

"I do. Why, are you having doubts? You can tell me, ma sœur. I won't be upset; this is my plan, not Dawn's, so do not worry about being critical."

Havoc grumbled to herself. "Well, no, not really doubts. I mean, it feels pretty good and all to be helping ponies and everything, and like, it's super awesome having a chance to unleash the beast on these bugs, don't get me wrong. But from what I've been hearing, the NPAF ain't exactly on the top of Queen Blackburn's list of ponies she'd invite to a party, y'know? Top of her shit list, more like."

"Oui, I have heard much the same. But I believe this will help us get our hoof in the door, pour ainsi dire—ah, so to say. And if you're enjoying it, then what is the harm in trying, hmm?"

"Well, for one thing, I don't want some Hope's Point kill team thinking I'm trying something fishy and showing up to put a fucking bullet in my head, y'know?"

"That doesn't seem in character for Queen Blackburn from what I've heard so far. But if you are concerned, I can always find another method, non?"

Havoc paused, then shook her head. "Nah, that's alright. You know me, I'm just talking out of my ass worrying so much. Probably some holdover from Fluttershy's DNA or something, I dunno, I'm no scientist. You're right, this'll work. It's gotta work, right?"

"That's all we can hope for, oui. Now, if there's nothing else to report, Havoc, I will leave you to your flight. I believe you have a Rockets game in two days' time, oui?"

"Yup."

"Well, Shroud and I will be watching from home. And in case I don't see you before then, I wish you the best of luck. Bonne chance!"

"Heh, thanks, sis. Tell Shroud I said 'hi'."

There was a brief pause on the other end. "She says 'hi' as well. Safe flying, ma sœur."

Havoc felt the connection close, then let out a little breath and returned her full concentration to flying north again.
> Chapter Two: Trouble
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Six Months Later


Dawn sat at her desk in the early morning, sipping from a cup of coffee as she prepared herself for the day ahead. She'd been looking forward to today for weeks, and so had done everything possible to make sure that it would go perfectly, like she did every morning. She'd gotten a full night's rest after an early bedtime; she'd dressed comfortably, yet professionally, in her best dress suit; she'd had a hearty breakfast of toast with jam, a bowl of cereal and milk, half of a grapefruit, and a cinnamon sugar donut; she'd even taken a long, hot shower. 

Yes, today was going to be perfect, as anything she put her mind to tended to be.

For now, though, she still had some pre-meeting business to attend to.

"And you are certain that there will be no accusations of suspicious behavior?" she asked Admiral Hotstreak over their private connection.

"None at all, Miss Dawn, I can assure you of that," he replied with a nod. "You'll have my vote, and nopony will question it once I give my reasoning. Your father was crystal clear with me about how to proceed with this 'war' with Hope's Point, and I have done exactly as asked, and I have been prepared to move in a different direction at any time."

Dawn sipped from her coffee. "I must admit that I could find no records that could clarify what, precisely, my father's plans for Hope's Point were, or what he discussed with you pertaining to said plans. I would appreciate a brief summary of your conversations."

Hotstreak's mustache bristled. "You've surely reviewed the full capabilities of the NPAF fleet, haven't you?"

"I have."

"Then you're aware that if I wanted to, I could crush Hope's Point beneath my hoof within a single day. Our full repertoire is not known to anypony but myself, my most trusted officers, and you and those you decide to share it with." He leaned back in his seat and ran a hoof through his mane. "But your father did not want them destroyed like the others before them. The technologies they've invented interested him, and he felt it more prudent to let them grow."

Dawn tilted her head. "Are you implying that Hope's Point only remains unmolested because my father allowed it?"

"Not entirely, but that is a factor. The new Queen, Blackburn, is a wily one, and thanks to her thorough purge of our agents within the city, I can't even say if they've managed to improve upon their fleet enough to withstand a full-blown war with us. I'll give her credit; she managed to impress your father."

That gave Dawn pause. Anypony that could truly impress her father was somepony worth keeping an eye on, for one reason or another.

"And you are certain that nopony else on the Committee is aware of this information?" she asked.

"Apart from Blutsauger and Champagne, nopony knows the truth, and even they are not as completely as informed as you and I are. They think our numbers are far less than they truly are, so they'll buy it when I explain why I'm voting in favor of ending the war. They won't like it, but they'll buy it."

"Excellent. If you are confident in these proceedings' success, then I am as well. I will see you at the meeting, Admiral."

He gave a brisk salute. "Until then, Miss Dawn."

Dawn ended the video call and leaned back in her seat. Yes, things seemed to be looking to go exactly as planned. She wondered if her father often had this kind of feeling when—

Then, her computer alerted her to an incoming call. Dawn raised an eyebrow when she saw who was calling, so she answered it right away. "Treasurer Vendetta, to what do I owe the pleasure?" she asked.

Vendetta had dressed impeccably in a tight-fitting suit, surely in preparation for the upcoming Committee meeting. He was always well-groomed, but Dawn noted that he seemed to have put some extra effort into his appearance today. She couldn't quite place it. Maybe it was the rose boutonniere? Or maybe it was that the lighting of his conference chamber appeared slightly dimmer, as if only lit by candlelight. How peculiar.

"Miss Dawn, I assure you, the pleasure is all mine," he said with a winning smile. "Might I say that you're looking positively lovely this morning? Is that a new manecut?"

Dawn's hoof briefly went to her mane, which was styled as it always was. "No, I always style my mane in this manner. I last had it trimmed two weeks ago."

"Ah, of course, of course, sei bellissima come sempre, how could I be so foolish as to assume you could alter perfection."

"Well, while I appreciate the compliments, Treasurer—"

"Per favore, mia cara, there is no need for such formality when we are speaking privately. Just 'Vendetta' will do."

"I must insist on retaining a professional atmosphere at all times, Treasurer Vendetta," she said simply. "All conversations over Committee channels, even private conversations such as these, are considered a formal matter as far as I am concerned. I believe that I have mentioned this before?"

His smile faltered slightly, but he swiftly recovered. "Come desideri, mia cara, I remember. But if I am understanding you correctly, you mean to tell me that if we were to conduct a meeting through other channels that there would be less need for professionalism? Such as a meeting outside of the office?"

"I suppose that would be an accurate interpretation, yes."

"Indeed? Well, buono a sapersi—good to know. I shall keep that in mind for the future. Ah, but I'm afraid that it is nearly time for the Committee meeting, yes? I will let you go for now, my dear, but I'll be seeing you soon." And, with a wink, he ended the call.

Dawn shook her head. The Treasurer was an odd one, that much was true. Nopony else on the Committee was so quick with a compliment or a smile, even the three members secretly loyal to her. Not to say that they didn't compliment her or smile, no, but it was always from a purely professional standpoint regarding her brilliant plans and decisions. Only Vendetta ever complimented her appearance. Strange indeed.

Nevertheless, the meeting was starting shortly, and so Dawn pressed the keys necessary to get the conference call open. Within moments, her screen filled with the images of the other Committee members, all of whom looked well-rested for the meeting. Vendetta, she noticed, had better lighting in his chambers now than he had before, and he had removed the boutonniere from his suit. Again, peculiar.

"Members of the New Pandemonium City Committee, welcome. If there are no objections, I would appreciate the opportunity to begin immediately with a proposal that I wished to present before this panel."

There were no objections. There rarely were.

"Excellent. Then let us proceed." She cleared her throat. "My proposal is thus: for decades, our fair city has been at war with the city of Hope's Point at the southern precipice of our northern continent. Despite our military's best efforts, however, we have yet to see substantial positive results, and have squandered resources totalling in the billions of bits."

Vendetta's mouth curled in a little grin. "If you're asking for additional resources to throw at Hope's Point, Miss Dawn, you don't really need to ask. Your predecessor's handling of the situation ensured that we could funnel as many resources as needed into the war."

"I am afraid you misunderstand my proposal," Dawn interjected. "I am not requesting anything regarding the engagement in further hostilities with Hope's Point. On the contrary, I am seeking to bring an end to the conflict once and for all, not through military action, but through diplomacy. Members of the Committee, my proposal is for a cessation of these hostilities with Hope's Point. I wish for peace."

The members of the Committee all started speaking at once, expressions a mixture of disapproval, confusion, and downright anger. She knew that Blutsauger, Hotstreak, and Champagne's reactions had been rehearsed, but they certainly seemed genuine, at least enough to fool the other four members.

After allowing them to try shouting over one another for a minute, however, Dawn interrupted the Committee with a firm "Enough!" 

Everypony went quiet. 

"Members of the Committee, a proposal has been outlined before you, and it is within our guidelines that it be brought to a vote forthwith. Thus, you each may present a case for or against the proposal, and may cast a vote, 'Aye' or 'Nay'." She turned her attention first towards Secretary Quill, who by the guidelines mentioned always had first privilege for debating. "Secretary Quill, the floor is yours. What say you?"

Quill adjusted his glasses which had fallen askew in his sudden state of shock, then sniffed loudly before speaking. "Miss Dawn, I am of the opinion that this is a terrible idea in every sense of the word. The sheer magnitude of adjustments that will need to be made in a multitude of fields within the city bureaucracy to accommodate a peace agreement with Hope's Point is, well… it's ludicrous, is what it is."

Dawn tilted her head. "How so?"

"Well, for one thing, there are dozens upon dozens of bylaws nested throughout our city's law enforcement guidelines that entail the acquisition of intelligence related to Hope's Point, be it from spies, informants, smugglers, saboteurs, etcetera. Throwing away all those lines in the legislature isn't a quick or easy matter, and I'll need to bring this to the heads of every single bureaucratic system to weed them all out. That will take years, and that's just one aspect of my disapproval."

"So you're voting against this proposal because you're lazy, is that it?" Champagne scoffed.

"If that's how you want to interpret my words, far be it from me to deny you your opinion, Champagne," Quill retorted. "I merely say this because the timeline for a possible peace treaty is so far off that it's likely things may change in the interim and this vote is moot. For all we know, Hope's Point could launch an attack tomorrow, and we'll just vote to go to war again. This is a waste of time."

Dawn hummed. "Hmm. Cast your vote, then, Secretary."

Quill snorted. "Well obviously, my vote is 'Nay'. The sheer amount of pony-hours needed to filter through our entire legal and administrative system will grind the rest of our bureaucracy to a halt, and likely for nothing. There's no reasoning with those pirates."

"One vote for 'Nay' it is." Dawn turned towards Blutsauger. "Doctor Blutsauger, the floor is yours. What say you?"

Blutsauger leaned back in his seat and stroked his chin. "Before the new Queen forcefully removed all of our agents within Hope's Point, they had been delivering many reports on the advancements being made within the city, ja? Particularly the medical fields."

He leaned forward now, a wide smile coming to his face. "There was talk of advancements in cybernetic and bionic technomagic, for instance. Can you imagine it? Ponies with artificial limbs to replace those lost in accidents, or from illness or birth defects, even from malicious attacks. It has taken decades to finish prototyping similar technology, but the ponies of Hope's Point already have it! And it works better than anything we've tried!"

"How does this impact your vote, Doctor?" Dawn asked, doing her best to seem impartial; her purpose was to put forward proposals and mediate, nothing more.

"Well, I figure that if we can't steal it anymore, what with all of Queen Blackburn's security measures, why not share it, ja? Peace between our cities might just lead to a sharing of technological and medical advancements. It can only improve our way of life, as far as I can tell, so I see no reason to deny progress. My vote is 'Aye'."

"Then that is one 'Aye', one 'Nay'," Dawn said with a nod. "Taskmaster Concrete, the floor—"

"I vote 'Nay'," Concrete grunted.

Dawn blinked. "I see. Is there a particular reason why?"

"Yeah: fuck Hope's Point, that's why." Concrete shifted in his seat, like a mound of gelatin. "I've spent forty years of my life being told and seeing evidence for myself that that city is nothing more than a cesspool of the worst sorts of scum, and I haven't seen any evidence otherwise. Just a bunch of deranged pirates obsessed with putting an end to our way of life."

Champagne chuckled. "Haven't you been keeping up with the New Pandemonium Times, Concrete? They've printed several editorials lately that shine new light on Hope's Point's checkered history. I've heard the most recent polls suggest that public opinion is shifting away from that old dogma."

Concrete grunted again, sounding more pig-like every time he did. "First of all, everypony knows by now that those two Tea Bitches are almost guaranteed sympathizers for Hope's Point."

"There has yet to be evidence to suggest that that's actually true," noted Director Underhoof. "My department has been investigating them for years, and all of the connections we've uncovered are purely circumstantial. Not enough to prosecute or arrest them, unfortunately."

"Either that or you and your agency have gone soft on us, Underhoof," retorted Concrete. "So you'll forgive me if I don't give two shits what the New Pandemonium Times has to say about the subject. Just a load of bullshit straight from the horses' mouths. If it were up to me, I'd have had those two silenced ages ago."

"Well, luckily it's not your call," Underhoof snorted.

Dawn took mental note of Concrete's reactions thus far. She'd known that he'd maintained a staunch anti-Hope's Point stance for years, but this was a little much. Even if—no, when—this proposal passed, he might be a thorn in her side. It would be worth keeping tabs on him beyond the usual monitoring.

"Second of all," he continued, "fuck public opinion. Like I give a shit what a bunch of unwashed plebs think about things they don't understand. We're not publicly-elected officials, so we don't have to listen to anything they have to say unless we think it's gonna cause trouble. Opinions might be shifting, but I guarantee you that we'll see riots in the streets from the ponies that don't support the change."

"Very well, Taskmaster, you've said your piece," Dawn said, maintaining a calm tone. "Two 'Nay' votes, one 'Aye. Chairpony Champagne, the floor is yours. What say you?"

Champagne smiled. "I believe it would be in our city's best interest for me to vote 'Aye'. Hope's Point was built where it is because of the abundant natural resources present, from oil and coal to iron and gold, not to mention the proximity to the ocean. Our own resources are drying up, so we'll be forced to expand outward within the next century if we want to prosper, I guarantee it.

"So, the way I see it, we could keep this war going and hope that we can defeat Hope's Point and then take their resources, or, we can establish peace negotiations with them and work out some trade agreements and acquire these materials without the unnecessary loss of life. I don't even think the idea should be up for debate, to be honest. It's just common sense."

"Then that is two votes each for 'Aye' and 'Nay'. Treasurer Vendetta, what say you?"

Vendetta leaned back in his chair, clearly deep in thought as he stared right at Dawn through the monitor. "Before I say anything, I want to know, signorina, is this truly what you want? Peace with Hope's Point?"

"It is. I foresee no other way for our city to prosper into the future by continuing this war, especially if the only motivation to continue is due to outdated misinformation and potentially misguided biases."

"You say that you believe this peace will help us prosper, but I don't think you really have any idea what a disaster this would present to our city's livelihood." Vendetta leaned forward, tapping his hoof on the table. "Do you know what our city's most valuable resource actually is? I'll tell you. It's not oil, or water, or copper, or anything like that.

"It's ponies. Tax-paying ponies. Every decision this Committee makes depends entirely upon funding, whether it's voting on adjustments to the bureaucracy, building a new row of apartments in the Mid Districts, digging for iron near the Redblade Mountains, developing a vaccine for a new strain of hoof rot, researching a new weapon, or investigating all these missing ponies over the past few months. They all require money.

"Now, that money doesn't just come out of nowhere. It comes from the pockets of ponies all over the city, rich and poor, young and old, healthy and sick, male and female." He jabbed his hoof on the table rapidly. "Everypony. Pays. Taxes. Even us."

Dawn grunted. "I believe we are all aware of that fact, Treasurer. What is the intent of this spiel?"

"What do you think will happen when the ponies find out they can freely move down south to Hope's Point because we're at peace? Hmm? Or maybe they'll go further south, to the southern continent? To the 'land of opportunity'? You know what'll happen?"

Champagne rolled her eyes. "I think we get the gist—"

He ignored the interruption. "It means less funding because there are less taxpayers. We can't arbitrarily raise taxes afterwards, because then more ponies will leave. The public will start demanding we increase taxes on the upper class. We can't afford to do that, either, because then they'll leave, and suddenly the city's economy will tank because there aren't a bunch of rich snobs buying things they don't need."

"And if the economy tanks, so does your pocketbook," Champagne said, tapping her own desk. "Don't try to act like you're against this because you care about the taxes or the taxpayers. You care because all the businesses you own will lose customers. This is about your own bank account."

Vendetta chuckled darkly. "And?" He turned his attention back to Dawn. "If you think my motivations are selfish, so be it. But my vote is 'Nay' on this issue regardless of what anypony thinks, because my point still stands."

Dawn nodded. "Very well. Three for 'Nay', two for 'Aye'. Admiral Hotstreak, the floor is yours. What say you?"

Hotstreak bristled his mustache. "The NPAF has been fighting with Hope's Point for decades, that much you all know. I'll be honest in saying that the fight has not been going as well as we'd hoped. We have had exactly one successful attack over the years, but I've come to realize that that one victory ended up hurting us more than it helped.

"With the death of King Stormchaser, his daughter Blackburn became Queen, and she has done more in these past five years and some months to counteract our efforts than her father and grandfather before her did in thirty combined. We've lost every single asset in the field that could provide us with information, as Director Underhoof will no doubt tell you."

Underhoof nodded. "That is correct, all of the CIA agents we had positioned in the city were discovered within weeks of her taking the crown and exiled from the city under threat of death. A mocking gesture, the way I see it. She could've just killed them, but by setting them free with what information they still had, she sent us a message. She's not afraid of us."

"What's more," Hotstreak continued, "the death of Queen Silver Glow in that same attack caused quite a ruckus on the southern continent, for she was a firstborn daughter of the lord of a prominent noble house. It took us twenty years to negotiate trade with the south for real food, and one day to burn that bridge to ash. The prices we pay for goods now are unsustainable."

"If those backwards hicks are causing trouble, I don't see why we don't just take the fleet down there and make them give us what we want," argued Vendetta. "What are they going to do to your ships, Hotstreak? Throw spears and rocks?"

Hotstreak sighed. "A transcontinental war would be unwise. Northern ponies don't know the intricacies of agriculture, so we need the southern ponies to do that for us. They can't do that if they're all dead. 

"Not to mention that keeping the ships fueled and armed for such a war would realistically cripple the city's economy. Only Hope's Point has the technology to cross the Belt of Tranquility safely with the majority of their fleet; I can only send the biggest ships, and those aren't cheap to use."

Vendetta scowled. "I'm aware of the costs, Hotstreak."

"Let the Admiral speak, please," interjected Dawn.

"Thank you, Miss Dawn." Hotstreak shook his head. "At any rate, billions of bits have been thrown at Hope's Point in the past five years alone, all to no avail. Public opinion of the NPAF has soured because of our seeming inability to deal with our only enemy. And frankly… I agree with them.

"I believe that it would be in the best interests of the city if we no longer waste resources on a war that we cannot win without such costs. Hope's Point has proven itself a capable rival, and I think I agree with Doctor Blutsauger and Chairpony Champagne that we would stand to benefit from a peaceful relationship. Together, we might even have the resources to settle the rest of the Wasteland and drive out all those damned bugs. My vote is 'Aye'."

Vendetta's jaw dropped. "You can't be serious."

"Do you doubt my reasoning, Vendetta?"

"No… I don't doubt your reasoning, but I question your judgement. I have invested millions in NPAF weapon development, and you're telling me that you want to just… just stop?"

Dawn was certain she saw Hotstreak smirk. "Oh, that's right, I'd almost forgotten that you were one of our biggest investors. A pity."

"So that makes the vote three against three," Dawn said with a nod. "Director Underhoof, it would seem the tie-breaking vote is in your hooves. The floor is yours. What say you?"

Underhoof ran a hoof through her mane. "I'll be honest, I wasn't expecting to even need to vote under this kind of pressure. I thought for sure that Hotstreak would be against this… but I see where he's coming from, even if I don't necessarily agree with the sentiment."

"At least you see reason, then," Vendetta huffed.

"Like Concrete, I've been a firm believer that Hope's Point is the enemy for many, many years. I spent the last years of my training as an agent when the war was still relatively new. I trained alongside ponies that infiltrated the city and attempted to sabotage their growth. I still remember when we landed our first big blow against them, by assassinating Stormchaser's wife, Blue Blitz, when he was still just the Prince.

"But… I think that Hotstreak might actually have a point, especially with the situation as it is currently. The NPAF and CIA have spent billions of bits together in efforts to deal with Queen Blackburn's new policies, and have come away with nothing. And given the recent reports of disappearances through some of the Mid Districts, I'm beginning to wonder if it might be better if I had more resources to direct inward."

"Then just ask for more funding," Vendetta said, sounding almost desperate.

"I think it would just be simpler to stop wasting that funding on a cause that isn't going anywhere, to be honest. Cut our losses, make amends." Underhoof shook her head and turned her full attention to Dawn. "I'm not a fan of this proposal of yours at all, Miss Dawn. There is a huge risk involved if Hope's Point decides to take advantage of this, and without ears on the ground there I can't be sure if that's even in the cards. Queen Blackburn likely holds a grudge."

"My proposal will not require a sudden and complete cessation of activity, I assure you," Dawn said. "I acknowledge that it will not be a swift or easy endeavor, either, but if we vote 'Aye' on this issue, then we can begin that process, and discuss together what exactly that will entail."

Underhoof paused a moment, then leaned back in her seat and nodded. "My vote is 'Aye'. Let's see if we can make this happen."

"The 'Ayes' have it, then," Dawn said, resisting the urge to grin. "This Committee has voted in favor of a peace proposal for Hope's Point."

Vendetta threw his hooves in the air and slammed them on his desk. "I don't believe this. Questo è ridicolo!"

"The votes have been cast, Treasurer Vendetta," Dawn said firmly. "This peace proposal will transpire, regardless of your disapproval. I must remind you of Committee guidelines, however, that your cooperation on the approved proposal is a requirement to retain your position. I trust there will be no further outbursts?"

He took a few deep breaths, visibly grinding his teeth together. "No… no more outbursts, signorina."


*****



One Week Later


Curaçao wasn't really sure what to expect when she arrived at the little diner in Mid-South that afternoon, especially since she'd arrived first. She'd dressed for the occasion in attire appropriate for the district, which meant nice but not too nice. She knew Lockwood would be dressed as he always was—it would be concerning if he didn't—but that wouldn't present a problem here where the dress code was more lax. It was a little odd that he was late, actually, considering he had the habit of always being early.

When he did arrive, though, Curaçao had to do a double-take, just to be sure it was him. He was dressed the same, certainly, but he didn't look quite as tidy as usual. A brief examination of his clothes told quite the story, though. The bits of dirt and mud on his jacket and fedora suggested that they'd been on the ground. Likely thrown, actually, and while he was still wearing them, if the little scrapes on his legs were any indication.

"Hey, sorry I'm late," he said as he took his seat across from her. "Been bit of a hectic day."

She nodded. "Oui, I can see that. What happened? Your call sounded urgent."

"Yes, well, it kind of was." He sighed and rested his face in his hooves. "I think 'hectic' is probably selling it short, actually. Today has been… awful. No, terrible."

She pushed her glass of water over to him—she hadn't partaken in any yet—and gestured for him to take it. He did so, taking a big drink before setting it back down and letting out a breath.

"Okay, so… you already can probably guess what's happened," he said, leaning back and running a hoof over his face. "Long story short, though… Vendetta happened."

Curaçao raised an eyebrow. "Treasurer Vendetta?"

He nodded.

She paused for a moment, then sighed and nodded back. "I see. I cannot say this is a total surprise, but it's still unexpected. C'est dommage."

"Huh?"

"I expected a temperamental response from Treasurer Vendetta when Dawn's peace proposal was passed through last week. I did not expect his temper tantrum to trickle down to your level, but, well… here we are, so apparently I misjudged the situation. My apologies; I could've warned you."

He raised an eyebrow. "The peace proposal got passed through?"

"Oui, c'était un succès complet."

"Well, at least something good came from all of this, then. It was worth getting chucked out on the street."

"Nevermind that now. You're not hurt, are you?" she asked, tilting her head to get a good look at him and setting her hoof to his cheek.

"No, nothing serious. Like I said, I just kind of got tossed out of the apartment with all my stuff," he said with a shrug. "Luckily I can fly, right?"

She smirked. "You're taking this awfully well, mon ami."

"Eh, it's not the worst thing I've been through. Physically, anyway. A bit demoralizing, though, to tell the truth. Made me feel like a belligerent drunk at a bar. Only without the screaming."

"So, he kicked you out of Southeast Point, hmm? You've been the landlord there for, what, six years?"

"Give or take, yeah. Had a pretty good run, but I guess I pushed my boundaries a little too hard lately."

She leaned forward, steepling her hooves in front of her. "Tell me exactly what happened."

He removed his hat and set it aside. "Well, to be brief, Vendetta said something about trimming through his investments and finding everything he could that was a potential loss. The apartment complex is generally a good investment… unless somepony happens to have swung through a few loopholes to get six tenants an apartment rent free for a month. Especially when they just up and vanish after the first month's lease."

Curaçao sighed. "You always knew that would get back to you eventually."

"Yeah, but I don't regret it, not one bit. Rarity and her friends were in desperate need, and I was in the perfect position to help. I enjoyed my time with them in any case, and thanks to that I met you and your sisters too. Absolutely worthwhile."

"So, you were no longer a good investment for him, and he cut you out of the picture."

"Basically. I'll count myself lucky that he never figured out just how close I was with Virtuoso, otherwise we might not be having this conversation."

She shook her head. "You treat escaping death like a minor inconvenience. Je suis ébahi."

He shrugged, and took another drink of water. "I assume he's been doing this sort of thing all week, then?"

"Oui, very much so. Havoc is… not pleased. I don't think I could do justice in words to express just how angry she is."

He raised an eyebrow. "Havoc? What does this have to do with… oh. The Mid-East Rockets. Don't tell me he—"

"Dissolved the team entirely, oui," she said, shaking her head. "Metaphorically-speaking, of course. Apparently going undefeated for an entire season isn't good enough for him to keep the investment going, so now they're all off the team and out of work. For now, anyway. I'm sure they'll bounce back."

"He's that shaken up by this peace proposal? I don't get it."

"He has investments all over the city, non? Especially in the NPAF weapons development. If there is to be peace—"

"Then the weapon development is a huge investment loss, and he's just trying to make sure he doesn't lose everything when the market shifts." He chuckled and shook his head. "What a scumbag. I've been waiting to say that for years. It feels good to say it, now that he's not my boss. Scumbag."

She nodded. "Oui, but we have gotten sidetracked. You were fired, oui, I understand, and I sympathize, but I do not understand why you called me so urgently. You do not need money or a place to live, seeing as you have Captain Flathoof and his family to fall back on, non?"

"I didn't call you for anything like that. I just figured that you'd want to know what was happening with me since it'll probably affect our ability to communicate going forward. Kind of like giving the post office your new address so you can keep getting mail."

"I already have the phone number and address for Flathoof's home, Monsieur Lockwood. Contacting you shouldn't be any trouble at all."

"Oh, I'm not moving in with them," Lockwood said, poking the table with his hoof. "Do you have any idea what that'd do?"

"I cannot say for certain, non."

"I know this city's tax codes inside and out, and I know that having me—an unemployed stallion with no job prospects—moving into their home is going to cripple them financially, and at a time when they definitely can't afford it. Just another thing I can thank Vendetta for."

She raised an eyebrow. "Hmm, I don't see why that would be a problem, either. It wouldn't be for very long, maybe a few days at most. Aucun problème du tout."

"Huh?"

She smiled and gently patted his hoof. "I happen to know that your funds should be more than enough to make your trip down south to be with your beloved Thunderbolt again. It's just a matter of arranging the trip, and I can put you in contact with the right ponies."

"I think you underestimate how much I have saved up, Curaçao."

"I think you underestimate how much a trip will cost considering how much you have. You could almost afford a one-way trip and passport for seven… ponies…" She froze, drawing back in her seat and giving Lockwood a frown. "Oh. I see."

He tilted his head. "See what?"

"That you're not just saving up for yourself, are you? You're saving up to move your entire family. I had always wondered why it would take you this long to save up the funds needed to move, and was even more confused when I looked into your bank account."

"And why, might I ask, have you been looking into my bank account?"

"To see if you might need a helping hoof in making the trip south, of course," was her quick reply. "I already told you, you're an important piece in making this peace proposal work."

"Really now?"

"I know it isn't fair to view you in such a way—I do consider us friends, after all—but the fact is that making peace between New Pandemonium and Hope's Point is of utmost importance. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I'll be honest, it wouldn't be the first time I've been used as part of somepony's political plans," he said with a slight grin. "Okay, yeah, you caught me. I've been saving up for years because I'm not about to leave for greener pastures and not bring along my adopted family. They took me in at a time in my life when I needed them most, and I don't think I could ever repay them enough for it. But I can try."

"D'accord, je comprends. You have stayed here longer than needed just to bring them with you. Vous avez un grand cœur, mon ami." She slapped the table briefly. "Well, I think I can arrange a transfer of funds into your account to make up the difference by the end of the week, and we can start making the other arrangements needed for tickets and—"

"Oh no, no no no, I'm not about to let you do anything of the sort," he said, firmly setting his hooves on the table. "I'm not a charity case, and neither is my family. We work for what we've got, thank you very much."

She narrowed her eyes. "Oh, believe me, I am well aware of that. Gray has been quite clear with me about how much it upsets her that she can't provide any help to Flathoof because he refuses to accept it. You're all very proud and stubborn, bravo."

"Look, it's not—"

"You're only short a few thousand bits, Lockwood. If not for Vendetta's little outburst, you'd be able to afford the trip within three months. I am offering you the money that Vendetta has robbed you of, which I will note he only did because of the actions of myself and Dawn."

"But—"

"Furthermore, this money isn't free. You will be working for it, obviously. Consider it a commission."

He tilted his head. "Huh?"

"Dawn got the approval for the peace proposal last week, but she and I knew that it would take months, maybe a year or more, before we could even begin arranging a proper diplomatic visit. Until today, I was under the impression that we would be sending you, and only you, as a sort of… première vague, let's call it. A first wave.

"Now, however, I see an opportunity that cannot be ignored. If you're bringing your entire family with you, then where is the harm in you bringing along a friend as well? Somepony that might be interested in speaking with this Thunderbolt, for example, and possibly arranging a meeting with Queen Blackburn herself?"

Lockwood blinked. "You're serious. You want to piggyback off this trip to try and make a diplomatic visit?"

"It wasn't in the cards until Dawn got the proposal approved, and I wasn't sure how to go about it when it was just you going. I am well aware of the process for traveling from New Pandemonium to Hope's Point, whether by land or by air. You need somepony called a 'voucher', but exceptions are made for family and very few other circumstances. I wasn't confident in sending somepony with you by yourself. But with your family? It could work."

"I suppose it could." Lockwood took a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling. "Alright, you've convinced me. I don't like taking money from others like this, but I don't think you're going to let me leave here without agreeing, are you?"

She grinned. "You know me so well, Monsieur Lockwood."


*****


Curaçao had met Lockwood's adopted family once before, almost a year ago in fact, though they had never actually met her. She still remembered them quite well, and how well they'd treated her disguise, Cadet Gumshoe. They were a nice sort, the kind of family everypony should want to have. The kind of family she wanted to have, sometimes.

The father was Stouthoof, a tall, robust earth pony stallion—apart from Lockwood, they were all earth ponies—with a pale yellow coat and a brilliant red mane. The mother was Shortcake, a slightly plump mare with a pale orange coat and a long, curly orange mane. Then there came the children, starting with Flathoof, the eldest. After that were Thickhoof, a pale gold stallion with a rich brown mane, who sadly was confined to a wheelchair. Then was Pattycake, a dead ringer for Applejack apart from how she styled her mane in a bun and lacked the freckles. The youngest was Shorthoof, a colt that looked just like his father.

When she and Lockwood arrived at the house, the family was just getting ready for dinner—she'd insisted on taking a long lunch and delaying their trip so that the entire family would be present, including Flathoof. They all seemed rather surprised when Lockwood arrived, more so that he'd brought a guest. For now, though, it was just the heads of the household—and Flathoof—chatting in the living room while the younger members of the family set the table.

"Lockwood, honey, you know that you are always welcome at the table for dinner, lunch, or anything," Shortcake said with a smile as she greeted him with a big kiss on the cheek. "But you also know that you need to call first. I think we've got enough for you and your guest, but I would've made more if I'd known."

"It's okay, Shortcake this was sort of a spur-of-the-moment thing, and it would've spoiled the surprise," Lockwood said.

"The surprise? What sur—" Shortcake then suddenly gasped and beamed at Curaçao. "Oh my goodness, is this your fillyfriend? Oh my stars and garters, she's beautiful. You really know how to pick 'em, dear."

Lockwood's face turned entirely red; Curaçao saw Flathoof out of the corner of her eye barely stifling a laugh, and had to resist the urge herself. 

"Wh-what?" Lockwood stammered. "No, she's not my—"

Stouthoof clapped Lockwood on the shoulder. "And about time, I say, son. A good-looking stallion like you ought to have had plenty of fillyfriends by now, but I knew you'd find the right one for you eventually." He nudged him gently. "And not a bad pick, either, you lucky dog," he said perhaps a little too loudly.

Shortcake took Curaçao's hoof. "Oh you simply must tell us how you two met. A gorgeous mare like you, hmm, maybe at one of Lockwood's charity dinners? You must be a fashion model of some sort."

"C'mon, guys, stop it," Lockwood huffed. "She's not my fillyfirend, okay? She's not interested, trust me."

"What? She's not?" Shortcake turned on Curaçao quickly, dropping her hoof and fixing her with a hard look. "And what's wrong with our dear Lockwood, hmm? Is he not good enough for you?"

Curaçao grinned. "Well, not exactly, no. He's not a mare for one thing, Missus Shortcake."

"Oh?" The hard look vanished instantly. "Oh! Oh, I am so sorry, I didn't mean—"

"It is quite alright. I cannot blame you for assuming. Lockwood and I are quite good friends and business partners, so we spend an inordinate amount of time together." She turned to Flathoof and gave him a small nod. "Captain Flathoof, good to see you again."

"Likewise, Miss Curaçao," Flathoof said with a nod in return.

"Well, seeing as you're interrupting dinner, it must be for a good reason, son," Stouthoof said with a grunt. "I'd accept 'new fillyfriend' but now I'm not so sure."

Lockwood nodded. "A very good reason, actually. I've got news for everypony." He took a deep breath. "Okay, so this is going to seem sudden, but like I said: surprise. I've been saving up money for a few years now, and thanks to some lucrative investments with Miss Curaçao here, I've saved up enough that… well, I can afford passports and tickets to Hope's Point."

Shortcake raised an eyebrow. "Hope's Point? Honey, you never told us you were saving up for a trip."

"It's not a trip, actually. It's one-way only. And, uh… it's not just me. I have enough for everypony. Seven passports, seven tickets, all completely legitimate. We leave next week."

Stouthoof's jaw dropped. "What."

Shortcake shook her head. "You… you're serious? You bought tickets for the family to leave for Hope's Point? Enough for all of us?"

Lockwood nodded. "Yes. The flight's booked for next week and everything, like I said. We're getting out of this city."

"Son of a—" Flathoof pressed his hoof to the bridge of his nose. "Dammit, Lockwood, you know you can't just spring that on us! You're asking us all to just uproot our lives on a whim!"

"I know, it's a lot to take in—"

"It's a lot more than 'a lot'!"

"And on such short notice!" Shortcake blurted. "There's not enough time to do everything we need to do for a move, honey. We have no idea what we're even getting into."

"We never planned on moving," Stouthoof grunted. "We've never looked into what sort of life we can expect in Hope's Point. You never even asked us if we wanted to leave."

"I know, I know, it's sudden, it's big, it's unexpected, but… it's going to be for the best, okay? I know you haven't had an opportunity to consider it, but trust me when I say that it's better than here. You'll all have opportunities in Hope's Point that you'd never have in New Pandemonium. I promise, you will not be disappointed."

"What about our jobs?" Flathoof asked, gesturing between himself and his father. "Are you able to guarantee we'll be able to earn a livelihood down there? I know you know a lot of ponies up here, pal, but—"

"I can guarantee that you will not have to worry about finding work," Lockwood said firmly, so confident in fact that Curaçao felt it in her soul. "There will be something there for you that will make you happy. I swear it."

Flathoof blinked and shook his head. "How? How can you be so confident?"

Lockwood took a breath. "I can't give you specifics right now, but let's just say I know somepony there with a lot of pull that can make sure that whatever you all want to do when we get there, you'll have opportunities provided to you.

"Look, I've been planning this for years, okay? Almost six years, in fact, and I've gone over everything: every possibility, every positive, every negative, every risk we're taking. I didn't do any of this lightly, not in the least, and I've accounted for anything that could possibly happen.

"Let me be blunt: are you guys happy here?" he asked, gesturing around the house. "You don't need to tell me, because I already know. None of you are satisfied with your lives as they are now, not entirely. Oh sure, there might be a bright spot here or there, but I've spent years watching this family, my family, struggle for no good reason.

"Thickhoof isn't happy. He lost the use of his legs because of a freak accident at work because the pencil pushers at the top just wanted a quick profit. Shorthoof isn't happy at school because he's having trouble making friends, and the growth spurt didn't help. Pattycake hasn't been able to find work for a year now despite all the money you spent on a degree."

He gestured around the house again. "And look at this place! I know it's home, but we can all see that it's falling apart. The money it's gonna cost to get it fixed up is completely out of your range; it'd be cheaper to burn it down and hope you find a new house elsewhere with the insurance money.

"Now, if anypony here can tell me, honestly, that I'm wrong, and that you're happy here where you are, I'll accept that and we can be done with this whole idea. And if anypony here can tell me what they think would be a better solution to raising this family up and giving you all a new chance at life, I'd be glad to hear it and I'll support it with every ounce of my being. But if you don't…" He took a deep breath. "Then come with me. Please."

There was a long silence in the room, broken up only slightly by the occasional clatter of a dish from the dining room. Curaçao could tell that the kids were very carefully eavesdropping, and couldn't blame them.

"You're absolutely certain of this?" Stouthoof asked, giving Lockwood a hard look. "Believe me, son, I want nothing more than to provide a better life for my family, but I'm not about to go off on some half-cocked scheme down south like so many other ponies before us unless I'm certain it's a good idea."

"I am absolutely certain of this, sir," Lockwood said with a nod. "I know it's a lot to take in all at once like this, and I know it sounds too good to be true, but I've never given you a reason to doubt me before, have I?"

"No, you haven't." Stouthoof sighed and nodded. "You already bought the tickets and everything? No refunds?"

"Everything's taken care of already. And yeah, no refunds."

"Alright then, it looks like we're moving." Stouthoof took Lockwood's hoof in a firm shake. "I know you wouldn't steer us wrong, son. I trust you."

"Oh my goodness, this is all too much too fast," Shortcake said, flustered and fanning herself with her hoof. "I need to go wash something. Excuse me." And off she went towards the kitchen. Curaçao could hear the sink start running.

"Well, we'd better get back to dinner before things get cold. You two are welcome to join us if you'd like." And with that, Stouthoof headed off towards the dining room.

Flathoof sighed and turned to Curaçao. "And what's your role in all this, anyway? I don't buy the whole 'investments' excuse, obviously."

"I provided the last of the bits needed—only a few thousand—in exchange for a favor," Curaçao said simply. "What that favor is, though, is between myself and Monsieur Lockwood for now, Captain, but trust me when I say that we have everypony's best interests at heart."

He snorted. "I suppose that'll have to do. Does Gray know?"

"At the moment… no, she does not. I felt it would be better for you to tell her, oui?"

"Yeah… I suppose I should." He turned to Lockwood. "You're crazy, you know that? Absolutely crazy."

Lockwood smiled. "I guess I am."
> Chapter Three: Together
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


One Week Later


New Pandemonium City's airport was located in the southernmost sector of the city, located adjacent to the Gate District that served as its entrance and exit. The surrounding architecture was quite different from the rest of the city. Instead of towering skyscrapers made of black steel and red concrete, the structures and streets here were made of durasteel and colored silver. There wasn't an ounce of filth or smog to be found, and the air smelled faintly of a hospital: sterile and clean.

If Havoc wasn't so used to the living conditions in Pandora Tower, she'd find the place mildly disturbing. It was just so unnaturally neat and tidy, uncanny in a way she couldn't really describe. Even the Inner Districts weren't this clean, and that was saying something considering how the rich elite tended to live in their ritzy penthouses with abundant public servants to clean up after them.

She'd dressed for the occasion, which meant wearing her casual clothes that she wore on a typical day-to-day basis when she wasn't out in the Wastelands exterminating bugs. The outfit was simple: a classic black varsity jacket with her initial on it, with a white t-shirt beneath that. It wouldn't do to be wearing her military-issue gear along for the journey; she hadn't even packed it.

She just had to remember not to use her fire powers at all on this trip, since they were supposed to originate from her gear's "experimental weapon system". No problem, she figured; when would she have the desire or opportunity to use them anyway? She brought a lighter with her if she needed a smoke, so there shouldn't be any other reason to light up.

At the moment she stood alongside Dawn and Curaçao as they waited for Gray to say her goodbyes to Flathoof and his family while they made ready to leave. She could only just barely hear the conversation over the hustle and bustle of the crowd around them by the airport entrance.

"You don't have to stay here, you know?" Flathoof said, holding Gray's hoof in his own. "I'm sure arrangements could be made so that you could come with us. Curaçao seems pretty resourceful."

Gray shook her head. "It's… complicated right now, I think. She told me that they're already pushing their luck with the arrangement as it is. Me coming along too might screw things up for what they're working on."

He sighed. "Are you sure there's nothing anypony can do? I don't like seeing you upset like this."

"Just… just drop it, okay? It's not your fault, and I don't want you and your family to feel down just because I'm not coming along. I'm sure something can be figured out eventually." She looked at the rest of his family with a sad smile. "You guys all take care of yourselves down there, okay? Everything I've heard makes me think you'll be much better off than you are in this dump."

Shortcake put a hoof over her heart. "Oh, Gray, honey, I wish there was something we could do. You've been so good to all of us, especially to my son. You're a part of this family as far as I'm concerned," she said, giving Flathoof a look that he seemed to consciously ignore. "Maybe not officially, yet. But still."

"You're going to be okay here, right?" asked Stouthoof.

Gray smiled and shook her head. "Don't worry about me, okay? I'll be fine where I am. I just want the best for all of you." She let out a breath. "But, uh… I'd better let you guys all get going. You've got a flight to catch. Most important flight of your lives."

"We're gonna miss you, Miss Skies," said Shorthoof. He was the only pony Havoc knew that was allowed to call Gray that.

"You too, little guy," she said back with a grin as she tousled his mane. "Keep up with your schooling, yeah?"

Pattycake pulled a small package out of her bags and passed it to Gray. "I made this for you last night, Gray. I figured that since we're leaving this dump, I wouldn't need to save up a lot of money. So, I spent what I had on getting the ingredients. They're your favorite cookies: classic chocolate chip. Real chocolate!"

Gray smiled and took the package under her wing. "Thanks, Pattycake. You didn't need to do that for me."

"Sure I did. You're like the big sister I never had, and sisters take care of each other."

Havoc noticed Gray tense up a little and… was she tearing up? "Yeah. That is what they're supposed to do…"

Thickhoof offered Gray his hoof. "Don't look so glum, Gray. You'll see us again, I'm sure of it."

Gray took his hoof and gave it a firm shake. "Yeah… someday soon, I hope." She then turned to Lockwood. "And you, you'd better take care of these guys for me, alright? You've already done more for them than I think anypony could, but I'd better not find out they're anything but happy after all this."

Lockwood chuckled. "I promise, this will all work out in the end, for everypony. I've taken care of everything." He tilted his head slightly. "I'm… sorry things didn't work out perfectly, though. I thought for sure—"

"It's not your fault, bud. You're just looking out for your family." She clapped him on the shoulder. "Things'll work out eventually. Just… not yet."

"Well, take it from me when I say that I firmly believe you'll all be reunited again. I happen to know a pony who was separated from their partner for quite a long while, but eventually they made it back to one another." He gave her a wink. "I'm sure it won't take quite so long in your case, though."

"Heh… thanks. And hey, no more risky business," she added. "I don't want to hear that you locked yourself in a room with a criminal again any time soon."

"Depends on your definition of 'criminal', I suppose," he replied with a mischievous grin, as if he'd just told some inside joke that nopony understood but him.

Flathoof took Gray's hoof in his again. "I'll do whatever I can to keep in touch with you, okay? I'm sure something can be arranged once we all get settled in. I promise."

"I know you will," Gray replied with a nod. "Once I figure things out, I…" She paused and gulped. "I'm just… at a loss for what to do now. I finally thought I had things figured out, but—"

Flathoof leaned in and as if it were totally normal kissed her right on the lips, ignoring both the withering stare from Havoc and the kind grins, giggles, and looks of approval his family was giving him. Havoc wanted nothing but the best for her sister, and hoped that Flathoof wasn't getting fresh with her just to look good in front of his parents.

"Don't stress out over it," he said when he pulled away. "We'll figure things out together. Okay? This isn't goodbye, not for good."

She nodded. "Okay…" She then cleared her throat. "Well, you guys better get going. I'll see you around." She then swiftly turned and walked towards Havoc and the others, pulling up her hood in the process so that nopony could see her face clearly. It looked like she was barely resisting the urge to cry.

"Don't worry, sis," Havoc said, reaching up to pat her sister's shoulder. "We'll get things sorted and make it all work out, I'm sure of it."

"Thanks, Havoc," Gray muttered.

Curaçao cleared her throat. "I'm sorry things had to work out this way—"

Gray turned on Curaçao in an instant. "Save it. I don't want to hear how 'sorry' you are. You got what you wanted out of all of this." She poked Curaçao in the chest hard enough to push her back. "Next time you want to play your political games, though, let me know if it's going to ruin the only good thing I have going for me."

"It's not too late to trade with me," Havoc offered, glad that Gray wasn't mad at her for all this. She'd had nothing to do with it so she didn't see why Gray would, but she was glad all the same. Gray was scary when she was mad.

"Don't bother, Havoc," Gray snorted. "You've got your own role to play in this bullshit too, just another pawn in the game. I wouldn't want to step on anypony's hooves."

Dawn huffed and leveled a glare at Gray. "Gray, your attitude is unbecoming. This situation requires a delicate touch in order to advance our agenda, which I remind you was our father's last wish before his ascension."

"Don't bring Dad into this, dude," Havoc chided.

"I am in firm agreement with Curaçao's decision; her plan is sound. Your opinion on the matter is irrelevant." Dawn stuck her nose in the air. "I think an apology is in order."

Gray just stared at their youngest sister in disbelief, then shook her head and walked off without another word.

"Gray! Apologize to your sister this instant!" Dawn hissed, probably to avoid drawing attention.

Curaçao set her hoof on Dawn's shoulder. "Don't worry, Dawn. I will talk to notre soeur privately. She is upset with me, and I do not blame her one bit. C'est ma faute, après tout. I am the one who needs to apologize, and I will take it upon myself to make amends with her."

"I disagree wholeheartedly. She is acting in an irrational fashion. I do not understand why Captain Flathoof's departure would cause such a hostile reaction." Dawn shook her head. "Regardless, there is no changing the situation as it is now. Make her see reason, Curaçao. I will not have her acting this way when I return."

Curaçao looked slightly uncomfortable with the lingering aura of command with which Dawn had said "Make her", but nodded anyway. 

Havoc ran a hoof over her face, in complete disbelief that her braniac sister was so stupid sometimes. "Speaking of departures, are you sure Gray can't just trade with me? I still don't understand why I have to go. You guys know I'm not the diplomatic one no matter how you toss it."

Curaçao gave Havoc a small smile. "Do not sell yourself short, ma sœur. You've spent most of the past year building a good reputation for yourself, and for us. I'm certain that a chance to meet you would be quite an enticing prospect for the queen and her councilors, even if you don't. We need all the good will we can get."

"Fine, fine, I get it. But why does she need to come too, then?" Havoc asked, gesturing dismissively at Dawn.

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Because if anypony is responsible for negotiating diplomatic ties between our city and Hope's Point, it should and will be me. Her Majesty Queen Blackburn will require a pony in a position of power to negotiate with, and there is no more suitable candidate than the Committee's Shadow Associate."

"Oh no, I get all that shit. My question is why do you need to come?" Havoc gestured at Curaçao. "You can just shapeshift into her, right? And you already know more about this Blackburn chick than anypony else, and you're actually friends with Lockwood. Seems to me that you'd be more suited for this."

"That is not how I desire this situation to proceed," Dawn said through gritted teeth. "Curaçao will remain here and impersonate me in front of the Committee. Beyond that, there are other assignments ahead of her that she must be present here to complete, and thus she cannot depart."

"So that's it, then? I'm stuck going on this trip with Dawn because there's no other way?"

Dawn glared. "If it troubles you that much, sister, I would not object if you preferred to remain here."

"Oh, I bet you'd love that," Havoc snorted.

"Did I stutter?"

Curaçao sighed and pressed a hoof to her temple. "Je suis entouré de poulains. Both of you, please, just… could you at least pretend to tolerate one another for a few weeks? S'il vous plaît?" She looked at Dawn especially now. "Remember, this is Papa's last wish for us."

Havoc narrowed her eyes at Dawn. "Oh, you can count on me to make this whole plan of yours work, sis. I think I've proven myself reliable enough, even if Dawn doesn't think so."

"Proven yourself as a violent barbarian capable of slaughtering mutated arachnids, perhaps," Dawn retorted. "But if our sister believes that your presence will improve these diplomatic proceedings, then I will make an attempt to tolerate your boorishness for a time, so long as you do not embarrass me."

"You'll do that just fine on your own, you stuck-up—"

"I think it's about time to board the flight," Curaçao interjected, putting a hoof over Havoc's mouth. "Best of luck, both of you. I have utmost faith in your success."

Havoc and Dawn continued to glare at one another for a moment, then they both grunted, grabbed their suitcases, and headed off after the Hoof Family for the docking hangar. From there, it was just a matter of boarding the airship and taking their seats, following along with the rest of the crowd of well-to-do ponies, some of whom had nearly as much luggage as the entire Hoof Family combined.

The airship itself was hardly an impressive sight as far as Havoc was concerned, but the Hoof Family, save Flathoof and Lockwood, seemed to have quite the opposite opinion, gaping at the contraption like it was something truly wonderful. Really, it was nothing more than a giant, rust-colored box with rudimentary wings and engines that would let it achieve flight, and that wasn't an exaggeration; they had the unofficial nickname of "boxship" for a reason. 

Havoc had glimpsed a few Hope's Point airships over the past few months, and those looked much more impressive.

The inside of the ship was even less impressive than the poorly-maintained exterior was. Havoc had never been on one of the city's buses before, but knew their reputation as dirty, cramped vehicles that made you wish you could walk just a little faster; she was glad she could fly wherever she needed to go, even with the stupid air traffic laws. This airship was so tightly-packed and unclean that she started to feel her claustrophobia acting up just a little. She was positive the stain on the floor in front of the aisle where her seat was was dried vomit that had been shoddily cleaned.

And it was crowded, packed to the absolute brim with other ponies. Havoc knew some of them were just rich snobs going on vacation, with maybe a few here and there being traders that would stock up on goods to fly back on a cargo transport. Maybe, just maybe, there would be a pony here that was doing the same thing she and her traveling party were doing: making a trip to Hope's Point. Most did it by land, but some could afford to go by air. In either case, it was unpleasantly warm in the passenger cabin, and obnoxiously noisy, and even just a little bit smelly.

"This is so exciting," said Shortcake as she took her seat, barely able to squeeze into it next to her husband thanks to her… gifted figure. "I can't believe we're really doing this. Oh my stars, my heart is pounding." She started fanning herself excitedly. "So exciting!"

"Have either of you ever been on one of these things before?" asked Stouthoof, turning to Dawn and Havoc. "Figured I'd ask, since we don't know you too well yet. I'll admit, I'm just a little nervous flying on an airship for the first time. Us earth ponies prefer to stay on the ground."

"This will be my inaugural experience with flight, actually," Dawn said with a polite smile. "Apart from some rudimentary spellwork to attempt flight in a similar vein to pegasi, of course, which was unfortunately a pale imitation of the legitimate ordeal and met with uninspired results."

Stouthoof blinked. "I have no idea what you just said, but you said it so politely that I've gotta assume it was supposed to be reassuring."

"It's my first time on one of these too," Havoc said with a nod before Dawn could open her mouth again. "But I'm used to flying, so I'm not bothered by it. You'll be fine, though, I'm sure of it. Rich ponies take these flights all the time, right? It can't be that bad if they keep going back and forth for vacations."

And then the flight started, and Havoc immediately regretted her reassurances. The flight was, in a word, bumpy. At first the passenger cabin shook and rumbled like a chariot riding along a particularly old cobblestone road that was in desperate need of maintenance. This was no trouble for Havoc, nothing worse than flying on a windy day out in the Wastelands. 

Dawn, she noticed, did not share that sentiment at all, and in fact looked just a little pale.

Havoc leaned over and set her hoof on Dawn's shoulder. "Hey, you're not feeling airsick, are you, sis?" she chortled.

"N-no," Dawn muttered. "Just… just some slight discomfort. It will pass in time."

This ordeal went on for hours, surprisingly. Finally, Havoc could see out the small window that the ship had passed over the Wastelands and made it to the ocean. Impressive time in a vacuum, considering an average pegasus would take four days at a minimum to make the same flight, assuming minimum time taken out for breaks and sleeping. Rainbow Dash might be able to make the entire flight in a single day, maybe a day-and-a-half; Havoc had timed herself on the same trip and managed it in just over forty-eight hours at her best.

I'll catch up to you one of these days, Dash. I swear it.

Then, an announcement came over the cabin's loudspeaker. "Attention passengers, this is your captain speaking. We are now approaching the Belt of Tranquility and will be activating our defensive shields. Please fasten your seatbelts, as things might get a little bumpy."

If what was coming was considered "a little bumpy", Havoc wondered what the hell the captain would say to describe the trip so far.

Havoc watched everypony in the cabin do as they were instructed, and she followed suit before returning to looking out the window. She'd only ever seen the Belt from a distance, where it looked like nothing more than a far-off storm across the planet's equator, but she knew that it was something much less mundane than that. 

As they approached, she got a good, clear look at it, and saw it was much, much more than just a storm. Yes, there were dark storm clouds across the entire horizon for as far as she could see; yes, there was plenty of lightning and at an alarming frequency. But more than that, there was fire. Great, swirling vortices of flame that streamed up and, to Havoc's surprise, followed the ship. The lightning did much the same, she noticed, visibly snaking through the clouds towards the ship as though it were alive.

And with each strike, she saw a flash of gold shimmer outside the ship as its energy shields protected the vulnerable metal box from harm. Mostly, anyway. The impact was still substantial enough that the entire ship shook violently with every lash of flame and bolt of lightning. To Havoc, it felt like the most severe turbulence she'd ever experienced, but nothing too terrible.

The rest of the Hoof Family were in various states of unrest, however. Shortcake clung desperately to her husband, looking legitimately frightened by the whole ordeal. Stouthoof kept a stonish expression on his face as he held his wife's hoof, but Havoc could see in his eyes that he was just as scared. Thickhoof had sunk into his seat and was staring straight ahead, eyes wide with concern. Pattycake had closed her eyes and clenched her teeth, apparently hoping the sensations would go away. Shorthoof, surprisingly, had his mouth open in awe as he bounced about, like he was on a rollercoaster, looking like he was barely restraining himself from cheering.

Flathoof and Lockwood's reactions surprised her as well. The former kept the same look on his face that his father had, only with much less fear in his eyes. Havoc wondered if he had ever flown with Gray before and thus had a little experience with rough flights—Gray was not the acrobatic flyer she was, after all. Lockwood, as a pegasus, should've been handling this all about as well as Havoc, but he looked about as spooked as Thickhoof was, honestly. What a creampuff.

Then, a glance at Dawn told Havoc that the Hoof Family were made of some pretty stern stuff, relatively speaking, because to Dawn this was clearly a truly horrifying experience. Her face was ghostly white, and sweat was trickling down her temples like it was a sweltering summer day. She clutched the rests alongside her seat with a vice-like grip, hard enough that her hooves were digging into the cushion. She was breathing so rapidly and heavily that Havoc thought her lungs would just pop right out of her chest at any second.

That's when Havoc got an idea. A wonderful, awful, no-good, terrific idea. "You're sure you're not feeling just a liiittle airsick, sis?" she asked with a sinister grin.

Dawn licked her lips. "I… am fine. Thank you."

"Hmm, I dunno, it kinda looks like you could just, I dunno, hurl at any second now," Havoc said, leaning in close to Dawn's ear. "Y'know, just puke your guts out right here. Get a little throwup action going on—"

Dawn instantly put her hooves over her stomach; Havoc could hear the sheer discomfort oozing from every fiber of her sister's being. "Please… do not talk about—"

"Say, you're the smart one, maybe you'd know what other words there are for vomit?" Havoc muttered, tapping her chin without dropping her grin at all. "Blow chunks? Spew? Get sick? Toss your cookies? Ooh! I know just the one." She then made a mocking retching sound right in Dawn's ear. "Barrrf!"

Dawn's stomach rumbled, and without a word she unbuckled her seatbelt and sprinted for the airship's restroom. She moved at a speed that Havoc was certain would make even Rainbow jealous, a magical field over her mouth to keep it all in. Satisfied with her mischief, Havoc set her hooves behind her head and leaned back with a content sigh, taking advantage of the sudden, substantial increase in leg room, then closed her eyes and drifted off for a little catnap.

Dawn did not return until almost an hour later, shortly after the airship finished crossing through the storm. 

Havoc had already woken up by then and let Dawn into her seat without a fuss. "Feeling better?" she asked with the best shit-eating grin she could manage.

"You are contemptible, and I despise you…" Dawn mumbled without looking at Havoc, her face still as pale as a sheet and drenched with sweat.

The ship landed a couple of hours later, but before it did, Havoc got a chance to look out the window and catch a glimpse of the southern continent's coastline for the first time. To say she was awed wouldn't do it justice. It was just so… green. Like nothing she'd ever seen before or had even imagined. There were vast fields of grass as far as the eye could see, dotted with trees—real trees of all species—that stood as tall as houses and then some.

The ocean here was different too, not the sickening greens and purples of the northern sea, but a healthy, vibrant blue with calm, soothing waves rather than a frothy, stormy mess. The sands on the beach were a bright white rather than the dirty browns of the northern continent's coastline, and the colorful ponies down below sat on colorful towels and under colorful umbrellas that were clear and easy to see from even this great distance.

And then there was the sky, clear and blue with fluffy white clouds. More than that, there was the sun, a brilliant burning orb that hovered high in the sky. It was so bright that Havoc couldn't even look directly at it without hurting her eyes, but she wanted to do so all the same. Even through the window she could feel the delightful warmth, and marveled at the sunbeam that shined through into her lap and pleasantly toasted her legs.

For the first time, Havoc understood why ponies really wanted to come down here. It was… beautiful. She was almost sad that she'd be going back across the equator soon to make for Hope's Point, which could never hope to compare to the southern lands no matter how good it was. She hadn't even disembarked from the airship yet and she already felt freer than she'd ever felt before. She couldn't wait to smell the air.

She noted that the port town of Newhaven was nowhere near as advanced technologically as New Pandemonium was. The tallest buildings she could see were barely two stories high, and they were all made of old-world materials like wood and stone. It was like stepping into a storybook about a world long gone, and yet here it was right in front of her.

But then, there was the actual port, which was just as advanced as the city she remembered, and it was here the airship landed, finding an open-top docking hangar to descend into with ease. From there, it was a simple matter of disembarking from the airship and making their way into the port's large transitional area, which contained wide corridors that led to all of the other docking hangars.

The air, by the way, smelled… indescribable. There were scents in the air that she'd never smelled before and couldn't put to words. She'd smelled some of the north's attempts to replicate these scents with air fresheners, but there was no equivalent to real grass, real pine, real seawater, all of it together in a medley of sheer legitimacy that would burn a hole in Havoc's brain forever.

Havoc watched the Hoof Family with amusement. Even Flathoof, who had looked at the airship earlier like just another piece of everyday technology, seemed amazed by what he saw here. The family pressed themselves against the glass windows of the corridor to look out towards the town in the distance, eyes wide with wonder as they saw the same things that she'd seen from the airship window but from much closer.

"It's so green!" said Pattycake with awe. "I never knew there was so much green anywhere in the world!"

"Is that really what the sky looks like?" asked Shortcake, tugging his mother's blouse. "Is that what it looks like behind all that orange stuff back home?"

"Maybe it is," answered Shortcake, sounding every bit like she hadn't the slightest clue and was just as curious. "Wow… this place certainly is amazing, isn't it?"

"Tell me again why we're not staying here?" asked Stouthoof, nudging Lockwood.

Lockwood tilted his head. "I mean, you can, eventually, if that's what you want to do. I won't blame you if you want to come live here in the south after a while." He shook his head and grinned as he looked out the window. "Seeing it for yourself is… a lot different than just hearing about it. I honestly can't believe it after everything I've heard over the years."

"It looks a lot like how Applejack used to talk about her home, doesn't it?" Flathoof muttered, scratching his chin. "Kind of makes you think…"

"Oh! Do you think we could visit Applejack?" Pattycake blurted. "She moved back here earlier this year, right? I'm sure she'd love to see us. I know we've got to go back north soon, but maybe we can come visit later?"

Lockwood, Flathoof, Dawn, and Havoc all shared the briefest of glances. "I'll see if I can figure something out," Lockwood said, covertly tugging at his collar. "The southern continent is huge, you know, and they don't have the technology we do up north that would make it easy to find out where she is. Like finding a… what was the expression? A needle in a haystack?"

"Oh yeah, it might be super hard to find her," Flathoof said with a sagely nod. "We'll worry about that some other time, though. We're not supposed to be here long, are we? Maybe in a few years after we get settled in our new home and everything."

Lockwood glanced at his watch and nodded. "Speaking of which, our flight to Hope's Point is scheduled to land in about twenty minutes in Hangar Nine. We should get a move on so we're not keeping anypony waiting."

"Oof, not even enough time for lunch, huh?" Havoc asked. She smirked and nudged Dawn in the ribs, gently enough not to hurt but hard enough to notice. "What a shame, right sis? Maybe get a little grub on and fill that tummy up for another flight?"

Dawn audibly gulped. "I believe it would be prudent to embark upon our flight and subsequently dine after landing at our destination. And perhaps not broach the subject of sustenance, for that matter, until such a time."

"Are you going to be alright?" Thickhoof asked, tilting his head. "You look a little pale, Miss Dawn."

"Aw, she'll be just fine," Havoc chuckled. She shifted her look towards Lockwood. "Well, lead the way, Dreamboat. You seem to have a better idea where we're going than anypony else."

Lockwood mouthed "Dreamboat?" to himself silently, then shook his head and gestured with his wing for the others to follow. "Well, alright everypony, follow me. I mean, this is my first time here just like all of you, but I got some pretty good directions from my contacts so I think I've got it all figured out from here."

Havoc didn't mind what anypony might think about her nickname for Lockwood, really, but if anypony other than him noticed they didn't comment on it. She knew well enough by now from Curaçao's reports that Lockwood was off the market. She was totally over him by this point, anyway. 

Well, maybe not totally totally. She couldn't help herself from checking out his cute ass as she followed behind him towards the hangar, and usually found herself staring at those pretty golden eyes of his whenever she got the chance. Whoever this "Thunderbolt" mare was that had snagged him first was a lucky bitch, that much was for sure.

The hangar bay they arrived at was currently empty, so they proceeded to the small waiting area nearby and checked in with the dock worker before taking some seats and waiting for their ride. Five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen. 

At almost twenty minutes to the second, an airship arrived. It was a large, gold-colored aircraft with an elongated oval shape, currently with a pair of V-shaped wings jutting out of the top that retracted into the ship's hull so that she could fit into the hangar safely. Just watching it land made it look more sophisticated than the boxships could hope to be.

The landing gear deployed and the ship descended the final few feet with a loud hiss and a satisfying thunk before coming to a complete stop. Havoc and the others gathered their things and made their way towards the ship just as the boarding ramp was deploying, but honestly, Havoc couldn't help herself from voicing the one opinion she had about their new ride:

"What a piece of junk," she groaned.

Indeed, the ship was not as impressive as she'd been hoping. The metal wasn't neither sleek nor shiny, and frankly looked like it had seen better days. The New Pandemonium boxship they'd taken on the way here had been more impressive in her mind, and that was what was most disappointing. After all, Hope's Point had a reputation for having better, faster, nicer ships in its fleet, right? She'd seen some herself, albeit from a distance. Is this what they all looked like up close?

"Y'know, I'm inclined to agree," Flathoof said. "You're sure this is our ship, Lockwood?"

"Oh, absolutely sure," Lockwood replied with a grin. "Don't let looks deceive you. I may have never flown with any of Hope's Point's pilots, but their ships have a reputation for being the best. Smoothest flights you could ask for. They just look like this to better blend in for smuggling runs up north."

"A perfectly logical method of subterfuge," Dawn said, sticking her nose in the air. "And you are… ah, certain that they possess a reputation for smooth flights?"

"Well, unless I've been lied to for the past decade, yeah, I'm pretty certain." Lockwood paused, then chuckled lightly. "Oh, uh… fair warning though, the pilot we have today is a bit on the… eccentric side. Don't let him rile you up, alright? He means well. Big heart, bigger mouth."

Speaking of which, from the boarding ramp descended the pilot. He didn't so much walk as he sauntered down it, a large grin on his face. He was a pegasus stallion, and a tall one at that with a larger-than-average wingspan, a goldenrod coat, and a golden-brown mane that he kept utterly untidy. He wore some sort of form-fitting bodysuit that reminded Havoc of her old skyball uniform; his was colored green with a green lightning bolt on the front and on each hoof, plus some goggles that he'd just tucked up over his head.

"Lockwood, Lockwood, Lockwood! I never expected to see your face out here," he said, the quickness of his voice not matching his baritone at all. Without stopping for an answer, he grabbed hold of Lockwood's hoof and gave it a few solid shakes. "So good to see you!"

"Briarthorn, you old pirate, how are you?" Lockwood replied with equal enthusiasm, like two old friends that hadn't seen each other in years. Which Havoc figured they very well could be.

"A-yo ho ho, you know, same-old same-old. Well, not entirely same-old. Ish. I don't know if you've heard any yarns spun about this, but over the past, like, six months or so? Seven, maybe? Nu-nu-nu-nu, uh-uh. Nine. Nine months. Yeah, the past nine months have been weird, old buddy. Straight-up mysterious."

Lockwood tilted his head; Havoc knew he was well-informed and had to play along. "How so?"

"Security up north has been a little… I dunno, lax? Sloppy? Like seconds? Just kind of… of…" Briarthorn then completely stopped talking and stared off into the distance for a long moment, as if fixated on a particularly interesting section of sky. Havoc checked; there was nothing there.

Lockwood raised an eyebrow, then snapped his wing in front of Briarthorn's face. "'Kind of' what, Briar?"

Briarthorn shook his head slowly, as though coming out of a trance. "—my sort of party, last week, maybe! But you and me, Lockwood, we're— yeouch! Mah tongue!"

As he sputtered, Lockwood blinked with concern. "Briarthorn... uh, you okay there, buddy?"

"I bith my faborith thongue!" Briarthorn said, waving his hooves frantically.

This time, Lockwood gave him a dead-eyed stare.

Briarthorn pulled his tongue back into his mouth, chastened. "What, wait, we weren't talking about something important, were we?"

"Yeah, you were talking about security up north, right before sort of losing your train of thought."

"Huh. Ye— well, sure. Right, right. So… yeah. It's been oh, way way easier to deal with the security patrols up there for… mmmooost of the last year. Ol' Queenie's trying to figure out why, but get this: she's at a loss! We all know how rare that is."

"I don't, really," Lockwood said.

"Lucky for us, Queenie said it wasn't a bad loss, just a weird one. And boy howdy, it is weird, yknow? Kinda like they just don't give a shit anymore." Briarthorn froze as he looked right at Shorthoof. "Darn. Give a darn. Sorry, didn't know we had innocent ears around. Whoops! I'm a baaad role model."

"I know the word 'shit', mister," Shorthoof said with a smile.

"Shorthoof!" huffed Shortcake, grabbing his ear. "You watch your language." She turned to Briarthorn. "Sorry about that, Mister Briarthorn."

"No trouble 't'all, ma'am. My ears can either take it, or they've already taken it, in which case I couldn't hear it!" Briarthorn clapped his hooves together. "So! You all must be Lockwood's lovely, lovely family. No need for introductions," he interjected, lifting up a hoof when Shortcake started to speak. "We put together a full dossier when Lockwood contacted us. Let's see…"

He pointed at Shortcake first. "Shortcake, the mother." He bowed his head slightly. "A pleasure, ma'am." 

"A pleasure to meet you as well," she replied with a smile.

He then pointed at Stouthoof. "Stouthoof, the father. A pleasure, sir."

Stouthoof nodded. "Likewise, son. Nice ship you've got there. It got a name?"

"Of course! Behold!" He gestured towards the ship like it was the grandest thing in all the world. "My Thunder. My heart and soul, my eternal waltz through sky and sea, and here's where the guitar starts and— oh, right. Yup. That's her. Ain't she a beaut'?"

"She honestly looks like she could use a new paint job," scoffed Pattycake. "And a tune up."

Briarthorn pointed next at her. "Ah, ah ah, nope, that's all intentional. Battle scars worn proud. She's perfect the way she is, au naturale. Would you 'tune up' a visionary painting? Hmm? Would you give a paint job to a captivating opera?"

"Uh, shouldn't those be the other way around?"

"Nooo! You don't ruin art, darling, and the Thunder is a work of art. A masterpiece of the grandest scale, yes indeed. A gift from the gods!" He then smiled and nodded. "You must be Pattycake, the sister. A pleasure."

He then pointed at Thickhoof, then Shorthoof, then Flathoof in quick succession. "And you three are the brothers, Thick, Short, and Flat Hooves. Hoofs? Hoovers. Super nice to meet you all, really. Lockwood's been a pal to me for years, just a real peach, a bucket of chum, a… uh… nutty buddy…?" Again, he froze up, tilting his head to stare off into space for a moment.

He seemed to recover on his own and went right back into it without missing a beat. "But look, honestly, I don't know a whole lot about you all other than your names. The rest of that information is with our security and intelligence divisions. All the super-duper hush-hush secret spy stuff, yessir."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Mister Briarthorn," Flathoof said, taking and shaking Briarthorn's hoof. "We're in the same boat, actually: Lockwood never mentioned you to us before."

Briarthorn gasped loudly, hoof over his heart, and wheeled on Lockwood as fast as Havoc had ever seen a pony move. It was a wonder that he didn't get whiplash. "Lockwood! You rascal! You hoodlum! You utter reprobate! You mean to tell me that you haven't been spreading legends of my legendary escapades to your family? They're the stuff of legends!"

Lockwood raised an eyebrow. "No, because I thought keeping the identity of Hope's Point agents confidential was of paramount importance."

"Oh. Right." Briarthorn deflated and returned to his smiling self just as quickly as he'd dropped it. Again, a wonder he didn't get whiplash. "Well! All is forgiven, then, in that case, pal-o-mine-o. Hey-o, I guess this gives me the opportunity-o to tell stories about my daring-do's and daring-don'ts myself, doesn't it? Perfect, just perfect. More than perfect. Yes, yes, this will be wonderful."

Briarthorn then wheeled on Dawn. "And… hello!" He then paused, drew back, and scratched his head. "I… don't know you. Do I? No, I'm pretty sure I don't. Wait! Yes I do, you're—"

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance," Dawn said, offering her hoof. "My name is Golden Dawn. And no, I am absolutely certain that we have not encountered one another prior to this meeting."

"Golden Dawn, hmm? A very lovely name, certainly wakes you up inside," he said with a nod, taking her hoof gently in his. "You're certain that we haven't met before? Absotively posilutely certain?"

"I can recall every individual that I have ever come into contact with, but you are not one of them," she replied, tilting her head. "Perhaps you encountered somepony that shares a physical resemblance? A pale imitation, I assure you, but out of millions of ponies, surely at least one other possesses my exact hues of coat and mane coloration."

He nodded sagely. "No no no, you're absolutely right, of course. We can't have met. Silly me. I always remember a pretty face, and yours isn't ringing any bells, but I daresay we've readied a remedy for that pretty quickly, haven't we? And you, mmhmm, I can see you've got a certain… vibe around you. A presence. Like… an aurora about you. No no, wrong word. Remora? Plethora?"

"None of those are correct. They are, respectively, a radiant emission within the upper atmosphere, a parasitic species of fish, and the last is simply defined as 'a lot'."

He smiled. "Well, you're welcome! I'm glad that meant a lot to you."

If Dawn noticed the wordplay, she didn't acknowledge it. "Yes, well, I believe the word you intended is 'aura'."

"'Aura'?" he repeated, tapping his chin. "Hmm… no no, not that, but I like your way of thinking. No, you've got a certain… je nais se quoi. I don't even know what that means! Heyyy!" he said, drawing up alongside her and tucking his wing over her shoulder.

"My eldest sister is fluent in Romantique, so I have educated myself in the language. Its translation is 'I do not know what'," Dawn said, nose proudly in the air.

Briarthorn stared at Dawn for a long moment, his eyes wide, as if considering something. He rubbed his chin, apparently deep in thought. Finally, he firmly set his jaw and smiled at her. "Oh? I thought for certain you'd know what it meant!"

She raised an eyebrow. "I do. I just explained that its translation is 'I do not know what'…"

"That's what it sounds like to me." He smiled. "Well, whatever it is, you've got it," he said with a wink as he patted her hoof with his. He seemed to wait for a response of some kind, but when one didn't come, he tilted his head. "Huh. Y'know, it's odd, but I think that 'I don't know what' might be more accurate than I thought."

Dawn's response was flat: "I do not follow."

"Yeah, I kind of figured." He shrugged. "Well, there's a first time for everything."

Havoc laughed inwardly. This guy was pretty brazenly flirting with her sister, and admittedly wasn't bad at it. A different mare might have found his wordplay amusing, even charming. But there was no way in hell that Dawn would pick up on the flirtatious nature of things, let alone respond favorably to it if she did. The stick up Dawn's ass had a stick up its ass, and there very well could've been another stick or two jammed up there somewhere. Like one of those nesting dolls, only with sticks in asses.

Gross.

Briarthorn then turned his attention to her. "Okay then, here's one more unfamiliar face. Well, not entirely. I'm pretty sure I've never met you before, either, but there's something familiar about you. Can't put my hoof on it."

"Name's Havoc," she said, offering her hoof to him. As he took it, she pulled him roughly so that she could speak softly without anypony else hearing. "Let me be upfront here and save us both the effort: you're not my type, and that's not gonna change, ever. You try any of that 'wing over the shoulder' shit with me and you can kiss your balls good-bye. We clear?"

Briarthorn blinked, then smiled widely. "That is upfront, to be sure. First: don't threaten someone you don't know with what could be a good time." He gave a long, clear laugh. "Maybe I like getting thunked in the junk. Second: We're clear. Because I don't like it. Eh, much." He then shook her hoof properly. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Havoc."

"Psh. Don't mention it. Seriously, don't," she replied evenly.

He then clapped his hooves together and gestured towards the Thunder. "Well, let's not keep everypony waiting, hmm? All aboard!"

The group boarded the ship while chatting among themselves about how excited they were to finally be on the last leg of the journey, all while being directed by Briarthorn to the seating area. Havoc noted that it wasn't structured at all like the big boxship had been. In fact, the seating area they were directed to looked more like a cargo bay that happened to have seats, which were little more than wall fixtures with harnesses instead of seatbelts, kind of like a rollercoaster's seating.

The carpet was clean, though. As were the shiny chrome walls. All of it was of a high quality, too. The interior definitely did not match the exterior, that was for sure. It lent a little credence to the claims that the shoddy hull appearance was just to blend in further north.

For the moment, though, nopony was asked to take their seats. "Nothing but smooth sailing along the entire flight, fillies and gentlecolts," Briarthorn explained as he helped them fasten their luggage into compartments. "You won't even need to take your seats as we pass through the Belt unless you want to."

"You're kidding," Havoc scoffed. "The ship we took over here rocked like a busted washing machine the whole way through the Belt. Made my sister here blow chunks and everything."

Dawn's face reddened. "I… I did no such thing! No chunks were blown!"

"Oh yeah, Dawn was heaving in the restroom for the whole hour we moved through it," Havoc laughed, making a mocking retching gesture with her hooves. "Hilarious. Highlight of the trip."

"Well, there won't be any heaving on my ship, sister," Briarthorn said with a wide, professional grin. "A flight on the Thunder is so smooth, you could balance an egg on your head and it wouldn't so much as fall off if I didn't want it to. That is a Hope's Point Guarantee, registered trademark."

"Consider me sold," said Lockwood with a laugh.

With that, Briarthorn left them all in the seating area while he headed up to the cockpit, whereupon it didn't take long before the ship rumbled ever-so-slightly to indicate it was taking off. Once it did, it was exactly as advertised: smooth sailing all the way. 

Havoc, as a pegasus, could feel and recognize the minute vibrations here and there that indicated a shift in the flight path, be it a tilt in the ship or a change in altitude. So she knew just when the ship entered into the Belt because there were ever-so-slight rumbles throughout the ship that only she could sense; maybe Lockwood could feel them too, but if he did he gave no indication of it. He was too busy chatting it up with his family and Dawn to notice anyway, it seemed, and not one of them seemed to notice the change.

Yes, it seemed that Dawn's sensitive stomach was safe, for now.

After several minutes of listening to the other chatting about the new mode of transportation, Havoc decided to make better use of her time. So, instead of just lazing about in the seating area, she decided to head up to the cockpit to get a look at what made a ship like this tick. 

Briarthorn hadn't sealed off the area or forbidden them from entering, so she figured it was fair game, and sure enough she was able to just walk through the clean, metal guts of the ship to where she figured the cockpit was.

The inside of the cockpit was a rather simple affair, barely large enough for a pair of ponies to operate the various buttons, levers, knobs, and switches that spread across the main console. Havoc noted that said console was unattended, and that a display on the console read "Automatic Co-Pilot Engaged". Was Briarthorn flying the ship entirely by himself?

Speaking of which, Briarthorn was situated in a glass-like tube in the center of the cockpit, and somehow was "flying" inside it as though he were out in the open air, complete with wind sweeping through his mane and everything. He even had his goggles up as though to protect from the wind. 

There was a black substance coating his wings that hadn't been there before, either, and every time he shifted them she could feel the ship shift in turn. Was that how he was piloting the ship?

"Hey there… Havoc? Havoc," he greeted, turning his head slightly to the side. When he did, Havoc noticed the view screen in front of them shift slightly as well. "Welcome to where the magic happens. Got bored in the back, huh? Not much of a talker?"

"Yeah, a little, I guess. Figured I'd come check out how you fly this thing, y'know?" she said with a shrug. "Looks interesting."

"Aah, a fellow wingnut, perhaps?" he asked with a slight grin. "You don't have to answer. I can tell you're all about flying. I saw you checking out my suit earlier. I misread you, you know. At first, I was way off, but now, I get it; you weren't checking me out; you only had eyes for the flight suit."

"Bullseye."

He chuckled. "All that being said, my guess: skyball. The only real question here is: Pro, Semi-Pro, or Amateur?"

She smirked. "Good guess, dude. Yeah, played with the Mid-East Rockets, Semi-Pro League." She paused and grumbled as she felt the rage building up in her gut. "Former Mid-East Rockets. Whole team got fired last week. Bunch of bullshit."

"That's a big oof, good buddy. Bad season, huh?"

"Oh hell no, it was the best season the team's ever had. We went undefeated and everything, won the championship for the first time in like twenty years. It was kind of a big deal for us." 

She could still remember the smiles on her teammate's faces when they held up that trophy. She could still remember the sheer disbelief when Rainslick, their manager, had informed them that the owner, Treasurer Vendetta, was dissolving the team to recoup a "bad investment". It had taken every ounce of restraint she had—and half her team holding her back—to keep herself from flying up to his fancy loft and burning him alive.

Briarthorn raised his eyebrow, but kept his attention on flying straight. "And the owner just fired you all after that?"

"Yup. Me and a lot of other good ponies that deserved far better than what they got."

"That... that's ridiculous. Did the guy… hate money and success or something? It makes like… negative sense."

"Yeah, well, it's a long story, but I'll give you the short version: the guy's a total fuckwit, and I hope he dies a slow, agonizing death in a fire." She shook her head. "Whatever. It happened, and for now there's not a lot I can do about it."

"Well, my condolences. Sounds like you've got a real passion for the sport."

"Yeah…"

She stood in silence for a while as she watched the ship effortlessly fly through the storm without so much as a single rough patch despite the same conditions that the boxship had gone through. She'd heard that Hope's Point had invented a shielding technology that far outclassed anything New Pandemonium had come up with in decades, and was amazed to see it in action. It explained how their city could even withstand as much as it did year after year.

And this ship was faster, too, that was easy enough to notice. It took an hour for the boxship to make it through the Belt, but it took the Thunder barely even twenty minutes, and she could tell Briarthorn wasn't even flying it at top speed, either, probably to keep the trip as smooth as he'd advertised. When they broke through to the other side of the Belt, Havoc felt the vibrations beneath her hooves cease entirely as the ship reached calmer airspace.

From here, Havoc could see Hope's Point itself rapidly approaching. The city was situated on the edge of a mile-high cliff overlooking the sea. It was surrounded by a golden dome of energy that glimmered even from this distance; this was the great shield that had protected the city, she knew. How they kept that thing powered was a mystery to her, but it wasn't really her thing, so she didn't ask.

She was surprised when Briarthorn gently took the ship down towards the ocean surface. 

"Attention passengers, this is your captain speaking," he said; Havoc could hear him both in the room and over the ship's loudspeakers. "You will momentarily hear a sudden noise—like if a raincloud dropped and hit the ground all at once!—as the Thunder dives underwater to approach the Hope's Point hangar bays. No need for alarm, it is perfectly safe and normal. Please do not scream. You will make me scream. Then we will all be screaming. Thank you."

The ship then suddenly dove beneath the waves without slowing or anything, and the only indication of it was the sound of rushing water sweeping over the ship. Now Havoc was impressed; she had no idea that Hope's Point kept its hangars below the ocean surface, and thus that its airships also functioned as submarines.

She watched the view panel as Briarthorn steered the ship into an opening in the rock wall ahead, glancing to and fro as they passed by underwater rock formations and little else; there were no fish in the northern seas, nor any seaweed, coral, or anything else, really. Just rock as far as the eye could see, which, to be fair, wasn't very far in the darkness of the ocean. Maybe there was something else out there that just never got discovered because it was too dark?

The opening led into a tunnel, and the tunnel led into a hangar bay filled with water. The Thunder settled into a clamp inside the bay, upon which Briarthorn settled himself inside the glass chamber in the cockpit. She watched him press a few buttons inside his chamber, which released an aerosol spray that caused the black substance on his wings to harden and flake off without a trace.

He then exited the pod, approached the main console, and pressed a few buttons. Havoc watched as the hangar bay drained of water within only a few moments. She shook her head, impressed with the display; it was no wonder the ponies of this city had a reputation as pirates. Secret underwater base? Submersible airships? Yeah, total pirate stuff.

Briarthorn then turned to Havoc and nodded. "The welcoming party'll… be here to pick you guys up, uh, up momentarily," he said, removing his flight goggles. For some reason, he looked… tired. Significantly more so than he had when she'd seen him before takeoff. "I'd take—whew—care of it myself, normally, but I was given specific... instructions otherwise, for some reason. Maybe you'd know why?"

Havoc shrugged. "I dunno. Lockwood's the one who arranged the whole trip, so maybe he'd know."

Briarthorn made a show of tapping his chin, but missed and looked ridiculous tapping his  cheek. "Hmm. Probably." Then he shrugged too. "Eh. No big deal." He flipped a switch on the control panel, activating the boarding ramp. "Um… would you do me a favor and… help everypony disembark? I need to take a breather for a minute."

She raised an eyebrow. "Uh, sure, I can do that. Everything alright?"

"Me? Psh, oh yeah, I'm just peachy keen, easy as pie," he said, obviously not peachy-as-pie at all. 

He reached under the control panel to open up a compartment, from which he pulled a metal flask that he immediately set to his lips and drank from. 

"Mmph… ah yeah, okay, that's better," he grunted, though he didn't look better, he just looked green. "No no, just… I have to take care of the rest of the docking procedures, okay? That'll take some time. Sorry."

"No… it's cool, dude. We can handle ourselves from here," she said, not thoroughly convinced. "Thanks for the ride."

"Y-yeah, whoo! Hey, hey, no problem at all. Welcome to Hope's Point and all that jazz. Maybe I'll see you guys around after I get things situated here."

"Yeah, maybe. Uh, later."

She left the cockpit only slightly confused by his behavior, but didn't question it. Maybe they had policies in place about this sort of thing? Either way, she followed along, figuring she might as well, and headed into the cargo bay to recover the rest of the traveling party. 

"Alright guys," she announced. "Briarthorn said the welcoming party should be here soon, so we can go ahead and get off for now and wait for 'em to get here. Grab your bags and let's go, chop chop."

"He's not seeing us off?" Lockwood asked.

"Nah, said he's gotta take care of some docking procedures. Didn't ask a lot of questions."

"Huh. Well, if you say so," he replied with a nod. 

Something about his expression told Havoc he knew something she didn't, but she didn't pry. Curaçao always said he tended to have a few secrets here and there that even she hadn't figured out yet, and this must've just been one of them. He and Briarthorn seemed to know each other a lot better than she'd expected them to, so that seemed likely. Still kind of weird, but it wasn't any of her business.

Either way, everypony disembarked as asked and headed into the hangar, which was surprisingly dry after being filled with seawater only moments before. Almost as soon as they disembarked, the large bay doors opened to reveal a single pony, a well-built pegasus stallion wearing what looked like body armor. He approached them without much fanfare at all, to her surprise.

"You are the Lockwood party, correct?" he asked, firm and to the point, his eyes scanning the group briefly.

"That's us," Lockwood answered with a grin. "You must be on the welcoming committee."

The stallion nodded, then gestured for them to follow. "I have instructions to escort your party to your hotel arrangements. If you'd follow me, please."

"Wow, you got us situated at a hotel already?" Shortcake asked. "You really did take care of everything, didn't you?"

"I said that I would, and I meant it," Lockwood replied with a smile. "Trust me, everypony, everything's going to work out fine. Just wait and see."

Havoc rolled her eyes covertly. She was sure Lockwood was good to his word, but figured that he was maybe a little overconfident. 

Okay, he had a contact in this city that was supposedly loaded or well-connected or whatever, and he had a reputation for working miracles, but there was no way anypony could make anything happen that fast. It would likely take the entire two weeks she and Dawn were arranged to stay here for them to even get what they wanted out of the trip. Not that she was complaining, just observing.

Nevertheless, the group followed the armored stallion a fair way out of the hangar and down a corridor past other, similar hangars with their own airships of different shapes and sizes and with crews of their own performing maintenance or loading or unloading cargo. 

At the end of the corridor the group entered a large elevator, which took them up to the surface level of the city. As it ascended, they could all look out the elevator window and see that the city had a huge subterranean section with all sorts of buildings. 

The titterings of the Hoof Family as they gazed out on all those buildings actually made Havoc grin a little; they seemed so happy to be seeing all these new things, and she was happy for them, if only because Gray couldn't be here to see it. She'd tell Gray all about this to try and lift her spirits up a bit, after giving her some time to calm down. It was something they needed to do face-to-face, anyway.

When the elevator reached the surface and they disembarked, everypony almost immediately looked up, wowed by the sight of the energy shield from the inside. To Havoc's surprise, the city smelled different from New Pandemonium and the Wastelands, as if the shield even kept out the stagnant, dead air that normally plagued her nostrils. Not quite the smells of nature that she'd experienced down south, but a sort of agreeable freshness.

"Welcome to Hope's Point, everypony," said the escort stallion, though he was still professional and curt about it. "The hotel isn't far. Follow me."

And so they did just that. 

Havoc watched the Hoof Family pointing at every little thing that caught their eyes, from how different the architecture here was—not as tall or dirty—to the sort of dress code the ponies here maintained—much the same, but nicer. The advertisements were for different products and services than they were used to, the streets didn't have buses at all but only simple chariots, and there were no skylanes in the air to restrict the movements of pegasi, who just flew to and fro however they liked.

And best of all, there was no smog to breathe in or block their view of the sky above. The golden-orange light of the Beacon in New Pandemonium might have stretched out this far and still blotted out the clear blue sky they'd just left behind in the south, but at least here they could see it somewhat clearly; the shield still distorted it slightly, but that seemed acceptable.

Havoc especially noticed Lockwood's expression, since his was quite different from the others. The rest of his family, even Flathoof, were all abuzz with excitement, like a bunch of ponies visiting an amusement park for the first time and geeking out over the sights. He was excited too, to be sure, but there was something different about it. An almost nervous kind of excitement. 

Havoc remembered that feeling when it was time to go out on the field for the championship game. What did he have to be so excited about? Oh, right. Thunderbolt. She guessed that being apart from your fillyfriend for six years or whatever might make you a little excited to see her again. 

Lucky bitch, Havoc thought. There's no way they're not gonna bone like, a hundred times before we leave. I'd do it if I were in her horseshoes.

The hotel was a four-story structure only a few blocks away from the elevator exit, a large brick building that seemed to be just the perfect blend of charmingly rustic and modernized. The interior was decorated with all of the sorts of things Havoc expected out of a decent hotel, things she'd never have expected from one further up north, like real plants and respectable paintings. 

The staff seemed friendly too, as each of them greeted the party with a smile, a nod, and a "Good Afternoon". It actually seemed way too nice. Rooms here had to cost a fortune.

"Welcome to The Mareiott," said the concierge, a pretty unicorn mare with a crisp suit. "How may I help you today?"

The armored guard approached and handed the mare something from his pocket, a note perhaps? She briefly read it, eyes widening at one point, then handed it back. The guard then turned to the group. "Enjoy your stay, folks." And with that, he walked off without another word.

"Huh… peculiar behavior," Dawn said, tilting her head. "Why were we assigned an escort in the first place?" she asked, turning to Lockwood. "It seems remarkably superfluous for our group's circumstances."

"Eh, it's just proper procedure, I'm sure. Obviously it's all a part of the package I arranged," he said, brushing the concern off with a hoof.

The concierge cleared her throat briefly. "Mister Lockwood, your reservation with us comes complete with a number of service packages and room accommodations. If you'd like, I can have somepony escort you to your rooms now, or I can have your bags taken up to your rooms first if you'd prefer to partake in some complimentary lunch?"

"Ooh, lunch sounds amazing," Pattycake breathed. "As much as I wanna just put my hooves up for a bit, I'm starving."

"Me too!" chirped Shorthoof. "There weren't any snacks on the airship rides! I thought there'd be snacks! Snacks snacks snacks!"

"I agree, I could go for a bite myself," said Flathoof. "The rooms can wait. We should probably talk about who's sharing with who while we eat, anyway."

"We have a number of rooms available to your party, sir," said the concierge with a smile. "As part of your package, we can designate room accommodations in whichever way is most convenient to your tastes. Everypony can have their own room, if they wish, or you can share one of our larger suites."

"Separate rooms! Yes please!" Havoc blurted out, perhaps too quickly.

"Ma'am?"

Havoc cleared her throat. "I mean, I'd love to have my own room, if I could. Yeah."

"I was under the impression we would be sharing a room, Havoc," Dawn said, eyebrow raised.

"Ha haaa, yeah, no. If I have the chance to not share a room with you, I'm taking it. That is the absolute last thing I need on this trip."

Dawn snorted. "Very well, if that is the arrangement you desire, and if we can accommodate it, then I will not object. Perhaps I can savor the peace and quiet of solitude without your rambunctiousness present."

"We'll talk it all over during lunch, then," Lockwood said. "For now, I say we eat. It sounds like most of us would probably prefer it that way, right?"

"Hear, hear!" said Stouthoof, smiling and clapping Lockwood on the shoulder.


*****


Lunch had been a pleasant affair, all-in-all. They made a pretty mean spicy curry with rice, complete with fresh carrots, potatoes, onions, and celery, all imported from the southern continent. She'd remember to suggest it to the tower chef back home.

Now, Havoc was used to the sort of high-quality foods she could get at Pandora Tower, and had even enjoyed some old-fashioned home cooking from her visits to Pewter at the Checkpoint out at Goldridge. She hated to sound like a snob, but nothing really came close to the stuff she was used to. And while this hotel certainly wasn't that good, damn it all if it wasn't better than any of the fare she had in Pandemonium when she wasn't at home.

While the group was relaxing and talking after the meal, the concierge approached looking slightly spooked, and whispered something in Lockwood's ear. Lockwood listened intently, a big, dumb smile coming to his face that Havoc didn't quite understand. Then, the concierge left as soon as she'd arrived without so much as acknowledging anypony else.

Havoc was about to ask him what it was all about when he abruptly stood from his seat, dropping his napkin on the table. "Excuse me, everypony, but I have some business to attend to as part of our arrangements here. You understand, I hope?"

"Hey, that's fine, we know you probably had to jump through all sorts of hoops to snag us a place like this," Flathoof said as he sipped from his glass of orange juice. "Don't let us stop you."

"We'll head upstairs and start unpacking," Shortcake said with a grin. "We might as well make ourselves at home for the night, right?"

"You never told us how long we're staying, actually," Stouthoof said, raising an eyebrow. "Does this have something to do with that?"

Lockwood nodded. "Something like that, yeah. We're probably only staying for the night, though, so there's no need to go unpacking everything, just what you need for now. I'll let you know if my plans change, but I'm pretty sure arrangements are being made for our new home by tomorrow morning, I hope."

Flathoof balked. "Tomorrow morning? Really? That fast?"

"Like I said, I've taken care of everything." Lockwood then turned to Havoc and Dawn. "Miss Dawn, Miss Havoc, your presence has also been requested."

"Us?" Havoc asked, tilting her head. "Why?"

"It's related to your mission here in Hope's Point. My benefactor would like to meet you both, ASAP."

Dawn blinked. "You certainly work expediently. I am of the opinion that Curaçao undersold your capabilities."

"Just you wait, I'm full of surprises," he said with a wink. "C'mon, let's not keep anypony waiting."

Havoc and Dawn glanced at one another, shrugged, and rose from the table to follow him, and then in turn followed the concierge that was waiting for them at the exit to the hotel's dining area. She led them through the hotel lobby to its conference room, whereupon she opened the door and gestured for them to enter. Once they did so, Havoc heard the door lock shut behind them.

Inside the conference room, which was empty aside from the stacked tables and chairs along the walls that hadn't been set up yet, there were four ponies.

The first was a unicorn mare, though she was short enough that Havoc almost hesitated to call her a mare. She had a pale pink coat and a bright orange mane kept out of her face with a set of safety goggles, and wore a light purple jumpsuit that covered her entire body.

The second was an earth pony stallion, a well-built one at that, wearing a suit of bronze-colored body armor. The armor had a helmet, but he'd removed it and set it near his legs, giving Havoc a good look at his face. His coat was light brown, his mane a darker brown.

The third was a dark purple unicorn mare with a bright red mane, also wearing a suit of body armor though not one as robust as the stallion's. Her face was decorated with scars, and her horn had clearly been shattered and replaced by a prosthetic, a silver spike with neon blue rings.

The fourth was another mare, this one a pegasus with a smoky gray coat and a vivid turquoise mane, which she kept long and wavy. She wore a snazzy white jacket that just screamed "authority figure!" to Havoc, as well as a scarf with alternating green and gold stripes. She also had a cool scar just above her nose, obviously from a fight.

The other three ponies seemed to be looking to the fourth with some deference; she had to be the boss.

This fourth mare stared right at Lockwood the moment he entered, and it was here that the gears clicked and Havoc realized that this had to be none other than Thunderbolt, the mare that Lockwood was involved with and who was their ticket into the city's political sphere. Havoc was impressed; this mare worked fast indeed, and even managed to clear out the conference room on a whim.

Lockwood approached her wordlessly and, to Havoc's surprise, immediately began moving his wings in a series of gestures: first, he spread them both and tucked them forward in a sort of prayer-like gesture, bowing on the floor as he did so. He then offered his right wing out towards her while tucking his left over his heart. 

Thunderbolt merely stood and watched the display, then used her wing to motion for him to rise before performing another quick series of gestures with her wings that Havoc didn't quite pick up on.

Dawn leaned over and whispered, "What did he say?"

"What're you asking me for?" Havoc whispered back.

"It was clearly 'spoken' in pegasus wing language. Translate it for me."

"Uh, well, I'm not exactly fluent in wing language."

Dawn narrowed her eyes. "But you are a pegasus."

"No shit. But not all pegasi know it fluently. It's like sign language for earth ponies, you only learn it if you need it because you or a family member is deaf or something like a social worker."

"You truly are useless," Dawn said with a sneer.

"Fuck you too, sis."

After the two pegasi finished their little whatever-it-was, which Havoc didn't understand—the best she could figure was that Lockwood was complaining about a bad case of heartburn?—they met and embraced in a tight hug and kissed each other deeply, the sort of thing that Havoc expected of a couple that was being united after years and years apart. 

A moment later, the large stallion and the little mare joined in, turning it into a sort of group hug. The stallion was laughing jovially, while the mare looked like she was practically fighting the urge to cry. Very touching, Havoc could admit—she wasn't the sentimental type—though she was still in the dark about a lot of this. The other mare, the purple one, seemed just as lost, actually, which was weird.

Once they'd broken from the hug, the lead mare cleared her throat. "Let's take care of business, first, okay? We can continue this later." She and Lockwood remained side-by-side while the others returned to their original spots. 

She then turned towards Havoc and Dawn. "Greetings, and welcome to Hope's Point. I don't know exactly what Lockwood might have told you, so let's proceed with introductions. Do you know who I am?"

Dawn stepped forward and smiled; Havoc just rolled her eyes discreetly, knowing that now it was her sister's turn to strut her stuff. "You are Thunderbolt, owner and founder of the Crown Spectrum tech development company, and long-time companion to Mister Lockwood here. With you are your chief development engineer, Tinker, and your personal bodyguard, Fireblast."

"Impressive. And Lockwood told you all of this?"

"On the contrary," Dawn replied, which was bullshit since Curaçao apparently knew the whole story from him and kept Dawn in the loop. "Apart from some preliminary information, I have collected thorough dossiers on each of you, enough to understand your deep ties to Hope's Point despite your official story as being from the southern continent after your family moved there from New Pandemonium."

Thunderbolt tilted her head. "And what ties would those be?"

"Most crucially, a thoroughly-detailed business partnership with one Virtuoso Fantasia, former Don of the Fantasia Crime Family. Several years ago, he fled New Pandemonium City, and though there was never any absolutely certain proof, the prevailing theory in certain circles is that he fled here to Hope's Point and was appointed to a position of power."

"Hmm… you've done your homework, that much is clear. You know an awful lot about me, and yet I must admit I know very little about you." She gestured to the purple unicorn. "This is Stellar Storm, the city's Chief Security Officer. She's in charge of obtaining and examining any intelligence out of New Pandemonium City, and determining if it'll be a threat to Hope's Point."

Havoc raised an eyebrow. "The city's head security chief? Like the top brass?"

"Correct. She overviews each and every refugee request we get to determine if incoming ponies are legitimate or if they are attempted plants by the NPAF or CIA to infiltrate our city for nefarious purposes." Thunderbolt then gave Storm a nod.

Storm nodded back and took a datapad from her armor's tactical pouch, which she then began scanning through. "When Mister Lockwood contacted us and put in a request for refuge, he was required to list all other members of his party, who would also need to provide vouchers. His family members were given an exception because of their familial status, and because I was given full authority to bypass normal protocols.

"You two, however, were also on his list of incoming ponies, and yet he did not list you as family. Normally we would require a voucher for you as well, but Mister Lockwood knew the proper protocols to initiate a different procedure entirely. Nevertheless, we still needed to perform standard background checks on everypony coming in, his family included.

"That's when we discovered a problem," she said. She pointed first at Dawn. "You, Golden Dawn, are not registered in the New Pandemonium City database whatsoever. I quadruple-checked every single record by hoof for potential aliases, surgical procedures to alter your appearance, and other methods for concealing your real identity, but have come up with nothing. You are, for all intents and purposes, a ghost.

"And you," she continued, pointing at Havoc, "are NPAF Commander Havoc. A relatively unremarkable career as far as your records show, with no history of training experience or other documentation; it's as though you just appeared in the directory. 

"However, your appearance and name match descriptions we have received in the past several months regarding an NPAF agent assisting land-route travelers west of Goldridge, alias 'Fire Warrior'. Supply troopers have confirmed these reports with Pewter of the Goldridge Checkpoint."

Havoc inwardly pumped her hooves. "Fire Warrior" was still an awesome nickname, and she wanted to find whoever came up with it and buy them a beer.

"What is your intended use for this information, Miss Thunderbolt?" Dawn asked, narrowing her eyes. "I am having trouble understanding the purpose of this meeting, or of your involvement with the city's Chief Security Officer."

Thunderbolt smirked. "Naturally, regardless of your intentions here, the pair of you are considered substantial security risks to Hope's Point. My intent here is protecting this city by finding out exactly who you are, and why you're here. If I don't like your answer, actions will be taken to ensure the city's safety. Do you understand?"

"Yo, is that a threat?" Havoc asked. "'Cause if it is, I gotta say, bad idea. We ain't done nothin' wrong. Hell, you already know I've been nothing but helpful to folks coming here for months now."

"If this was your city, wouldn't you do the same thing in my position?" Thunderbolt asked. "Wouldn't you do everything in your power to protect the ponies that live here?"

Havoc blinked. "I… suppose I would, yeah? I mean, I guess. I'm still kind of confused about this whole thing."

"Besides that, I can spot a possible ulterior motive when I see one, and I'm taking action to see if I'm right or wrong. So, I want answers. Now. Who are you exactly?"

"Perhaps it would be more prudent for me to take the lead here, Havoc?" Dawn whispered with a look, the kind she always gave Havoc when she disapproved. "You forget your place."

Havoc sneered. "'Forget my place'? The fuck does that mean?"

"Just remain quiet and allow me to proceed with the diplomacy now. You expressed yourself that you are unsuited for it, so cease your attempts to participate." She then turned to Thunderbolt. "Forgive my sister. She is not the authority here."

"Then start talking," Thunderbolt said.

"My name is Golden Dawn, as you're already aware," Dawn said, nose in the air. "As for why I did not appear in the New Pandemonium database during your attempts at scrutiny, the explanation is simple: as far as the city at large is concerned, I do not exist. I hold a position of authority within the city's Committee as its Shadow Associate."

Thunderbolt just stared at her for a long moment; the jaws of the other three ponies in the room collectively dropped.

"Bullshit," said Tinker.

"I assure you, it is not a falsehood," Dawn continued. "If you desire proof, I am afraid I am incapable of providing any, as the only proof would be the identities of the other Committee members and that is public knowledge that would serve no benefit."

"So we're supposed to just take you at your word?" Thunderbolt asked.

"I regret that there is no alternative. I could recite typical Committee procedures and guidelines which are not publicly available, but they would be impossible to confirm without another member of the Committee present."

"A clever predicament. Well, let's say that I do believe you, then. What purpose would the Shadow Associate have here in Hope's Point?"

"A rather simple, yet complex purpose, actually." Dawn smirked, nose higher in the air than ever. "As Shadow Associate, I have initiated a vote within the Committee in regards to this 'war' with Hope's Point. Specifically, I hope to usher in an end to it via peaceful means. A total cessation of hostilities between our two nation-cities."

Now even Thunderbolt seemed baffled. "You wish for peace? Are you serious?"

"Quite serious, yes."

"And how do you intend to go about this?"

Dawn shook her head. "I regret that I cannot discuss the finer details of the plan with anypony but Her Majesty Queen Blackburn and her Council." She turned to Stellar Storm. "You are among their members, are you not?"

Storm nodded. "I am."

"Then perhaps you are capable of assisting me in arranging an audience with Her Majesty?"

There was a long, awkward pause as all parties looked at one another. Havoc was confused as to why everypony just went quiet. What was most confusing though was the wide, shit-eating grin on Lockwood's face, as if he was barely containing a laugh. And despite Dawn's insistence otherwise, Havoc couldn't help herself any longer.

"Yo, Dreamboat, what's so fucking funny?" she blurted.

Lockwood's smile widened, and he looked at Thunderbolt, then at Havoc, then at Dawn, then back to Thunderbolt before shaking his head, attempting—badly—to cover his face with his wing, and then actually flat-out laughing. Loudly, at that.

"Did I miss a joke or something? Seriously, dude, what the fuck are you laughing at? This ain't a laughing matter here."

"No. Not laughing matter at all," said Thunderbolt with a sigh. The look she was giving Lockwood right now—curiosity mixed with amusement and affection—baffled Havoc. "Will come clean, save us the trouble."

Tinker shook her head and nudged Lockwood in the side. "You really are full of surprises, featherbrain. The Shadow Associate? Really? I'm impressed."

"Yes, quite impressed," agreed Thunderbolt. "Utterly unexpected, yet… hmm… potentially fortuitous. Already thinking on solutions, angles, methods to take."

"And why are you talking like a robot now?!" Havoc exclaimed, throwing her hooves in the air. "What the fuck is happening?! Come clean about what?!"

"Havoc!" Dawn snapped. "Cease your prattling!"

"Truth of the matter, you wish to broker peace agreement with Hope's Point," Thunderbolt said, still talking in that weird syntax. "Need to present to Queen Blackburn. Natural desire, logical. Only pony that can approve or disapprove formally. Normally would be an issue." She took a breath. "Queen much too busy."

"We have arranged to remain in the city for two weeks' time," Dawn said, though even she was starting to seem annoyed and confused by all of this too. "So long as we are permitted, of course. Can that be presented to Her Majesty as well?"

"It already has. She approves. For now."

"She… she does?" Dawn asked, blinking. "We were not informed of this development. When did this happen?"

"Just now, when you asked for approval."

Dawn and Havoc stayed silent for a long moment.

Then, the gears clicked into place and everything made sense. Except the weird way she was talking now, that didn't make sense, but whatever. Havoc spoke before her sister did; it looked like Dawn was having trouble piecing it all together, actually. "Shit. Shit shit shit, no way! You're Queen Blackburn?"

Thunderbolt—no, Blackburn—nodded, a faint hint of a smug smile on her face. "Correct."

"Oh fuck. Uh, wow. Uh… sh-should I, like, bow or some shit?" She turned to Dawn, who still seemed stunned, and was rapidly looking between her and Blackburn as if hoping Havoc would be wrong. "Dawn! What's the right way to greet a Queen? First impressions matter, right?"

"No need for that here," Blackburn said, waving the gesture off. She turned to Dawn. "Shadow Associate Golden Dawn, presented proposal for peace. Will listen to terms at a proper Council meeting; will arrange one in due time. Likely within days."

Havoc blinked. "Wow, you're gonna accept it just like that?"

"Offer intrigues me. Could be trick. Hmm… potential assassination attempt?" Blackburn looked to Lockwood, who just shook his head. "Perhaps not. Either case, will need to hear terms. Fact that Shadow Associate came personally, particularly interesting. Unique scenario, unpredictable outcomes. Sources suggest odds shifts in political climate in New Pandemonium, lends credence to story." Another breath. "Need more answers.

"For now, however, meeting can wait," she continued. She looked to Lockwood again and smiled. "First wish to properly welcome Lockwood and family to city. First time meeting them, wish to make good first impressions. Hmm… over dinner, best scenario. Will arrange shortly." She turned to Havoc and Dawn. "Welcome to join us."

Dawn shook her head, not in disapproval but likely to draw herself back to the present. "Yes, that… that sounds pleasant. We would be honored, Your Majesty."

"Excellent."

"Ah… if I may, Your Majesty, I am experiencing difficulty in parsing through all of this information. I was under the impression that 'Thunderbolt' was the romantic partner of Lockwood. Does this still hold true with your true identity?"

Blackburn tilted her head. "Yes. Lockwood is my fiancé."

Havoc laughed, loudly. "Ho hooo shit, no way! Yo Dreamboat, we didn't know you were engaged, too! I thought you two were just lovey-dovey and shit, nothing more! Ha! Wait 'til Curie hears about this."

"Hmm… interesting reaction. At any rate, until dinner, remain with Lockwood and family. Will arrange separately, meet you all later." Blackburn turned to the other ponies in the room. "Much business to attend to, little time to do it in. Must be perfect, must handle personally." Then she turned to Lockwood and kissed him briefly on the lips. "Glad to have you back, safe and sound."

"Glad to have you back too, BB," Lockwood replied. "We've got a lot to discuss, believe me."

"Indeed." With that, she took her entourage out of the room, giving Lockwood a brief smile before she left. Lockwood's gaze lingered on her for a slight moment, a sly grin on his face, and in that moment Havoc knew Lockwood was going to be getting busy tonight. 

Good for him, she thought. Good for her too, actually. Lucky bitch.

Lockwood smiled and turned to Havoc and Dawn. "Told you I'd take care of everything."

"You sly motherfucker!" Havoc laughed, rushing in to give him a noogie. "You've been engaged to the queen of Hope's Point this whole time?! Talk about fucking secrets! And fucking secrets, too. Ha!" Then, she gasped loudly and wheeled on Dawn. "Oh shit! Dawn! We gotta tell Curaçao. Like, right now. She's gonna flip!"

Dawn nodded. "She would certainly appreciate the information, yes. One moment."

Havoc felt her mind open slightly and Dawn expanded their telepathic bonding spell so that they could both communicate with Curaçao. Instantly. From across the continent. Because of course Dawn had to show off. There was barely even a delay before Curaçao answered.

"Bonjour, mes sœurs. I assume you have arrived in Hope's Point. How was the trip?" Curaçao asked.

"It was uneventful," Dawn answered quickly, glaring at Havoc as she did so. "Nothing noteworthy occurred in any capacity before our arrival in the city. Nothing at all."

Havoc rolled her eyes but said nothing, even though she wanted so badly to tell Curaçao about Dawn's nausea troubles. She'd do it in private, later.

Curaçao hummed over the connection. "Has something happened now that you have arrived, though? I was not expecting any communications until you had news to report."

Dawn took a breath. "Yes, well, something eventful has transpired, and we believed it prudent to update you. Ah… we had a chance to meet with Miss Thunderbolt—"

Havoc couldn't contain it any longer. "Lockwood's fillyfriend—fiancée, actually—was really Queen Blackburn this whole time!" Havoc blurted, laughing both out-loud and through the connection. "He had you fooled like nopony's business! Ha!"

"Havoc! Some tact, please!"

Curaçao paused on the other end. "Is this true, Dawn?"

Dawn nodded to nopony but herself. "It certainly seems to be, yes. Lockwood has essentially confirmed the truth of the matter, though there certainly could be a trace of deception present. Despite Havoc's tactless method of presentation, I believe her assessment is correct: you were misinformed."

There was another pause on the other end. A long pause. A very long pause.

"Curaçao? Are you there?" Dawn asked over the connection.

Havoc chuckled and clapped Dawn on the shoulder. "Heh. I think we broke her. Awesome."
> Chapter Four: Transition
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dawn was still at a loss for how this entire situation had progressed the way it had. The meticulous plan she and Curaçao had devised had quite suddenly been thrown off the rails. Instead of meeting the entrepreneur extraordinaire Thunderbolt and hoping to make headway in an eventual meeting with Her Majesty Queen Blackburn, she and Havoc now sat at dinner with the queen herself as she took the opportunity to formally meet Lockwood's family for the first time.

An appropriate turn of events, since Blackburn and Lockwood were apparently engaged to be wed and they'd be her family soon, but baffling nonetheless.

How had Curaçao let this slip under her nose? Curaçao and Shroud were supposedly at the absolute top of their game when it came to collecting intelligence and information, so how in the world had this avoided detection? Either they were losing their touch, or Queen Blackburn was far more wily than anypony had given her credit for, and Dawn wasn't sure which of those was worse. 

The peace proposal was absolutely still the right move here, but now she wasn't so sure if her position was as strong as she'd thought it to be. It had all hinged on having the advantage of intelligence and information, both of which Dawn feared she might now have genuine competition in. It was an alien feeling, and she didn't like it, not one bit.

Worst of all, did this mean that Queen Blackburn had somehow deceived Father over the years? That thought alone frightened Dawn more than anything. Once she returned home and things had settled down, she'd commune with him and get some answers, more to put her mind at ease than anything. Hopefully this time she could maintain her focus and actually succeed in her efforts to contact him.

In any case, dinner had progressed rather slowly, as most ponies present were just barely picking at their meals while they asked question after question to their royal host. Dawn was content to let Lockwood's family do the talking for now, hoping to catch some piece of information that might be useful in the upcoming negotiations, but really it was all personal information that she honestly had no interest in. 

She and Havoc barely even factored into the conversation at all, actually. Not that Havoc had any right to be part of it in the first place. It took every ounce of Dawn's willpower not to chastise her sister for her poor table manners—in front of the queen, no less!—if only out of concern for drawing unwanted attention. She'd lecture her sister later.

"I want to make sure I've got this all straight," Flathoof said, setting down his water and leaning back in his seat. He gestured between Lockwood and Blackburn, who sat close together at the head of the table, wings practically interlocked. "You two have been engaged for something like six years and had been dating for some time before then, all without anypony knowing it?

"Correct," Blackburn and Lockwood said in unison, sharing a brief look to one another and smirking.

"And Lockwood here was essentially running your tech company for you over that period, which was basically nothing more than a front for your smuggling operations?"

"Correct," said Blackburn.

"And you did all this under a false identity? This… 'Thunderbolt', or whoever you were? And nopony realized who you really were?"

The queen grinned. "Also correct."

Flathoof shook his head in disbelief. "Amazing." He gave Lockwood a look of awe. "I know you've always been keen on keeping secrets, bud, but this is… well, it takes the cake, let me tell you. Color me impressed."

"I really am sorry that I had to keep this whole relationship a secret from you all over the years," Lockwood said with an apologetic smile. "I mean, you all see why I had to keep it a secret though, right? If word got out in any way that I had close ties to Hope's Point, I'd have likely been in danger, and might have put you all in danger in the process."

"Not to mention what would happen if anypony found out just who Thunderbolt really was." Flathoof nodded with finality. "Y'know, normally I hate it when you keep stuff from us, but this one… I'll let this one slide."

"No wonder you kept assuring us that you'd taken care of everything, son," Stouthoof chuckled after swallowing a bite of food. "I doubt anything was out of your reach with the queen of the city being your special somepony. It explains the hotel, the accommodations, the guard that escorted us, everything."

"You have no idea how long we've waited for Lockwood to find somepony to call his own, dear," Shortcake said to Blackburn with a smile. She set her hoof on Lockwood's. "I know he's not my son by blood, but I still feel obligated to want to see him happy, just as I am with all my children. 

"That's my biggest takeaway from all of this, to be honest. It doesn't matter to me whether you're some rich business mogul, or the queen of an entire city. You could be anything in the world, and it wouldn't matter to me. You clearly make Lockwood happy, and that's more important than anything else."

"And she does make me happy, Shortcake," Lockwood said, patting her hoof right back. 

"And vice versa," Blackburn said with a nod. "Have been waiting for this moment for years. Looking forward to putting everything together, will begin immediately. Lots of angles to take care of, some easier than others. Was not expecting Lockwood to bring family all at once, actually."

"Oh stars, yes, the wedding alone should be marvelous," Shortcake said with a huge smile on her face. "It's like a fairy tale come true: a royal wedding! I can just imagine all the decorations and dresses, and oh my stars, the food. If there's anything you need, dear, you just have to ask. I wasn't officially a wedding planner or anything like that, but I helped my fair share of friends arrange things for their kids' weddings."

The older mare's eyes widened. "Oh! This makes me realize that Lockwood is the first of my sons that'll give me—" 

She glanced between the two with a mischievous smile before turning back to her food, and the two of them glanced between themselves, slightly red in the face as if embarrassed or pleased by something. Dawn had no idea what unspoken concept had just been shared, but figured it was just family jitters getting the best of everypony. Bizarre, to say the least.

"Appreciate the offer, may consider," replied Blackburn. "But besides the wedding, other issues include arranging housing, allowances, protection—"

"When you say 'housing', I assume it's just a matter of finding space for all of us to live?" Flathoof asked. "We saw some of those residential districts underground on our way up here to the hotel, but I doubt you've just got vacancies lying around. Probably gotta build stuff all the time, I take it?"

Blackburn tilted her head. "Housing not an issue, only matter of arrangements at royal palace. Selection of rooms, adjustments of furniture, etcetera. Lockwood's family—my family—will live with me."

"We're gonna live in a palace?!" exclaimed Shorthoof with a huge smile. "Cool!"

"Oh my goodness, I wasn't expecting that much, to be honest," Shortcake muttered. "At most I expected a home of our own somewhere, big enough for the family to live in comfort. Nothing too fancy."

"No expenses will be spared to make you comfortable," Blackburn said with a grin.

Stouthoof and Flathoof shared brief glances at one another, and the former cleared his throat. "Your Majesty—"

"Please, just 'Blackburn' will do. You are soon to be my family; no need for royal titles and formalities."

"Yes, of course. Blackburn, look, I know we all appreciate the generosity, but… I don't know if I'm exactly comfortable with accepting so much from you. Don't get me wrong, I want nothing more than for my family to be provided for and happy, but I'm no charity case. I've worked for a living my entire life, and instilled it in my children that hard work pays off."

"Basically, I don't think my father and I can accept all of this generosity in good conscience," Flathoof added. "It's not right for us to start living pampered lifestyles just because Lockwood happened to meet the right mare. I've spent most of the last year refusing handouts from somepony that cares about me because… that's just not who I am."

"Speak for yourselves, I don't have a problem being pampered like a princess," Pattycake scoffed. She glanced over towards Blackburn's stallion bodyguard, Fireblast—real name Crossfire—and gave him a look that Dawn didn't understand, as well as an airy sigh. "That hunk over there can pamper me all he wants…"

"Ignore her, she doesn't speak for the rest of us," Flathoof grunted, giving his sister a disapproving look.

Blackburn nodded. "Completely understandable. Will also make arrangements to find openings for you in preferred fields, as any new citizen is given. Hmm…" She pointed at Stouthoof first. "Stouthoof has history with Foundry metalworks, worked as a supervisor. Can make arrangements to find similar position. City always has need."

"Well, I very much appreciate that, Blackburn," Stouthoof said with a nod. "Nothing too fancy, though, if you don't mind. Last thing I need is accusations of nepotism. I'd much prefer to start from the bottom and let my skills speak for themselves, and I want to earn my promotions too, if you don't mind."

Blackburn smiled, apparently pleased by the answers. "Well said." She then turned to Flathoof. "Captain Flathoof has experience with law enforcement. Would fit well within the city militia. Law and order paramount ideals in my city, can always find positions for ponies with your skillset. Is that agreeable?"

Flathoof tilted his head. "It sounds like it might be, but… to be honest, the NPPD was so loaded with corruption and greed that I'm not sure I feel comfortable working for another organization like that. Not to say your militia is corrupt or anything like that, no, but… it's more like I don't know if our standards really mesh."

"Can assure you that militia is a dutiful, morally clean organization. Chief of Security Stellar Storm and General Avalanche run a tight ship, report directly to me. Benefit of a smaller population."

"I'll be honest, I'm curious as to what kind of crime your city even gets that would require a police force, or militia, or whatever you want to call it."

"Mostly petty issues, but still issues nonetheless. Theft, vandalism, and loitering most common. Violent crimes essentially non-existent. Last internal murder case was… hmm, fifteen years ago? Rough estimate."

Flathoof blinked, clearly impressed. "Wow. That's a substantial change of pace from what I'm used to. Almost sounds kind of boring."

"Potentially. Fair warning: secondary purpose of militia is for ground defense in event of invasion, be it NPAF or otherwise. Though perhaps that will no longer be the case," she added, glancing briefly at Dawn and Havoc. "Will arrange meeting with Chief Storm for you. She will assign a position."

"Yeah, alright, I can agree to that, I suppose."

Blackburn turned to the other three siblings. "Will make arrangements for you to pursue careers or schooling of your preference. Opportunities in Hope's Point outstrip New Pandemonium; your youth is an advantage."

"That sounds nice, actually," Thickhoof said with a grin. "I've always liked machines and stuff, but we could never afford a formal engineering education. I might just look into something like that."

"More than acceptable. Can also make arrangements to repair damage to your legs."

Half the table went silent at that.

"You mean… you can fix my legs?" Thickhoof asked, his voice thick with raw emotion, a natural response for somepony in his predicament. 

Dawn had watched him struggle getting on board the boxship up north, which wasn't properly equipped for wheelchair access, and seen him refuse help from most anypony in the process. She couldn't imagine what the feeling was like to desperately need to prove oneself capable of something so… simple, but she understood the need to prove oneself regadless.

Blackburn nodded. "City has developed substantial leaps in medical technology compared to New Pandemonium. Technomagic cybernetics and bionics are within reach for most citizens; for you, no question."

Thickhoof leaned back in his seat, stunned; his mother took one of his hooves in hers. "Wow… I guess I never even thought about that. I just assumed since it was impossible back home, it would be here, too. Thank you, Your Majesty. Er, Blackburn. Thank you, Blackburn."

"For family, it is nothing," Blackburn said with a smile. She paused slightly, as though to let them process the information. "Would not have it any other way."

Dawn inwardly cursed the fact that Hope's Point's facilities were so advanced that the queen could just offer that service to him without a second thought, regardless of his familial connection. Just another reason why this "war" had been a waste of time and resources; surely with the billions of bits saved from not play-fighting with Hope's Point, New Pandemonium could have developed far better advancements. The peace deal was absolutely critical.

"At any rate," Blackburn continued, "will also need to assign protection to your family. Have long since expelled potential threats from NPAF and CIA from Hope's Point; however, caution always worthwhile. Never can be too careful. Potentially form bonds with them, as I have," she said, glancing towards her two guards.

"You mean we get our own security detail?" Flathoof asked.

"Essentially. Will arrange things to meet your level of comfort; may not wish for each family member to have personal guard, and Captain Flathoof will likely not require one." She then turned to Lockwood. "Lockwood, however, will have personal guard at all times." She gestured towards the big stallion, Crossfire. "Crossfire already agreed to fill the position shortly after engagement."

Pattycake's eyes widened. "He's gonna guard Lockwood all day, every day?"

"Essentially, yes."

Pattycake set her elbow on the table and gave that airy sigh again, batting her eyelashes at the large stallion. "Wow. You're so lucky. Are you sure you can't assign him to me? I'll take good care of him, I promise."

Shortcake nudged her daughter and playfully chided, "Honey, no drooling at the dinner table, we've been over this."

Lockwood glanced at Crossfire and gave him a big grin. "So you're gonna be my shadow from now on, huh? I can't say that I'd have picked anypony better, ol' pal."

Crossfire smirked and nodded. "Yessir, y'all ain't gonna have to worry 'bout nothin'. Her Majesty insisted on getting the best for ya, after all. So, naturally she picked me, 'cause it ain't like there was much competition."

"Psh, yeah right," scoffed the short mare, Tinker—real name Gadget—who Dawn had come to understand was not just a tech developer but also served as Queen Blackburn's bodyguard, one of them anyway. Or rather, the only one now, it seemed. "If Her Majesty wanted to assign the best to Future-King Featherbrain here, she'd have put me with him. You're only the best pick because you're both stallions. Less awkward moments that way."

"Ah yeah, you can't exactly follow me into the shower, can you?" Lockwood quipped with a playful smile.

"I ain't followin' ya into the shower either, Lockwood," Crossfire interjected.

"Fair enough."

Blackburn glanced at the nearby clock and grunted. "Apologies. Not to sound impatient, but if no other concerns from everypony else, we should be going," she abruptly interjected. "As said, many concerns to address, wish to start immediately. Sooner the better."

Stouthoof and Shortcake shared a brief look. "I think we're all good for now, dear," Shortcake said with a grin. "We understand that you're likely a very busy mare, especially on account of all this. If you need to leave so you can get work done, we understand completely. Lockwood does it all the time."

"Yeah, we're sort of used to this kind of thing by now," Stouthoof said, clapping Lockwood's shoulder. "Might be why you two hit it off so well: you're a lot alike."

"It was lovely meeting you though, and I hope we get a chance to spend more time together soon."

"We will," Blackburn said with a nod and a smile of her own as she rose from the table. To Lockwood, she said, "Crossfire's last instructions from me: escort you to royal bedchambers tonight. You need to… fill me in on some details."

Lockwood tipped his hat. "My Queen."

She then signaled to Gadget to follow her, but not Crossfire; he instead remained at his spot and gave the two of them a nod as he accepted his new position as guardian of Future-King Lockwood.

As she was leaving, though, Blackburn paused near Dawn and Havoc. "Will contact you regarding peace negotiations soon. Hotel accommodations will continue in your name; you are diplomatic guests of city for two weeks, as intended, and are granted benefits as such."

"Much appreciated, Your Majesty," Dawn said with a nod. "We eagerly anticipate our next encounter."

And with that, the queen of Hope's Point left the dining room—empty aside from those at this table—and headed off to take care of business. Dawn was left both just a little excited and nervous all at once, hoping that she had handled their first meeting to a satisfactory level despite Havoc's incessant, boorish behavior. She made a mental note to herself that she could not afford to have her sister ruin any further negotiations with the queen and her council. The solution would be simple enough.


*****


"What the hell do you mean I'm not invited?" Havoc asked with a snarl.

Two days had passed since their first chance meeting with Queen Blackburn. Now, Dawn stood outside Havoc's hotel room, having come specifically to deliver the news that she was invited to a meeting with Queen Blackburn and the Council of Hope's Point; an armed guard had arrived to deliver the invitation and escort her to their destination, and now stood at the end of the hall waiting to move on. 

As fortune would have it, the guard had come to Dawn's room first, and so Dawn then visited Havoc to inform her that she was leaving and could… bend the truth a little.

"I am afraid that the invitation was only addressed to me, sister," Dawn said firmly. "It would not be prudent for you to accompany me uninvited. It could be misinterpreted as a showing of disrespect."

"There's gotta be a mistake. We're supposed to be here together working on this mission and everything! The queen knows that!" Havoc blurted, throwing her hooves in the air. "Why would she only invite you?"

"I cannot begin to postulate an explanation for the reasoning behind Her Majesty's decision, but I believe it to be in our best interests if we abide by it." Dawn then smirked. "Besides, I was under the impression that you had no interest in attending any diplomatic negotiations?"

Havoc huffed. "Well, yeah, but I mean, it's different now. I'm invested! Super invested! Curaçao wanted me along for a reason, so I should keep working with what we've got, right? I thought I made a good first impression—"

"I am of the opinion that Curaçao's insistence for your presence here was merely for embellishing our intentions and putting forth a beneficial 'first contact' of sorts. Your excursions in the Wastelands have contributed a substantial amount of goodwill for our cause, certainly, but I feel that your role in these matters has come to an end."

"Bullshit! Look, I'm sure if I came along and explained things to the queen—"

"No!" Dawn snapped, fixing her sister with the harshest glare she could manage, a talent of which she was proud. "It seems as though I have not made myself clear, so allow me to reiterate: you are not welcome on this endeavor. This is not a request; this is a command from your superior. These negotiations require a delicate touch, and I would prefer you not be present for the proceedings. Am I perfectly clear?"

Havoc stared at her a moment, then clenched her teeth. "Crystal."

"Excellent." 

She then turned and made her way towards the guard escort, not speaking another word to Havoc as she went. She heard the door to her sister's room slam, so hard in fact that some of the nearby paintings and vases jostled from the impact. She could really do without the noise; she hadn't slept so well the few nights before, worse than she had in months. Clearly this hotel's beds required immediate maintenance; she'd inform the concierge when she returned.

The guard, a unicorn stallion, motioned for Dawn to follow along and showed her out of the hotel and towards one of the city's elevator systems, this one different from the one they'd all taken up the other day. This elevator passed right alongside the royal palace itself, which was a large structure composed of several towers decorated with red and gold. Impressive enough given the circumstances, but nothing special compared to Pandora Tower.

The guard ushered her along through several passageways once inside the palace, all of which were clean and neat yet sparsely decorated. Apart from the coloration it reminded Dawn rather much of Pandora Tower, actually, replacing the blacks of home with golds and with a less modernized feel. It was otherwise a rather spartan affair; Father would have approved, Dawn was certain of it, and thus so too did she. 

Eventually she and her escort reached the Council Chambers, whereupon Dawn was given permission to enter. Queen Blackburn and the Council were already present inside, as was Lockwood to Dawn's surprise, but she supposed if he was to be the future king then he may as well have a taste of what actual political diplomacy looked like compared to all those pathetic cocktail dinners and fundraisers he was accustomed to.

The attention of the entire room was on her as she entered, and she was given only a brief moment to observe the ponies present. Since she had no information thus far on just who was in the Queen's Council, she couldn't exactly put names to faces and hoped she'd get proper introductions sooner rather than later. She felt slightly vulnerable without the brevy of information she was accustomed to having ahead of time.

Ponies began taking their seats almost immediately, as if they were eager to get this meeting started, a good sign as far as Dawn was concerned. Lockwood took a seat at the far end of the table that did not look like a permanent fixture, which she felt was rather noticeable considering there was an empty seat in the Council's formation. She assumed he'd eventually have a permanent fixture of his own, but right now it made him seem out of place.

Blackburn herself sat at the center of the table across from the seat that she directed Dawn to sit in. "Welcome, Shadow Associate. Arrival was punctual. Thank you." She tilted her head slightly, as if disappointed. "Commander Havoc not with you."

Dawn cleared her throat. "Regretfully, no, my sister will not be present at this meeting. She requested an opportunity to explore and experience your fine city, Your Majesty. To 'take in the sights', as she explained it, and perhaps sample your culture. I did not deny her request."

Blackburn eyed her carefully, her eyes focused in a way that Dawn felt in her very soul, then shrugged. "A shame. Desired opportunity to speak with her. Will do so another time."

"Speak with her about what, if I might ask?"

Blackburn smirked. "She earned reputation in city as 'Fire Warrior'. Helped hundreds of ponies across western Wasteland over several months, utilized unique flame weaponry according to witness reports. Wished to ask questions regarding weaponry, more importantly regarding motivations."

Dawn felt herself twitch just slightly. How anypony could want to speak with Havoc about anything was almost alien to her, like wanting to talk to a dung beetle about its craft. 

"Commander Havoc's assignment regarding the safe escort of refugees was due to my commands as part of a goodwill mission," she replied, "which itself is in relation to the peace proposal that I am here to present to you and your councilors. The weapons are also an in-development, classified project that she is not permitted to discuss."

Again, Blackburn fixed her with those eyes of hers. "Hmm… acceptable. Very well. Let us begin, then. Introductions in order." She gestured to Dawn first and looked to her councilors. "Everypony, this is Golden Dawn, Shadow Associate of the New Pandemonium City Committee."

"And we're certain of this?" asked one of the stallions, a rock-gray earth pony with an impressive build and a short black mane. He was clad in a fully decked-out military uniform. "There's no way of proving that she is or isn't who she says she is. We're just supposed to take her at her word?"

Blackburn nodded. "True. Best-case scenario, truth; we hear her out, make decision, carry it out. Outcome is peace. Worst-case scenario, lie: we hear her out, make decision, carry it out. Outcome doesn't change status quo, simply a waste of our time."

"And she can bring our identities back north with her in either case," Stellar Storm pointed out.

"Information that will not impact ability to lead. CIA agents haven't pierced defenses in years; unlikely to change. Ultimatum issued years ago: NPAF or CIA agents infiltrating city are to be executed. Temporary suspension of doctrine for these two weeks."

Storm nodded. "A fair point, Your Majesty." 

"Agreed." The stallion nodded at Dawn. "I'm General Avalanche, by the way, head of the city's ground defenses in the event of an attack. Might as well get introductions taken care of, eh?"

Dawn nodded. "A pleasure, General." She also nodded at Storm. "And I am already acquainted with Chief Stellar Storm, who commands your intelligence and security divisions." This, Dawn noted, put her in the same position that Director Underhoof held on her own Committee.

Storm nodded. "Miss Dawn."

Blackburn then went down the line and introduced the rest of the Council to Dawn.

There was Chief Engineer Spark Plug, a stocky earth pony stallion with an orange coat and bright blue mane, wearing a blue jumpsuit. He was in charge of the city's power system and mechanical developments, meaning his department was responsible for actually putting together all of their engineering advancements. He had no real equivalent on the Committee that Dawn could tell.

Next was Chief Science Officer Moonglass, a cream-yellow unicorn mare with a red-and-blue mane kept in a short ponytail, and who wore a white lab coat over a purple turtleneck sweater. She was in charge of the scientific advancements the city developed, which included medicine, weaponry, resource gathering, and everything in between. Doctor Blutsauger, despite only being officially Chief of Medicine, often oversaw similar development tasks, such as cloning technology, which was thankfully still a secret known only to a few.

Following that was Secretary Cherry Tart, Chief of Sanitation and Infrastructure, a wine-red earth pony mare with a wavy pink mane, dressed in a simple white blouse and matching scarf. She was in charge of construction within the city, similar to what Taskmaster Concrete's duties were back home, as well as portions of Chairpony Champagne's resource management responsibilities.

Then there was Fleet Master Lightning Flash, a sea-green pegasus stallion with a gold mane, wearing a decorated black flight jacket. As his title suggested, he was in charge of the city's airship fleet, which included both military and commercial deployments. In the case of an attack on the city, he would share duties with General Avalanche in its defense. Admiral Hotstreak was responsible for the same, but did so entirely alone.

Dawn was informed that the next seat in the line, which was currently empty, belonged to Ambassador Concord, who handled the city's diplomatic relations with Newhaven down south, and who was rarely present for Council meetings. He typically voted remotely on issues, and Blackburn assured Dawn he would receive a full transcript of this meeting by the end of the evening so that he could submit a vote. There was no equivalent in the Committee for his position, but Dawn felt she herself fit the role fairly well, at least at present.

Lastly, there was the Secretary of Commerce, and the only pony who needed no introduction: Don Virtuoso Fantasia, in the flesh. He was a tall, white unicorn stallion with a broad frame that filled out his black suit. His ocean-blue mane was short and neatly-trimmed and matched his equally-short and neatly-trimmed pencil-thin mustache. He was in charge of the city's trade issues, and technically the city's finances as well, which made him the equivalent of Treasurer Vendetta back home. Ironic, actually.

"With introductions concluded, we can begin," Blackburn said once she'd gone over the entire Council. She then gestured to Dawn. "Shadow Associate, you have the floor. Present peace proposal."

Dawn sat up straight in her chair and took a deep breath. She'd gone over her presentation several times in her head over the past week since Curaçao explained the plan, and was fully prepared to present it to the absolute best of her ability. This was why she had to be here, not Curaçao. Her eldest sister may have been a clever sort with a keen way with twisting words and phrases, but right now, they needed somepony that could speak concisely and with the proper air of leadership. 

Anypony else would have gotten it wrong.

"Your Majesty, Councilors, I come here on behalf of the New Pandemonium City Committee to present a proposal for a total cessation of hostilities between our two nation-cities," she said, clearly enough that it would carry throughout the room. "This war between us has perpetuated our cultures for decades, and our Committee has decided to put an end to it, via these peaceful, diplomatic relations.

"Our terms are simple, as our city has been the primary aggressor in past engagements: we merely request an opportunity to make reparations, to build a politically and culturally-positive relationship between our cities, and to better the northern continent as a whole through these efforts. We also request that Hope's Point ceases its smuggling efforts and acts of piracy in all fields directed towards New Pandemonium.

"In addition, we would request inclusion in proper trade agreements between New Pandemonium, Hope's Point, and the southern continent for the acquisition of raw materials and foodstuffs, as well as a shared technological exchange so as to further advance our societies. This would also include the arrangement of proper travel routes via which ponies and goods can transition between our cities without fear of the dangers of Wastelands."

Dawn then took another breath. "These are the terms that have been agreed upon by a preliminary hearing from the Committee. Our terms are subject to change should additional issues arise that require addressing, but as of this moment there has been no discussion of any additional terms within our proposal. Your Majesty, Councilors, what say you?"

There was a long silence, several seconds long in fact, as everypony in the room seemed to take in her entire spiel and let it settle within their minds.

Virtuoso broke the silence. "Stars above, signorina, that speech of yours sounds like it was recited right out of a technical manual or stereo instructions."

"Concise, straightforward," Blackburn said with a nod of agreement. She then took a short breath. "Easy to digest and accept."

"Sounds to me like it makes for a pretty easy agreement on face value alone," said Storm, raising an eyebrow. "All you want from us is to basically keep doing what we've been doing for decades, only we need to stop smuggling and stealing, and we need to start playing nice with you?"

"Correct," Dawn said. "Ideally we would initiate a ceasefire within a month's time and engage in further discussions until a formal agreement can be made."

"A little too good to be true," huffed Moonglass, adjusting her glasses. "Too simple. Too neat."

Dawn bit her tongue, then said, "Naturally these are only the terms that the Committee itself is presenting as part of the proposal. Hope's Point may bring its own terms to the negotiating table. I also remind everypony present that this is merely a preliminary discussion; any terms you present to me will be delivered back to the Committee to begin further discussions before any official agreements are made."

"Oh, and you'd better believe there are gonna be some terms," snorted Storm.

Blackburn nodded. "Already discussed possible talking points with Councilors in preparation for meeting. Terms simple, yet difficult, but terms of this sort always are. Secretary Virtuoso, if you would begin?"

Virtuoso smirked at Dawn and leaned forward in his seat, hooves steepled in front of him. "Most of our terms are financial in nature, you understand. You mentioned in your own term list that you wanted an opportunity to make reparations for damages sustained in the course of our conflict. So let's discuss that, shall we?" 

He took a data pad from beside his seat, set it on the table, and opened up a document before sliding it over to Dawn.

"I had my boys whip this together last night. A completely itemized list of every single expenditure that is a direct result of NPAF attacks and CIA sabotages on Hope's Point over the past fifty years," he explained. "It is very thorough."

Dawn glanced at the list up-and-down, turning page after page and skimming through the various items on the list with little concern whatsoever. New Pandemonium's economy could handle any expense that would be required for reparations, she knew that for a fact, if only because there were already systems in place for her father's immeasurable fortune to funnel into every possible field. Peace would be spared no expense.

But she had to act like it would take effort, and Curaçao had been clear on how to go about it. "This is quite the list, Secretary Virtuoso," she said with a nod as she came to the bottom. "Six hundred ninety-two billion bits is not exactly… what is the phrase, 'pocket change'? The potential economic impact on our city is astronomical."

"Naturally we can negotiate over the individual items here and there," Virtuoso said with a shrug. "But I don't do my position justice by skipping steps, you understand? I'm willing to listen to whoever your Treasurer is these days argue over which items are considered to actually be at fault of the NPAF or CIA." He then tilted his head. "Who is your Treasurer these days, by the way? It's not still Penny Pinch, is it?"

"Penny Pinch retired five years ago, before I was appointed as Shadow Associate. Our current Treasurer is Vendetta Rossa."

Virtuoso froze, eyebrows raising so high they threatened to disappear into his mane. "Don Vendetta is your city's Treasurer now?"

"Correct."

There was a long pause, and virtually everypony in the room had eyes on Virtuoso as if waiting for a reaction. Dawn wasn't sure what they were expecting, but she certainly wasn't expecting him to break out into the most sincere burst of laughter she'd ever seen in her life. He laughed and laughed, and laughed some more, then looked at Dawn, took a breath, and laughed again, louder than ever. She'd never seen a pony laugh so hard, and it was frankly concerning.

"Che ironia! Questo mondo ama prendermi in giro ad ogni svolta. Questo sta per essere divertente. Non vedo l'ora." 

Virtuoso's native Baroque was fast-paced and punctuated by lots of hoof motions and chuckles as he looked among the rest of the Council. He guffawed once again, then dramatically wiped tears from his eyes. 

"Ah… I have a feeling you will have quite a hectic experience when you return to your Committee to deliver the news, signorina."

Dawn blinked, unsure what to make of the whole situation. From what she understood of Virtuoso from Curaçao's dossiers—Dawn admittedly skimmed these because she didn't believe Virtuoso to have such a critical position in Hope's Point—the stallion had some sort of fierce rivalry with Treasurer Vendetta that had gotten heated roughly five or so years ago, though she didn't know the details. She'd have to ask Curaçao about it when she got home.

"Er… thank you, Secretary Virtuoso. I am sure I can arrive at an agreement with Treasurer Vendetta over these terms of yours," Dawn said. She then turned to Blackburn. "Are your only terms financial in nature, Your Majesty?"

"Most of them," the queen said, unperturbed by Virtuoso's display. "However, these are terms that Council agreed upon. Specifically asked they be impersonal and pragmatic. Additional terms, however, related to your offering of cessation of hostilities: a dismantling of the NPAF fleet, for starters."

"That is something that has already entered into discussion among the Committee. Admiral Hotstreak plans on turning military spending inwards to focus on defense and policing as part of the upcoming ceasefire stage of negotiations."

"Admiral Hotstreak himself said this?" asked Fleet Master Lightning. "Those were his words?"

Dawn nodded. "He is of the belief that the NPAF's expenditure of resources in the war would be better spent elsewhere. By his admission, it has been a colossal waste of funding with little in the way of results."

"Hmph, that almost sounds like him, except the whole 'stop fighting Hope's Point' part," Lightning huffed. "I have a hard time believing the admiral would agree to this entire proposal of yours in the first place. I always knew the Admiral as a warmongering buffoon, and ponies don't just change their tune at the drop of a hat."

Dawn suppressed the urge to chuckle. The Admiral's public face was so contrary to the one he wore in private that she was certain if anypony knew, they'd swear they were different ponies. A benefit of having the Admiral as a confidant.

"On the contrary," she retorted. "He was one of the majority who voted in favor of it. Out of interest of privacy I cannot reveal much more about the proceedings, but in this circumstance if it can serve as an example that proves the genuine nature of our proposal, then our guidelines allow me to present such information."

This seemed to surprise much of the table, particularly Lightning. "Huh. Well, if you say so, I guess I'll buy it for now."

Dawn then turned back to Blackburn, eager to move this along. There'd been no real surprises thus far, and she was glad that everything was going as planned. "So, as noted, the fleet will begin dismantlement procedures once terms have been agreed upon by both parties and our ceasefire begins, leading up to the potential signing of a treaty. Are there any additional terms that you wish to present?"

Blackburn leaned forward in her seat, placing her hooves under her chin as she stared Dawn dead in the face. "All terms presented have been impersonal suggestions of this Council. Final term, however, is my own."

Dawn raised an eyebrow. "Very well. State it."

"Have acquired the identity of a single agent within your CIA network. Real name unknown, but at one time used alias 'Crimson Dust'. Agent infiltrated Hope's Point under this guise during rule of King Flashfire, my grandfather. During said infiltration, committed act of sabotage which resulted in the death of one Blue Blitz. My mother."

Dawn froze. She'd been aware of this information, and she had some idea that Queen Blackburn was fully aware of the sabotage and the organization responsible, but definitely not that she was aware of the specific saboteur's identity. That hadn't come up in any of the dossiers she'd read on the subject, which meant that nopony else knew it either; who was at fault for the lack of information, she didn't know, but she was growing increasingly frustrated with being caught off-guard.

"Final term: the agent only known as 'Crimson Dust' is to be extradited into my custody; he will stand public trial and be executed."

"And… you are certain that this was an act of sabotage committed by one of our agents, and are also certain of information regarding their identity?" Dawn asked, trying to conceal her nervousness.

"Quite certain. Uncovered years ago, before taking the crown. Could do nothing with it then; can now."

"I will discuss this with Director Underhoof of the CIA, Your Majesty, but I am not confident that such an extradition would be plausible. Our CIA agents perform their assigned tasks under the assumption that they will be protected—"

"I don't care," Blackburn said, and though the words were calm, Dawn could detect such an intense anger there that for the briefest moment, she was actually worried for her own safety, as ridiculous as that was. "He killed my mom. I want his head."

"And… if that term cannot be agreed upon?"

"Then your peace proposal means nothing to me," Blackburn said, leaning back into a proper sitting position. "Have waited years for the opportunity to do what grandfather could not, what father would not. If peace means so much to you, Shadow Associate Dawn, then one life should be an acceptable trade. Own citizens content with current way of life; peace mostly benefits you."

Dawn took a short breath. "I will… see what can be done. Pardon me if I seem ignorant of the situation, but might I inquire as to why it is this particular event that has earned such scorn? Surely the NPAF attack six years ago would logically draw more? That attack is responsible for the deaths of King Stormchaser, Queen Silver Glow, former Security Chief Gleaming Star, and thousands of your citizens."

"Six thousand eight hundred forty-one citizens, to be precise," quipped Storm.

Dawn nearly balked at the exact figure; it was far larger than the reports she had indicated, nearly quintuple the size in fact. "Indeed. So… I fail to understand why the death of a single pony has caused such impact."

Blackburn seemed to seethe in her seat and very nearly rose up, but Lockwood clearing his throat drew everypony's attention. "If I may, Blackburn?" he said, giving her a gentle look. "I know Miss Dawn well enough to explain it to her in a way that might be more… palatable."

Blackburn stared at him a moment, then back at Dawn before giving him a slight nod and sitting back comfortably in her seat, though Dawn could sense that she'd touched a nerve, yet she didn't know why. For somepony that seemed so logical and composed up until now, Blackburn's behavior was most peculiar and Dawn was left frantically racking her brain for ideas on how to smooth this over.

"Dawn, you haven't been the Shadow Associate for very long, and you and I both know that even before that you weren't exactly cognizant of events going on throughout New Pandemonium," Lockwood said, giving her a firm, knowing look. 

She silently applauded his tact in skirting around the circumstances of her birth; she doubted very much if the rest of the ponies present would be understanding knowing she was a genetic clone of somepony else and had been grown in a "tube" of sorts. Lesser still would they understand the nature of Twilight Sparkle's arrival and departure. Yes, better that all be kept under wraps.

She still hated that he knew about it at all, seeing as it was something far above his station, or at least it had been before this trip. Now, she could see the benefit in keeping him "in the loop" as Curaçao had put it. Her eldest sister may not have known how far his influence really went, but it was proving quite the boon. Things like this were why Curaçao was the only one of her sisters that ever actually made Dawn proud.

"Well," Lockwood continued, "I was very young when the assassination of Blue Blitz was broadcast on the news, but I still remember it clearly. The propaganda machine up north joyfully welcomed the news. They paraded this small victory around like they'd struck a blow against some truly vicious enemies. In truth, all they'd done was publicly murder an innocent mare who'd none nothing wrong except live in the wrong city, and what's worse, they did so in front of her daughter.

"I know that it might be hard for you to understand just what that might be like, since you've never experienced anything of that sort yourself, so… put yourself in Blackburn's position for a moment. Imagine you were Blackburn on that day, and you witnessed with your own eyes the murder of somepony very close to your own heart. Your father, for instance. Then, imagine that their death was celebrated by those responsible for it."

Dawn tried to picture a scenario in which her father was murdered in front of her, and though it was difficult to even imagine such a scenario in the first place—her father was invincible, as far as she was concerned, especially with her protecting him—she was able to come to the conclusion that she would very much not enjoy it, not one bit. Just thinking about it sent a shiver through her. 

What might have happened on the rooftop of Pandora Tower if Nihila had succeeded in overpowering her and killing her father? What if she hadn't caught him before he fell from the tower? What if he hadn't recovered from absorbing Nihila's power? Each of those moments felt like time had stood still for a brief instant, as though the entire world had ceased to be except for the fear she felt for her father's safety.

"I… suppose that would instill quite a significant degree of resentment in an individual," she replied with a slight nod.

"'Resentment' not strong enough," Blackburn said through clenched teeth. "Sheer hatred."

"Yes, well…" Dawn gulped. "I can now see how that situation might impose a significant impact upon your perception towards New Pandemonium. Why, though, is it more so than the later NPAF attack? That I have trouble understanding."

"Not a matter of 'more' impactful. More a matter of… logistics." Blackburn leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "Intelligence gathered gave us identity of assassin, can now pursue justice. Other hoof, NPAF attack made up of hundreds of ponies, crews of airships involved. Impractical to seek out each one. Blame can be placed upon Air Raid, NPAF Captain in charge of operation."

"And we've already… dealt with him," said Storm with a grin. 

Dawn nodded in understanding. "Following a disastrous second attack the following year, he was subsequently discharged and subjected to a trial. Intelligence suggested that he was secretly a Hope's Point sympathizer who had provided your city with the logistics of the shield disrupting technology. Though the motive of such betrayal was questioned at the time, it still resulted in his subsequent execution for treason. Admiral Hotstreak suspected Hope's Point involvement; you confirm his suspicions."

"Planted evidence," Blackburn said. "Air Raid was a public figure, easy to enact justice. CIA operative not public figure; real identity unknown to any but the CIA Director. Cannot do same as was done for Air Raid without further information. Thus, place responsibility in your hooves: find this agent, deliver to me."

"I believe I understand now how crucial this point is to you. I cannot promise anything presently, but I will stress the importance of this term to Director Underhoof."

"See that you do." Blackburn turned to Lockwood and gave him another slight nod. "Thank you, Lockwood."

"Of course," Lockwood said with a small smile. "I know this is a delicate situation and figured that if you wanted me to sit in on this meeting, I might as well pull my weight."

"And we're happy to have you along, vecchio amico," said Virtuoso, clapping Lockwood on the shoulder. "You'll make for a wonderful king. I don't think anypony understands Her Majesty better than you." He briefly looked at Gadget, who was giving him a look that Dawn understood well; she'd given it to Havoc a number of times. "Ah, or Gadget, of course."

"Damn right," Gadget huffed.

Dawn cleared her throat. "So, the terms of our peace proposal have presented thus far, and I believe it would be appropriate for you, Your Majesty, and for your Council to overview and discuss our terms and yours in detail amongst yourselves. I will reside in Hope's Point for the remainder of my planned itinerary. If at any point you wish to discuss adjustments to the terms, simply contact me and I will make all due haste to address your concerns."

"Acceptable," Blackburn said with a nod. She looked to the councilors. "If there are no other questions?" There were none. "Then we adjourn." She looked back to Dawn. "Will be in touch."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Dawn said with a polite nod.


*****


Havoc sat by herself at the end of a bar in a large common room at a drinking establishment calling itself The Wyrm's Head. The building's architecture was difficult to really put into words, but the best Havoc could tell was that it had been cobbled together from dozens of ships—old-school ocean-faring vessels, mind—into something that sort of resembled a proper building. 

She'd checked out a few rooms in the place and saw that they all had a completely different atmosphere to them, but had decided to settle in this more traditional "sports bar-style" one on the ground floor. There were others that looked interesting, of course, just not what she needed right now. The "nightclub" one was interesting, for sure, what with the glow sticks and ultraviolet lights.

She sat and she sipped from the tall bottle of beer she'd ordered, a strong dark beer, just the kind she liked, while taking the occasional drag from her cigarette. She didn't talk to anypony, not that anypony was near enough to talk to at the moment anyway. 

Her attention was more focused on the television placed above the bar, which was currently tuned to a local skyball game. She had to admit the players here weren't bad, but it made her feel a pain in her gut watching them have fun and compete.

All she really wanted was to be left alone to wallow in her own disappointment and nostalgia. Luckily, most ponies seemed to catch the drift, and so nopony had come to take the seat next to her at the bar, and the bartender only talked to her when she signaled him for another beer. 

She was thankful that her tab was apparently being covered by Queen Blackburn. Just one of the benefits to being a foregin dignitary, or whatever she was considered now that she wasn't even invited to diplomatic meetings. She felt like her sister's glorified saddlebag who did all the hard work then was cast aside and forgotten until it was time to pack up and leave.

Fucking Dawn.

She was certain that her sister would be pissed at her for spending her time in a bar right now, but as far as she was concerned, Dawn could go fuck herself. If she wasn't allowed to go to these formal diplomatic meetings, then she was going to do whatever she could to help Curaçao's plan work out on her own time, which meant she had to put on good appearances. 

From how Havoc understood it, Hope's Point had an almost ritualistic drinking culture, and so she figured that when in Hope's Point, you did as the Hope's Point ponies did. And that meant drinking and being merry. So okay, she wasn't exactly "merry" right now, but she made up for it with more drinking. Simple mathematics.

Eventually though, Havoc knew her luck would run out and somepony would have the balls to approach her despite the "fuck off" vibe she was trying to radiate. 

This somepony happened to be an earth pony mare with a pale yellow coat, and a short, two-tone cyan mane. She wore a tight-fitting blouse and a long skirt with a cute pink saddlebag, and she'd decorated her mane with a flamboyant clip that matched her cutie mark. Havoc also noticed that the mare's muzzle wasn't quite as rounded as the other mares Havoc knew, sort of coltish if truth be told.

Havoc did her best to just ignore the mare, hoping she'd just go away. But luck didn't seem to be on her side, because the mare cleared her throat and spoke: "Um… excuse me? You wouldn't happen to be the, um… the Fire Warrior, would you?"

Havoc snorted a plume of smoke from her nose, more from her cigarette than her own flames. "What's it to ya? Looking for an autograph or something?"

"Oh, um, n-no—"

"I'll tell you what I've told everypony else today that asked me for one: I'm not in the mood." Havoc forcefully snuffed out her current cigarette in the ashtray, then took another from her pack and lit it up with her lighter. "I'd actually like to be left alone, if you don't mind."

"Oh…. of course, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—" The mare then paused, gulped, and took another breath. "I just… I wanted to thank you. That's all."

Havoc raised an eyebrow and turned slightly to glance at the mare directly, eyeing her up and down as she did. "Thank me? For what, saving you out in the Wastelands? 'Cause I don't recognize you, and I've got a pretty good memory."

"Oh, no, not for helping me. Not directly, anyway. But you did help save some members of my family."

The mare reached into her saddlebag and pulled out a photograph, which she placed on the bartop. Havoc glanced at it and immediately recognized herself in the picture, as well as the pose she was in. What was that little colt's name again, the one who liked photography? Spring Cheer? Yeah, that seemed about right. The photo had actually come out pretty good; she looked like a total badass.

"Thanks to you, I got to see my brother and his wife again after being separated for years," the mare said with a smile. "Thanks to you, I got to meet my nephew for the first time. I don't think I could possibly put into words just how much I appreciate what you did, so… the best I can do is say, 'thank you'." 

The mare then let out a soft sigh and turned to leave.

Havoc stared at the picture of herself on the bartop for a moment, then shook her head, chastising herself silently. You're better than this, Havoc. Dawn would be the sort of bitch that chases off somepony just trying to be nice. You're better than this, better than her.

"Hang on," she said, gently kicking the empty stool next to her over towards the mare. "You don't gotta leave. Go on, take a seat."

The mare turned back and glanced at the stool, then at Havoc. "Oh, I… I don't want to disturb you if you'd rather be alone—"

"Look, do you wanna take a seat, or not?"

The mare paused, then wordlessly took the seat next to Havoc.

Havoc sighed. "Sorry about being a little bitchy earlier. I've been having kind of a rough day, and the last thing I wanted was company."

The mare tilted her head. "I'm… sorry to hear that. If you don't want me here, though, I can just go. I understand. I got my chance to say what I wanted, so… so I won't mind. Really."

"Nah, it's fine. It's not right for me to act like a cunt just because things aren't going my way. You didn't have anything to do with it, so I've got no beef with you." She offered the mare her hoof. "Name's Havoc."

"I know. My brother told me," the mare said with a slight smile as she took Havoc's hoof and gently shook it. Havoc noted her hooves were slightly thicker than a typical mare's, but still expertly hooficured. "My name's Cotton Rose."

"So, Lemon Twist is your brother, huh? He did say something about having family here in the city, so I guess that was you."

"That's right. My parents and I left New Pandemonium eight years ago. Lemon would've come with us, but his wife was pregnant at the time so they decided to wait until their foal was born and old enough to go with them." Cotton's smile turned a little sad. "I'm glad they fared better than we did…"

Havoc raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Our father… didn't make it," Cotton said with a sigh. "He got hurt trying to get us away from some of those bugs, and… we… we had to leave him behind."

"I'm… sorry to hear that…" Havoc muttered.

"It's alright. It's been long enough that it doesn't hurt so much anymore. Hope's Point sent out a recovery team to find him after we got here safely, just to give us some closure."

Havoc hummed to herself, knowing that those recovery teams were the reason she couldn't hit the eastern Wasteland. Beyond just searching for the remains of those who didn't make the trip, they also served as scouts to ensure the NPAF wasn't up to something, and she'd stick out like a sore hoof. Those teams didn't venture into the western Wasteland for the same reason.

Cotton shook her head, then gave Havoc a genuine smile. "But thanks to you, that didn't happen when my brother's family made the trip. I wish that there had been somepony like you around back then, but I'm glad you're here now. So… thank you again, for saving them."

Havoc returned the smile. "You're welcome. I'm glad I could help, and… yeah, I wish things had been different for your father." She tilted her head, realizing that the bartop in front of Cotton was empty, aside from the photograph. "You drink, Cotton?"

"Do birds fly? Heh heh, everypony in Hope's Point drinks," Cotton said with a sly grin. "Everypony of age, I mean. It's a little rite of passage, y'know?"

"Rite of passage?"

"Oh yes. There's this special drink we have that comes with a cherry dipped in a magic-laced syrup. When you come of age, you drink it down, cherry and all, in one go. We also use it to make sure new ponies are old enough, see, 'cause if you're underage, you puke up the whole thing. Otherwise you just burp, heh heh."

Havoc raised an eyebrow. "Seems pretty elaborate when you could just card a pony."

"Yeah, but Hope's Point is kind of known for fake IDs, 'y'know? Besides," Cotton giggled, "it's more fun this way."

"Huh, I guess it could be. So, what's your poison?"

"Well, don't judge me, but I'm fond of the fruitier fare here. I can handle the harder stuff, certainly, but I save that for different occasions. Special ones, y'know?"

Havoc nodded and signaled the bartender. "Yo! Another beer for me and something fruity for the lady!"

"Oh, you don't need to get me anything, I can pay—"

"Don't sweat it, everything's on the queen's tab," Havoc chuckled. 

The bartender, a salt-and-pepper-colored unicorn stallion with a matching mustache, nodded and in under a minute delivered a cold beer to Havoc and a colorful, wide-rimmed fruity drink to Cotton, complete with salt on the rim and one of those little paper umbrellas. The coloring made Havoc grin just a little; it was a bright blue with a little rainbow-colored swirl running through it. Rainbow Dash would probably hate having such a girly drink resembling her.

Cotton took the drink and sipped from the provided straw. "Thank you. I'm serious, though, you don't have to put this on Her Majesty's tab. I'm more than capable of buying my own drinks."

"I'm sure you are, but consider this my way of making up for being a bitch earlier." 

"I wouldn't call you that—"

"I would, so let's just leave it at that, yeah?"

"Hmm, okay, if you want to," Cotton tittered. "And why is this on Her Majesty's tab, anyway? I thought that was only for our pilots and her personal guests?"

"Well, uh… I can't go into it, exactly. I shouldn't have even said it. So, um… don't go mentioning that around, okay?"

Cotton drew her hoof over her heart twice. "Cross my heart."

Havoc nodded, then took a swig from her beer and let out a satisfied sigh. "Damn good beer your city has, by the way. So, uh, how are Lemon and Mint doing? And Spring, of course. They all settled in?"

"Very much so. Lemon's working as a bartender at a little hotel on the north side of the city, called uh… Inn 'N' Out, I think. It's not quite The Wyrm's Head, but it's pretty popular. Mint is finishing her culinary degree, and Spring just finished his first semester at school. He keeps a copy of your photo in his backpack to show off to his classmates, bragging about how he saw the legendary Fire Warrior." 

Havoc smiled and nodded; hearing that the colt was happy with the picture made her feel warm and fuzzy. "Awesome, that's good to hear. 

Cotton giggled and took another sip of her drink, making a big enough show of it that Havoc easily noticed, for some reason. "So yeah, everypony's fitting in just fine. They're gonna flip when I tell them I talked to you. Not a lot of ponies even know you're in town. I'm lucky I happened to be in the neighborhood."

"How about you? What do you do for a living if you're so certain you can pay for your own drinks?" Havoc asked.

"Oh, I'm a fashion designer," Cotton said with a smile of her own. She then bit her tongue and tilted her head back and forth. "Wellll, apprentice fashion designer, slash assistant. I work for Haute Couture, one of the top designers in the city, actually." She then fluffed her skirt just a little. "This is one of my designs."

"I've never been much for fashion myself. My sister Insipid is a model up north though. You two would hit it off pretty well, I think. Her best friend was a fashion designer."

"Well I'd love to meet her someday," Cotton said with a grin, brushing a bit of hair out of her eyes. "And I don't have to ask what you do for a living, Commander. Though I guess we could narrow it down and say you're in pest control, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess that kind of fits," Havoc chuckled. She flexed her leg briefly, showing off her lean muscles. "Yeah, you're lookin' at the top exterminator this side of Pandemonium. I squash every kind of bug there is, guaranteed, no matter the size, or your money back."

Cotton laughed and playfully slapped Havoc's hoof. "You oughta put that on a business card, Miss Fire Warrior. Passing a few of those out would work a little better than just word-of-mouth from everypony that sees you work."

"I think my reputation speaks for itself," Havoc boasted, puffing her chest out and spreading her wings a bit.

Cotton eyed Havoc's wings. "Ooh, it certainly does." She then scooted her stool a little closer. "So, um… if you don't mind my asking, you said you were having a bad day earlier. I know it's not really any of my business, but… y'know, if you wanna vent to anypony, I've been told I've got a good set of ears."

Havoc tilted her head, considering Cotton for a moment, then sighed and leaned against the bar. "It's just, I finally got let into the city, y'know? For most of the past year, I've tried to do my job but keep my distance, 'cause I wasn't sure what might happen to me if I got too close."

"Oh, yeah," Cotton winced. "I don't think Her Majesty would've liked anypony from the NPAF flying around our borders. It's perfectly natural to be scared of what she'd do."

"Psh, scared? Me? I ain't scared of anything," Havoc said, flipping her mane. "I'm the toughest bitch in the universe. Put that on a business card."

Cotton put her hoof to her mouth and giggled, getting a smile out of Havoc in the process.

"Naw, I figured I could handle anything that got thrown at me, but like, I'd ruin things for other ponies if I got caught. Like, my sister's here doing some diplomatic work—" Havoc froze up. "Uh, I don't know if I'm supposed to be talking about this."

Cotton gently put her hoof on Havoc's. "You don't have to go that much into it if you don't want to."

Havoc glanced briefly at Cotton's hoof, then cleared her throat. "Uh, right. Little details, let's see. Well, like… I'm allowed in the city now because my sister is doing some important business, and I came along for the trip. But… I guess I thought I'd be able to get more involved with things."

"You wanted to be a part of it all?"

"I mean, kinda? I'm not really one for making business deals or whatever, but I dunno, yeah, I guess I just figured I'd be able to be a part of it and I kind of wanted that. So when my sister decided not to let me come along, yeah, that pissed me off."

Cotton tilted her head. "Why isn't she letting you get involved?"

"Because she's a bitch!" Havoc blurted, throwing her hooves in the air. "She's so fucking full of herself and doesn't give two shits about anypony else but her! She didn't even want me to come on the trip in the first place, and ever since we left she's been doing everything she can to try and keep me out of it.

"Like, I know I'm a bit of a loudmouth sometimes, a little rough around the edges or whatever, but I know I've got it in me to handle this." Havoc grunted. "Our eldest sister sure thought I was a good pick, so much so that she sent me instead of somepony that I thought deserved it more, and she's pretty ticked off about not getting to go. And now my little sister is directly going against her wishes. It's bogus!"

"Wow," Cotton said, shaking her head. "It sounds to me like your little sister just wants all the credit for whatever business deal you're arranging."

"Yeah, yeah, that's exactly it," Havoc said, nodding her head. "Like, I've been putting in all this work to help, but now she's pushing me out of it because she can't stomach the thought of sharing in the glory with me."

"I know she's your sister and all, but I hope you don't mind if I say 'fuck her'," Cotton said, lifting her glass. "You deserve better."

"Yeah, fuck her," Havoc said, taking her beer and clanking the bottle against Cotton's glass.

The two then drank a little bit each before setting their drinks down, and Cotton seemed to take a moment to think about something before taking a breath. "So, um… I hope this doesn't sound weird, but y'know… this has been really nice. I've kind of been hoping for a chance to meet you for a while now."

Havoc raised an eyebrow. "Huh? What do you mean?"

Cotton tilted her head towards the photograph. "When Spring showed me that photograph and told me that you'd saved the lives of him and his parents, and talked about how cool you were to him, I… well, I'll admit that I sort of, um…" She paused and took another breath, giving Havoc a little smile. "I kind of developed a crush on you."

Havoc balked, completely at a loss for words.

"I know, it sounds weird," Cotton laughed, brushing her mane out of face. "All I knew about you was from a photograph and from the fanciful stories of a colt and his parents, but all the other ponies you've saved tell the same stories. None of them knew you for more than a few hours, but you stuck with them ever since. So, um… yeah, sorry if that seems weird, but… I needed to get that off my chest."

"I… uh… I don't know what to say, exactly," Havoc said, unable to keep herself from looking dumbfounded by all this. 

She was rapidly trying to parse through their conversation so far, seeing if she'd missed any signs of Cotton flirting with her, and realized that Cotton had been flirting up a storm and Havoc just hadn't noticed until now. Worse, she'd been unintentionally flirting right back for some reason. Or at least, what she was doing and saying could easily be misinterpreted as flirting: the flexing, the spreading of wings, flipping her mane.

She didn't mind, really. It was kind of flattering. But she didn't swing that way, so she knew that she had to get out of this situation as tactfully as possible, hopefully without hurting this poor mare's feelings. "You, uh… you know I'm a mare, right?" was the first thing Havoc could come up with.

Cotton giggled and tilted her head. "Of course I do. I mean, there's no mistaking you for anything but. What does that have to do with anything? Okay, I mean, I usually prefer stallions, but I've been with a couple of mares before, too."

"Oh. W-well, good. That's good. I've got no problem with that," Havoc replied. 

It was true, she didn't! You didn't have Rainbow Dash as your best friend and then suddenly have a problem with mares liking mares. It was just that she didn't like mares. In fact, that had to be her next point.

"But, uh… I'm into stallions, like… exclusively," she said bluntly. "I mean, yeah, I know that I've got weird tastes in what kinds of stallions I like or whatever, but I am one hundred percent into dicks, not chicks."

Cotton blinked, disappointment glimmering in her eyes. "Oh. I see. So you're… not into mares at all?"

Havoc shook her head. "Afraid not, no. Look, I'm sorry if I got your hopes up. I know I've got this tomcolt thing going on, but that doesn't mean I'm into mares or anything like that." She set her hoof on Cotton's shoulder. "I'm not weirded out about you liking me, though. I mean, I'll be honest, if you were a guy I'd probably be into you. Kind of a shame, really." She paused. "Okay, that was shitty to say. Sorry. I'm bad at this."

Havoc saw a slight flicker of amusement in Cotton's eye, and the other mare's mouth curled into a little grin. "Y'know… I think that's probably the nicest thing anypony's said about me in years."

"Huh?"

Cotton took a short breath, seeming to recover from her disappointment. "Okay, so… this is a little complicated, so let me just come out and say it: I appreciate how far you're willing to go to make me feel like a mare, even turning me down and everything. I really do, you have no idea. I usually have to be a lot more upfront about it."

Havoc raised an eyebrow. "You're confusing me. What?"

"Oh, sorry. I should explain it better, huh? I'm… trans. So, like, I really appreciate you being accepting of that. I'm a little disappointed, but—"

"I have no idea what that is," Havoc said flatly. "You're… what? 'Trans'?"

Now it was Cotton's turn to look confused. "You don't know what that is?"

"Nope."

"Oh. Wow, I guess I just assumed—" Cotton shook her head and smiled. "Okay, uh, it's like this: I wasn't born female, but that's how I choose to identify myself."

Havoc blinked. "I don't get it. You weren't born female… but you look female, though?"

"I put a lot of effort into it, yes. I was born male, but I choose to dress, act, speak, and identify as female, because I'm transexusal." Cotton leaned a little against the bar. "Is this really the first time you're hearing about anything like this?"

Havoc parsed through what Cotton had just said, and then it all clicked. She'd gotten off to a few vids here and there that sounded exactly like this situation. "Oh, I get it! You're one of those… uh, what's the word, 'traps'? Right?"

Cotton's smile faltered slightly, looking a little hurt by it, enough that Havoc immediately cursed herself for fucking up. "Actually, that's kind of a derogatory term for ponies like me. It implies that I do all this—" She gestured to her skirt, her makeup, her mane. "—to be deceptive and malicious. I assure you, I'm not doing anything of the sort."

"Shit, sorry," Havoc said quickly, hooves up in a showing of peace. "I didn't mean nothin' by it, it's just the first thing that came to mind. I have a bit of a bad habit of letting my mouth talk before I think it through, and sometimes I say things that might be offensive, and I'm sorry."

"It's alright, you didn't know," Cotton said, looking a bit less hurt now than before. 

Progress.

Havoc swiftly nodded, hoping to keep the ball rolling. "Yeah, this is kind of like how one time, I found out that my best friend was in a long-time relationship with another mare, and my dumbass thought it'd be cute to call her a dyke, y'know, just a little jab. I didn't realize it would hurt her, since we always kind of ripped on each other before so I figured anything goes."

Cotton blinked. "But you two are… okay now, right?"

"Oh yeah, I apologized for it and everything, 'cause I wasn't trying to hurt her, and she knows I meant that. I just blurted it out because I wasn't thinking, that's all. We had this, like, moment, so yeah, we're cool. I don't have any problem with lesbians or anything. I mean, my big sister's gay. And I'm sharing too much. Sorry."

"It's alright."

"Cool, cool. So like, is there a better term I should use for you or something? I'm trying to be good about this kind of shit."

"There's not really a 'better' term, Havoc. I'm a mare, that's all there is to it."

"Okay… okay, got it. You are a mare. One hundred percent." Havoc paused, then took a breath. "But like, I hope this doesn't sound offensive either, but uh… you've still got a, like, y'know…" She gestured her hoof in a circle. "A dick?"

Cotton smiled slightly and nodded. "I do. I'm comfortable with it, and frankly a little scared about getting surgery."

"Okay, right, just… yeah. Had to be sure."

"That's not weird, is it?"

"No, no, not at all. In fact, uh..."

Havoc paused for a long moment, just looking Cotton over and realizing that the other mare really did put a lot of effort into her appearance. The only thing that had made Havoc hesitate was Cotton's slightly coltish muzzle, not quite rounded like her own or like other mares', but not the hard, sharp shape that stallions had.

A part of her was telling her that Cotton was a mare and that she should just leave it at that, turn her down, and walk away; maybe they could be friends, but that was it. 

Another part of her was telling her that this was a complicated situation that had just popped into her lap, and she needed to analyze it more to figure out the proper way to process it. After all, Cotton had been upfront about everything, so she should be too, right? Treat this situation like she'd treated the whole Rainbow situation, even with the slight difference. Namely that Dash never expressed attraction to Havoc.

Another part of her, though, was telling her that what happened in Hope's Point, stayed in Hope's Point, and that this was her chance to finally clear a very particular self-confidence issue. Cotton liked her, and until the last awkward part of this conversation—before Havoc ruined everything by being self-conscious and stupid—Havoc had to admit that she might just like Cotton too if she gave it a shot.

Fuck it, she thought, draining the last of her beer. When in Hope's Point…

"'In fact...' what?" Cotton asked, tilting her head. "You kind of trailed off there."

Havoc got the attention of the bartender. "Yo barkeep! Two shots of your best whiskey!"

Cotton raised an eyebrow. "What's up?"

As the bartender came over and poured the shots swiftly, Havoc passed one over to Cotton and gestured for her to take it. "Look, I'm sorry if I turned things a little awkward. I didn't mean to rain on the little parade we were having here. So, uh… let's assume that I didn't suddenly act all… stupid and weird about stuff. What were you… um, what were you hoping to happen? B-between us?"

Havoc cursed herself for the sudden bout of nervousness. Why in the world had she gone from confident, subconscious flirting to being spineless wimp? Was it because she was thinking about it now? Shit, was this a part of Fluttershy that had managed to sneak its way into her personality? Of all the fucking things, it had to be this!

Cotton paused, then blushed and took the glass of whiskey in her hoof. "Um… to be honest, I was sort of hoping… that you and I could, y'know…" She shook her head. "But I mean, that's not—"

"Cool. Cool." Havoc clinked her glass with Cotton's, and the two took their shots together. She then signaled the bartender to pour two more, then turned back to Cotton. "So. You, uh… you wanted to take me back to your place to… fuck? Is that it?" 

The whiskey was definitely calming her nerves, thank goodness. A little liquid courage went a long way for her, it seemed.

Cotton gulped, then nodded as she took the second shot glass. "I mean, if you'd agreed to it… y-yeah. I was just hoping to ask you out on a date, but if you're cool with more, so am I."

"Cool. Very cool." Havoc clinked glasses together with Cotton again, then downed her whiskey in one go before exhaling loudly and giving Cotton a smirk. "So, uh, what're we waiting for?"

"Hmm?"

"You heard me. Let's get outta here and head back to your place."

"But I thought you didn't—"

Havoc held up a hoof. "Look, this is complicated. I didn't think I was into mares but you're a mare, fine. I wouldn't want to take that away from you. Honestly, until I thought about it, I'll admit that I thought—and still think?—you're cute as hell."

"You… you really think I'm cute?" Cotton asked, wide-eyed, her hoof rising to her cheek.

"Yeah, and uh, maybe that's why I feel all weird about it, what with my orientation or whatever, 'cause now I'm super curious. Maybe I've always been curious. Bi-curious? I mean, I thought I only liked guys, but like, just delicate guys. So… fuck if I know what that means about me. Uh… yeah. Comp-li-ca-ted."

Cotton gestured at herself briefly. "So you don't mind about… me? Being a mare, but not, y'know…?"

"Not at all, if you don't mind about me being a stupid, confused idiot that can't keep her mouth shut."

"I don't mind one bit," Cotton said with a seductive flicker of eyelashes.

Havoc paused briefly, then smirked and gestured with her wing towards the door. "Then let's get the fuck outta here."

Cotton smiled and nodded. "Yes, let's."
> Chapter Five: Training
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Curaçao had never considered herself somepony that got caught up in emotions. Even when she experienced significant urges to act on impulses, she always managed to reign it in and maintain her composure. Only Gray was better at keeping her emotions in check and she'd only ever lapsed once. So, Curaçao prided herself on being able to maintain her cool in any situation.

It was taking every ounce of effort she had to do just that as she sat in behind Dawn's desk that morning. Using her shapeshifting magic, she'd been taking the guise of her youngest sister these past several days in order to interact with the Committee so that those not secretly loyal to their family would not become suspicious about her absence. She could easily mimic Dawn's behavior and personal quirks because nopony else knew her sister better than she did. The disguise was flawless. Absolutely flawless.

As such, Treasurer Vendetta didn't notice anything off about her whatsoever, and spoke with her as he always did with Dawn. "It's wonderful to see you this morning, signorina," the smooth-talking pegasus said. He'd dressed in a needlessly elegant tuxedo for this private video call, even adjusted his lightning to include candlelight. "You're looking as lovely as ever, like a beautiful ray of sunshine. Sei bellissima."

Curaçao felt her stomach turn with disgust. 

She knew plenty of ponies that could be considered loathsome, but she didn't have any hatred for any of them, with the exception of this stallion. That tended to happen when somepony had once been barely within a hair's breadth of sexually assaulting the mare you loved. If it ever happened again, she fully intended to carry through with the threat she'd delivered to him then, and then some.

But she had a role to play, and she would not let her utter revulsion towards the Treasurer show on her face or come through in her tone.

Gardez le calme et continuez, she told herself.

"Your compliments are much appreciated, Treasurer Vendetta," Curaçao-as-Dawn replied, fighting the urge to do so through clenched teeth. "I believe, however, that the purpose of this private meeting was not intended to be about complimenting my physical appearance. I possess additional business matters to attend to this morning, so if we could proceed?"

Vendetta grinned slightly. "That's what I like about you, girasole: you're a true professional at heart, and yet so… affable. Your predecessor was always rather cold, hard as it was to tell through the computer filter. You're much warmer, no? Warm as a summer's day in the south."

Curaçao bit her tongue hard to prevent herself from gagging. "Treasurer Vendetta, if you would, please?"

"Ah, perdonami, non ho potuto trattenersi." Vendetta made a show of looking over a datapad document, scrolling through it and everything. "To business then. I know that the Committee has already voted to proceed with your peace proposal, but I believe you're aware that our guidelines permit votes to be overturned with a majority vote of seventy percent."

"I am cognizant of this information, Treasurer. If five members vote to overturn a prior covenant, then said covenant will be invalidated unless brought to another vote and passing with the same seventy percent majority." Curaçao tilted her head. "Are you implying that you wish to petition the Committee to vote in favor of repealing the peace proposal?"

"Sì, lo sono," said Vendetta with a nod. "I hope that you understand that this is purely a business matter, signorina. I know that your heart is set on the issue, but I must do my duty in maintaining the economic stability of New Pandemonium City, and peace would shatter that stability."

"As you have reiterated time and time again, Treasurer," Curaçao huffed. "Admiral Hotstreak and Chairpony Champagne have already put forward the accusation that you are merely apprehensive about your personal financial interests. That hardly seems equivocal with a concern for the city's stability."

Vendetta shook his head. "That may be so, but I could be considered a sort of… anthropomorphic representation of our city's economy. What affects me affects the city, and Miss Dawn, I don't feel I am exaggerating when I say that dismantling the NPAF fleet and ceasing weapons development will crush the stock market."

"Do you theorize that it could plunge the city into a recession?"

"Oh yes. And that's without considering any potential reparations those pirates will unjustifiably demand from us. In order to preserve our stability, I must fight this peace proposal through every avenue possible, and I fully intend to do so. It's my duty to do so."

Curaçao nodded. "As you are well within your right to do. I must inform you, however, that some members of the Committee have already committed to the cause and initiated undertakings in an attempt to lay the groundwork for further steps. Director Underhoof, for example, has already informed me of efforts to withdraw all external resources and direct them inward."

"I understand that she's become concerned with the strings of disappearances in some of the poorer Mid District neighborhoods," Vendetta said, raising an eyebrow. "Any news on that front yet?"

"None, unfortunately. They are seemingly unconnected, nor are they connected with the reports of similar disappearances in the Outer Districts."

Vendetta waved that away with a hoof. "Miss Dawn, per favore, but nopony cares about what happens in the Outer Districts. Ponies disappear out there all the time; it's just a fact of life."

"Perhaps that perception should be adjusted, then," she added with narrowed eyes.

He ignored her. "Well, if I can put my two bits in, I think that going through with this peace proposal might only exacerbate the issue. If ponies are deciding to emigrate to our new… 'ally', then surely any disappearances in that time may be more difficult to investigate. Wouldn't you agree?"

Curaçao steepled her hooves. She hated that Vendetta, despite his selfish slimeball tendencies, made a good point. "Director Underhoof has expressed a similar concern, but possesses confidence in her ability to address that concern if resources are taken from unnecessary fields and redirected to her department. If military spending is reduced, then she could potentially come into the allowance of funding required."

He grunted. "That all depends on how the Committee votes to diversify the budget, and I remind you that as Treasurer, I have the potential to force budgetary concerns to come to the same seventy percent majority vote before approval. I'll utilize that privilege if I need to if it makes Underhoof change her vote for peace."

"A shrewd tactic, but again, fully within your right. You play a dangerous game though, Treasurer; your tactics skirt the line of what is considered acceptable amongst the Committee. It sets a precarious precedent."

"Where's the fun in life without a little… danger?" he asked with a smirk.

She grunted. "However, I fail to see why you experienced a desire to present this plan of action to me. I cannot vote in any potential deliberations, and it is within my interests to inform the rest of the Committee of your intentions.."

"Well, it is as I said: I hoped to make it clear that I am only doing it because it is my duty to do so. I do not wish for there to be bad blood between us," Vendetta said with a sly grin. "I don't want anything to come between us, capisce?"

Curaçao had to bite her tongue again. "I understand, Treasurer Vendetta, and I can assure you that your opposition will not be interpreted as a personal attack."

"Meraviglioso," Vendetta said, putting his hoof over his heart. "I am glad to hear that, signorina. Il mio cuore si gonfia di sollievo—my heart swells with relief."

Curaçao hoped that his heart would suddenly swell so much that it exploded inside his chest. But she nodded in response as if no such thought had entered her head. "Very well. If there is nothing else, Treasurer, I remind you that there are other tasks I must attend to."

"Of course, of course. You are a very busy mare, I understand. Enjoy the rest of your day, signorina," Vendetta said with a smile. "I'll be in touch."

Curaçao nodded and turned off their video connection, then waited a few seconds to be absolutely sure that the call had ended and that she was alone in Dawn's office. As soon as she was certain that nopony was watching her or listening in, she shifted back into her normal self and let out an angry breath. She wanted nothing more than to take a shower right at that moment to wash off the pure sleaze she felt covered in.

After taking the time to breathe and center herself, she hopped out of the chair and made for the door, heading out and down the hall towards the tower's elevator. She knew she had other work to do right now, but she needed to make a crucial stop first. So, she rode the elevator down to the fiftieth floor of the tower, where there was only one accessible room: the office of the Shadow Associate's secretary, Shroud.

Curaçao didn't need to knock, and just entered without so much as a word, for now at least. Shroud's office was rather small, because it only really needed room for her desk and computer station, from which she could take care of virtually everything and anything that Dawn might require of her. These days it was Curaçao who made most use of these services, if only because she knew how to put it to better use.

In recent months, though, Curaçao had seen to it that the office had been given some more heart, if only because she knew it would help clear the air and relieve stress. There wasn't a lot since there wasn't much room for anything, but it got the job done: a comfortable couch for Shroud to relax on when she took her breaks; a few potted plants—real ones, imported—to add a touch of color; a mini fridge and water cooler so that Shroud didn't need to request things from the kitchens all the time.

A door on the opposite side of the office from the entrance led into Shroud's apartment, which was kept conveniently close so that Shroud had the absolute lowest possible commute from where she lived to where she worked. Considering her apartment's computer had the same access as her work computer, it was really just a formality.

Shroud herself was sitting behind her work desk rapidly typing away, her hooves moving at speeds that still impressed Curaçao to this day. She was a cute, pink-coated unicorn with a red mane not unlike Curaçao's own, and she dressed herself in a clean, pressed dress suit and skirt, ever the professional despite rarely having visitors. Months ago, she had visible bags under her eyes; they'd been slowly disappearing as of late.

She brightened immediately when Curaçao entered. "Oh, hey Curie. What's up? How were your meetings?"

Curaçao didn't say a word, just walked over to Shroud's desk and leaned in to kiss Shroud lovingly on the lips. She smiled into the kiss when Shroud gave a little peep of surprise, then pulled back and nuzzled Shroud's ear gently. "I just needed to see you, ma petite framboise. Je t'aime, you know that?"

Shroud absently licked her lips as Curaçao pulled away. "I love you too, Curie. This is quite the surprise, though. You usually don't drop by until lunch, and you've got at least two hours before then. Is something wrong?"

Curaçao grunted. "Non, I just had the pleasure of a meeting with Treasurer Vendetta."

"Oh no," Shroud grimaced. "Bad, huh?"

"Ouah, you have no idea. Dawn downplayed just how 'friendly' Vendetta is with her." Curaçao shuddered and blanched. "I feel disgusting having to play along with it."

"Ew. They're not… um…"

Curaçao shook her head. "Dawn doesn't even realize what his intentions are, and Vendetta probably thinks she's just playing hard-to-get. I wish I could just put an end to the whole thing. Quelle pagaille!"

Shroud frowned and put her hoof on Curaçao's shoulder. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. Do you want to take a break? I can always take an early lunch if you want."

Curaçao smiled and set her hoof on Shroud's. "Merci, ma chérie, but non, I still have a lot of things to do before lunch that cannot be rescheduled."

"Nonsense, I can reschedule anything you need. Just let me work my magic and anypony that had a meeting with you won't even notice that the times have changed."

"You are too good to me," Curaçao chuckled, stroking Shroud's hoof. "And I appreciate it, but I can't. We'll meet for lunch though, at our normal time. I'll be alright until then; I just needed a little… how do you say, 'pick-me-up'?"

"Well, I'm glad I'm able to help," Shroud said with a grin.

"Always." Curaçao kissed Shroud's cheek, then turned for the exit. "Until later, mon amour. I was thinking… ratatouille?"

"Ooh, that sounds great. Crème Brûlée makes the best ratatouille." She gave Curaçao a little wave. "See you later, Curie."

Curaçao waved farewell to her fillyfriend and headed out the door, then boarded the elevator with a sigh. She really did want to just stop what she was doing and take a break for a moment, if only to let herself relax and regain her focus for the rest of the day, but her next task wasn't exactly too difficult or time-consuming, but would be difficult to reschedule. Shroud might be able to fool ponies that made appointments through her, but Velvet and Pedigree were explicitly expecting her before lunch and would definitely notice if she rescheduled.

Six floors of the tower had been completely restructured to accommodate several new tenants. The circumstances as to why these young colts and fillies were living in the tower was… complicated, to be blunt. Curaçao was still a little bothered by the entire situation, but she definitely didn't hold it against the youths. 

The long and short of it was that these thirty-four young ponies were products of genetic engineering plus a magic infusion process with the intention of creating agents that could aid her father in his work. The foundation of that project was later used, along with the timely and unexpected arrival of the Bearers of the Elements of Harmony, to then create Curaçao and her sisters. There was an underlying sensation of kinship there between her sisters and these youths, and so Dawn and Velvet had seen to it that they would no longer inhabit a cold, sterile laboratory.

As Curaçao disembarked from the elevator, she came to the topmost of the six floors that had been set aside, which was structured as a sort of common area not unlike Pandora Tower's official lounge. At the moment it was mostly empty; only about a dozen of the young ponies were present, all of whom were seated on comfortable seats as they watched an educational video on the big screen television set against the far wall.

Besides them, Pedigree and Velvet were also present, observing the youths. Pedigree had his datapad in his hoof and looked to be busy adjusting figures and making notes, while Velvet just watched the colts and fillies as they watched their program, a warm smile on her face.

"Bonjour, Overseer. Bonjour, Velvet," Curaçao said quietly as she approached. "How are you this morning?"

"Hey sis," Velvet said, not taking her attention away from the young ones just yet. "Been a good morning so far. I'm still getting the hang of making out class schedules and stuff, but I think I'm getting better at it. It's much easier splitting these munchkins up into groups, lemme tell ya."

"I will say that Miss Velvet's educational curriculum more than meets the city's required standards," Pedigree said without taking his attention away from his notes. "They are advancing quickly enough that by this time next year they should be caught up with the city average in their age group, and if this pace continues they would qualify for university-level courses one or two years in advance of the standard."

"Oh la la, that is quite an accomplishment," Curaçao said with a grin in Velvet's direction. "Bravo, Velvet."

Velvet scuffed her hoof on the floor and grinned. "Thanks." She then glanced towards Pedigree and gave him a little smile. "Pedigree's been a real peach, though. I don't know if I could've done it without him. Or without the rest of you girls chipping in here and there."

Curaçao nodded. "It is the least we could do for these young ponies, oui? I am glad to hear that they are progressing so well." She also glanced at Pedigree. "I assume that has something to do with their engineering? Not to disparage Velvet's efforts, but these accomplishments seem extraordinary for ponies so young."

"Not to brag, but yes, that does play a part in it," Pedigree said, adjusting his tie briefly before turning his attention fully on her. "The Shadow Candidate program was designed to produce ponies that possessed a high capacity for learning and absorbing new skills and information. Our students are genetically superior to the average pony their age, I guarantee it."

Curaçao resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The Overseer was still a little bit too detached and clinical regarding how he treated the young ponies, but had definitely gotten a lot better over the past several months. Velvet was a better influence on him than she had any right to be; Dawn had figured Velvet would turn out to be a terrible influence, but such was not the case.

"So, what did you have to show me today?" she asked, looking between the two. "Nothing urgent, I hope?"

"Oh no, nothing like that," Velvet said, brushing that concern off with her hoof. "But Dawn asked me for frequent status reports, and we were scheduled to give one to her today. Buuut, since she's off playing ambassador, we figured we'd give it to you! We've finally got things figured out enough to feel confident with everything, so we're gonna give you a little tour."

"Ah, Dawn was to visit you down here and tour your facility then?"

"Ha ha, no," Velvet chuckled. "Dawn doesn't have time for that. We were gonna just send her a written report detailing all the stuff we've been up to. All Dawn cares about is results, you know that."

Curaçao frowned. "Oui, je le sais. Well, I'm glad that you want to give me a tour, then. I'd very much like to see with my own eyes how things are going."

"Don't worry, it won't take long," Pedigree added with a nod. He gestured out at the colts and fillies watching the television. "As you can see, we've implemented a robust, automated educational system. After every video, I will typically field questions to clarify issues with the students before proceeding to the next batch of course material in the curriculum."

"We're hoping to get, like, some actual teachers in here eventually," Velvet said with a smirk. "It's kind of rough trying to teach so many different subjects to so many little ponies and deal with the other parts of our curriculum, y'know?"

"By which we mean the safe and practiced development of their innate magical abilities," Pedigree clarified. "The program supplements what would normally be simple physical education, but the nature of their training is a more delicate procedure and thus requires a delicate touch." He indicated for Curaçao to follow back towards the elevator. "Come, we'll show you."

As they boarded, Curaçao asked, "No troubles with their training, I hope?"

"A few little hiccups here and there with trying to figure out side effects of their abilities," Pedigree said, glancing at his datapad. "Some of them here and there have not yet displayed any powers, though I am hopeful they'll show some potential soon. Better that we push them now and figure it out rather than having a sudden, unctrolled outburst later on."

"Agreed," Curaçao noted, remembering from the dossiers that some of these little ponies had powers that could potentially be dangerous if not carefully accounted for. 

One colt, for example, apparently had inherited the ability to generate energy blasts from his eyes; if unfocused, he'd be a danger to anypony they came into contact with. This was the case for many of them: potential dangers to others as well as themselves. It broke her heart that they still had to treat these youths like weapon test subjects at times after all these months, but the safety of the colts and fillies was paramount.

The elevator only descended one floor, to the official testing facility, which was composed of a series of sealed rooms made up of see-through glass-like material that Pedigree called "starglass", which was supposedly extremely magic resistant; even the most powerful recorded unicorns in history had trouble even cracking it, the sisters' father included. Pedigree assured everypony that there had only been one recorded unicorn ever actually breaking starglass: Golden Dawn.

Dawn would never let anypony forget it.

There were six chambers on the floor, each of which currently contained a young colt or filly that seemed to be patiently awaiting the arrival of their instructors and caregivers. Curaçao assumed that the ponies not here in the training facility or upstairs in the learning facility were in their rooms on the three floors below, probably enjoying some freetime or doing homework.

"For today's tour, we chose at random from our students that had reached a satisfactory level of development," Pedigree said as he shuffled through his notes. He raised an eyebrow and glanced at Velvet. "Or perhaps not at random, it seems. Miss Velvet made an adjustment to the schedule that I was unaware of."

Velvet nodded and grinned. "Yup." She leaned close to Curaçao. "Just a few of the 'first picks'. The ones we all named first, I mean. Like my little Caramel! I'm just so proud of him, y'know? He's gotten really good!"

Curaçao raised an eyebrow. "Hmm? Oh! Yes, I remember that you were attached to the little one, oui?"

"Sure am!"

"I've tried to dissuade Miss Velvet from taking favorites," Pedigree grunted as she unnecessarily straightened his tie. "It sends a poor message to the other students, in my opinion."

"Oh don't be such a grump, Pedigree," Velvet said, rolling her eyes. "I love all my students equally, and anypony that says otherwise doesn't know what they're talking about and can take a dive off the tower roof for all I care. I just think this kid's special since he's the first kid we got to see. Y'know, when you pushed him so hard he almost broke his nose?"

Pedigree frowned. "Yes, I remember. I truly am sorry—"

"Oh pshaw, I'm just giving you a hard time, I know you're sorry about it." Velvet smiled at Curaçao. "So, ready to meet today's trainees?"

Curaçao returned the smile and nodded. "Oui, commençons."

Pedigree and Velvet showed Curaçao over to the first of the training chambers, inside which was an earth pony colt with a light brown coat and a dark brown mane, with a touch of dark gray on his muzzle. He was wearing a form-fitting silver jumpsuit. As the trio of adults approached, he gave them a little smile and a wave; he seemed slightly nervous, but less so when Velvet returned the gesture.

"This is Caramel Rye, originally designated as SC Two-Eighteen, renamed by Miss Velvet," Pedigree said. He gave Velvet a brief look. "Incidentally, I'm going on record that I'm of the opinion that some of the names you and your sisters have chosen for these colts and fillies are rather silly or childish. Not at all befitting their nature."

Velvet harrumphed. "Oh? Why, what's wrong with Caramel Rye, huh? He likes it, that's all that should matter!"

"I just feel that names more suited to their talents and capabilities would have been more fitting."

"What would you have named him?"

"Well, considering his capability to weave in and out of shadows, perhaps Shadow Weaver might have been more appropriate."

Velvet rolled her eyes. "Oh my stars, what is with everypony and shadows, huh? Shadow Associate, Shadow Candidates, shadow this, shadow that. Did Daddy have an obsession with shadows or something? I mean, he even hired a secretary named Shroud!" she added. She then paused and glanced at Curaçao with an apologetic smile. "Uh, n-not that I'm making fun of your fillyfriend's name, sis."

Curaçao smiled inwardly, knowing full well that "Shroud" was just a codename given to every secretary their father had ever had, but Velvet's point still stood: Shroud was a goofy name and it did make their father sound a little obsessed with shadows.

"I suppose given the true nature of his position as Nihila's Warden, it makes sense to have named so many things after concepts related to darkness though, oui?" Curaçao asked, tapping her chin.

"Huh… yeah, I guess."

Pedigree glanced between them both. "I think I might be missing a key piece of information here that you're not going to tell me."

"Eh, it's on a need-to-know basis, bud, and you don't need to know," Velvet said, patting his cheek gently. "Also, 'Shadow Weaver'? Blech. Ridiculous. Drop the 'Shadow' and you might have something."

Pedigree snorted. "What, just 'Weaver'? Now that sounds ridiculous. Like something some desperate kids came up with in about five minutes."

"I dunno, it sounds kind of nice to me. Not as good as Caramel Rye, though." Velvet paused, then cleared her throat. "Wow, we, uh… went off on a tangent, didn't we?" She turned to Curaçao. "Sorry, sis."

"Ce n'est pas un problème," Curaçao giggled. "Please, carry on."

Pedigree cleared his throat. "I believe we have established this already with all of our students, Miss Curaçao, but for posterity's sake, I'll give you a refresher: Caramel Rye possesses an expression of Umbramancy magic which allows him to literally 'move' through shadows." 

He then directed his attention into the room. "Caramel, would you please demonstrate your abilities for Miss Curaçao here?"

As he said this, he pushed a button on the keypad near the door, which shut off the lights inside the room completely. He waited about five seconds, then turned the lights on again. 

Little Caramel Rye was no longer in the room.

"Boo!" came a voice from behind Curaçao.

She feigned surprise—young ponies were predictable enough that she figured he'd try something like this—and jumped ever so slightly. "Oh la la! Quelle surprise! You are a sneaky little colt, non?"

"Heh heh, sure am, Miss Curie," Caramel said with a grin.

Velvet giggled and pulled Caramel in for a hug. "You're getting so good at this, Caramel! I'm really proud of you."

"Thanks, Miss Velvet," the colt said, sounding only slightly embarrassed by the hug.

Pedigree ignored the display and continued talking to Curaçao. "The suit that Caramel is wearing, incidentally, was designed to counteract the side effect of his abilities, namely the severe and potentially-lethal drops in body temperature."

"Ah, yes, I remember that," Curaçao said with a nod. 

The last time she'd seen the colt use his abilities he'd been in severe pain afterwards. Dawn and Velvet had demanded measures be taken, and Pedigree had definitely delivered; Caramel seemed to be none the worse for wear. If anything he seemed rather comfortable.

"In anticipation of future growth spurts," Pedigree continued, "I have crafted the suit out of a flexible, form-fitting material that will grow with him. While more expensive initially, it will drastically save on costs over time; I anticipate a net savings of over two hundred thousand bits by the time he is of adult size, particularly as he is predicted to be above average in height and muscle density."

"Bravo, Overseer," Curaçcao said with a smile. She then looked elsewhere, towards the other five eagerly-waiting ponies, before turning back to Pedigree. "Shall we continue?"

"Indeed." Pedigree turned to Caramel. "Caramel, you may return to your room now, if you wish, or you may visit the upstairs leisure area so long as you do not disturb the coursework of the other students."

Caramel glanced between Pedigree and Velvet. "Can I stay and watch, Overseer? Please?"

"Sure you can, kiddo," Velvet said with a wide smile. "Curious to see what the other students can do?"

"A little bit, yeah," Caramel said, looking a little embarrassed. Curaçao could tell there was more to it than that; he'd developed a bond with her sister that genuinely melted her heart.

Furthermore, she was impressed with his social development. The last time she had spent time with the majority of these colts and fillies—nearly nine months ago—they were barely more than three years of age and only a few of them could speak well enough to carry on a real conversation; this was the result of Pedigree's former training regimen, which amounted to little more than simple commands and concepts and focused more on physical training.

The fact that Caramel was not only speaking clearly but also emoting properly astounded her. Curaçao wondered how many other students had progressed similarly, and how far some of them had come along.

"Well, moving on then," Pedigree said, shifting through his notes as he led the group over to the next chamber.

Inside was a unicorn colt with a peach-colored coat and a spiky orange-and-gold mane that looked sort of like a campfire. He was wearing a little brown jacket over a plaid shirt and sported a set of goggles with green-tinted lenses which looked more like overly-large glasses; not the snazziest of outfits, but he was just a young colt.

Velvet had insisted on letting the youngsters choose their own styles for now to see what kind of clothes they liked and how they wanted to touch up their manes and tails. Naturally, being a bunch of young colts and fillies, very few of them even came close to looking presentable. Eventually they'd all learn, but that was far from a priority right now, and wouldn't be for at least a few more years when the youngsters would be old enough to be given free reign of the tower.

Insipid would have a field day showing all these young ponies how to properly dress for their preferred "look".

"This is Sunspire, originally designated as SC Two-Oh-Seven, renamed by Miss Dawn," Pedigree stated. "His magic infusion has manifested as the ability to 'see' magical signatures. A rather unique expression of frankly commonplace magical ability, but effective nonetheless." He nodded into the chamber. "Hello, Sunspire."

"Hello, Overseer," the colt replied with a nod, briefly adjusting his goggles.

"His abilities don't seem dangerous," Curaçao noted. "Is there a need for him to be in the starglass chamber?"

"Not particularly, no, but we like to ensure that all of the students are treated equally to foster camaraderie," Pedigree said evenly. "Most of the students actually don't have abilities that present a danger to themselves or anypony else, but it seemed prudent to use the same facilities for everypony."

"Understandable," Curaçao said with a nod. She then turned to Sunspire. "So, you can 'see' magic?"

The colt nodded. "Yes, Ma'am. All magic has, uh… a 'light'. That's what it looks like to me."

"Oui, unicorns' horns do glow when they utilize magical spells."

"Uh-huh, but, um… so do the other students when they use their magic." Sunspire pointed at Caramel, who gave him a little wave. "When Caramel goes into the shadowy place, I can still see him moving."

"Really? Interesting. Even Dawn wasn't able to notice where he was when he was moving about," Curaçao noted. "Can you see any magic around us now? I am curious."

He lifted his goggles briefly. "Yup. I can see a little shininess on your coat, Miss Curie. You used magic earlier today." That confused him. "But… you're not a unicorn…"

Curaçao blinked. "Ah, oui, I have special abilities like your classmates do. I have been using it all morning. You can tell?"

"Uh-huh. But, um… it's going away now. I can't see it anymore."

"He's likely picking up on the residual magic particles leftover from your transformations," Pedigree explained. "In the initial stages of the project, before the transition, I had anticipated his potential use as a tracker. With training, he'd be able to sniff out a unicorn's magic no matter how they tried to escape him."

"Well, thankfully we are not using him for such a purpose anymore, hmm?" huffed Velvet. "He'll make the decision on how he wants to use his abilities."

"Naturally."

Curaçao then gestured to the colt's eyes. "Do the goggles help him use his ability?"

Sunspire shook his head. "They don't help with my powers, no. They help when I'm not using them."

"Hmm?"

"Sunspire's ability to 'see' magic is something he can't 'turn off', so to speak," Pedigree said. "The goggles allow him to see normally while wearing them, essentially filtering out the magical signatures around him. I learned early on that constant use of his abilities causes minor to severe cephalgia. Er, headaches."

"So they do work similarly to glasses, in a manner of speaking." Curaçao smiled at the young colt. "I believe my sister Dawn would very much enjoy working with somepony with that sort of ability. She is fascinated with magic, you see. Do you like magic, Sunspire?"

The colt smiled back. "Uh-huh. Is your sister nice? I only ever met her once, and she seemed nice."

Curaçao hesitated briefly, deciding on how best to twist her next words. "She is… dedicated to her work, and has good relationships with those who show that same dedication. So if you work hard, she will very much appreciate that."

Velvet leaned over and whispered, "Nice save."

"Merci," Curaçao whispered back. She turned to Pedigree and nodded. "I don't think that any further demonstration will be needed, Overseer."

"Very well," Pedigree replied. He turned to Sunspire and opened the door to the chamber. "Sunspire, you may return to your room now, if you wish, or you may visit the upstairs leisure area so long as you do not disturb the coursework of the other students."

"Oh boy! I'm gonna finish reading that book Miss Velvet gave me," Sunspire said as he ran off towards the elevator.

Curaçao watched the colt run off, then turned to Velvet. "Book?"

Velvet nodded. "Oh yeah, that little guy likes reading like you wouldn't believe, and he's reading above his age level. I don't think it even matters what it's about, honestly. I thought I'd test it out by giving him a book about professional wrestling, y'know, to see if he was a snooty snob like Dawn is?" 

"Oh?"

Velvet shook her head and laughed. "He's eating it up. Asked me yesterday if we had more."

"Huh. Quel enfant particulier."

"Moving on," said Pedigree, leading them to the next chamber.

In this one was a unicorn filly with a creamy brown coat and a long, bright pink mane that she'd accessorized with a wild assortment of mane clips, the largest being a pair of star-shaped ones near her ears. She wore a simple, frilly blue  blouse. Unlike the two colts thus far, she wasn't just sitting still and waiting her turn, but moving about the room like she was trying to dance. "Trying" being the operative word; she was… enthusiastic, but unskilled.

"Ahem," coughed Pedigree to get the filly's attention, causing her to stumble. 

She then immediately sat up straight and looked at the adults—and Caramel—with wide eyes.

"This is Razzle Dazzle, originally designated as SC Two-Twenty-One, renamed by Miss Insipid," Pedigree explained. "She received an infusion of Mesermancy magic, which is… well, I think it's better if Miss Dazzle demonstrates." He turned to the filly. "Miss Dazzle, is there anything we can get for you?"

The little filly tapped her chin briefly, then gasped and pointed at Curaçao's beret. "Can I have that hat? It looks really pretty. Please?"

Curaçao, without hesitation, took her beret off her head. "Absolument, ma petite tarte mignonne," she said. She turned to Pedigree and gestured for him to open the door. "Well? What are you waiting for? Let me give it to her."

Pedigree chuckled lightly and shook his head. "You don't really want to give her your hat, do you Miss Curaçao?"

"Of course I do. Why wouldn't I? She asked so nicely."

Velvet chuckled and took the beret from Curaçao and put it back on her head. "That's Razzle's power, Curie. It's hard to really explain it, so like, the best we've come up with is that she is just really charming. A total cutie pie that can get you to do whatever she wants just by asking super nicely."

Curaçao blinked, then glanced at Razzle briefly before touching her beret. "So… that was her influencing my mind?"

"Yup!" Razzle said with a big smile. "I really do like your hat, Miss, but I think it's probably too big for me. Maybe I can get one just like it someday."

"I'm sure we can make that happen, can't we?" Curaçao asked Velvet—who was still giggling quietly—and Pedigree. She then paused and looked back at Razzle. "Sacré bleu! That really is an impressive ability." She turned briefly to Velvet and Pedigree again. "And concerning. But why are you two not affected?"

"We learned early on that her ability has a key weakness: it only works on you if you don't know she's using it on you," Pedigree said with a nod as he looked over his notes. "As Miss Velvet and I are acutely aware of her power set by now, we've developed an immunity. It might take time for you or anypony else to do the same, but it will happen over time."

"So long as I am aware of the possibility?"

"Correct. Fascinating, isn't it?"

Curaçao nodded, running her tongue under her lips. The ramifications of such an ability were tremendous from a political or business standpoint. It was lucky that she and her sisters had made a pact to prevent these little ponies from ever being used or abused in any way; somepony could use powers like this for truly evil acts. Razzle included; she'd need to receive proper guidance in ethics as she grew older.

"I think we've gotten our point across," Pedigree said. He then turned to Razzle and opened the door to her chamber. "Miss Dazzle, you may return to your room now, if you wish, or you may visit the upstairs leisure area so long as you do not disturb the coursework of the other students."

"Can I use the big TV in the upstairs room?" she asked as she left the chamber. "I wanna watch Prettiest Princess Adventures!"

"The other students are currently watching an educational program," Pedigree said, shaking his head. "If nopony is using the smaller television, though, you might be able to watch it there."

"But I wanna watch it on the big screen!" Razzle's eyes widened like a puppy's, and Curaçao found her heart beginning to crack. "Please?"

Velvet cleared her throat and gave Razzle a look. "Razzle, what did we say about this? Hmm?"

Razzle pouted and sat back on her haunches. "That 'no' means 'no'…"

"Very good. It's an important lesson that you should remember all through life, okay? Taking advantage of others is wrong." Velvet ushered Razzle off gently with her hoof. "Now go on and see if you can use one of the smaller TVs."

"Okay, Miss Velvet…" She then waved at Curaçao. "Nice to see you again, Miss Curie."

Curaçao smiled and nodded. "Likewise, Miss Dazzle." As the little filly stormed off and boarded the elevator, Curaçao turned to Velvet, hoof to her temple. "Je suis impressionné! I wanted to step in and demand that you let that little filly use the big TV to watch her cartoons."

"Believe me, it's not easy. I mean, it's not just her powers that make it hard to say 'no', y'know?" Velvet said with a happy sigh. "She's just the cutest little thing! Did you see those puppy dog eyes! I thought Insipid gave good puppy dog eyes, but that Razzle, she's got our sister beat."

"Incidentally," Pedigree interjected, "Miss Dawn asked us to designate roles for the 'mentorship' program that she envisioned, wherein one of you would assign yourselves to some of the students for personal training and education once they're old enough."

Curaçao raised an eyebrow. "Dawn never mentioned this to me."

"She didn't?" Velvet asked, head tilted. "Typical. Well, Pedigree and I agreed to it, at any rate. Dawn suggested it, but I put a little bit more thought into it than she did."

"Go on, I'm listening." 

"So, I figure that in a few years, it might be a good idea if we take some of these youngsters under our wings directly, teach them a few things and help them develop socially, y'know? Pedigree and I only set up the curriculum to educate them and train them in using their powers."

"And they need to develop other skills that would be allowed to any colt or filly in the civilian educational system," Pedigree said. "We'd consider them extracurriculars and they'd be based on life skills rather than formal education."

"Cooking, acting, movies, fashion, sports, comic books, music, and whatever else we can think of!" Velvet finished with a big, big grin.

"Well, that sounds like a wonderful idea," Curaçao said with a smile. "I must commend Dawn—"

"Uh, no, Dawn wanted to do it so that we can single out which of the kids are better suited for certain tasks. Her concern was more 'career training', y'know?" Velvet said, rolling her eyes. "I made sure that there was a social aspect to it, too, and that they have a choice in what they want to be when they grow up. We cannot have these kids growing up like her, now, can we?"

Curaçao nodded just so, remembering well how Dawn had reacted to Gray's "attitude" a few days ago. "Agreed. But why bring that up now?"

"Oh, because we actually figured Insipid would be an ideal choice to mentor Razzle," Velvet said matter-of-factly. "Some of the other kids, too, of course. It wouldn't be a one-on-one mentorship. Probably teach them all about fashion trends or something, if there's interest in it."

Curaçao blinked. "Are you… sure that's a good idea? Specifically for Razzle?"

"I know what you're thinking: 'wouldn't Insipid tank the economy by buying that little filly everything she wants?'" Velvet said. She then tapped her head. "On the contrary, I think Insipid has the exact right kind of personality to be able to say 'no' and teach Razzle how to keep her powers in check. 

"Think about it: Insipid can pretty much get whatever she wants, right? She's got the money, the body, the charm, everything. Despite all that, she works for a living, and she loves what she does. I know you haven't gotten to see her much lately, but I have, and lemme tell ya, you'll agree with me once you do."

"Huh… well, far be it from me to judge your decisions, Velvet. This is your project, and I think you know what you're doing," Curaçao said with a smile. 

"Aww, thanks, sis, that means a lot."

"Moving on," Pedigree coughed, moving past the two sisters towards the next chamber.

Inside was a pegasus filly with an ash-colored coat and hot pink mane, which somepony—probably the filly herself—had cut into the vague approximation of a mohawk. She wasn't dressed in much besides a jacket that she wasn't even wearing properly; her legs weren't in the sleeves. She also had a large pair of fuzzy earmuffs over her ears. She seemed to be taking a nap.

"Rebel Noise, originally designated as SC Two-Thirty-One, renamed by Miss Havoc," said Pedigree; Curaçao noticed he was speaking a little more softly than usual. "The magic she's been infused with has granted her a command of Audiomancy, specifically manifesting as the ability to generate sonic blasts with her voice."

"Hence the name," Velvet said with a sagely nod, also speaking quietly. "Havoc's names are kind of on-the-nose, just the way Pedigree likes them."

"A little unrefined for my tastes, but she certainly did encapsulate their power sets in their names, yes," Pedigree huffed.

"Why are we speaking quietly?" Curaçao asked, following along.

"As noted, all of the students' powers come either with some manner of drawback or weakness," Pedigree stated. "Some of them are mundane enough to escape notice, or might just be superficial. We haven't discovered them all yet, actually," he said, sounding concerned. He gestured towards Rebel. "Miss Noise's Audiomancy infusion came with an unfortunate feedback loop. She has sensitive hearing. Very sensitive."

"Hence the earmuffs," Velvet noted.

"Oddly enough, she is unaffected by her own abilities, but reacts poorly to the noises generated by others." Pedigree adjusted his tie briefly. "I've been working on some method of filtering noise properly so that she can still hear normally, but it's… a complex problem. I'm still working on it."

Velvet shrugged, looking a little disappointed. "We've kind of settled on the earmuffs for now, same like we did for Sunspire's goggles. I'm working on getting somepony to teach her wing language, too, since I know Gray and Havoc aren't totally fluent. Just temporary fixes to hopefully-not-permanent problems."

"Actually, I could help with teaching her, if that is something you think will help," Curaçao said."

"You know wing language, sis?" Velvet asked, genuinely surprised.

Curaçao chuckled. "Ma sœur, I am fluent in eight different languages, including pegasus wing language, and possess a fundamental understanding of three others which I am slowly getting better with. If you wish to have any language teachers for your curriculum, you only need to ask."

Velvet nodded rapidly, a big grin on her face. "You're the best, sis. I'll take you up on that."

"So, does Miss Noise here like to nap a lot?" Curaçao asked with a grin.

"Yeah. I've caught her sleeping in class a few times, too," Velvet said. "She's barely met Havoc more than a few times, but I think you're looking at her biggest fan right here. She watches recordings of that championship game all the time. She tuckers herself out practicing flying around like Havoc." She let out a breath, feigning exhaustion. "Not easy taking care of a kid that won't sit still."

"Well, it was a good game," Curaçao said. She cleared her throat gently. "I think I'd feel bad waking her up for a demonstration, to tell the truth."

"Naw, that's fair. To be honest, it's probably for the best: the starglass is magic resistant, not soundproof."

"Correct. It would block a majority of the magically-generated sound waves, but we'd still hear enough of it to require protective ear coverings ourselves to prevent potential injury," Pedigree stated. "I have them with me, if you change your mind later."

"I'll consider it," Curaçao said with a nod. "Let's let her rest for now, hmm?"

"Moving on, then," Pedigree said as he led them towards the next chamber.

Inside this one was an earth pony colt, his coat and mane slightly different shades of bright green. He wore a simple long-sleeved jacket and nothing else, but he at least wore it properly. He was sitting attentively while he waited for the adults to reach his chamber, and if anything seemed a little shy. Also in the room with him was a large concrete block; he was the only pony with anything in the chamber other than himself and his clothes.

"This is Green Guard, originally designated as SC Two-Eleven, renamed by Miss Skies," Pedigree stated, no longer whispering. "The magic infusion has gifted him with enhanced strength and stamina, well beyond that of our other students, which I remind you were all engineered with peak physical and mental capabilities in mind."

"Gray named her portion of the kids after their colors," Velvet whispered with a little grin. "Very straightforward, kind of like herself, right? We all kind of have this little theme going."

"As I recall, you named your selection after foods," Curaçao noted. "Also like yourself, hmm?"

"Yeah yeah yeah."

"Hello, Green," Pedigree said with a nod, which was silently returned. "Could you show us a demonstration of your strength, please?"

The colt nodded, then looked at the concrete block, drew back his hoof, and with a single strike he shattered it into pieces. It hadn't looked like he'd even put a lot of effort into it, nor did he seem to be in any pain or discomfort afterwards.

"Impressive," Curaçao said with a nod. "He did not even strike at the weaker points within the brick to make it easier on himself." She smiled at the colt and gave him a little nod. "Well done."

He nodded back without a word, and with hardly so much as a smile.

"He's a quiet one," Velvet whispered. "Prefers to keep to himself a lot, doesn't interact much with the others. I think he just needs to break out of his shell, that's all. I mean, a lot of these kids do, but some more than others."

"Does he have any sort of 'drawbacks' like the others do?" Curaçao asked.

Pedigree nodded. "A mundane one, yes: he's completely colorblind, monochromacy. He can only see in shades of gray."

"Ah, I see. Not to disparage his unfortunate handicap, but it sounds as though some of the students did not suffer as drastic drawbacks as others."

"That's quite true, and likely has to do with how well their bodies absorbed the magical infusions, which really came down to matters of chance. As you know, the vast majority of the youths… did not survive the process," Pedigree quietly reminded her, tugging at his collar. "A tragedy, to be sure."

Curaçao frowned and nodded; Velvet did the same, hanging her head. "Oui, une tragédie."

Pedigree opened the door to the chamber and gestured for Green to exit. "Green, you may return to your room now, if you wish, or you may visit the upstairs leisure area so long as you do not disturb the coursework of the other students."

Green gave a nod and then walked past the adults towards the elevator, though Curaçao did notice him glancing back in their direction as he went. He was a quiet one, to be sure, but she could tell he was also a curious sort.

"Moving on now to the last student of the morning," Pedigree said as he led them towards the last chamber.

Inside was a golden brown pegasus filly with a curly strawberry-colored mane. She was dressed in a cute little black blouse and a matching, small-sized hat suitable for a tea party; very fancy for a filly her age. As the adults approached, the filly leapt to attention and gave a little smile and a wave, particularly at Curaçao, which was returned just as eagerly.

"Marée de Rêve, originally designated as SC Two-Twenty-Two, renamed by, well, you, Miss Curaçao," Pedigree said as he skimmed his notes. 

Curaçao smiled inwardly. All of the colts and fillies she'd named had names like hers: exotic and pleasing to the ear. Marée's name in Romantique translated more literally as "Dream Tide". There was a tangential connection to her inherited powers there, but not so on-the-nose as Havoc's choices were.

"Marée's magical infusion manifested as an expression of Illusiomancy," Pedigree continued. "Specifically an odd expression of the traditional concept of illusory images. Such images look undeniably realistic to the eye, but are intangible, similar to a hologram. Marée is capable of manifesting that trait in her own physical body, making herself fully intangible, yet still visible to the eye."

Curaçao nodded; she didn't need as much of a refresher for Marée, but was glad for it nonetheless. She gave the little filly a smile. "Hello, Marée. How are you doing today?"

"Great, Miss Curie!" said Marée with a grin. "How are you?"

"Very well, Marée, merci. Are you up for a demonstration for us?"

"Sure thing! Watch this!" Marée walked right up to the wall of the chamber, took a deep breath, bit down on her tongue in concentration, and slowly pressed her hoof against the wall. Though it took a few moments, her hoof phased straight through it without any trouble at all. "See? Look!"

"Bravo, Marée, bravo," Curaçao said, stamping her hoof with approval. She briefly turned to Pedigree. "Overseer, I thought these chambers were magic-resistant? How can she phase through them?"

"They're resistant to magically-generated force, Miss Curaçao," Pedigree said with a nod. "A magical energy blast or something to that effect would be nullified or significantly reduced in effectiveness. It doesn't outright nullify magic; there isn't a substance in Equestria that can do that that we know of. The closest to it is the metal obidium, but that still responds to magic to some degree."

"As long as it keeps the students safe, then, that's all that matters." Curaçao smiled and nodded at Marée. "You're coming along well with your training, chérie. How about your schooling, hmm?"

"I did all my homework for tomorrow," Marée said with a grin and a satisfied nod, popping her hoof in and out through the wall rapidly and swirling it around.

"Très bon! You are a responsible filly, non?" Curaçao nodded at Pedigree. "Well, I'm satisfied with the demonstrations. I think we can let Marée go for the day, Overseer. I'll need to speak further with you and Velvet on your progress before lunch, hmm?"

Pedigree nodded, then opened the door to the chamber. "Miss Marée, you may return to your room now, if you wish, or you may visit the upstairs leisure area so long as you do not disturb the coursework of the other students."

"Yippee!" Marée cheered, leaping into the air and fluttering her wings.

To Curaçao's surprise, the filly didn't float so much as almost immediately plummeted right back down, as though she'd simply jumped and forgotten to fly. Instead of landing on the floor, however, she phased right through it, much as she'd been demonstrating with the wall.

"Aiiee!" the filly screeched as she tumbled out of sight.

"Oww! What's goin' on?!" shouted the filly, Rebel, from her chamber behind the adults.

And thus Curaçao got a demonstration of that filly's sonic powers, for her shout was so loud and potent that it tore through the chamber and shook the walls ever-so-slightly. It was loud enough that she, Velvet, Pedigree, and Caramel each had to cover their ears to prevent any further pain. Curaçao hated to think what it would've sounded like had they been right next to her chamber, or if these chambers didn't resist the magical output.

Velvet recovered most quickly and hustled over to Rebel's chamber to calm her down; Curaçao's ears were still ringing so she couldn't hear anything just yet and had to shake off the sensation. It was as though she'd been standing too close to an explosion or had somepony blaring a bullhorn in her ears.

Once she could hear properly again, she turned to Pedigree, who was also in the midst of recovering, as well as dejectedly picking up pieces of glass from the screen of his datapad. A glance down at Caramel told Curaçao that he'd been affected too, and he looked to be on the verge of crying.

"What just happened?" she asked Pedigree, more than a little cross. "I thought Marée's training was doing well enough to avoid accidents like this?"

"Ah, it has been, yes, but Marée sometimes forgets her limitations," Pedigree said, running a hoof in his ear. "An unintended drawback to her powers is that she cannot fly while using them. A severe handicap until she can learn to overcome it, but we've had little luck so far. I've tried to tell her not to try doing both at the same time, but—"

"But when she got excited… merde. She lost focus." 

Curaçao walked into the chamber, where the only signs left of Marée were her clothes, which obviously weren't as intangible as she was. She'd speak with Pedigree about developing a suit that would duplicate the filly's magic to phase through things alongside her, much as her own suit—his design, incidentally—shifted shape when she did.

"We need to find her," she said, stepping out of the chamber and moving towards the elevator. "She fell down through the floor, so hopefully she hasn't gone far. Is there any failsafe in place to prevent her from falling through the entire tower? Tell me there is."

Pedigree tugged his collar. "There is. She'll either be on one of the dormitory levels or the supply depository level. The entire facility was carefully coated with enchantments courtesy of Miss Dawn herself to ensure that no magical energies could leave the facility, to prevent accidents and potential damage to the tower's structure."

"Then we'll split up. You take the level immediately below us, and I'll take the one below that." 

She turned to Velvet as she walked by; her sister was currently making sure Rebel was calm and collected. "Velvet, can you take the floor below mine?" she spoke via their telepathic bond.

"Sure thing, sis," Velvet said aloud, but quietly, with a nod. "That's Rebel's dorm floor anyway, I'll take her back to her room while I'm there."

Caramel leapt up and down next to Velvet. "Ooh, Miss Velvet, can I help? I wanna help. Please?"

Velvet considered Caramel for a moment, then smiled and nodded. "You're a good kid, you know that? Sure you can help. Do you think you can handle the supply room?"

"I can do that!" Caramel said with an excited jump.

Rebel groaned at the sudden exclamation. "Stop being so loud, Caramel, sheesh…"

Caramel put a hoof to his lips. "Oops. Sorry, Rebel." He then smiled at Velvet, and in an exaggerated whisper, repeated, "I can do that."

Velvet smiled and tousled his mane. "Go on then, kiddo, I'll be right behind ya."

Caramel hustled to catch up to Curaçao and Pedigree as they boarded the elevator, giving Curaçao a smile and a nod. She smirked and returned the nod, glad to see Velvet was having such a positive influence on these kids already. 

She knew it had been a good idea to be… insistent with Dawn that Velvet be given this responsibility.


*****


Caramel had been down to the supply floor a few times before. All of his classmates had to know where everything was, just in case they needed something. Miss Velvet had started giving the students chores in the past month, which nopony really liked, but everypony loved Miss Velvet anyway even if she made them clean their rooms and tidy up when they made messes.

He checked into the different supply rooms one after the other in his search for Marée, but so far hadn't found anything, or anypony. At least not until he reached the bathroom supply closet, where they kept all the towels and toilet paper and other stuff needed to keep the dorm bathrooms clean and well-stocked. They all had to share, after all, and so they all needed to treat them right.

At first, Caramel just glanced inside and did a quick once-over, and prepared to leave when he didn't see anything strange. He could save time by not turning on the lights, because he found that he could see in the dark a lot better than his classmates could. 

Sometimes it hurt his eyes to try and Overseer Pedigree scolded him for not wearing his suit's protective goggles, but he was getting better at remembering to put them on. He didn't have them now, of course, so it was a little uncomfortable, but finding his classmate was more important.

Just before he closed the door to the room, though, he heard a thunk and saw a hint of movement in the back of the room. So he headed inside instead, creeping carefully just in case it wasn't Marée, but a stranger—Miss Velvet made sure everypony knew not to talk to strangers if she wasn't around, even if they seemed nice.

But it was Marée. Or at least, her butt, which was sticking out of a basket of clean towels for anypony to see, which made her look pretty silly. She was kicking and trying to get herself out of it, but wasn't having any luck. It didn't seem to Caramel as if it should be so hard to get out, but she was probably scared and making it harder for herself.

"Marée? Are you okay?" he asked carefully.

The sudden noise made her jump and bump the basket into a nearby shelf, whereupon it rolled away. She groaned from inside but stopped moving now. "Caramel? Is that you?" she asked, her voice muffled.

"Yup! Do you need a hoof?"

"Please?"

He hopped over and grabbed hold of her hindlegs, then carefully tugged until she popped out of the basket safely. Her head was wrapped up in a towel, but now that her hooves were free she could easily unwrap it and take a big breath. Caramel took one too, relieved that his classmate was okay. She smelled like fresh linen, which was nice.

"Thanks," she said, sounding more than a little disappointed.

"You're welcome," he replied. 

He noticed the sad look on her face, mainly that her eyes were a little red and her cheeks a little wet. She'd been crying. So he slowly sat down next to her and set a hoof on her shoulder; Miss Velvet taught him and all the other students that when a friend looked like they were hurt or scared that you should do what you could to help them, no matter what. She said it was one of the most important lessons she'd ever learned in her life.

"What's wrong?" he asked, being as calm and polite as he could.

"I was so happy to see Miss Curie and then I went and messed up…" Marée muttered, kicking the towel hamper away as if it were responsible. "She probably thinks I'm a stupid dummy…"

"No she doesn't," Caramel reassured her, giving her a big grin. "We all mess up sometimes. Miss Curie will just be glad you're okay."

"You think so?"

"Sure! She's Miss Velvet's big sister, and Miss Velvet is the bestest, nicest pony there is, so her sisters have gotta be pretty nice too, right?"

Marée sniffed and nodded, giving Caramel a small smile. "Yeah, maybe you're right."

"Are you okay, though? You were crying…"

"Yeah… I just got kinda scared. I never fell like that before, and I couldn't focus right like the Overseer taught me. I couldn't even get out of that dumb hamper without you helping me…"

"It'll be okay, Marée. You'll get better with practice! Did I ever tell you how I hit my nose when I first started practicing?"

"No?"

"Yeah! I think the Overseer was pushing me to do better, but I wasn't really ready for it and I bumped right into a wall!"

"Were you okay?"

"It hurt a lot," he said, not quite remembering exactly how much it had hurt, but knowing that it did. "But I met Miss Velvet after that and then everything felt fine! And we all got to meet her and her sisters and they gave us names, remember?"

Marée smiled and nodded. "I remember. That was a pretty good day. Miss Curie was very nice to me and the others." She giggled briefly. "You know it took me three days to learn how to say my new name?"

He smiled widely. "Wow, that's really good! I heard it took Lumière five! He still forgets to put that little thing above the 'e' when he writes his name on homework."

She laughed again. He liked it when she laughed.

Caramel stood up and offered her a hoof to help her up. "C'mon, let's go find Miss Curie and let her know you're okay."

She smiled and accepted his help. "Thanks, Caramel…" She wrapped a towel around herself—Caramel had only just realized she didn't have any clothes on, and Miss Velvet said they had to have clothes on all the time!—and gestured towards the door. "Let's go!"

The two walked back to the elevator, which opened just as they were approaching. The adults were much faster at searching through the dorm rooms.

Miss Curie beamed when she saw the pair. "Marée! Thank the stars. I am so glad to see you're safe," she said, approaching and checking to see that Marée was alright. "You're not hurt, are you?"

Marée shook her head. "I bumped my nose when I came in through the supply room," she said, rubbing her nose. "I landed in a hamper."

"Oh dear. Well, we'll just have to get that booboo taken care of, won't we?" Miss Curie said with a teasing grin.

"I'm sorry I messed up, Miss Curie…" Marée muttered.

"Oh non, non non non, you do not need to worry about that, chérie. You are still learning. Everypony makes mistakes when they are young, oui? You will only get better with time." She pulled Marée in for a little hug.

Miss Velvet quietly scooched up next to Caramel and abruptly tousled his mane. "Good job finding her, Caramel," she giggled. "You're a regular hero."

Caramel beamed up at her. "Thanks, Miss Velvet! Happy to help!"

He then glanced at Marée as she and Miss Curie broke their hug, and they smiled at one another in that brief moment. Caramel wasn't sure why, but he was really, really happy that everything had turned out okay and that he'd found Marée. He hoped that maybe after this, they could be friends. He'd like that very much.
> Chapter Six: Trepidation
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Two Weeks Later


Lockwood strolled down the corridor of Hope's Point's royal palace early that morning, still dumbstruck by how appealing everything was. He'd spent a fair portion of the past decade seeing the sort of aesthetic that the wealthy elite of New Pandemonium preferred, but in his opinion the palace topped them all. Between the gold-colored walls, the gorgeous paintings, banners, and sculptures, and the well-lit atmosphere, Lockwood felt as though he'd stepped into a storybook fantasy come to life. 

Not too far from the truth, really.

Crossfire walked right behind him, ever watchful as always; Lockwood wasn't certain exactly how he felt about having a shadow following him every minute of the day, but at the very least it was somepony he knew. He'd missed his friends these past six years, so having them back in his life to such a degree was comforting. It felt unnecessary at times, but he was thankful to have somepony as stalwart as Crossfire looking out for him.

He couldn't even complain, actually. Crossfire was more than just a bodyguard, but also a sort of "steward" as Blackburn had described it. That meant that he served some secretarial duties as well, such as maintaining Lockwood's schedule, and even served as a caretaker, ensuring that Lockwood was, well, taken care of.

Like now, for instance. "Lockwood, you really shouldn't have had such a tiny breakfast," the large stallion grumbled as he followed his future king's swift pace through the halls. "It's the most important meal o' the day, y'know? My ma always told me that, and she knows what's best, I tell ya what."

"A small bowl of cereal will get me through until lunch just fine, Crossfire," Lockwood chuckled as he ascended a large spiral staircase. "You worry too much."

"A bowl o' Sugar Loops ain't really a healthy breakfast—"

"And besides, I skipped plenty of meals back up north when I had important business to take care of."

"Yeah, an' I done told ya not to be doin' that." Crossfire stamped his hoof down as they rounded a corner. "As soon as you're finished with this here meetin', y'all're comin' wit' me an' gettin' an early lunch. No gettin' out of it, neither, y'hear? You've got a duty to this here city and to Her Majesty, and I ain't havin' ya walkin' 'round lookin' like a damn twig."

Lockwood chuckled and gave his friendly guardian a bright smile. "Fine fine, I'll let you fatten me up after this meeting, and after Blackburn and I say our farewells to our esteemed guests."

"You promise?"

"I promise. I'm sure we can convince Blackburn to join us, assuming this meeting with her goes well."

Crossfire raised an eyebrow. "Y'all still ain't told me what you're meetin' Her Majesty for. I take it it ain't business-related?" He grinned. "Somethin' related to the weddin'?"

"Something like that," Lockwood replied evenly. 

It was difficult keeping his anxiety from showing; he hadn't been this nervous on a trip to see Blackburn since before she'd left New Pandemonium all those years ago. Part of him wanted to let this entire situation just fade away into memory, knowing full-well that even somepony as resourceful as she was would never find out about it. But he'd know about it, and that would never sit well with his conscience.

They reached the queen's personal chambers moments later, located at the end of a large hall. Gadget dutifully stood outside, busily scrolling through something on her datapad, most likely organizing Her Majesty's royal schedule; Lockwood couldn't imagine how busy Blackburn must always be, but he did know that she never seemed to take a real break lately.

When Gadget noticed the pair of stallions approaching, she put it aside and gave the two of them a bright smile. "Punctual as always," she said with a glance towards Lockwood. "I imagine once Her Majesty has time to set aside for renovations, though, we won't need to go through all this malarky, huh?"

"I suppose we won't, no," Lockwood said, returning the smile.

She nudged him gently in the side. "Looking forward to officially sharing a room with your wife-to-be, featherbrain? No more late-night sneaking around like a teenager, even though you don't really have to?"

He grinned. "You know me so well, Gadget. I suspect you're more eager for that to happen so that you and Crossfire can get back to splitting duties up properly. Must be exhausting the way you've got it now?"

"Golly, like you wouldn't believe." She let out a breath. "Crossfire and I used to trade shifts around so we could enjoy some free time every now and then, but it's been nonstop work since you popped up in our lives again. I had to postpone a date with my new coltfriend thanks to you."

"New coltfriend? You never told me you had a coltfriend in the first place, Gadget," Lockwood said with a smile. "How long has that been going on?"

"Aw yeah, scrawny lil' thing named Voltage Spark or somethin' like that, weren't it? Volt Surge?" Crossfire asked with a grin of his own. He whispered over to Lockwood, "She's got a type these days: handsome, but not too bulky. Lil' guy fits the mold."

"Oof, you need to get with the times, Crossfire," Gadget said, nose in the air. "Volt and I broke up two months ago. My date's with Chippendale. Was with Chippendale. We'll get to it eventually. Hopefully."

"Aww, I'm sorry to hear about the breakup," Lockwood said sincerely.

She shrugged. "Meh, it wasn't working out anyway. He's cute and all and likes a lot of the same things I do, but after I punched his V-card  it turns out that he's kind of an… underachiever in the bedroom, if you catch my drift. I could teach him a thing or two, but I'm not a miracle worker. Some ponies just don't have a natural talent."

"Too much information there," Crossfire huffed, visibly uncomfortable.

"Oh hush, don't be such a prude," she quipped, bopping him on the nose with her magic—she couldn't reach otherwise. "I thought you came from the south, where 'free love' isn't exactly uncommon."

"Yeah, but I ain't lived down there since I was like, six, an' that ain't a 'thing' through the whole o' the south. You're thinkin' of Old Town, not Newhaven."

"Whatever!" With a glance to Lockwood, she added, "I heard on the grapevine that a few towns and cities have some interesting concepts about free love and open relationships—"

"'Sides," Crossfire interrupted, clearly uncomfortable, "I just don't see no reason to be sharin' details 'bout that kind o' stuff with us. 'Tain't fair to ol' Volt to be spillin' his dirty laundry like that." He shook his head, looking quite disappointed in the small mare. "Why, if'n I had myself a special somepony, I wouldn't be tellin' any o' y'all what went on between us in the bedroom."

"Pretty big 'if' there, bud," Gadget chortled. "You've never even had a fillyfriend before, so you don't know if you'd ever talk about how she is in the sack. You might want to brag if she was good, who knows?"

He snorted and stuck his own nose in the air. "I'd never do such a thing. Cross my heart 'n' hope to die."

"Ahem?" Lockwood interjected, glancing between the two. "Sorry to interrupt this little lovers' quarrel between you two, but I'd like to speak with my darling wife-to-be sometime today, hmm? Is she occupied right now?"

Gadget cleared her throat. "Nope! She's been expecting you, actually. Go on in."

"Thanks." Lockwood opened the door and glanced between the two of them again. "You two behave now, alright?"

"Har har. Get going, featherbrain."

Lockwood chuckled and headed into Blackburn's quarters, closing the door behind him as he went; he could still just barely hear Gadget and Crossfire through it, rekindling their argument anew. He smiled to himself and shook his head. It was a wonder to him how those two, who got along so well, had never considered dating each other. The only excuse he could think of was that they viewed each other differently than it looked like from the outside, but there had to be more to it than that.

Maybe one day he'd ask Blackburn if she knew. She was always keenly aware of how ponies' minds worked and might know just what made those two tick, better than he did at any rate.

Speaking of Blackburn, she was seated in front of a vanity mirror adjacent to her bed, in the midst of brushing her mane so that it was straight. She looked like she'd just gotten out of the shower, actually, and was dressed in just her royal bathrobe, a purple silk affair that tightly hugged her body. She always looked so beautiful to him, but more so when she was so unfiltered and raw. When she was just… her.

"Right on time," she said, not turning to face him at the moment. She tilted her head towards the foot of her bed. "Sit. Be comfortable."

He nodded and took a seat, removing his hat in the process. Until they were married and he was officially king, he'd insisted on being allowed to wear his typical attire, arguing that once he was king, he'd never rightly be able to wear the clothes he'd gotten so attached to ever again. She'd assured him he could wear whatever he wanted, but he knew that wasn't exactly true.

It wasn't that he was attached, no, just that he wanted to remember who he was before so that he wouldn't forget it once things had changed. It made sense in his mind, and she'd seemed to understand. He loved that about her, too; she was so smart, so intuitive. Nopony knew him better than her.

"Meeting so early today, unexpected. Requested privacy for it, so must be a personal matter." She stopped brushing her mane and looked at him in the reflection of the mirror. "Related to our departing guests, perhaps? Hmm… no, would not request privacy for that. If security a concern, would speak openly; if peace agreements a concern, would request Council presence. No… something else…"

"That's exactly right," he said with a nod.

"Family troubles, then? All reports indicate family is adjusting well. Stouthoof assimilated into workforce; Flathoof undergoing militia training; Pattycake and Shortcake taking culinary courses together, learning 'real' recipes; Shorthoof and Thickhoof accepted into education programs, begin schooling in two weeks at start of new semester."

"Yes, they're all fitting in wonderfully," he agreed, "and they certainly are enjoying a lot of the new privileges they have. I thought for certain they'd resist more than they did, but I think they're happy knowing that they're not 'freeloading', as Stouthoof put it. The younger ones are fitting in especially well."

"Your sister has an eye for Crossfire, incidentally," Blackburn abruptly noted as she resumed brushing her mane. "Have seen her staring when the two are within close proximity. He is oblivious, as always. Trait you two have in common. Question: would you object?"

He then smirked and shook his head. "Goodness, no. Crossfire's a good guy, so I'm more than positive that he'd treat her right. The problem is getting him to even notice her, I think. Though if you're looking for advice on how to make it work—"

"The way to Crossfire's heart: through stomach. Am well aware, find it amusing, convenient that your sister studies culinary arts." She took a breath, closing her eyes. "Hmm… yes, ideal pair. Will consult with your mother."

"You're opening up a can of worms there, but far be it from me to stop you if you want to join forces with Shortcake to try and set them up. Stars above, she's been trying to set her up with somepony for ages now. You know she tried to set her up with me before I adopted myself into the family?"

Blackburn smirked. "Hmph. Can't picture you two together, even dismissing current relationships. Not your type." She then cleared her throat. "Did not come to discuss this, though. Must admit, at a loss as to why. Rare occurrence."

Lockwood paused, then took a deep breath. "You know that I love you more than anything, right? I don't need to remind you that my heart belongs to you, and you alone."

She paused as well, and even stopped brushing her mane. "Of course. I love you too." She tilted her head. "Odd question, implies… complication. Explain."

"Complicated doesn't begin to really describe it." Lockwood sighed and rubbed his chin. "We've been apart for nearly six years now, Blackburn. In all that time, have you ever felt… lonely?"

"Quite often," she said immediately. "Most days, nights in particular, until recently."

"Same here. I've missed you terribly, and I know you understand how that feels. The only communication you and I were able to share at all was so far removed from a conversation that I felt as though you were on a completely different planet, not just on the other side of the continent." 

He shook his head. "Hearing about you through news reports and little else was… exhausting. Every time I heard your name, I felt my heart stop out of fear that something terrible had happened to you. I only knew you were safe because I kept hearing about how they'd failed to kill you again and again."

She set down her brush, looking quite solemn. "That… cannot imagine that. Better nothing than that. I wish I could have done more." She raised an eyebrow. "Why bring this up now? Why not over recent nights spent together?"

"I didn't want to trouble you while you're dealing with this whole 'peace proposal' deal, y'know?" He said with a grin. "But now that you've given Dawn a complete list of terms and things are settling down, I figured that this would be the right time to… well, basically to lay something else on your plate."

"Have so much still to do," she replied. "Wedding to plan, other arrangements to make elsewhere, ceasefire agreement to overview." She turned and fixed her gaze on him. "This must be important, then."

"Yeah… I'm sorry that I'm giving you so much to think about already, and now here I am adding this on top of it." He took a deep breath. "But it can't wait. We're getting married in a month from now, and I don't want this looming over my head all that time. I need to get it off my chest. Now."

She narrowed her eyes. "This is serious."

"Okay, well… it's a long, complicated story," he started, running a hoof through his mane. "I'll spare you most of the details because they're not relevant right now, but rest assured, I'll give you the whole picture in due time, top to bottom. Some of it relates to how I know Dawn and Havoc as well as I do."

"Ah, relevant to interests," she said, completely turning in her chair now.

"Well, um… it all kind of started when Flathoof called me up at Southeast Point one day and showed up with these six mares, about nine months ago. They were in need of a place to stay, financial assistance, and work, and Flathoof and I agreed to help them. The 'why' is… well, I'm not sure how much of it I'm allowed to say, but let's just say that it's hard to explain."

She raised an eyebrow. "'Not allowed'?"

"Like I said, hard to explain. I think I can give you some answers after the wedding, assuming everypony on my guest list shows up. Trust me on this, it's complicated and not relevant at the moment."

"Very well. Continue."

He took another breath. "One of these mares… her name was Rarity. She had experience with fashion, so I offered to get her in touch with some friends I knew through our good friend Ivory: Chantilly Lace and Peaked Lapel. I don't know if Ivory ever mentioned them—"

"Briefly. Rivals, first physical meeting at a party you organized, found being intimate in a dressing room, lovers since then," Blackburn said matter-of-factly. With a smirk she added, "Ivory clear that event was talk of fashion circuit until she left. Hard to forget."

He nodded and smiled, remembering quite well the events of that party. He and Ivory had been the ones to find the pair being very intimate in a dressing room, yes indeed.

"Ahem, well," he continued, "I got Rarity in touch with them to see if they might hire her. They hit it off better than I could have hoped. She became a designer on their 'new talent' circuit and made a big splash in the community. Rarity is— was… very talented. So much so that for the last show of the season, Lace and Lapel invited me along to thank me for getting them in touch.

"I went, of course. And after giving my thanks to Lace and Lapel for the invite, I went to visit Rarity in her dressing room—she was supposed to go on stage that night—so that I could let her know I was there to show support for her too. I considered her a good friend, and… I just wanted to be there for a friend."

He took another deep breath, and suddenly found it hard to look Blackburn in the eyes. "I, um… well, there was a bit of a misunderstanding between us. Rarity was under the impression that I'd been flirting with her for weeks, and on some subconscious level, I… I suppose I was. She made a move, and—"

Blackburn's face had an odd expression he couldn't quite describe, a bizarre mix of confusion, anger, and oddly enough, calm. "You flirted with her? Explain."

"Well, the way she put it, it was because of my choice in words when I complimented her. I thought I was just being nice, but—"

"Which words?"

"Oh, um… w-well, that evening in particular, I seem to recall saying that she looked stunning in her dress. Breathtaking, actually."

Blackburn's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "Yes. Definitely flirting."

Lockwood ran a hoof across his face. "I didn't think anything of it at the time! I thought I was just being nice!"

"Did you find her 'stunning'? 'Breathtaking'?"

He paused a moment, then nodded, but said nothing else.

"Found her attractive, but intent was not to flirt. Correct?" 

He nodded again, still saying nothing. It put him on edge just how calm she sounded while he admitted to being attracted to another mare. He'd been expecting something, but this… this wasn't it. He was usually able to get a decent read on her, but right now he was coming up empty. He had no idea what to expect at this point.

Blackburn snorted and steepled her hooves under her nose. "Did you act on your attraction?"

He quickly looked her in the eyes and shook his head. "No! No, of course not. I would never—"

"Did she?"

"What?"

"Said she 'made a move'. Elaborate."

He blinked. "She… she tried to kiss me when she thought she knew what the situation was, but…" He looked Blackburn in the eyes again. "No. She didn't act on it. Before she… before we did anything we'd regret, I pulled away told her that we couldn't. That we'd had a misunderstanding, and… and that I had somepony else. She understood and stopped right then and there. No hesitation."

Blackburn remained silent for a moment, maintaining that same calm expression, but she seemed to have lost the other worrisome aspects of it. She just looked as though she were studying him, not so much trying to figure out if he was lying, but reading his emotions and figuring out exactly what he was saying. He was an open book for her at that moment.

Then, after a minute or so, she said, "So, to clarify, you are attracted to this 'Rarity'?"

He sighed. "I… I would be lying if I said anything else. She's, well—" He then brightened suddenly, and reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a magazine scrap. "See for yourself."

Blackburn raised an eyebrow; the confusion and anger returned ever-so-slightly. "You have her picture with you?"

"Don't misunderstand me," he hastily noted. "But I know you, BB. I know that as soon as you're alone later today, you're going to have Chief Storm do a thorough background check on her. I don't blame you. But, in the spirit of honesty… I thought I'd save you some of the trouble. Other than her ID photo and this magazine photo from the night of the fashion show, you're not gonna find much on her. Trust me."

Blackburn took the photograph from him, surprisingly gently all things considered, and looked upon the photograph of Rarity alongside the other designers that had been on stage that evening. He had helpfully circled her with a red marker, careful not to trace any ink over her herself. Rarity would be quite upset with him if he blemished her photograph like that.

To his confusion, Blackburn's face fell for a brief moment as she looked at the picture, looking more hurt than he'd seen her since… well, since she'd left him in New Pandemonium City. That was the day she found out that her father and stepmother, and all those other innocent civilians, had been killed in an NPAF attack. That was the day she found out she was going to be crowned queen far sooner than she'd ever expected.

"BB, what's wrong?" he asked.

She remained silent for a long moment, then her mouth curled in a sad smile. She looked like she was almost in physical pain. "Never had opportunity to introduce you to stepmother, Silver Glow. Would've loved you."

He frowned. "You never talked about her much. And you never had much positive to say about her, either."

"We… never had good relationship. Never treated her right. Got better later, but… too late. Only good conversation we had, last conversation before her death. One of many regrets in life…" She took a breath and shook her head, then laughed gently. "All things considered, maybe better you never met her."

"Huh?

She passed the photograph back to him, then reached into the middle drawer of the vanity's dresser, pulling out a picture frame in the process. She passed that along to Lockwood too, tapping it to draw his attention. "This is Silver Glow. Photo taken day of her and my father's wedding."

Lockwood did a double-take as he looked between the two. Apart from the color of their manes—Rarity's was purple, Silver's was blue—and the slight differences in stylistic choices—a given since one was a wedding photo—the two mares could almost be twins, but they could definitely pass for sisters. It was—

"Uncanny, hmm?" Blackburn asked, drawing Lockwood out of his thoughts and as usual predicting exactly what he was thinking.

"Very much so," he said, passing the framed photograph back to her. "Rarity's a dead-ringer for your stepmother, no doubt about it."

"Silver Glow's reputation: most beautiful mare in entire southern continent," she said as she put the photograph away. "Firstborn daughter of House Silver, most powerful noble house. Hoof sought after by every nobleborn father for their firstborn sons. None succeeded. She loved my father." She sighed and shook her head. "Couldn't bear him foals. Rare medical condition."

"I'm… sorry to hear that…" he muttered. "But what—"

Blackburn then smirked and tapped on the magazine picture. "Rarity, her spitting image. 'Dead-ringer', yes? Wonder now: would I have needed worry about you and my stepmother becoming intimate? Hmm?"

He sputtered, face red with embarrassment and disbelief. "BB, really—"

"I tease. Lightens mood." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, then leaned back in her seat, now as calm and jovial as she had been when he'd first entered the room. "So, you are attracted to this 'Rarity'. Feeling mutual. However, you did not act on it. She did not act on it. Agreed to consider a misunderstanding, dropped it." He let out a breath. "Fail to see problem."

He rubbed his cheek where she'd kissed him. "I… really? You're not upset?"

"Incorrect: very upset." She frowned and shook her head. "Not with you: remained faithful, presented situation honestly. Not with her: did not take advantage of situation, possessed strong willpower and moral conviction. No, upset with self: should have never let you enter situation in first place."

He tentatively set his hoof on hers. "BB, the only reason it happened was because I was still up north. But we both agreed that it was best for me and for my family if we did things the way we did. I wish the situation could've been different, too, but—"

"Have to play with cards we're dealt," she finished. "Silver lining: your presence in north led to this peace proposal."

"Oh I hardly think I'm the reason—"

"Not insinuating you are, but your presence eased negotiations. Trust your judgment on our 'guests' and their intentions." 

"I know it must be hard," he said, patting her hoof. "You have every reason not to trust them, I understand that. Thank you, though… for seeing them for who they are, not for what their forebears were. I know that they want this peace more than anything."

She took another breath. "Only agreed to go along this far because… peace in our time, ideal circumstance. Betterment of entire continent possible. Dream of father, of grandfather, of mother. Will do their memories justice." With a slight blush, she added, "Will do justice for our future foals."

He felt the heat rise in his cheeks as well, and gave a nervous chuckle. "Well… I'm glad that I can help in that anyway I can. The, uh… the peace talks, I mean. And the, uh… the o-other thing too, I suppose. Ah… are… are you—"

"No," she said, booping his nose with her hoof. "After wedding, though… will not waste time, hmm? Your first royal duty: provide me an heir."

He gulped, smiled, and nodded, unable to even think of a witty retort to that. 

He then shook off the euphoric feeling and cleared his throat. "But, uh… we can't think about any of that until then, right? Right now, I think we have other matters to attend to. Our guests are leaving within the hour, and it's only proper to give them a proper Hope's Point sendoff."

She smiled and nodded. "Indeed. Hmm… though, sudden thought comes to mind." She tilted her head. "Cannot recall ever being flirted with by you."

Lockwood balked. "What?"

"You flirted with this 'Rarity', but not me? Odd conundrum."

"Surely I must've flirted with you more than once over the years," he protested, hoof over his heart in genuine surprise. He frantically worked his brain to think of an instance where he flirted with her and to his consternation was coming up empty. Had it been that long that he'd forgotten?

She pouted, nose in the air. "Never called me 'stunning' or 'breathtaking'."

He blinked, then smirked and held her hoof with his. "Maybe not, but you're not the type of mare to want that from me. You're the bravest, most tenacious mare I've ever met. And a graceful dancer, to boot."

"Hmmm… acceptable." She glanced at the clock on the far wall behind him, then her grin turned a little mischievous. "Ah, forty-five minutes until flight scheduled to depart. However to pass the time?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What—"

The fierce kiss she gave him, pushing him back onto her bed in the process, answered his question before he'd even finished asking.


*****


Lockwood arrived at the hangar bays beneath Hope's Point precisely five minutes before the Sleet Storm was set to depart, Crossfire at his side. Blackburn arrived with him—Gadget at her side—having cleaned themselves up following their early morning "business meeting", which of course was the excuse that they'd give to anypony that asked where they'd been. So naturally, that was what they told Golden Dawn when she asked exactly that.

"A 'business meeting'?" Dawn repeated, tilting her head. "I will assume it was of a personal nature and not at all related to the peace proposal proceedings?"

"Personal, yes," Blackburn said without a hint of humor, though Lockwood caught her giving him a look out of the corner of her eye. "Road ahead difficult, many arrangements in the making for city's future. Lockwood, as future king, must experience many facets. Also… filled me in on several details of past experiences."

"An informed decision," Dawn said with a nod of approval.

Havoc smirked and gave Lockwood a mischievous grin. "'Filled her in', huh? Yeah, I'm sure the future king is working long and hard to make sure Her Majesty's able to handle everything coming her way. Y'know, taking a real load off her shoulders?" She wiggled her eyebrows at him briefly, reminding him too much of Briarthorn in that moment.

"Oh yeah, these two are really burning the midnight oil together," Gadget snickered. "Night after night, just hard at work. I bet we can expect plenty of little surprises within the next year or so at the rate things are going between them."

"Well, I possess a certain confidence that Her Majesty will ensure Consort Lockwood delivers a stellar performance in whatever royal duties he might be assigned to," Dawn said with a sagely nod. "I will observe the results with great interest."

Lockwood had to pause for a moment. Had she just called him "Consort" like it was his title?

Both Gadget and Havoc snickered into their hooves, while Lockwood felt his cheeks burning. He was absolutely certain that Dawn hadn't the slightest clue what Havoc and Gadget had meant and that her own innuendo was utterly coincidental. Blackburn, to her credit, didn't seem to mind at all that her sex life was being discussed in front of a visiting foreign dignitary; if anything, she seemed just as amused as Gadget and Havoc that Dawn didn't pick up on it.

"Wish you well on your return trip," Blackburn said with a nod to Dawn and Havoc. "Sleet Storm among smoothest transports, ideal for comfortable journeys. Understand that journey south was… nauseating. Arranged for best ship and crew."

Dawn gulped and nodded. "I appreciate the gesture, Your Majesty. Might I inquire as to why Captain Briarthorn was not chosen for the task? I was led to believe that the Thunder was the peak of comfort."

"Captain Briarthorn on shore leave at present," Blackburn explained. "Expressed regret for his absence."

"Is he doing okay?" Havoc asked, eyebrow raised. "Last I saw him after the flight and all, he looked a little sick."

Blackburn paused briefly then shook her head. "Was experiencing minor aches following flight, perhaps breakfast disagreed with stomach. Feeling better since."

Lockwood knew there was more to it than that, but didn't give any indication that he did. This was neither the time nor place to discuss how the fabled Diffusion system that protected their ships worked and the strain it put on their flight crews.

Havoc nodded. "Well, alright, if you say so." She looked to Lockwood. "So, guess this is it, huh Dreamboat? When's the wedding gonna be? You're not keeping us waiting, are ya?"

"It's going to be in about a month, actually," he replied. 

He and Blackburn looked to Gadget and nodded, and the smaller mare took a set of envelopes from her saddlebag and passed them over to Havoc; Dawn, however, snatched them up in her magic before Havoc could even touch one, earning an annoying grunt from the pegasus.

"The dates are inside. You and your sisters are all invited," Lockwood said, giving Havoc a smile in hopes to distract her from Dawn's… grabbiness. "Each one's for a plus one, as well, in case anypony wants to bring along a date. I can think of somepony for sure who will, but it's only fair to offer it to all of you, right? Trust me, we've got plenty of room."

Dawn tilted her head. "A 'plus one'… ah, an additional guest? Well, I am uncertain if any of my sisters would desire another guest with them, save perhaps for Curaçao requesting Shroud's presence. They seem to be rather close companions from my recollection. I regret that we cannot invite some of our more… inaccessible comrades."

Lockwood frowned. "Yes, very regrettable. I'm certain they'd love to come if they could."

Dawn nodded, then looked over the envelopes, raising an eyebrow as she did so. "Ah, Consort Lockwood, there seems to be an error in your count. I possess only five sisters, so along with myself that would only require six tickets. There are nine here." She then attempted to pass the extra ones back.

Lockwood pushed them back her way. "No mistake, nine invitations. The seventh and eighth are for the Tea Sisters and for Miracle and Vaccine; they've been very close to me for years, you understand. The ninth one is for Winter Glow. I figured since she lived with me for a few months, we got chummy enough that I wouldn't feel right not inviting her along. I know she's not easy to get a hold of, but I figure if anypony can manage it, it's you and Curaçao."

"Hmm, I suppose that would be appropriate," Dawn hummed. "Winter and I have not been in contact for several months, but my understanding is that Curaçao has at least 'kept tabs' on her, as she explained it. I will notify her of this."

"I'd appreciate it. There are a lot of other ponies up north that I'd love to invite, but this selection of ponies are the only ones I know who could potentially make the trip easily, or who I'm close enough with that I'd feel wrong forgetting about. As for Winter, the worst case scenario is that you can't get in contact with her, in which case just bring the invitation back and I'll figure something out." 

He then lifted a hoof as he remembered the last detail. "Oh, and let Curaçao know that the plan we'd been discussing regarding the Tea Sisters is completely taken care of?"

Dawn raised an eyebrow. "What plan?"

"We worked a few things out so that nopony will notice their absence from New Pandemonium for a few days so that they can get the inside scoop on Hope's Point. They have no idea it's for my wedding yet. They think it's just for a tour from our old friend 'Thunderbolt'." 

He then gave her a little grin. "I can't think of anything better to help sway public opinion in your favor than showing the ponies of New Pandemonium City that the ponies of Hope's Point are just like them, and that Queen Blackburn isn't some iron-hoofed tyrant. We all laugh, love, and live the same as they do, and we call care about one another the same as they do. All the more reason to want peace, right?"

"Hmm… an advantageous position. You and Curaçao have certainly accounted for a variety of solutions to my concerns of pushback amongst the Committee."

"Transport has been arranged," Blackburn interjected, nodding at the envelopes. "Scheduled for morning before wedding day. Will fly via boxship to Newhaven, then to Hope's Point, as with initial trip here. Cannot risk flights directly to Hope's Point."

Dawn paused, looking slightly pale. "We… will require transport upon one of those accursed boxships?"

"Until ceasefire agreements are in full order? Yes," Blackburn said, face hard and even. "Make no mistake, Shadow Associate Golden Dawn: wedding invitation matter of courtesy to Lockwood. Political impact crucial, correct; however, your identity, not public knowledge, peace proposal not public knowledge. Precaution to maintain illusion of normalcy."

"I… suppose that is a logical assessment of the situation," Dawn muttered. She then shook her head. "Very well. If there is nothing more, Your Majesty, then I suspect it is in everypony's best interests if my sister and I depart."

Blackburn nodded. "Indeed. Farewell, Miss Dawn." She looked to Havoc, her face a little softer. "Commander Havoc."

Havoc gave a proper salute. "Your Majesty, it's been a pleasure getting the opportunity to see your city from the inside for the first time. I see why ponies risk their lives to make the journey now, and I will make it my duty to ensure as many of them as possible make it here going forward. You have my word."

Blackburn eyed Havoc for a short moment, then offered her hoof. "Well spoken."

Havoc eyed the hoof briefly, then took it and gave it a proper shake.

Lockwood gave Dawn and Havoc a smile. "Safe trip, you two. Give my best to your sisters. We look forward to seeing you all here for the big day!" To Havoc he noted, "Gray especially. Tell her I'm sorry I couldn't do more."

"I will," Havoc said with a nod. "You know she doesn't blame you, anyway," she added with a sidelong glance towards her sister.

With that, the two sisters waved farewell, grabbed their luggage, and headed into the hangar bay proper to board their ship. Lockwood felt a sudden sense of relief seeing them go, knowing that the next time he saw them, peace between their two cities would be just that much closer, and that eventually nopony would ever have to suffer the Wastelands again for a better opportunity in life.

That, and he was going to be marrying the most wonderful mare he knew, the mare right beside him, the Iron Queen of Hope's Point. He tucked his wing around Blackburn's shoulder and pulled her close, and he felt her hoof reach towards his own. He wanted nothing more than to make this mare happy again after being apart for so long, and so he would do anything and everything in his power to make this peace work.


*****


Havoc set down her luggage in a compartment inside the Sleet Storm, assisted by the ship's cadet. She was a little confused as to why this ship had a full crew, as besides the cadet, it had a pilot, a co-pilot, and an engineer. Briarthorn's Thunder didn't have a crew besides himself, and that was definitely noticeable when she got to see the difference. The interior of the ship wasn't much different otherwise from his—decorations notwithstanding—so what was the difference elsewhere that required more crew members?

She didn't feel the need to take a seat, another harness-like attachment to one of the walls of the cargo bay. Dawn, however, did, and took her seat with only a little bit of fuss. She didn't seem as though she was completely convinced of the potential smoothness of the upcoming flight. Havoc almost wished they were taking one of those boxships back home, if only for the opportunity to torment her brat of a youngest sister again. A month from now was too long to wait for the opportunity.

Once the airship took off, jetting first out of the underwater tunnel before surfacing, Dawn seemingly decided that that moment was the opportune moment to strike up a conversation. "Havoc, before we reunite with our sisters and reestablish ourselves within our own home, I believe that a conference between us is in order."

Havoc grunted, but didn't display any sense of aggravation, at least not outwardly. "What about?"

"Your behavior over the course of the preceding two weeks," Dawn stated, leveling Havoc with a glare. "Apart from a paltry few showings of actual diplomatic decorum, you have proven a less-than-adequate envoy to Hope's Point. I am thankful that my own adept negotiations were sufficient in appeasing Her Majesty's interests, because had it been your responsibility, I have no doubt this entire mission would have proven a disaster."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Havoc said evenly, suppressing a growl.

"The reports of your activities that I requested from you painted a rather pathetic picture of maturity. For two weeks, you performed no conciliatory tasks that would prove beneficial to our goals. You 'flew around' most days, in your words, and 'checked out the sights', by which I assume you were implying you had been doing little more than a wasp, buzzing around and being a nuisance.

"Furthermore, you 'went for a drink' multiple times, and it is my belief that on occasion you returned to our hotel suites so inebriated that you slept through attempts to awaken you the following morning." Dawn scoffed and shook her head. "Do you believe that alcoholism is an admirable trait, Havoc?"

Havoc smirked inwardly. There had been a few mornings here and there these past two weeks where she'd been able to sleep without having Dawn rudely wake her up at the crack of, well, dawn. But it wasn't because she was so drunk that she didn't hear her; it was because she wasn't in her hotel room, having chosen to stay the night at a certain somepony else's place after thoroughly enjoying their company.

Which reminded her, she needed a date for the wedding. Cotton would probably love to get an invitation to a royal wedding. She'd probably look damn good in whatever dress she picked for the occasion, too.

Havoc drew herself away from those thoughts for the moment, though, because she'd been waiting for Dawn's attempt to give her the third-degree for days now. "Well, sis, I hear ya, but y'know, I think you really don't have a lot of room to talk here."

"Excuse me?" Dawn said, eyes narrowed.

"All the complaints about my behavior, I mean. Let's start with me flying around and taking in the sights, huh? You know it's a good idea to get a feel for how a city looks if you're gonna be commuting back-and-forth for work, right?"

"I do not see how that is relevant—"

"Not to mention how important I figure it'd be for a diplomat to possess some common knowledge about a potential ally's culture." She shook her head. "Where did you spend all of your time in the city again? Just in the hotel and the royal palace? Do you even know the names of the streets near the elevators?"

Dawn clenched her teeth. "I was properly performing my diplomatic negotiation duties—"

"As for the drinking, I mean, I was under the impression that Hope's Point had a pretty robust alcohol culture. Those ponies make a pretty big deal about drinking, and doing so somewhat responsibly at that. You know they've got this whole rite of passage thing for ponies that come of age to drink? Neat stuff. Uses enchanted cherries that they import from down south, from Newhaven, actually."

"I… I was not aware—"

"So, y'know, I figured it might be a good idea from a diplomatic standpoint to understand the ponies that are supposed to be our allies someday. Live as they do, partake in their culture, eat their food, all that jazz. Learned why they do it, too. The ponies that founded their city busted their ass getting where they are. They fought off gigantic killer bugs, settled on dangerous terrain in a deadly climate, all while fending off military attacks from the NPAF.

"And yet, despite all that, they're at the top of their fields in medicine, shield tech, flight tech, the city has an almost nonexistent crime rate, and the average citizens live happier, more fulfilling lives than some ponies in our Inner Districts do." Havoc smirked. "I mean, you'd have to be pretty stuck-up to see yourself as above the ponies you're supposed to be trying to treat with, right?"

"Are you insinuating—"

"And besides! What's all this talk about me setting a bad example for you at the negotiating table? I mean, that's what you're worried about, right? But that shouldn't be a big deal, should it? After all, Her Majesty never invited me to any of your little powwows. I wouldn't want to make an ass of myself and just show up when I wasn't invited, because I mean, I wasn't. Right?"

Dawn froze up, her hooves gripping the harness of her seat a little tighter.

"Except that's wrong, isn't it?"

Dawn glared right at Havoc. "What are you—"

"Funny story," Havoc said with a nasty grin. "One of the queen's messengers approached me a few days ago. Said the queen herself wanted to meet with me. Well, color me surprised, y'know? 'Cause I thought she wanted nothing to do with me. 'Cause that's what you said. Imagine my shock when Her Majesty thanked me personally for all the ponies I helped get across the Wastelands over the past nine months.

"But you know what the most shocking thing of all was?" Havoc asked. Dawn didn't answer; she didn't need to. "It was when Her Majesty denied not inviting me to any of the negotiation meetings. Hoo-boy, that was awkward, because she thought I didn't want to come because that's what you told her."

Dawn paled slightly. "You… informed her of that?"

Havoc's grin widened. "Nope. I sucked it up, but she figured it out pretty quickly. She's super smart. And she didn't seem too happy about being… misinformed. Apparently keeping secrets from royalty is a bad thing! Who knew?" She shook her head. "Don't worry, though, I covered for you, if only so that Curaçao's plan didn't get fucked up because you decided that you knew better. I told Her Majesty that I was doing exactly what you told her I was doing."

Havoc then patted her sister on the shoulder. "Listen, Dawn. I get it. I really do. I'm not the diplomatic type. I probably wouldn't have been a good choice for any of those big important meetings. That's your schtick, not mine. But let me be perfectly clear—" She pressed her nose against her sister's so they were eye-to-eye. "If you ever do anything like that again? If you even think about going behind my back to exclude me from shit? We're done."

"Havoc—"

"Are we clear?"

Dawn paused for a long moment, then through clenched teeth, said, "Crystal."

"Good," Havoc said with a smile as she pulled away. "So, looking forward to getting home? I tell ya, I'm gonna miss a few things about Hope's Point, but I'm eager to get back to work. Two weeks without getting to go out and cook bugs for a living is the pits."

Dawn seemed to regain her composure, and stuck her nose in the air. "I, too, eagerly anticipate our return. I will relish the opportunity to engage in some reprieve within my own bedchambers. Some determinant in our hotel beds has made repose quite untenable for these past two weeks."

"Aww, did Dawnie not sleep well?" Havoc teased. "Tough shit. I had some of the best nights' sleeps I've ever gotten, so I don't know what the fuck you're on about. Maybe that stick in your ass got shifted too much to one side."

Dawn grunted, but said nothing more. Good, Havoc thought. Boring conversation anyway.

The Sleet Storm was, as advertised, a smooth, easy ride from Hope's Point to New Pandemonium City. The ship docked at the airport just like any of the boxships would, and did so without issue whatsoever. During her stay south, Havoc had learned that they did so by forging passcodes and documentations to make their ships appear in New Pandemonium City's registry as cargo ships. Since all the "official" cargo ships were privately or corporately-owned, it was actually super easy, barely an inconvenience.

Havoc couldn't tell if she was impressed with Hope's Point's ingenuity, or ashamed of New Pandemonium's lax security… or more impressed that her dad had probably let it happen on purpose just to let Hope's Point grow into a powerful potential ally, or if that had even been his intention. Only Dawn knew what Pops was up to these days, and she never told anypony, no matter how much they asked. Just Dawn being selfish and possessive, as usual.

When the ship docked and its crew properly unloaded its cargo—because there was still actual cargo aboard—Havoc and Dawn were ushered along a different route so that they could appear as though they were members of the crew disembarking, just in case any security was watching and wanted to get too curious. Most just accepted a bribe and moved on—the airport security guard on duty today did—but some thought themselves above that.

Havoc was delighted to see that some of her sisters had come to greet them, namely Velvet and Curaçao. She figured Gray probably wanted nothing to do with this right now and honestly couldn't blame her, and Insipid was probably busy and so Havoc was more proud than upset.

"Hey guys! Welcome back!" Velvet greeted, lunging forward to snag Havoc up in a big hug.

"Hey, sis," Havoc greeted back. "It's good to be back." She turned to Curaçao as she approached. "Hey, Curie. How are ya?"

"I am well, Havoc, merci," Curaçao said with a smile and a nod. "I will speak with you over dinner tonight, though, if you don't mind? Dawn and I have important business to discuss."

"Yeah, sure, that's fine with me."

Dawn snorted at Curaçao. "You need not explain yourself to her, sister. Havoc is unlikely to fully comprehend the ramifications of our discussion if she was present anyway, and is unlikely to desire participating." She glanced at Havoc. "Would you not agree?"

Havoc ignored the insult. She was done giving Dawn the satisfaction of a response anymore; she was better than that, better than her. These last two weeks had proven that in her mind. She just shook her head. "Nah. You two have fun."

"Come," Dawn said, turning back to Curaçao. "Let us not squander further time and effort here. I desire a swift resolution to these issues."

Curaçao sighed so quietly that Havoc could barely hear it, but nodded and gestured for Dawn to follow, and the two headed off without another word.

Velvet watched them go, then turned to Havoc, eyebrow raised. "Wow, you handled that well, sis. Usually when Dawn gets all snippy you're right back at her with a retort. I used to set my clock to how often you guys bickered."

"Meh," Havoc grunted. "Not worth my time."

Velvet paused and stared at Havoc for a long moment, then shook her head. "Well, good for you! I figured that was just like a… a hobby for you, but I guess I was wrong." She then threw her hoof around Havoc's shoulder. "So, bummed out about your Dreamboat finally sailing away for good?"

Havoc shrugged. "Eh, that ship sailed before I was even born, y'know? Good for him, I figure." She then smirked and poked Velvet's chest. "Ooh! Were you in the room when we told Curaçao that he was getting married to the fucking queen?"

"I was, actually!" Velvet giggled. "I was having lunch with her and Shroud, and then she stopped to talk to you guys. I didn't know what it was about at first since I wasn't in on the conversation, but then she just fainted!"

"Oh shit, she fainted?!" Havoc exclaimed.

"Yeah! Only for like a second, though, but the news you guys had for her got her good. I can't believe Lockwood pulled the wool over her eyes like that!"

"I'll give him credit, he's a sneaky fucker. Queen Blackburn's pretty cool, too. She's got like this… presence. I'll be honest, I have no idea what the story behind those two hooking up is, but they seemed pretty happy together." She nudged Velvet briefly. "Heh, they totally boned this morning, too. He was all embarrassed that I figured it out and teased him about it. Dawn had no idea, either!"

Velvet tilted her head, then her mouth curled into a small grin that was slowly getting wider by the second.

"Uh… you okay?" Havoc asked.

Velvet put her hooves over her mouth. "Oh. My. Stars. You got laid."

Havoc balked. "What? How can you tell?"

"I mean, besides how cool you are about your Dreamboat sailing away, and you being totally calm around Dawn just now? I just can, silly. If anypony should be able to tell when their sister popped her cherry, it should be me."

"Huh. Well, I mean… yeah, I did. You're the only other pony that I've told about it yet."

Velvet squealed into her hooves, then grabbed Havoc's hooves excitedly and bounced in place. "Girrrrl, you have got to give me the detes! So, okay, I know you're not into the same kind of guys I am, but you gotta tell me, how hot is he?"

"She, actually," Havoc said with absolute confidence.

Now it was Velvet's turn to balk. "Huh? 'She'?" She grinned slightly. "Aww, Havoc, I had no idea." Then, she blinked. Several times. "Wow. I had no idea. I know you've got weird tastes but I still thought you digged dick. I mean, I appreciate that you're coming out to me first and all, but—"

Havoc sighed a happy sigh and threw her hoof around Velvet. "It's complicated, but I'll tell you all about it over lunch. My treat."


*****


It took four days to arrange a proper Committee meeting, and Dawn was both eager to get started and exasperated with the lack of promptness. She understood that the Committee was under no obligation to drop everything they were doing in order to attend a meeting at the drop of a hat, but it still irked her something fierce that she was forced to delay her agenda because of a single individual. 

In this case, Taskmaster Concrete Girder, who had been sick with the flu for the past few days and refused to be seen in that state.

She found herself growing more envious of Queen Blackburn's Council with each passing day. Blackburn's Council met when she demanded it, without question; the only member that didn't was Ambassador Concord, mostly because he was often away on diplomatic assignments to various southern cities. But even with his absence, the Council still met and voted on issues, with the understanding that Concord could still vote at a later time and might change an outcome. 

At least that was Dawn's understanding.

Worse, Dawn was growing restless beyond just waiting. She hadn't slept well for the past few days, requiring her to take extra steps to ensure her appearance was exemplary; she'd never worn much makeup before, but she'd had to start wearing it now in order to cover the bags under her eyes, lest somepony notice and accuse her of anything less than perfection in her appearance.

She thought it had all started when she'd left for Hope's Point, but thinking on it, no, it had been around long before then. The two weeks in Hope's Point had just been the worst of it, at least until returning home and being delayed again and again by that absolute boor Concrete Girder. Last night had been the absolute worst yet; she'd only managed to get about three hours of sleep at best, and not all in one solid segment, but sporadically through the night.

She was… tired.

But this morning was going to be different. The meeting was scheduled to start in five minutes, and she'd been able to divert Treasurer Vendetta from giving her a personal call today so that she could take the chance to breathe, relax, and prepare herself with a piping hot cup of coffee. It was her third cup today; she desperately needed the caffeine just to function.

When the meeting began and all the little windows winked open, she looked about the Committee members and had to suppress a yawn. "Welcome, members of the New Pandemonium City Committee. It pleases me that we can finally initiate our planned convergence. Are you feeling well, Taskmaster Concrete?"

The Taskmaster, slovenly as ever, wiped his piggish nose with a tissue. "Just dealing with the last of the sniffles, Miss Dawn. Thanks for—"

"Then let us proceed," she interrupted, not really caring one bit for his response "I have called for this meeting for a singular purpose: to inform this Committee of a development in our peace proposal."

Vendetta's brow furrowed. "Miss Dawn, as far as I am aware, none of the members of this Committee have proceeded beyond the first steps in the ceasefire process. Unless you mean to inform me that one of our members has news to report?"

"On the contrary, I have news to report." Dawn cleared her throat. "Two weeks ago, an independent agent within my employ initiated diplomatic negotiations with Queen Blackburn of Hope's Point and her Council, and my agents presented our terms and entertained Her Majesty's own. My agent has informed me that Hope's Point is in agreement to proceed with the ceasefire so that we may enter into proper deliberations."

The rest of the Committee went silent. She knew Blutsauger, Hotstreak, and Champagne were merely acting surprised, having already been informed of the matter, but the silence from the rest of the members was palpable, so thick that she could taste it.

"You did what?!" snarled Vendetta. "Miss Dawn, this is an egregious violation of your duties as Shadow Associate—"

"On the contrary," she calmly replied, though her ears were ringing slightly. "Article One, Paragraph Seven of the Contract of Shadow Associate Powers and Guidelines stipulates that once a measure has been agreed upon by this Committee, the Shadow Associate is within their power to pursue any course of action required that pushes that measure forward."

"Only if that course of action is approved by this Committee," Concrete noted, wiping his nose. "None of agreed to send an envoy down south just yet, little lady—"

Dawn clenched her teeth. "Taskmaster Concrete, I will only state this once: you will desist in referring to me as 'little lady' immediately," she hissed, her temper getting the better of her. "I am the Shadow Associate! My position on this Committee demands respect! I demand respect! Your egregious lack thereof has progressed beyond insulting, and I will no longer stand for it!" 

She took a second to breathe. "Am I clear?"

The Committee went silent for a moment, and even those loyal to her seemed genuinely surprised.

"Yes, ma'am…" Concrete muttered.

Secretary Quill Feather cleared his throat to bring the meeting back to order. "To address Taskmaster Concrete's concerns, the stipulation to which he refers only applies if the resources used falls within the purview governed by a member of the Committee," he said, adjusting his glasses. "You said this was an independent agent of your own, Miss Dawn?"

She nodded. "That is correct. A private contractor, paid with funds from my own accounts and operating entirely upon my commands with no input of any kind from any other member of this Committee."

Quill sighed and shook his head. "Then you are well within your right."

"Bullshit!" snapped Concrete, having shaken off his stupor. "There has to be a misunderstanding. Somepony here has to know who this agent is or who they were working for. Underhoof? Was this one of your spooks?"

Underhoof snorted and straightened her tie. "If you think I'd be stupid enough to send one of my agents directly into Hope's Point, you'll forgive me for calling you a brainless moron for even suggesting it. That's a death sentence just waiting to happen, and Queen Blackburn would have never been as cordial as Miss Dawn is suggesting."

Concrete was undeterred. "Hotstreak? One of yours?"

"The only asset belonging to the NPAF that has operated outside of city limits in the past six months has been one Commander Havoc of the Special Ops Division," said Hotstreak, his mustache bristling. "She has been on leave for three weeks while we make adjustments to her experimental equipment, and her tracking chip indicates no departure from city limits."

"As you can see, I have operated entirely within my allowances as Shadow Associate in these proceedings," Dawn said calmly.

"And she doesn't even need to inform us of this?" Vendetta asked, looking to Quill.

Quill shook his head. "There are no such requirements. She is completely within her rights to operate as she did."

"If you are all finished arguing moot points, can we proceed?" Dawn interjected, brow furrowed. "I possess the terms as presented by Hope's Point, which if agreed upon will allow us to initiate a full transfer of resources into the ceasefire initiative. They have, for the record, agreed to all of our terms."

Vendetta slumped back in his seat, a small smile curling on his face. "Signorina, you certainly are a shrewd, smooth operator. I never had the slightest idea that this was your plan the entire time. Well played, girasole." He sighed and shook his head. "Fine. Let us hear these pirates' 'terms'."

"Vendetta, there has to be something we can do about this," grumbled Concrete.

"Oh shut up, Concrete. The Shadow Associate outplayed us," Vendetta said with a slight wink at Dawn. "We can do nothing, for now, but play along."

Dawn had to appreciate the fact that the members who were opposed to her plans were so open about discussing it. It wasn't quite like watching the councillors on Queen Blackburn's Council arguing with her on issues they disagreed with, though. Those ponies had a certifiable respect and loyalty for their queen, even if they weren't always in agreement. These ones, though, were utterly opposed to her agenda.

Soon, though, once this peace proposal bore fruit and the dissenters could see the wisdom in her plans, then they'd give her the respect that she deserved, the same level of respect and deference that they'd given her father. They'd have no other choice. She would make them respect her if need be, no matter what it took.

Once the members were silent again and she could speak, Dawn presented the terms as she'd most recently heard them from Queen Blackburn and her Council, and which she had participated in negotiations on to reach a reasonable accord:

Reparations were a simple matter, and one that the Committee had specifically noted in their proposal in the first place. She'd managed to negotiate the number to something that she felt would be far less imposing, but judging from the reaction on Vendetta's face when she presented it, as well as who had been responsible for calculating the number, she suspected that the negotiations on that front were far from finished.

Dismantling the weapons programs within the NPAF as well as a sizable portion of the war fleet was a much easier pill to swallow. She'd been very careful in her negotiations with Blackburn to keep the fleet sizes and relative strengths as even as possible going into the ceasefire, upon which they could begin a joint dismantling of war fleets, repurposing ships for the transport and trade of ponies and goods. 

She'd been delighted to discover that Hope's Point was unaware of the full strength of the NPAF. The terms had only been in regard to the known size of the fleet. She'd been very careful with her assessment of their fleet data to ensure what Hope's Point knew and didn't know so that she had the advantage. 

The final stipulation, of course, was Queen Blackburn's personal request: the extradition of the CIA operative only known to her as "Crimson Dust", an alias. Dawn had had Curaçao and Shroud investigate the matter and found that the pony was a unicorn stallion, purple-coated with a reddish-pink mane, real name Plum Wine. 

None of that was useful to them, but Dawn was done with being misinformed; she'd ensure that the proper pony was dealt with once the agreements were made, by any means necessary. One single stallion would not halt months' worth of work.

Once Dawn finished detailing the terms—in silence, as the floor was entirely hers—she opened the floor to the Committee members to deliberate and vote, beginning with Secretary Quill.

The bespeckled stallion removed his glasses briefly and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm afraid that I cannot agree with these terms as presented right now. While I do not find any logical fault with them and would normally vote in agreement given our current direction, I'm afraid that the issue is that agreeing to the terms as-is will spur the peace movement along far quicker than I would like.

"I brought this point up when the proposal was initially presented to us, and I have made many attempts in these past few weeks to convince this Committee to reconsider the vote or at least proceed slowly through the process. Every single bureaucratic department within the city, from Registrations to Foal Services, is vehemently opposed to the sheer mountain of paperwork we're looking at."

"I still fail to see the trouble," Dawn interjected. "It is your duty as Community Administration Secretary to impose regulations and assign responsibilities to those departments under your jurisdiction, is it not?"

"Yes, of course it is! But the sheer number of pony hours we're looking at here, I… Miss Dawn, I have already been receiving threats from several of my department heads."

"Threats of strikes?"

"Death threats, Miss Dawn. The only reason I don't have ponies breaking down my door and storming my office is that I'm voting in their favor. The second I turn coat, I'm a dead stallion. I vote 'Nay'."

"Very well." 

Dawn noted inwardly that she'd have to speak with Curaçao about these threats. Ponies willing to threaten her Committee members with violence and death were a danger to the success of the plan; they would need to be dealt with accordingly. Perhaps if Secretary Qull no longer felt that his life was in danger, he would be more agreeable, potentially even grateful to Dawn for her role in the solution.

She turned to Blutsauger. "Doctor Blutsauger?"

Blutsauger shrugged and grinned. "I see no reason why not to move forward with the ceasefire with the terms as presented. If it leads to peace and the joint coalition of scientific development, then I am for it. 'Aye' for me, ja?"

Dawn nodded. "Taskmaster Concrete?"

"That's a big 'Nay' from me, Miss Dawn. These terms are insulting. If Hope's Point really wants this peace so much, then we need to take their terms back to them and tell them they ain't fit to wipe our asses with, and make them change 'em. I don't trust those pirates one fucking bit."

"Duly noted. Admiral Hotstreak?"

The admiral slumped back in his seat and stroked his mustache. "I'd already voted to move forward with the peace proposal with the understanding that the NPAF would be dismantling most of the fleet and readjusting priorities, so I don't have any objections there. The financial issues aren't my concern, so I don't have objections there, either.

"This issue about a CIA operative, though… that's a bit trickier. While I'm of the opinion that one pony's life isn't worth the death of potentially hundreds or thousands of soldiers that might die if we were to escalate into a full-blown conflict one day, I know that not everypony within the NPAF would be in agreement with me."

He sighed, removed his hat to briefly run a hoof through his mane, then set his hat back. "I'm voting 'Aye' on the issue, but I'm giving a fair warning now, there will be pushback. Significant pushback. I might have to put in requests for allowances to maintain order with the NPAF once the ceasefire goes through and further developments are brought to light."

Dawn nodded, then turned to Vendetta. "Treasurer Vendetta?"

Vendetta's hooves were still steepled over his mouth as he stared into his camera with sheer rage in his eyes; Dawn knew the emotion well enough from Havoc's past outbursts to recognize it when she saw it.

"I'll accept these terms over my dead body," he muttered. "I was opposed to this peace in the first place, and now you all know why. Hope's Point demands a sheer fortune in reparations, and we have no way of confirming the actual costs of these so-called 'defense' expenditures. This will not just cripple our city's economy, it will ruin us."

"Secretary of Commerce Virtuoso expressed that the financial terms were fully negotiable," Dawn stated, tilting her head. "Though I found it perplexing to stipulate that the negotiations be conducted between himself and you, Treasurer. I understand that there is a history—"

"No need to be polite, Miss Dawn," said Hotstreak. "Everypony on this Committee knows about Vendetta and Virtuoso's feud. It's practically public knowledge at this point how much the two hate one another. 'Hate' might not even be an appropriate term."

Dawn bit her tongue. Her interactions with Virtuoso gave no indication that the feeling was entirely mutual. He certainly did not hold Vendetta in a high opinion, but it didn't not seem to be the same sort of loathing that Vendetta held for him. Or maybe he was just better at hiding it? Either way, Dawn was unable to reveal her personal experiences with the whole of the Committee, and wished that Hotstreak had been more careful with his choice of words.

Still, she'd have to play along. "Is this accurate, Treasurer Vendetta? Is your opinion on this matter colored by your personal grudge against Virtuoso?"

Vendetta was visibly shaking with anger now. "That stallion… insulted me and my family to a disgusting degree. He started a war between the Three Families for the first time in generations. Killed dozens of loyal Rossa family members, enforcers, and friends. Destroyed businesses. And then he tried to blame it all on some… rogue captain of his, or whatever.

"I will never forget his insult. I will never forgive his insult. If I have to see this city burn to ashes around me to prevent that stronzo disgustoso from gaining even an inch of ground… so be it." He slammed a hoof on his desk. "You have my vote. 'Nay'."

Dawn stared at him for a long moment, then sighed and nodded. She turned to Chairpony Champagne next. "Chairpony Champagne?"

Champagne seemed just as stunned as the rest of the Committee by Vendetta's speech, and took a second to respond. She cleared her throat. "Yes, well… I see nothing in these terms that prevents us from going forward with potential trade agreements, so… I'm voting 'Aye'."

Dawn nodded. "Director Underhoof?"

The CIA Director ran a hoof over her face briefly, then sighed and slumped back in her seat. "Again with the deciding vote. This peace proposal's putting me through a shitload more stress than I expected it to." She took a breath. "The financial aspects and the dismantling aspects I cannot argue against. The numbers seem a little high, but we can negotiate down. That's not what bothers me.

"My issue is with the extradition of one of my operatives. I cannot, in good conscience, agree to that so easily. Our agents are given assurances that their actions are protected by our government; it's why they agree to operate in the first place, knowing that what tasks they could be potentially asked to perform are… very dangerous."

"Or morally questionable," interjected Blutsauger. "This agent of yours assassinated the current queen's mother in broad daylight, in public, with full knowledge that Blackburn herself was in the audience. Es ist ekelhaft."

"All correct. But he did so under the impression that Hope's Point was the enemy. We were at war, and he was assassinating a leader of an enemy of the state in order to protect our citizens."

"Director, if the reports are true, then what this agent did is considered a war crime," noted Champagne.

"Under what agreement?" argued Quill. "At no point have Hope's Point and New Pandemonium City ever agreed to terms of warfare. It's all fair game."

"By pony standards, I believe that what he did was a war crime. If anypony from Hope's Point had did that to any member of this Committee—"

"Committee members have been assassinated in the past, Champagne," grunted Concrete. "Poisoned. Throats slit. Dropped from great heights. Necks snapped. I've seen the reports. The culprits were never caught and left no traces of evidence, no hoofprints, no signs of entry, nothing. Who's to say that Hope's Point didn't employ these assassins?"

"Who's to say that they did?" snorted Blutsauger. "You can speculate if you'd like, Concrete, but you do not know that for a fact, ja?"

Dawn wasn't sure why, but Blutsauger seemed awfully confident in that answer. The records she had were the same as those of the Committee, so she knew just as little as they did, yet he seemed to potentially know something she and they did not. Odd.

"I believe I have the floor?" Underhoof harshly interjected. "The fact stands that according to CIA protection clauses, this operative did nothing wrong. We can argue the ethics and morals of this shit all day, but it stands that legally-speaking, my hooves are tied."

"You are the Director of the CIA," Dawn said, leaning forward in her seat. "Is there nothing you can do? In case I have not been clear, Queen Blackburn herself requested this particular term. My agent claims that she said, quote, 'This is the dealbreaker'. I am of the understanding that this stipulation is absolutely non-negotiable."

Director Underhoof closed her eyes and took a deep breath, but remained silent for a solid twenty seconds before speaking again. "Do you have any idea what kind of a fucking pickle this is? The entire possibility of peace between our two cities rides on whether or not I betray the trust of one of my agents."

"I am certain that you could arrange circumstances in such a way that this operative, and your other operatives, would be unaware of the so-called 'betrayal'," Dawn suggested.

"But I would know." Underhoof sat up straight in her seat, then leaned forward after rolling her shoulders. "Under Article Two, Paragraph Five of our Committee Guidelines, I'm requesting a recess so that I can think this over."

Dawn balked. "Director Underhoof, please. Can you not come to a conclusion at this present time?"

"No, Miss Dawn, I cannot," Underhoof snorted. She then slammed her hoof on the table. "Fucking hell! Do you even listen to yourself? You're asking me to weigh the life of one pony against the potential prosperity of millions, and that's not a choice you decide on in ten minutes, or an hour, or even a single day!" With a grunt, she added. "I'm starting to think I preferred your predecessor, computer voice and all."

Dawn bit her tongue, then sighed. "Very well. This Committee is in recess for one week's time, in accordance with Committee Guidelines. You are all dismissed."

The various windows blinked out one at a time until they were all off and Dawn's screen was blank again.

Dawn stared at the blank screen for a long while, slumping back in her chair as though the weight of the world was pressing down on her.


*****


Late that night, Dawn lay awake in her bed, staring up at the ceiling. The bed was much too big for her, she knew that. It had once belonged to a pony much larger than her: her father, Silvertongue. These had been his bedchambers, but now they were hers. This had been his bed, with the carefully-chosen black silk sheets that provided the perfect combination of warmth, comfort, and breathability. Her head rested against his pillow, perfectly firm and cool so that she never once needed to fluff it or flip it over over the course of the night. 

She turned on her side and stared at the window on the far wall, tall and wide enough that there was little else but the window. It had adjustable tinting like the windows in his office did, and was now tinted so dark that she couldn't see the city outside. It was not designed to open in any way to let in a breeze, for all the air outside would carry the faintest hint of smog.

The room was kept regulated at an absolutely perfect temperature, just warm enough to be cozy but cool enough that Dawn was in no danger of sweating. It did so through magical means rather than technological, so it wasn't just whisper-quiet, it was dead silent. Not a single sound permeated throughout the entire room; not a single sound could pierce through from outside unless she willed it. Only the sound of her beating heart kept her company.

This was his room, his perfect room, and now it was hers. But no matter how much she tried to think otherwise, she knew it was still his. His aura lingered here in a fashion, casting a figurative shadow throughout the room from which she could not escape. His presence permeated the air, threatening to suffocate her with its very existence. She wasn't worthy; she knew that now more than ever.

Everything she did was going exactly the way she wanted it, but with just enough hitches and hiccups that nothing was perfect. She felt like there was opposition to everything she tried to do, from every possible angle that she hadn't been able to see. Her father didn't have this problem; his every move was perfect, his every thought was so meticulous that even when caught off-guard, he turned it to his advantage.

"Father…" she whispered out into the room. "How did you do it?"

She was met with silence, not even so much as an echo of her own voice.

"I have attempted everything, Father," she whispered again. "But nothing is going as planned. There are angles I cannot see. Actions I cannot predict. How did you do it, Father? You deceived a goddess of lies… I cannot even convince a single mare to choose a beneficial action that will change the lives of millions. How did you do it?"

More silence answered her questions.

She closed her eyes and tried with all of her might to focus her inner aura. "Father… please…"

He had taught her that whenever she needed to contact him, she only needed to focus herself on him, to let her own inner light reach out to him. He would see her light, and he would find her in the darkness to guide her. As his Warden, that was both her blessing and her burden; only she could truly commune with him. All she needed to do was forget all her earthly concerns, let go of her stresses and worries, and focus entirely on him.

But try as she might, her mind raced to her every problem without a solution, her every question without an answer, to every last detail and worry and woe that she had just nagged at the back of her brain like a pulsating, festering mass, and that was all she could focus on.

She did not feel her father's essence flow into her soul, did not hear his soothing voice in her head, did not sense his aura surrounding her with comfort and warmth greater than any blanket. She felt exactly the same as she did one minute ago, five minutes ago, a day, a month, nine months ago. Just… emptiness. Loneliness. Anxiety.

And so once again, Dawn did not sleep well.
> Chapter Seven: Tempo
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Every year, the Tour du Soleil Hotel hosted a gala dinner party for New Pandemonium City's fashion elite, and this year was no exception. The reception hall had been prepared to suit a truly enchanting evening. Dozens of round tables were decorated with white tablecloths, bouquets of real roses imported from the southern continent, and the finest crystal glasses and genuine silver silverware. Banners and streamers had been hung with care along the walls and ceilings. 

The room was lit by candlelight from candelabras on the tables and the crystal chandelier on the ceiling, all of which had been enchanted to provide appropriate mood coloring; the theme this year was oceanic, so everything was lit in blues such that the entire hall felt as though it were underwater.

The party was hosted at the hotel by a randomly-chosen fashion designer or company, and this year the hosts were Chantilly Lace and Peaked Lapel, designers for and owners of Lovers' Lane. They were in charge of everything from the décor to the dinner menu, including and especially the guest list. 

Typically these events were exclusive to the tippest-toppest elites in the industry, the highest-class designers, promoters, label owners, distributors, stylists, photographers, and critics. Models were rarely invited unless they were extremely influential or were poised to do so. Thus, Insipid made sure that she was on her best behavior for the evening, and that she looked and dressed to impress.

Insipid had had her makeup done to the highest of standards, with just the right amount of mascara and blush to draw attention. False eyelashes added to the allure, drawing attention to her lovely eyes. Her long mane had been styled with waves and curls that caught the eye of anypony that saw her. 

The outfit was a Rarity Original which had been featured in Rarity's catalogue that she left behind for Lace and Lapel, and was one of the few that Insipid hadn't modeled yet. They couldn't afford the scandal of wearing the same dress twice to events, after all. 

It was a fairly simple design and shape-wise, delicately hugging Insipid's curves and trailing only a little past her tail. The coloring was what made the dress so extravagant. The silk of the dress had been inlaid with crystalline shards that glittered in the light of the room. In candlelight the effect was subtle and enticing; in a proper runway show, it would be dazzlingly bright.

On looks alone, there was no denying that Insipid was of a higher class than most, one of the true elite of the city. She knew she belonged here. Rarity had known it. Lace and Lapel knew it. Everypony else needed to know it too.

Insipid sat at the table with the hosts of the party, Lace and Lapel, as well as a few other guests that had played the social game properly enough to schmooze their way onto the hosts' table. She knew them from reputations alone, but she didn't know any of them personally yet. 

However, she knew that knowing them at all was paramount to success in the industry. The average "top" model's career rarely lasted more than a year; Insipid was determined to be anything but average.

She had seated herself next to Lace, who sat between her and Lapel. On Insipid's other side was an earth pony stallion named Popinjay, who just so happened to be one of the most distinguished fashion critics in the field. His coat was a bluish gray, his mane a much lighter shade of the same with white streaks styled into it. She had no idea what his eyes looked like; he had apparently never been seen without his reflective sunglasses with pink lenses. He'd dressed for the occasion in a crisp black tuxedo with a high collar.

"I say, it's absolutely lovely to finally meet you in person, Miss Insipid," he said, his voice typical of the other hoity-toity types that Insipid was used to dealing with these days. He took a delicate sip of champagne, then gave her a bright smile. "Yes yes, absolutely lovely."

"Like, same to you, Mister Popinjay," she replied, taking an equally delicate sip from her own champagne and returning the smile. "I've heard so much about you. I don't get to meet many critics, y'know? Were you ever at any of my shows?"

"Why, I've attended three shows so far where you were featured, and I must say I was impressed each and every time." He stuck his nose in the air just slightly. "What you lack in more conventional poise you make up for in a unique flair that I feel might just be a welcome change from the norm. It's been years since I've seen such a distinguished charm."

"Well, thank you!" Insipid grinned, maintaining eye contact and keeping herself faced towards him; she'd been taught the importance of appearing invested in a conversation, and knew it wasn't enough just to listen, but to look like she was listening. "You have no idea how much that means to me to, like, hear that. Cha."

"Have you ever considered broadening your horizons, darling?"

She raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Popinjay tilted his head slightly to look towards Lace and Lapel, who were deeply involved in a conversation with somepony else at the moment. "As much as I love Lace and Lapel, their label is still considered a bit… underappreciated. Why, according to my most recent survey of the most fashion-conscious elites in the city, Lovers' Lance was not even considered a Top Five label."

"Meaning?"

He gently patted her hoof. "I fear that your talent may be going underutilized. Surely a mare of your elegance deserves to be featured modeling for labels of a more prestigious class. I happen to have strong connections with the owners of Armoire, and I think they'd love to have the opportunity to feature you under their label."

Insipid gave him a small smile and withdrew her hoof. "I totally appreciate the offer, Mister Popinjay, I really do… but my heart lies with Lovers' Lane. Lace and Lapel mean more to me than just, like, being my bosses and junk. They're my friends."

"You would give up the opportunity to leap far above your status, potentially commit career suicide, just to remain loyal to your friends?" he asked, an eyebrow peeking over his sunglasses.

She nodded, shooting a quick glance towards the pair. "Yup! For. Sure."

"You won't even consider the offer?"

"Sorry, but no. My career is important to me, for sure, but like, friendship is even more important. It would be major unfresh to, like, betray them, or whatever?"

He paused a long moment, then his mouth curled in the tiniest of grins. "Loyalty is a hard-won asset in this cutthroat industry, my dear. Whatever Lace and Lapel have done to earn that loyalty from you must be something truly amazing." He raised his glass towards her briefly. "I admire that in a model. Bravo."

She gently clanked her glass against his, and they each took another drink. "Thanks. So… no hard feelings?"

"None at all, darling, none at all! Truth be told, I'm rather impressed." He smiled and fanned himself briefly with a paper fan. "You would not believe how many models throughout the industry get passed around between labels like just another commodity, all because they think it will give them a better shot at stardom. You never hear their names again after a few months, a year at best, because who wants to keep track of who moved where and why?

"Now, the truly impactful starlets? Those names enter the lexicon of fashion and beyond. Ivory Charm worked with Trotta for seven years until moving south, and she's still a household name six years later. Amethyst Sky modeled for Hermare for three years and built an acting career out of it, even got nominated for a PFTA last year. Trendsetter modeled for Cœurl for four years; she owns it now."

Insipid tilted her head before smiling. "Are you suggesting I might be the next Ivory Charm, Amethyst Sky, or Trendsetter, Mister Popinjay?"

He took her hoof in his and kissed her pastern. "Darling, if you keep working the runway the way you have been, and you stick with ponies that know and respect you? I don't have a doubt in my mind that ponies will remember your name for a long while. You might just redefine what 'insipid' means."

Insipid took note of that. She knew that her name was an actual word with a meaning, and had looked it up on a whim. Vapid. Bland. That's what her name meant. But when she was done, there'd be a new definition for insipid in the dictionary. She… didn't know what it would be yet, but mark her words, there'd be one.

Popinjay then sighed and let her take her hoof back. "But alas, I must bring an end to this wonderful conversation. I have an article to write about this little soirée, and thus I must venture forth and mingle at some of the other tables. A critic's work is never done, my dear. Au revoir for now."

"Au revoir, Monsieur Popinjay," she said with a dainty wave and smile. 

Curaçao had spent much of the past six months teaching her the basics of Romantique and Baroque, the two most crucial languages in the fashion industry; everypony knew the fundamentals at the very least, and most could claim them as second or third languages. She was hardly fluent yet herself, but she could speak it well enough and understand it in short bursts. 

There'd be no embarrassing mispronunciation faux pas.

As soon as he had left, Insipid felt Lace's hoof on her shoulder, and so turned to face her friend. "So?" Lace asked with a sly grin, lips on her own champagne glass. "Did he ask you to jump ship to another label?"

"Just like you said he would," Insipid said with a grin of her own. She sipped from her champagne; she was starting to really like the stuff. A fancy drink for a fancy lady. "You really mean to tell me he does this, like, all the time?"

"He sure does. Every label owner knows Popinjay has a strong opinion on the concept of brand loyalty, and he's a little aggressive about weeding out which ponies he feels aren't worth his time."

"So, like, he doesn't really work for Armoire?"

Lace snickered. "Is that what he went with this time? No, my dear, that's just a story. Last time I heard he was working for Trotta. Before that he was working for us. Clever, isn't it? Maybe a little shrewd, but any model worth their stuff learns quickly that the label makes them, not the other way around."

Insipid glanced over at the table that Popinjay had gone over to, where he was chatting up Trendsetter herself, owner of the high-class Cœurl fashion label, a stunning mare who had very clearly once been a model and still looked good for her age. Popinjay seemed to be enjoying their conversation based on the smile on his face and the way his tail swished gently behind him.

"Why does he make such a big deal about loyalty, anyway?" she asked, turning back to Lace.

Lace took a sip from her own champagne, longer than usual in fact. "The short version is that seven years ago he caught his then-husband, Dapper Hooves, cheating on him."

Insipid's eyes widened, shocked, scandalized, and maybe a little sickened. "The same Dapper Hooves that, like, owns Club Chic? The Club Chic?"

"The same." Lace scowled at a table on the opposite end of the hall, where the aforementioned stallion, a well-built unicorn, was seated with a number of other ponies. "Popinjay caught him banging one of the models, and eventually figured out that it was more than just the one. Rumor has it he'd even knocked a few up too, poor things."

Insipid frowned. "Ouch…"

"Ouch indeed. The divorce was probably the ugliest thing I've ever seen, but Popinjay managed to recover from it."

"Aww… poor guy," Insipid said, turning back to look towards the critic.

"Eh, it's all in the past now, honey," Lace said, patting Insipid's hoof. "Popinjay's over it, but he's still got that whole sense of loyalty schtick going on. He lets labels know if they've got somepony on their hooves that'll jump ship at a moment's notice. Not just models, but designers too. I have no doubt that if Rarity were still here, he'd be pestering her just as much as you."

Insipid frowned; just thinking about not having Rarity around made her sad, as it always did. She missed her friend more than anypony could ever imagine. Well, maybe not anypony; she knew a certain somepony that probably knew exactly what it was like to miss somepony else, and she didn't mean any of her sisters—who, admittedly, were almost all going through a similar yearning for friends long gone.

Speaking of which, Insipid wasn't sure if Lace was a mind-reader or something like that, because right on cue, the designer asked, "So, did you hear the big news around the proverbial water cooler?"

Insipid tilted her head. "What about?"

Lace leaned in with a smile. "I hear our dear friend Lockwood finally made that move south he's been talking about for years now. And, from what I've heard from a few mutual friends—Lockwood has lots of mutual friends—it wasn't just for a change in atmosphere."

"Oh?"

"He's getting married. Can you believe it? I didn't even know he was dating anypony. Whoever this 'Thunderbolt' is must be pretty special to move all the way to Hope's Point for and stay loyal to for all these years." Lace then scoffed and took another sip of champagne. "And to think, Lapel and I thought for sure he and Rarity were hooking up together. We even tried to make it happen. That would be a lovely couple."

Insipid sipped her own champagne through tightened lips. It was hard not to spill more information than she was supposed to know. There was a time when she might've let something slip out of a desire to be a part of the conversation, to seem like she knew something so that other ponies didn't think she was stupid, but she'd long since learned that opening her mouth when she didn't need to had the exact opposite effect.

As for the whole "hooking up" thing, well… she didn't know what to make of that. It had taken her some time to figure out that there was something between Lockwood and Rarity, but she knew that it wasn't "hooking up". Rarity wouldn't have kept something like that from her—despite being a firm believer that a lady didn't kiss and tell—and Lockwood didn't seem like the kind of guy to be unfaithful.

"Well, like, good for him," she said with a nod. "I'm totally happy for him and junk."

Lace's eyes widened. "That reminds me! If he's moved to Hope's Point, maybe he can get in touch with Ivory and let her know how things have been going up here with us? I can't believe I just thought of it! Shoot, I should've reminded him before he left—"

"I'm sure he will!" Insipid replied, patting Lace's hoof reassuringly. "Why, I bet he's already told Ivory allll about how well you and Lapel are doing." 

She didn't know if he did, but she imagined that he would have, and worst case scenario, she'd just do it herself at the wedding. There was no way Ivory Charm wouldn't be on that guest list if what Curaçao told her was accurate.

"Yes, I'm sure he would've, you're right." Lace then leaned casually in her seat and gave Insipid a mischievous grin. "So, it seems to me like we've made a real success out of you yet if Popinjay himself is impressed with you. Did I hear right? Does he really think you might be our next Ivory Charm?"

Insipid beamed. "I know! I mean, those are some pretty big horseshoes to fill, but like, thanks to you and Lapel, I have the confidence that I can totally do it. You two believe in me, Rarity believed in me, and so I believe in me. Cha."

Lace snickered gently then leaned in close. "Well, if you really want to be the next Ivory Charm, darling, we're going to need to find you a rich husband sooner or later, aren't we?"

"Huh?"

"Oh, don't play coy, dear. Ivory Charm was married to the one-and-only Don Virtuoso, head of the infamous Fantasia Crime Family," Lace said, casually swirling her champagne around in her glass. "Of course, we can talk about that openly now, seeing as they're not in the city. While they still lived here, and to newcomers even now, we all just called her husband an… intrepid entrepreneur. We all knew the truth, of course, but played along."

Insipid was well aware of all this, even if Lace didn't know she knew; it was why she was certain Ivory would be at the wedding. Her husband was on the Queen's Council, so surely he and his wife would be invited. "But what's that, like, got to do with me?" she asked.

"Honey, believe me when I tell you that nopony in this business gets very far completely on their own. Connections mean everything in this line of work. Friends are one thing, family is another, but who you share your heart—and your bed—with is something else entirely. Some  mares and stallions make or break their careers by choosing the right partner."

Insipid blinked. "Okay, like… I don't get it. Sorry. You told me to tell you if there was something I didn't understand, and like, this is something I don't understand."

Lace tapped her chin briefly. "Hmm… well, it's like this: before Lapel and I got married and merged our labels together into Lovers' Lane, we were up-and-coming designers, absolutely. Noticeable enough to draw some attention, but I'm not too proud to admit that we weren't exactly top-of-the-line."

"But you're so good! Both of you!" Insipid chirped.

"Thank you, dear, but like I said, skill alone doesn't do everything in this industry. You'd have to be a literal paragon of excellence to achieve that, and there hasn't been anypony that talented in some ninety years. Rarity's probably the closest I've seen, but I only knew her for a few weeks. I don't know if she had the staying power, hmm?

"Anyway, things changed when Lapel and I got married, and it's not as though either of us improved our skills. It was entirely because of the social aspect of it." Lace smirked and sipped from her glass. "When you get noticed enough that ponies start talking about you, every strength you have is amplified—every flaw, too—and that is when you start making real waves."

"So… you're saying that the only reason you and Lapel are so successful is because you're married to each other?"

"Well, that was just the end result, but I think we really started getting noticed when we… 'accidentally' got caught having sex at that big party all those years ago," Lace said with a little grin. "Lapel and I had never actually met in person before that night, but we hated each other's guts simply because we were rivals." She gave a wistful sigh. "But then we saw one another and we just… clicked. Love at first sight and all that."

"Aww, that's so sweet…"

"And we absolutely could've just left the party and made love elsewhere, but where's the fun in that?" Lace added with a wink.

Insipid gasped. "Scandalous! You mean you purposefully got caught? Oh. My. Stars. That's… that's totally devious." She grinned widely. "I love it."

"So! In short, you're probably the top model in the industry right this moment," Lace said, taking another sip of champagne. "But nopony's going to be talking about you in a year from now if that's all you are. Somepony younger and prettier always comes along eventually; it's just a fact of the industry. You need something to keep that interest in you flowing."

Insipid frowned. "But… what if I don't, like, wanna marry anypony?"

"Well, I never said you had to marry anypony," Lace said with a shrug. "But you need to do something to stir up some gossip. Get ponies talking about what you're up to, and they'll start paying attention to what you're doing all the time. Even Ivory didn't really make a name for herself until she started dating Virtuoso."

"But… but Rarity said I should never use my body to further my career like that," Insipid said, her frown deepening.

Lace blinked, then paled and put her hoof over her mouth. "Oh! Oh, goodness no, that's not what I meant. I'm not suggesting you sleep with anypony to get ahead, stars above. You know Lapel and I would never take advantage of you like that. You know that all the flirting is just… we love you, darling, but you know we'd never force you into something like that."

"I know," Insipid said with a nod. "No matter what that meanie Chiffon Silk said, I know you and Lapel would never make me do anything like that."

Lace abruptly cleared her throat. "Anyways, what I meant was… is there anypony here that catches your eye?" She gestured around the room. "There are plenty of available bachelors around tonight. Believe me, I put the guest list together."

Insipid looked around the room for a moment, then shook her head. "Honestly, I… I never even, like, thought about dating until you mentioned it. I don't even know where to start!"

Lace rubbed her chin. "Really? Never?"

"Nope! Some of my sisters are much more into that sort of thing, but I've just kinda, like, always figured it wasn't for me, or whatever."

"Well, I won't judge you if you've maintained an exclusively-single lifestyle all this time and don't have an eye for anypony in particular." 

"It just never came up, that's all. I'm sorry."

Lace gently put her hoof over Insipid's. "There's no need to rush, though, my dear. Take your time to think about what you'd want in your ideal stallion. Lapel and I know our fair share, so maybe we can find the perfect stallion for you, hmm? Or mare, if that's more your style! The fashion industry is very inclusive."

Insipid put her hoof to her mouth in thought. "I've got, like, no idea where to start. Usually when I have trouble with something, I ask my super-smart sister Curie for help, but… wait—" Then, an idea popped into her brain; her eyes widened with delight as this wonderful, brilliant idea made itself known. "I know just who to ask!"


*****


"Velvet!" Insipid called as she walked into the Pandora Tower lounge. "Like, where are you, sis?! I need your help! It's about stallions! I know you love talking about stallions!"

Insipid didn't visit the tower very often these days unless somepony specifically asked her to—usually Curaçao or Velvet—but she knew she was welcome whenever she wanted to come. She normally didn't make physical trips, either, not when she could just use Dawn's little… what was it? Telescopic… telegraphic… no, telepathic—it had taken three days to learn that word properly—spell to contact her sisters whenever she wanted.

But she'd learned the hard way that she was not allowed to just randomly call Velvet. It was usually okay to do so with Curaçao or Gray since they nearly always had time for her, and Havoc had given her a specific list of times not to contact her but was otherwise almost always available. Dawn, at her best, would ask Insipid to contact her at another, less inconvenient time; at her worst, she'd just ignore Insipid entirely and send feedback through the connection so that Insipid knew to leave her alone.

Velvet, though, had specifically asked Insipid never to contact her without giving her advance notice somehow. Insipid had learned that when she'd made a little call to Velvet when the latter was… otherwise preoccupied with a stallion. Velvet didn't exactly stop what she was doing and was a little too lurid in telling Insipid exactly what she was interrupting. In vivid detail. 

It had been enough that Insipid knew better than to ever do it again.

But she did know that Velvet never brought "gentlecolt callers" back to the tower—Dawn had made sure it would be impossible—and so this was the perfect place to get in touch with her without bothering her. Even if she wasn't here now, she would be at some point tonight, wouldn't she? Everypony needed to sleep eventually.

But Insipid had checked every place she could think of, and she still had not found her dear sister. Velvet wasn't in the lounge, or downstairs in the facility with all those cute colts and fillies, or in her room, or in the dining room, or in the kitchen, or at the gym, or… well, anywhere. Which only meant one thing: Velvet wasn't here at the tower! Well, she could be here and just be somewhere were Insipid hadn't checked, but what were the odds of that? Insipid was very thorough.

Just as Insipid was about to call off her search for Velvet, though, she noticed somepony else in the lounge. At this time of night the lounge should usually be empty, so it was rare to even see somepony in the first place. It was even rarer for that somepony to be Golden Dawn, who as far as Insipid knew never left her floor of the tower except for important business. Since Dawn looked like she was studying a datapad of some sort in the lounge's quiet room, it must have been important business.

Normally that would mean that Insipid should stay as far away as possible; disturbing Dawn while she was working was probably just as bad as, no, maybe worse than disturbing Velvet while she was "banging" some stallion. But something about the way Dawn looked told her that it would probably be a good idea, despite everything else telling her not to. Insipid was never one to deny her impulse decisions; she wasn't about to start now.

So, Insipid knocked on the door to the quiet room and opened it up slightly and quiet-like. "Hey Dawn!" she greeted, her voice as bubbly as ever. "Whatcha doin'?" 

"Insipid. For what purpose are you disturbing my studies?" Dawn responded, her voice a little slower than usual.

When Dawn turned to face her, Insipid had to use every bit of restraint she had not to gasp. Her sister had bags under her eyes that were, in a word, horrid; her mane lacked its usual luscious curls, instead looking more like a tangled mess with split ends abounds; she was sitting here in her bedrobe rather than the professional dress suit she was always known for; Dawn could barely even move her head quickly enough to count as responsive.

Insipid knew that if Rarity ever saw Dawn like this, she'd have a fit— no, she'd faint first, then have a conniption fit, and then give Dawn the third-degree about how a lady is supposed to take care of themselves. But Rarity wasn't here, and so Insipid knew it was her job to do what Rarity would do. Except the fainting part; Insipid would skip the fainting part.

"Uh… are you alright, sis?" Insipid asked.

Dawn snorted. "What business is it of yours how I am?"

"Well, um… no offense, Dawnie, but… excuse my language, but you look terrible." Insipid was proud of her restraint. Havoc and Velvet would not have been so kind.

Dawn looked directly at Insipid now, such that Insipid could see the red in her sister's eyes. "My physical appearance should be none of your concern. I will inquire again, perhaps more clearly: why are you here?"

"I'm actually looking for Velvet, but that can wait a little while." Insipid entered the room and shut the door behind her. "What's wrong, sis? I've, like, never seen you like this."

"It is none of your—"

Insipid stamped her hoof. "Dawnie. I'm your sister. It is totally my concern if there's something wrong with you. You look exhausted and junk. Are you okay?"

Dawn stared at her a moment, clearly considering her words. Then, she snorted. "Velvet has left the tower for the evening, and will be unlikely to return until morning. It would be in your best interest to attempt communication with her then, and in my best interest if you took your leave. I have no time to waste on your inanity."

Insipid frowned, hurt. Dawn was always quick to dismiss her as being stupid, even though the rest of their sisters had long since realized that Insipid had been getting better about how airheaded she'd been before. It was a slow process, but Insipid was immensely proud of herself for the progress she'd made, and her sisters were too. Except Dawn.

But Dawn was her sister and Insipid still loved her, even when she was being mean like this. She wasn't about to just let this go, but she knew she had to be sneaky about it. Devious. What would Curaçao do?

"Well… thanks, I guess…" she replied. "Um, I also wanted to ask a few questions about the wedding and junk? I mean, if that's, like, okay with you?"

Dawn perked up slightly at this. The wedding meant a lot to her as a political maneuver and would get her attention for sure. "What manner of questions?"

"Oh, y'know, just about the proper attire or whatever. You only told me that we were invited and, like, that we could invite a guest? But, like, you never told me what I should wear! This is the first wedding I've ever been to, and like, I want to make a good impression!"

"An impressive instance of forethought from you," Dawn murmured. She shook her head. "If you must inquire, however, I would suggest seeking out Curaçao. She is more knowledgeable on the subject of proper wedding attire than I am. Fashion is beneath my concerns."

Insipid brushed that thought off with her hoof. "Pshaw! I can dress myself just fine, sis, that's not what I wanted to know. I just need, like, a color scheme for the dress. Should I go with off-white, or whatever, so that it's not the same color as the bride's gown? I know it would be major unfresh to upstage Her Majesty."

Dawn blinked. "A… color scheme. Yes, um… I believe that 'off-white' will suffice. We were not informed of any substantial deviations from the traditional expectations of a wedding, and my understanding is that 'off-white' is a suitable coloration for bridesmaids and female guests."

"Great! Perfect! I know just what to wear, then," Insipid said with a nod. She already knew what she was going to wear and had been planning it ever since receiving the invitation, but Dawn didn't need to know that. "Thanks, sis, you've been, like, a total peach and junk. Cha."

"Hmph," Dawn snorted. "Very well. If our business is concluded, then I would prefer to return to my studies without further interruption."

"Oh, for sure, I can totally get our of your mane." Time to strike. "Um… speaking of manes, do you want help touching yours up or anything? You look a mess, and you usually keep it looking so nice!"

"I do not require assistance with my mane, sister, thank you. I just need some peace and quiet—" Dawn suddenly yawned, and quite openly at that. "So if you would please leave?"

Aha, that's it, Insipid thought. "Are you feeling okay, Dawnie? You look tired. Maybe you should get some sleep?"

"I will sleep once I have completed my tasks—" Another yawn, smaller this time. "For the evening. Please… just leave."

Insipid stood her ground. "Dawn, c'mon, just tell me what's the matter. Are you sick?"

Dawn clenched her teeth. "If I explain further, will you vacate the premises?"

"Totally."

"Fine. If you must know, I have experienced minor inconsistencies with my sleeping pattern as of late. I personally blame the beds in that hotel at Hope's Point. A fault in their manufacturing, clearly."

"Trouble sleeping, huh? Have you, like, tried sleeping pills or something?"

Dawn huffed. "I refuse to partake in medicinal aids. I am apprehensive of potentially developing a dependence."

"Ah, yeah, that makes sense." Insipid tapped her chin. "How about listening to, like, music?"

Dawn raised an eyebrow. "Music?"

"Yeah! Or white noise or something, I dunno. I know that Daddy used to always listen to music to, like, calm his nerves and junk?" She scrunched up her nose, but smiled regardless. "I don't like Daddy's taste in music, though. Blech. Opera? Classical? Bo-ring. But, like, I guess that'd put you to sleep! So… yeah!"

"That… you…" Dawn blinked and stared at the ground as though struck by some horrifying realization. "That is surprisingly insightful…"

"Thanks!"

"If the effort proved lucrative for Father, then perhaps… perhaps I shall make an attempt to sleep tonight with the aid of a musical accompaniment." Dawn immediately stood, then motioned for Insipid to move out of the way. "I will continue my work in my bedchambers for the time being. If you would step aside?"

Insipid hopped out of the way with a smile. "Sure! Uh… good luck with your work, Dawnie! Good night!"

Dawn huffed. "Good night, Insipid." She said nothing else—not even a "thank you"—just headed for the elevator as quickly as she seemed to be able to move.

Insipid watched her go, a slight grin on her face, then shook her head and sighed. Havoc might've gotten peeved, but she'd let it slide. Anyway, she headed for the elevator too, knowing she'd have to wait for Dawn to get upstairs, and then she planned on heading home for the night. She'd find another way to get in touch with Velvet in the morning. 

For now, she was just happy to help her younger sister with a problem. If the music worked and Dawn got some sleep, then maybe she wouldn't be such a grump all the time.

Maybe.


*****


Dawn arrived in her bedchambers just shy of midnight and immediately set down the datapad she'd been working on for the past hour. She hadn't gotten much reading done, unfortunately; she'd had some trouble keeping herself from blending words and lines together despite attempts to focus. 

She felt surprisingly eager to test out Insipid's idea, a rare sentence if there ever was one. Her elder sister had never been known for her intellect, but the idea had some merit and there was no harm in trying, was there?

Despite sleeping in this room every night for the past seven months—she'd resisted the urge to move in at first and had remained in her old room for two months—Dawn had yet to make any personal changes to the majority of it. She'd even neglected to remove her father's wardrobe from its proper place, as there was enough room to put her own outfits in there without issue and she didn't mind sharing.

In fact, she was certain the only thing about the room that she'd changed at all were the accoutrements in the bathroom—the soaps, shampoos, and the like. Using her father's bed was one thing, using his old toothbrush was another. That and she wasn't fond of the shampoo her father used; it smelled too masculine for her tastes, at least if she was the one using it. It suited him just fine.

Thus, there was an entertainment center built into the wall opposite from the bed that she had never touched, at least beyond getting familiar with it. A simple press of a button on the side of the bed opened up the wall, displaying various means of entertainment that her father partook in, none of which she had used herself. It all cleaned itself via subtle technomagic functions, so she'd never even had to open the center to maintain it.

She ignored the television, which was the main feature of the center and which she knew her father surely only ever used for informational and educational purposes. Her father was not the sort to sully his brilliant mind with the unenlightened entertainment programs that the plebian ponies of the city enjoyed. None of the inane sports that Havoc and Gray watched fervently; none of the trashy films that Velvet slobbered over; none of the overindulgent fashion programs that Insipid lost herself in.

What she did focus on was the old record player, as well as the large portfolio of records beneath it: her father's music collection. She'd heard the sort of music her father enjoyed on the rare occasion he was listening to any of it when she delivered reports before his departure from this life. He kept an exact copy of the record player and each record in his office; he was just that dedicated to having access to the genuine sound. The tower's elevator system was also cued to play from digital copies, but Dawn had never used those either.

There were so many records here that Dawn didn't even know where to start, truth be told. Each and every vinyl disc contained various classical compositions, operatic movements, and assorted waltzes, ballads, and concertos, none of which she had much knowledge of beyond fundamental academic purposes.

Looking over it all made her feel a sense of regret. Her father had once invited her to sit and listen to a record with him, but she'd been much too busy to do so. The secret plan to befriend and aid Twilight Sparkle took precedence over everything else in her life. It made her realize that since all of her memories of him beyond those brief few weeks were fabricated, she had never actually spent a private father-daughter moment with him.

Unable to conceive of a method for choosing a record, Dawn opted to pick randomly, snagging a vinyl disk from the bottommost row. The label and sleeve indicated it was some sort of symphonic suite that had once been meant to accompany a live theater performance without spoken words. Sounds of Winter. The imagery on the cover indeed certainly suggested a winter theme, with white snowflakes over a cool blue background and touches of holly in the corners. 

She took a breath and turned the player on, then set the record onto the player, placed the needle upon it, and readied herself for bed. This amounted to just removing her bathrobe and donning a set of purple silk pajamas, combing her mane a little straighter, and pouring herself a glass of water from her personal refrigerator. She did this all at once with her magic, a difficult task for average unicorns but not for her, though her exhaustion did make it harder than usual.

Then, she settled into bed just as the music was starting, snuggling herself as comfortably as possible underneath the covers and letting her head and body sink into the pillow and mattress.

The music began slowly, softly, with gentle wind instruments and the occasional violin accompaniment. Dawn closed her eyes and focused entirely on the sound of the instruments, drowning out every other little thought in her head. If there was one thing Dawn felt she was good at, it was focusing on a tangible task, one that had no immediately apparent abstracts. Centering herself on her "aura" had proven difficult, so she just focused herself on the flutes and clarinets, on the gentle strings of the violin, on the occasional oboe that joined in.

The performers were incredibly talented, that much was for certain. She wasn't sure why she exactly knew that, but suspected that it was a subliminal thought, a part of her psyche that her father had given her in hopes of molding her into the perfectly prim and proper daughter she was. The instruments were gentle, and another part of her psyche told her how to interpret the notes and envision the image they were meant to convey.

She pictured a snow-covered expanse in her head, nothing but white as far as the eye could see. A slow, gentle snowfall descended from above, carried just enough by a tranquil breeze to make the snowflakes dance. Dawn had never even seen snow before, not with her own eyes; she had never felt its touch or its chill. And yet, the music told her everything she needed to know about it, every detail from the precise way the snowflakes drifted about in the air to the subtle sensation of the cold underneath her hooves.

It was easy enough to picture herself in that snowy field now, to see herself knee-deep in white powder. She lifted a hoof from the snow and took a step forward, relishing in the resistance it gave her to keep her from leaving and the eagerness with which it took her back. The chill was refreshing, crisp and cool against her nose and yet not so cold as to be uncomfortable. Refreshing, actually; that was how she wanted to describe the sensation. Refreshing.

As the music transitioned into its next movement, Dawn's perception changed. The empty field of snow became a forest filled with pines. She knew they were pines not just from how they looked, but from the smell of the needles in the air, and she'd never even smelled real pine before. She walked through the forest alongside a river which gently babbled along without a care in the world. She watched the river flow as the snow fell upon it, and listened to the babbling die down as the water slowly froze over.

This continued on through change after change in the music, as images swirled in Dawn's mind's eye again and again with each substitution of instruments. The rhythmic thumps of a drum and bang of a cymbal made snow fall from the trees in clumps; the gentle whistles of flutes came with a change in the wind's velocity; the sound of sleigh bells transported Dawn into the seat of a sleigh pulled along through the woods by an unseen force.

Suddenly, Dawn found herself back that endless expanse of perfectly white snow, all other details melting away into nothing. She could no longer feel the cold chill of the winter night, no longer feel the snow beneath her hooves, no longer even hear the music that accompanied all these sensations. All she could hear was… nothing. And yet she was not worried in the slightest, but felt more calm than she had felt in months.

"It has been some time, my Warden. My daughter," came her father's voice from behind her.

Dawn turned and saw the figure of her father, Silvertongue, standing there as she last remembered seeing him. He was a tall, well-built stallion with a silvery-white coat and a golden blond mane. He wore no clothes, but was wrapped in an ethereal stuff that she could not describe, a black, inky mass that took the shape of a hooded robe. One of his eyes was a beautiful, normal blue, while the other was entirely gold, bright and shimmering like a star.

Most crucially, he had both the horn of a unicorn and the wings of a pegasus. He was no longer a normal stallion, no. He was what he called an "alicorn", a being of immeasurable power, nothing short of a god-like in scope. 

"Father!" Dawn exclaimed, unable to resist the urge to smile like a filly. 

She ran to him through the snow and embraced him, and he returned the embrace gently. Though she could not describe the feeling as physical in any sense, there came with it a metaphysical sense of warmth and safety, a feeling of returning home after spending a long time abroad and away from the one she loved most in the world.

"I have not conversed with you in months, Father. Forgive me," she said, remaining in his embrace without fear or discomfort to trouble her.

"There is nothing to forgive, my dear," he replied, his voice coming both from his mouth and from all around her, even inside her head. The sensation was akin to having all of her senses drowned in his presence; all that mattered to her was him. "I have seen in your attempts that your mind has not been at ease for a long while."

She glumly nodded. "Indeed. The symptoms indicated an extraordinary level of stress, so… my focus faltered. I have been incapable of sleep." She shook her head to clear away the negativity. "How did you do it, Father? How did you accomplish so much and manage such pressure?"

He rubbed her back gently, sending a ripple of calm through her. "I'm afraid it is I who must apologize, dearest, for putting that pressure on you in the first place. The circumstances of your birth have deprived you of some things that I could never have hoped to implant in your or your sisters."

"And what is that?"

"Experience." He let out a sigh and looked up at the cold, black emptiness above. "You have a brilliant mind, Dawn, and a power so great that it should be the envy of any unicorn. But I could never teach you the things that you'd need so that you could accomplish what you expect of yourself. That is my fault. I lacked the time to properly raise you into the mare I know you can be."

She frowned, her entire being filled with the regret and sorrow that he must have felt. "Do not blame yourself, Father—"

"Oh, but I must. I have placed a burden on you and your sisters, and though I provided you all with as many tools and resources as I could, I'm afraid that I was never a good father to any of you." He shook his head. "You all deserved better, and for that, I am sorry."

"Father, I… we would never deign to fault you for how our situation progressed," Dawn said carefully; she knew in her heart that her sisters loved their father dearly and would never blame him, either. "I am accomplishing a great deal thanks to your teachings and guidance. I simply must endeavor to uncover a method for relieving stress."

"Hmm… perhaps."

She tilted her head. "Would it be possible to request advice, Father?"

"I cannot and will not advise or coddle you, Dawn," he said firmly. "That is how Nihila operated, how she treated me and her Wardens before me. Harmonia does not interact with her Wardens in such a fashion. She trusts them to make decisions with wisdom and affection; she trusted me with the same, once upon a time."

Dawn paused, then gave a small nod. "I believe I understand, Father. You wish for us to succeed upon our own merits. I assure you that I will make you proud."

Silvertongue broke the embrace from his daughter, leaving her feeling emptier than before, and he looked at her with a solemn frown. "I am already proud of everything that you and your sisters have accomplished. I regret that I cannot help you directly in your journeys."

He then lifted and glanced at one of his hooves as if it were utterly alien to him. "I fear that I both underestimated and overestimated just what I would become capable of once I achieved my goal."

She raised an eyebrow, confusion washing over her like a wave; her father never seemed so uncertain before, and she could feel that uncertainty. "What do you mean?"

"Nihila and Harmonia are the most powerful beings in existence in our world, powerful beyond mortal comprehension," he said. As he did so, the dreamscape around them shifted and swirled with color, mostly silver and orange. "But it is tied almost entirely within the Dreaming. My ability to affect the mortal plane is depressingly ambiguous.

"I can communicate directly with you, my dear, for you are my Warden. With time and practice, you may learn to channel my essence directly into your being, such that I may communicate with others, though it will put tremendous strain on you. That is the limit of what I am aware of at present, I'm afraid."

"But… Father, is Nihila not responsible for the state of the north being the way it is currently?" she asked, growing more confused and anxious at his dismay. "The death of life? The inhospitable terrain? The pollution in the soils far beyond our city walls?"

"Yes, and no. It is the Beacon that is responsible for much of the decay in the north, and that is where my consternation lies. It is no easy task to manipulate Darkness to inspire positive growth and change. I am making attempts, but their effects may take years to bear fruit and I know not the outcomes they will bring."

With a sigh, he continued. "In my lifetime, I have committed a great many atrocities in the name of the greater good. I have murdered untold numbers of individuals; exterminated a sentient, peaceful race; enslaved my enemies and built this city upon their labors and bones. I embraced the Darkness with all of my being, because that is what needed to be done to save this world.

"But through it all, I maintained a single, unassailable virtue: patience." He set his hoof firmly into the returning snow, creating a fleeting whirlwind of ice. "And it is with that patience that I will usher in change. That, my dear, I can promise you."

"If anypony could possibly overcome such an insurmountable challenge, Father, I know it is you," Dawn said, gently touching her father's chest.

He smiled; she felt a jolt of warmth flood her heart. "Thank you, my dear. Your assurance means a great deal to me. I truly wish that I had had more time to spend with you and your sisters, that we had come to be a true family." He set his hoof upon her shoulder. "But you have much to do in the morning, do you not? Sleep well, Dawn. I look forward to our next conversation."

"As do I, Father," she said. After a brief pause, she added, "I love you…"

"And I you, my dearest. Give my love to your sisters for me."

And then the music returned with gusto, the instruments' tempo changing ever-so-slightly from how it had once been. The ice and snow slowly began to melt around Dawn as the season came to its end. The subtle warmth of spring replaced the chilly bite of winter; the sun came out to play with a glorious, triumphant reveal to dispel the clouds and darkness.

Now all Dawn could hear was the sound of the record player with no more record to play. She opened her eyes slowly. Her head felt surprisingly clear, more than she could remember feeling for several weeks now. She sat up and out of habit glanced over at the alarm clock on her nightstand, expecting only a few hours at best to have passed.

It was almost noon.


*****


In the hidden passages far below New Pandemonium City, the stench of mold and decay permeated the air so strongly that it was almost nauseating. Darkness was ever-present; natural light did not make its way down here in any capacity. The distant sound of dropping water indicated that the foundation above was cracked enough to let in slight traces of sewer water; this did nothing to improve the smell.

Power Flux grimaced as took a noseful of the air into his nostrils. He'd gotten mostly used to the odor by now, but that didn't mean he found it pleasant by any means. He had gotten used to the lack of light, though, and yet was still accustomed enough to light that he could stand the glare of his flashlight as it shone against the nearby wall. Getting the device to work at all down here was a miracle—he and his Brothers and Sisters normally used candles—but the effort was worth it.

He stood outside of a cell built into the wall of an old building that had long since fallen apart, but was still composed enough to serve as a makeshift prison. Iron bars had been erected into gates and firmly planted to turn small rooms into cells, and repair work had been done to ensure that prisoners could not escape. 

He'd overseen every step along the way from the moment he'd been given his task. Any lapse would fall upon him, and failure was not an option. Not this time.

He stared into the cell and looked upon the pony within. A unicorn mare. Young, maybe early twenties? A rough guess, not important. She was malnourished, her frame thin enough that he could just see the faint outline of her ribcage. She was nude, of course, a method of further demeaning her. Her horn had been broken. He'd done the deed himself with a sledgehammer; it was quick, blunt, and most importantly, painful yet nonfatal. In the darkness he couldn't tell what color her coat and mane had once been; he hadn't been the one to personally take her down here, either. 

Who had this mare been a month ago, he wondered. The thought was brief, however, because that didn't matter anymore.

The most important thing about her was her eyes. In the faint light created by his flashlight's reflection, he could see that her eyes were not those of a mare with any fight still left in her. Hers were the eyes of a truly broken mare, a soul who had utterly given up on hope. She barely even reacted when Flux aimed his light directly at her; she clearly had not the energy nor the drive to do so. 

Yes, she was ready to harvest.

He turned to the pony behind him, a robe-clad pegasus stallion just like himself, though with an off-white coat. "Brother Skyfall, you have done well. Bring her to the altar. Our Dark Lady feeds tonight."

Skyfall nodded, a faint glimmer of a smile visible beneath his robes. "At once, Brother Flux." Without much aplomb, he took a key from his belt and opened the cell door, then strode in and grabbed the other mare by her mane. "Come along, girl. Your suffering is at an end."

The mare did not respond; she did not fight back or struggle. She just allowed herself to be dragged along by Skyfall, with Flux walking behind them. 

They passed several other makeshift cages, each with a pony of their own held within. Some of the ponies watched the two Brothers walk past with their sacrifice in tow but said and did nothing; Flux could see the fear in their eyes. 

One moved forward and tried to reach out to snatch the keys from Skyfall's belt; Flux bashed the fool on the head with his flashlight just once—he enjoyed the feeling of impact on the skull—enough to dissuade others from a similar attempt. 

Some even groped at the cages and pleaded for release, and these were mostly ignored, save for Flux shining his light in their eyes to shoo them away like the rats that they were.

The altar chamber had been built at the center of the prison using an old room that had been mostly intact and which was large enough to suit their needs. The altar itself was made of solid stone, carefully crafted by hoof from the derelict bricks and concrete of the surrounding structure, repurposed for something far greater than whatever purpose the building had once served in centuries past.

Skyfall set the mare upon the altar upon her stomach first, then rolled her over onto her back. Flux busied himself with lighting a few scented candles around the altar, ushering in a pleasant light to the room and replacing the stench of mold with the aroma of sandalwood. 

The mare barely reacted to any of this, which was perfect; any sign of struggle, any showing of fear or worry, and he would know she was not ready. A pony's soul was not suitable unless it was completely drained of any sense of hope, be it for escape, sympathy, rescue, or anything else. 

The only hope that was accepted was the hope for the sweet release of death.

The ceremony itself was simple. Skyfall, as the lesser of the two Brothers present, would perform the low, guttural chanting to set the tone. Flux, a dagger in one hoof, situated himself above the mare, and looked to the ceiling. It was his duty to invoke their Mistress's presence, a duty which he relished. He had never been this close to the Dark Lady before; these several months had been the happiest of his life.

"O, Dark Lady, we entreat You," Flux called, loudly enough that his voice would carry out of the room and be heard by other prisoners. "We offer up a soul this evening, a meager offering from Your pitiable mortal servants. May Your darkness never falter. May the world quake at Your return, drowned in fire and blood!"

With a sudden, sharp motion, he drove the dagger down with all of his weight into the heart of the mare beneath him. Whatever life was left in her was released as a pitiful, pained screech, one that only intensified when Flux twisted the dagger as hard as he could to elicit the most pain possible. Then she went silent, the light in her eyes dying out as her soul left this mortal coil and was consumed by its rightful owner.

Flux rose from his handiwork, leaving the dagger buried in the mare's heart, and briefly wiped his nose. He could feel the wetness of her blood all over his hoof; he could smell it as it ran under his nostril, taste it as it brushed his lips. It was a truly wonderful feeling. Someday soon, the blood upon his hooves would be that of the Dark Lady's most hated enemies, and he hoped more than anything that he would be permitted to deliver them to her.

"Well done, Brother Flux," came a voice from the back of the room. "You make our Mistress proud."

Flux was shocked that there was another pony in the room, seeing as tonight, only himself and Skyfall were on duty. Well, he was always on duty; Skyfall rotated in and out with others as needed to maintain their cover on the surface. The other pony present was one of the twins, a yellow-coated unicorn stallion with a two-tone white and red mane, and this brother bore a goatee—the other bore a mustache, and this was the only way to tell the two apart. An appreciated courtesy.

"Leader Grit, this is a surprise," Flux said with a slight bow. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Skyfall, who turned in shock as well to see one of their Glorious Leaders present and gave a bow just as quickly, but said nothing.

"This is only a brief visit, comrades, yes, very brief indeed. I bring tidings, tidings both good and ill." Grit stepped over to the altar and casually ran his hoof under the dead mare's chin. "But first, I must commend you on your work here. In such a short time, your dedication to the cause has given the Dark Lady such a deluge of souls that She has regained in strength."

Flux's eyes widened in glee. "Truly?"

"Truly. My dear brother mine has been given visions most clear, the clearest they've been since the Betrayal. In time, he may yet be able to commune with Her as he once did, before these troubling times." He set his hoof upon Flux's shoulder. "You have done Her a great service. There will be a place for you by Her side in the end times."

"I eagerly await that day, Leader," Flux said with a nod and a grin. "You spoke of tidings, though? What news do you bring?"

Grit absently fiddled with the dagger in the mare's chest, a curious look upon his face. "Do you read the papers, Brother Flux? Specifically the New Pandemonium Times, perhaps?"

"I get few opportunities to do so, Leader," Flux admitted.

"I read it, Leader," noted Skyfall with a nod. "Daily, in fact."

"Then you know of the recent trends, Brother Skyfall?" asked Grit, turning to face him. Flux was left only slightly upset that attention had been diverted away from himself.

"You mean the fixation with Hope's Point?" Skyfall asked, eyebrow raised. "Believe me, Leader, I am well aware. Admiral Hotstreak has begun issuing discreet orders among the officers that we are likely to dismantle much of the fleet in the name of peace."

"Hmm, yes, you are well-established within those ranks, are you not, Brother?"

Skyfall nodded again, pride flickering across his features. "Yes, Leader, though I am but a mere Captain. I heard the news directly from my CO, Commander Rocket Flare."

Grit smirked. "I see, I see. You may yet have future responsibilities in our Glorious Design, Brother Skyfall. Yes, a grand purpose indeed." 

He turned back to Flux, who was just glad to finally get the attention back. "This 'peace' is an abomination, Brothers. A true antithesis to the very core of Our Dark Lady's wishes. However… it presents an opportunity. Our enemies are blind with ambition. While their eyes roam south in an attempt to foster peace, they lose focus on what is beneath their very noses."

"But… the CIA has opened an investigation into our actions, Leader," Flux said, tilting his head. "They will never find us, true, but I am not so certain that we are beneath their notice."

"Perhaps, Brother Flux, perhaps, but that is itself an opportunity." Grit grinned and set his hoof upon Flux's shoulder, hard. "While our enemies scurry in the light in search of crumbs and clues, and while you and our Brothers and Sisters harrow them at every turn, their eyes are not where they should be."

"And where is that?"

Grit gently set his hoof to his lips. "Ah, that is known only to me and my dear brother mine, Brother. Our Dark Lady's clearer visions have gifted us with the means to bring about Her Glorious Return. My brother and I depart soon with all the resources and brethren we can spare, to someplace where our foes will never find us.

"You, my dear Brother Flux, and those that remain behind, have been given a great purpose, and you will continue on with the tasks set before you. There will come a time soon when our Dark Lady will want you to strike at Her foes, to drag them down when they are at their most vulnerable." Grit tapped Flux's chest. "You will know when the time is right."

Flux put his hoof to his heart, feeling slightly breathless. "She… She will speak to me?"

"My dear brother mine has assured me of it," Grit said with a smile. "But the road ahead will not be easy, Brother. In the end, you may yet lose your life in service to Our Dark Lady. Are you prepared for that eventuality?"

"Nothing would make me happier than to give myself to Her, Leader," Flux replied with a deep bow. "Body and soul."

"Well spoken, Brother Flux, well spoken indeed." Grit casually took the dagger from the dead mare's chest and passed it to Flux as an offering. "May Her return drown this world in fire and blood."

Flux grinned and took his dagger back. "Fire and blood, Leader. I wish you well on your journey."

"And you as well, Brother. Until we meet again at Her side."

And with that, Leader Grit stepped back into the darkness at the back of the room, vanishing as suddenly as he had appeared.

Flux turned to Skyfall and gave him a terse nod. "Brother Skyfall, we have much work to do. Are you prepared to give everything in the name of our Dark Lady?"

Skyfall briefly crossed his hooves over his chest. "As always, Brother. Body and soul."

Flux simply smiled, then hefted the corpse of the dead mare into a deep, dark pit behind the altar where it joined the dozens of others just like it.
> Chapter Eight: Tenderness
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


One Month Later


Hope's Point was abuzz with activity, the most it had gone through in several years. The city was in a particularly celebratory mood today, and most ponies had tuned in to the local news station to watch the coverage of the royal wedding. On just about every television screen citywide, the citizens of Hope's Point currently watched a news anchor—a peach-colored earth pony mare wearing a snappy dress jacket—behind her newsdesk address viewers with a big, friendly smile.

"The royal palace is booming with activity today as Her Royal Highness, Queen Blackburn, is due to be wed to soon-to-be King Lockwood," the anchor said. "While Her Majesty has expressed a desire for a private ceremony, we have been allowed to provide limited coverage of the event, including a brief visit from Her Majesty and her husband-to-be to show off their wedding attire and take photos before retiring to the reception.

"We go now to our stallion in the field, Brick Road. Brick?"

The image on the screen shifted to that of a dark red earth pony stallion situated at the gates of the royal palace, which were closed to the public, though that didn't stop a cheering crowd from gathering to catch some glimpse of anything that was going on inside.

"Thank you, Peach," said Brick Road, the field reporter. He gestured to the crowd outside the gate. "As you can see, a large crowd has formed here at the royal palace as everypony tries to catch a glimpse of anything or anypony that might be involved with the royal wedding before the ceremony begins."

"And has anypony caught sight of anything yet, Brick?" asked the anchor—Peach Fuzz—with genuine curiosity.

"A few witnesses say they've seen some guests arriving via the hidden side entrances to the palace, including members of Her Majesty's Council, but we have no confirmation as of yet on these claims. But, as you can see, the crowd is quite lively as we look forward to word that the wedding ceremony has concluded so we can get that exclusive look at Her Majesty's wedding dress and the first public appearance of our new king."

"Speaking of our new king, what seems to be the word on the street there about what's happening inside? Are the ponies there as excited as we are for Her Majesty?"

"Well, Peach, I've talked to a few of these ponies and the general consensus is one of excitement and approval of Her Majesty and her choice in a husband. After news came to light of his role in helping Her Majesty with improving our city during her time spent infiltrating New Pandemonium before she took the throne, soon-to-be King Lockwood seems to have been met with unanimous praise and love."

"That's wonderful, Brick. Keep us updated on any developments there at the royal palace."

"Will do, Peach. Back to you in the studio."

The image shifted back to Peach Fuzz behind a desk. "Stay tuned here folks for further news on the royal wedding as it happens. In the meantime—"


*****


The royal wedding chapel had been exquisitely decorated with whites, blues, and purples. Hundreds of flowers of varying kinds lined the aisle and scented candles sat at the edges of the room, all combining to give the chapel the smell of a pleasant southern spring afternoon. All of the pews were packed tight with guests, which meant friends, special guests, and family only, with not a single camera crew in sight.

Lockwood stood proud and confident at the altar as he waited for the ceremony to begin. His tuxedo had a high collar decorated in the reds and golds of Hope's Point. He was feeling extra nervous right this moment, not out of worry or fear but out of sheer, regular nerves. Today was the day. Here at last! He'd been waiting for nearly six years—it was only about a month short—for this very important day, and now it was finally here. 

He'd had no idea just how nervous he would feel when the day finally arrived.

At Lockwood's side were his three groomsmen. For his Best Stallion, there was no more obvious choice than his best friend and adopted brother, Flathoof, who couldn't have possibly looked more proud. Next was Crossfire, naturally, one of Lockwood's closest friends, his personal bodyguard, and the closest pony that Blackburn had to a brother. Lastly was Virtuoso, who had been a close friend to both the bride and the groom for years and who had played a major role in the two getting together. They were all dressed in crisp black tuxedos just like Lockwood's, though without the high collars.

While Blackburn was not yet present, her bridesmaids were. Gadget was the lead bridesmaid, no question; she and Blackburn were practically sisters, after all. She'd attached a miniature camera to her lovely dress, solely to record the event since somepony had to, if only for posterity's sake. "Something to pass on to the kids", she'd said.

Ivory Charm was next in the line, for much the same reasons that Virtuoso was on Lockwood's side. She was a drop-dead gorgeous unicorn mare with a white coat and a long pink mane; even pregnant as she was, there was a definite poise to be seen. Lockwood had been ecstatic to hear the news of her pregnancy when he'd arrived, and more than a little surprised to be asked to be the foal's godfather. 

Third was a mare named Lyrica, who had an aquamarine coat and a cyan mane with white highlights, who was clearly rather surprised to be so involved, but Blackburn had few friends and considered Lyrica close enough to be here. She'd been one of Virtuoso's top lieutenants up north, and had helped him and his family escape when Vendetta had tried to have them killed.

All three mares were dressed in pretty, off-white dresses, though Ivory's was tailored to fit just a little bigger to accommodate her swollen belly.

The other guests present included all the ponies that could make it here that had helped shape the lives of the royal couple over the years, so many in fact that Lockwood could only barely register just how many names there had been on the guest list. He'd met several of them for the first time only today, just before the wedding ceremony was to begin, as they'd arrived in the city specifically for the event:

Lockwood's other adopted family members were present, of course, all of them seated in the front row where they could easily watch the event unfold from the best seats in the house. Each was dressed in attire that they'd never have been able to afford back home. Only Shorthoof wasn't here right now, and for good reason.

Briarthorn sat in the front on Blackburn's side of the aisle, dressed in a snappy tux that Lockwood had to admit made him look rather dashing. He didn't want to sound hypocritical, but he felt that maybe if Briarthorn dressed nicer every once in a while, he could really turn some heads.

The entire Council was present, naturally—Spark Plug, Avalanche, Moonglass, Cherry Tart, Lightning Flash, Stellar Storm, even Concord—and each had of course brought their families. 

Some past Council members were present as well, such as an aging unicorn named Solarian who once served as Chief Science Officer, and who had been the personal tutor of Queen Blackburn for years. There was also a unicorn mare, Evening Glitz, who once served as Chief Security Officer. She'd brought her husband along, an orange pegasus stallion named Dusk Sentinel.

Seeing Glitz actually made Lockwood feel a pang of nostalgia. She was almost a dead ringer for Twilight Sparkle, albeit much older. They even styled their manes the same way.

There was also a handsome unicorn stallion named Shining Steel, who had been the personal bodyguard for Blackburn's grandfather, along with his wife, a gorgeous unicorn mare named Paramour, and their unicorn daughter, Crystal Heart. Shining and Crystal weren't present in the room at the moment, but would be soon enough.

Then there was Sweet Cream, Lyrica's wife, who was already showing that her own pregnancy was progressing along just like Ivory's. Lockwood wasn't sure how the couple had made it happen, but knew that here in Hope's Point there were lots of options for same-sex couples to have foals, some medical, some magical, some mundane. There was little like that up north, apart from the last one.

Several of Lockwood's old friends from up north who had moved down here in the past had been invited: Cookie Dough, an earth pony mare that had been a representative of Dolorcorp, was here with her husband Hot Cocoa. Doctor Heartthrob, a unicorn stallion and gifted surgeon that had been a donor at many of the charity events Lockwood organized.

Then there was Keeneye, a unicorn mare that Lockwood knew and who had been one of his less… legal contacts up north, and who forged documents for him and those he referred to her; most importantly, she'd forged the documentation he needed to "adopt" himself into Flathoof's family when they were all in high school.

And of course, there were the Tea Sisters, Mint and Matcha, a pair of unicorn twins that edited and owned the New Pandemonium Times, and who would naturally be reporting back home with the scoop of the century. Even now the two were busy glancing about the room, hastily jotting down notes onto their notepads and snapping pictures.

To Lockwood's relief, Winter Glow had been able to make it, though apparently with some hesitation and complaint about her work schedule. Winter was an icy blue unicorn mare short enough to be mistaken for a filly at times; her mane was stark white. By her side, to Lockwood's surprise, was an actual filly—Hourglass was her name—no more than eight years old and just barely smaller than Winter. She was a vanilla-colored unicorn with a pinkish-purple mane. 

Neither wore a dress, but wore official "uniforms" which amounted to a purple turtleneck, scarf, and beret for Winter, and a black dress suit and matching top hat for Hourglass. Very odd indeed. Whatever it was that the Chronomancer was up to these days, Lockwood didn't know, but it was still lovely to see her again.

Last, but not least, was the so-called "Guest of Honor", Golden Dawn, as well as her sisters and their guests. Lockwood was fairly certain nopony outside of the Council knew who Dawn actually was, so he was also fairly certain that nopony was referring to her as the "Guest of Honor".

Dawn herself had dressed in a simple off-white dress, and Gray Skies and Red Velvet wore nearly identical dresses—they were plain enough to meet the requirements for the wedding and not outshine the bride herself, but elegant enough to be classy. Dawn maintained a certain professional poise, as always, while Velvet just seemed curious and happy to be here, scoping out the room like an excited filly. Gray, Lockwood noticed, couldn't keep her eyes off of Flathoof.

Curaçao and her date, Shroud, wore dresses that were just a smidge more elegant, for Curaçao was far more fashion-conscious and took pride in how she and her fillyfriend looked and dressed in public. The two looked incredibly happy together, and Lockwood wasn't certain but there was something about the way they were talking that told him Curaçao was getting big ideas for the future.

Insipid, of course, wore an elegant dress that probably just barely stopped short of being nicer than the wedding dress would be. It had actually made Lockwood slightly anxious when they spoke briefly before the event, because over the past few months she had started becoming more and more refined. She had carved out a little niche for herself in how she acted and spoke, and Lockwood was certain that Rarity would be proud of what her protégé had accomplished. 

Lockwood found his mind wandering to what Rarity might be doing now… and he was ashamed that of all things to think about on his wedding day, it was her.

Then of course there was Havoc, who had dressed in a snappy military dress uniform. He knew none of the medals she wore had actually been presented properly to her, but considering the work she did in the Wastelands she'd more than earned them as far as he was concerned. Beside her was her date, a mare she'd apparently met here in Hope's Point last month named Cotton Rose, who wore a lovely pink dress supposedly of her own design.

There were a few guards present as well, though they were inconspicuous, hardly noticeable at all unless you knew they were beforehand, which naturally Lockwood did. Commander Pinpoint ran a tight ship, from what Lockwood could tell.

At long last, the traditional Bridal Chorus played, and the crowd's attention turned towards the chapel entrance. The ring bearer, Shorthoof, entered the room first, carrying a little purple pillow with two small gold, diamond-studded earrings. He'd dressed in a tight-fitting tuxedo just like his brothers and father, though he was clearly just a little uncomfortable in it. 

Following Shorthoof were the flower fillies, Crown Jewel—firstborn daughter of Virtuoso and Ivory—and Crystal Heart, each dressed in an adorable, flower-patterned gold-and-pink dress. They sprinkled flowers of every color imaginable along the path up to the altar.

Following them was the bride herself, Queen Blackburn, accompanied by Shining Steel, who Blackburn said was the pony that she most considered a father figure, and who had been best friends with her beloved grandfather. 

Lockwood smiled brightly as the two approached the altar. Blackburn's mouth curled in a little grin as she approached him in turn. Her white and gold wedding dress was elaborate to a fault, topped with a crown-like veil decorated with various flowers; it had been designed by one of Hope's Point's most famous fashion designers, Haute Couture.

Once Blackburn reached the altar and everypony but those at the altar took their seats, the organ music stopped and the wedding officiator addressed the crowd: 

"Friends, family, and compatriots, we are gathered here today to bear witness to the union between these two, Queen Blackburn and Lockwood, in matrimony. If anypony can show just cause why these two should not be lawfully joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace."

Lockwood did not expect a single peep out of the crowd in attendance, and knew that Blackburn didn't either. In fact, nopony did, and so it was unsurprising when the room remained silent. 

Thank goodness, Lockwood thought. A day without surprises is always a nice one. Usually.

The officiator then turned to the couple and began the ceremonial speech proper:

"Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments. Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove. O no! It is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken; it is the star to every wand'ring bark, whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks within his bending sickle's compass come; love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, but bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me prov'd, I never writ, nor no pony ever lov'd."

He then turned to Blackburn. "I understand the two of you wrote your own vows?"

"We did," Blackburn said with a nod.

"Then you may read them now."

Blackburn cleared her throat, looked deep into Lockwood's eyes, and recited from memory: 

"It is clear to me now that everything in my life has led me to you. I think back on all my choices and consider even the bad ones blessed, because if I had done even one thing differently, I might never have met you and become entwined in your life. As we join our lives together let us vow to live in truth, to always communicate fully, to hold each other against the wind, to feel our hearts joined as one. To you I give myself and everything I will ever be."

Lockwood smiled, then took a breath of his own as he, too, gazed into Blackburn's eyes and recited from memory: 

"Sometimes I watch just the smallest things you do and think I am the luckiest stallion alive. From you I've learned how to dream and what it is to have a loving partner who supports your dreams. I vow to help you in your dreams and desires; to watch over your city, to guide your flock and to create a life, a family, and a loving home as your husband. As your husband, I am yours, and I tenderly deliver you my heart and soul."

He finished it off by getting down and performing their special gesture, in which with his wings and wings alone he offered her his heart forever. Blackburn smiled back at him, taking his offered wing with her own. To the average pegasus onlooker that knew wing language, it would roughly translate to him having a bad case of heartburn, but to them it was something else entirely.

The officiator nodded, then turned towards Shorthoof, who stood readily nearby. "May we now have the rings?"

Shorthoof hurried forward between the couple, who each took one earring with a hoof.

The officiator turned to Lockwood first. "Lockwood, as you place the ring on Blackburn's ear, please repeat after me: I give you this ring to wear—"

Lockwood reached up and began affixing the earring to Blackburn's ear. "I give you this ring to wear—"

"—as a symbol of my abiding love—"

"—as a symbol of my abiding love—"

"—my eternal faith, and my undying devotion—"

"—my eternal faith, and my undying devotion—"

"—it is an outward reminder of our inner unity."

"—it is an outward reminder of our inner unity."

The officiator then turned to Blackburn, and asked her to do the same for Lockwood: "Your Majesty Queen Blackburn, as you place the ring on Lockwood's ear, please repeat after me—" 

She followed along exactly as Lockwood had done, and now the two each had a gold-and-diamond earring in their ears.

The officiator then smiled. "Then, by the authority vested in me by the city of Hope's Point, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Your Majesty King Lockwood, you may kiss the bride."

Lockwood smirked, and stepped forward to wrap Blackburn in a hug as he kissed her lovingly.


*****


Once the wedding ceremony had completed and the King and Queen made their first, albeit brief, public appearance as a married couple, the reception immediately began in the royal palace's grand dining hall, which had likewise been decorated for the occasion much as the chapel had been: in whites, blues, and purples. Several dozen round tables had been set up for the guests and their friends and families.

Food and drink was provided, of course, and the royal coffers had been generously used to provide a staggering variety of options. For some this would be their first chance to try Baroque, Newhaven, or especially Utopian cuisine; Blackburn had even arranged for some zebra cuisine to be present, expressing a desire to sample the fare of as much of the southern continent as possible. There was enough food for everypony present, and the leftovers were being donated to the city's charity efforts for helping incoming refugees from further north.

Blackburn made it clear to her new husband that the plan for their honeymoon was a tour of the south, which Lockwood looked forward to immensely, having never been outside of the brief trip to Newhaven's port. As a pair of visiting dignitaries they were certain to be invited to witness all the sights and take in all the cultures, and even if there was a slight ulterior motive of establishing further diplomatic ties it still seemed like an ideal romantic getaway.

More than anything, though, Lockwood was glad to have as many ponies here that he cared about as possible to enjoy the wedding experience with him. There had been many times over the years that he feared he'd never be able to make this trip, that he'd never see Blackburn or Crossfire or Gadget ever again, that he wouldn't be able to bring his family to meet them. 

He was thankful beyond measure that everything had worked out in the end, and he'd made sure to thank Curaçao and Gray in particular for making it happen. To the former he technically owed money; to the latter, his life.

As the evening wore on, Lockwood became floored by the sheer amount of congratulations he received from everypony. Blackburn's closest advisors and friends all seemed particularly eager to see how he handled his new position in life, all without so much as a hint of doubt, as though they just knew he would do well by Hope's Point. 

Lockwood's own friends' and family's congratulations were more about teasing him for aiming high in a partner and landing the shot. Those that knew Blackburn as Thunderbolt once upon a time said that a wealthy tech mogul was already a long shot for Lockwood, but royalty was something else.

Eventually, Havoc came over to the table with a small box tucked under her wing, which she set onto the table in front of Lockwood and Blackburn with a small grin. "Congrats, you two," she said with a nod. "Weddings aren't exactly my thing, but I'm happy for you. Everypony needs somepony sometimes, y'know?"

Lockwood smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Havoc. How are you enjoying yourself? Is the food to your liking?"

"Oh yeah, you guys got some boss caterers. I knew I liked Baroque food and all that jazz, but there's some quality stuff on offer here. And hey, good call on the open bar, too. Top shelf shit, Dreamboat, gotta hoof it to ya."

Blackburn tilted her head, a little grin on her face. "Appreciate the compliments. If I may, have been curious: you call Lockwood 'Dreamboat'. Implies physical attraction. You have a crush on my husband."

Lockwood glanced at his wife, eyebrow raised. Blackburn wasn't asking; she sounded certain. "What? Havoc doesn't—"

"Oh, yeah, I used to have a major crush on this doofus," Havoc interjected with a shrug. "Don't think anything of it, though. I'm over him now." She nudged Lockwood gently. "No offense."

"Uh… none taken? Wait, you had a crush on me?" Lockwood shook his head in disbelief. "Wow, I really am bad at figuring out when mares are attracted to me, aren't I? How many is this now?"

Blackburn tenderly set her hoof on his shoulder. "Very bad at it," she said with a smirk. She turned back to Havoc. "You are together with Cotton Rose, then."

Havoc gave a nervous chuckle and rubbed the back of her neck. "Oh, uh… no. We're not,  like… together together. Not like a couple or anything like that. We just had fun together last time I was here, and I figured that since I might not see her again it might be nice to take her out for the night, y'know, show her a good time."

"But you two are physical together."

"If you're asking if we're fucking, then yes," Havoc said without an ounce of shame or embarrassment. "Good eye, I guess? You can tell?"

Lockwood snickered at Havoc's brazenness. "Wow, just gonna come right out and say it like that, are ya?"

"Meh. It doesn't bother either of us who knows about it. Sucks that I won't get to see her much if ever again after this, but hey, it's been nice while it lasted. We're gonna make the most of tonight. Kinda have to." 

She then glanced over towards where Cotton was seated and grinned. "Damn, though, she looks good in that dress. Y'know she whipped that thing up in like an hour?"

Blackburn paused a moment, staring right at Havoc, then gave her a little smile. "Reminds me, wanted to speak with you after wedding, before you left back home. Seems appropriate to do it now, though."

"Huh?"

Blackburn glanced about briefly, as though making sure that nopony else was listening in. "This stays between us. Understood?"

"Uh… okay, sure. What's up?"

Blackburn let out a breath. "Will be blunt: still do not trust your sister. Peace proposal genuine benefit to both cities; lived entire life wanting nothing more. However, also lived entire life believing it impossible; northerners despise us, our way of life, make war on us, gloat about killing my citizens, killing my family." She took another breath. "Difficult to forget, forgive.

"However, you are different. Genuine desire to help. Peace proposal's success irrelevant to your work. Have heard testimonials from ponies you've saved; held in high regard. Have shown distinct desire to assimilate into our culture, bond with my citizens." Blackburn shook her head. "No doubt in mind that you are opposite of threat. Quality of character too great."

Havoc blinked, stunned. "Well… thanks, Your Majesty. I appreciate that. I mean, I'll be the first to admit that the only reason I was ever put on this job in the first place was because Dawn wanted to build up a reputation ahead of time, but—"

"Irrelevant," Blackburn interjected. "Following orders one thing; giving your all another. Have proven… magnanimous. So, have spoken with Chief Storm. Inserted you into our system, granted ambassador-level clearance. Gate guards will allow entrance into Hope's Point from this day forward, no questions."

"Wait, you mean I can come and go as I please? No questions asked?"

"Correct. So long as you are alone, of course."

Havoc stared at the floor for a moment; Lockwood had never seen her look so shaken before, but in a good way. "Yeah, wow, that's… thank you, Your Majesty. That means a lot to me—"

"Imagined that acknowledgement of your accomplishments would, Commander Havoc," Blackburn said with a firm tone. "Final note: this permission, distinct measure of trust placed in you. Do not make me regret it, or you will."

Havoc gave Blackburn a brisk salute and a little grin. "Absolutely not, Your Majesty. You have my word, I won't let you down."

"Excellent." Blackburn then eyed Havoc's uniform briefly. "Don't imagine your choice in uniform was approved."

"How did you—"

"Observant. Sister, Dawn, chastises your outfit with her eyes. Stands out from other sisters. Other sisters indifferent at worst; Dawn disapproves."

Havoc snorted. "Yeah, she said that it wasn't appropriate wedding attire. First of all, I don't do dresses, and I don't compromise on that shit. The only time I'm ever wearing a dress is for my own funeral, and only then if my cold, dead body doesn't fight back to get it off. 

"Second, look at this!" She puffed out her chest and gestured at her uniform and all the medals. "It's proper military dress attire! You've got military ponies here too, and they're wearing their dress uniforms. Look at General Avalanche, for example! I mean, come on."

"Indeed. Take no offense to choice of outfit."

"I think it looks good on you, actually," Lockwood said with a smile and a nod. He tilted his head towards Cotton, who was still seated at another table waiting for Havoc to return, probably too nervous to approach the table with her. "Your date seems to appreciate it too."

"That's because I make this shit look good," Havoc chuckled, flexing her wings and forelegs at once while winking at Lockwood.

Lockwood then glanced at the box that Havoc had brought over. "So, what's this here, anyway? A wedding present?"

Havoc's eyes widened as she looked at the box. "Oh! Right, that's why I even came over here in the first place. Yeah, it's a wedding gift, but not from me. It's from Miracle and Vaccine. They said they're sorry they couldn't make it, something about being too old to make the trip. I wasn't about to object, 'cause uh… yeah, they're old as fuck. Ancient, even."

Blackburn took the box and opened it, then showed Lockwood its contents: a small vial of green liquid. "What is it?" he asked, turning back to Havoc.

Havoc grinned and leaned in real close to the royal couple before whispering: "They said it was, uh… 'marital aid'. You're just supposed to mix a few drops into a warm drink like coffee or tea, and boom, magic." She nudged Lockwood and waggled her eyebrows. "'Guaranteed to put a bun in her oven', Vaccine said. So, uh, have a nice honeymoon."

Lockwood and Blackburn stared at the vial together for a moment, then looked at one another. "Well… tell Miracle and Vaccine 'thank you' from us. We'll surely enjoy their little gift, right BB?"

Blackburn was slightly red in the face, but sported a sultry grin. "Oh, we will," she said, her hoof firmly sliding along Lockwood's leg towards his crotch. "I guarantee it."


*****


As the evening progressed, Curaçao came to realize that as close as this royal wedding was to how she'd always envisioned a traditional wedding, there were aspects of it that were surely designed to appeal to Hope's Point culture. She had always been under the impression that a proper after-wedding party was a highly formal affair, and while yes, there certainly were parts of it that were, it was distinctly casual in many other aspects. She supposed that was the benefit to being the King and Queen of the city; they could do what they wanted if it made them comfortable.

Not that she was complaining in the least. She just found it odd to have the dancing portion of the evening spaced so closely after dinner. But again, it didn't bother her at all, because she and Shroud had eaten light at dinner with plans to partake in the after-dancing offerings and desserts instead. She was looking forward to the wedding cake in particular, having caught a glimpse of it earlier.

For now, though, she was focused entirely on two things and two things only: how gorgeous Shroud looked in her dress, and how graceful and confident Shroud had become on the dance floor over these past several months. Her paramour was still just a novice, all things considered, but no longer needed Curaçao's constant guidance to maneuver around without tripping. This meant, of course, that they could focus on one another and hold an actual conversation.

"Are you enjoying the wedding so far, mon amour?" she asked as they swept in a graceful circle near the edge of the floor.

"It's been a magical little evening, hasn't it?" Shroud said with a dreamy smile. "To think, when I first met Mister— er, King Lockwood, I didn't think much of him beyond him just being a really nice guy with a lot of friends. To think that he was in a relationship with Queen Blackburn all this time is just… well, impressive."

Curaçao smirked; she was still reeling from the revelation. "Oui, quite impressive. I noticed everything about his relationship with Thunderbolt, but I missed that most important factor. It helped them that nopony knew what Her Majesty looked like outside of Hope's Point, of course, but I still fault myself that I didn't piece something together."

"Well, I guess it's just down to a matter of luck that everypony met the right ponies in the end, isn't it?" Shroud said as she glanced at the royal couple, who danced in the center of the floor. "I don't know if you and Miss Dawn would be able to make this peace work without him."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, um… no offense, honey, but… I know about all the things that have gone on between our two cities, and it's all pretty bad stuff. You might have figured something out eventually, but Miss Dawn—"

"Oui, say no more," Curaçao interjected. "Ma sœur has a certain way with ponies, but I do not think it would have benefitted us without cooler heads present, like Lockwood. And to think, it all comes down to the circumstances of how Twilight Sparkle and company arrived in our fair city. Très chanceux."

Curaçao then glanced over at the dancing royal couple herself, and grinned slightly; they did make a good couple, that was obvious just from how they looked at each other. "It is funny, non? Lockwood made a point to deny dancing with anypony for years, saying that he was out of practice. It is clear to me now that he merely wished to never dance with anypony but his true love. Comme c'est romantique."

Shroud watched the royal couple dance as well. The pair was particularly graceful once they were in the air, and it was clear for anypony to see that Lockwood was no slouch in the dancing department. Quite the opposite, actually; he was practically a professional. The way he moved his wings, twisted and turned his body, and gently guided his partner were all so elegant and rhythmic that there was no doubt he had true talent, and that Blackburn was following his lead on probably the only thing she ever would.

And this was not his "special talent", either, the one that ponies had represented by their cutie marks. No, this was a talent and skill he had developed that had nothing to do with his calling in life; this was a passion of his, something he had to have been invested in since he was very young. There was a joy in his eyes, not just from the sheer enjoyment of dancing but who he was dancing with. Every action he had taken in his life had led him to this very moment, and he couldn't have looked happier if he tried.

Bravo, Lockwood. Bravo.

"It is pretty romantic, isn't it?" Shroud murmured airily. "This whole wedding is. I've never been to one before, not personally, but I've seen lots of them in movies and on TV. The real deal is pretty special, much more than those staged ones. Those two clearly love each other very, very much."

"Oui, they do," Curaçao said softly. She pulled Shroud closer as they danced together, so that they were practically nose to nose. "Ma chérie, have I told you that you look absolutely stunning tonight? Vous prenez mon souffle."

"Seven times," Shroud said with a grin. "Now eight. And every time, I say right back to you how gorgeous you look."

Curaçao pressed her nose lightly against hers. "Raspberry, mon amour," she whispered, "this evening has got me thinking…"

"Ooh, this must be serious if you're using my real name. Thinking about what?"

"About you. About me. About us."

"C-Curie, what—"

"Veux-tu m'épouser? Will you marry me?"

Shroud paused for a moment, then pressed forward. Their lips touched, a gentle kiss. She pulled away after only a brief moment, her eyes watering. "Yes. A thousand times, yes."

Curaçao smiled and leaned forward to kiss Shroud back, just as gently as before. "Je t'aime, ma petite framboise."


*****


Insipid had worked up the courage to walk over to the table were Ivory Charm was seated for the fourth time tonight, and this time, she did not chicken out at the last second and head off elsewhere to cool her nerves. This time, she took a deep breath and made straight for the table with the speed and determination of a bullet; nothing was going to stop her from getting to the table this time.

The other mare was, simply put, gorgeous. Insipid had only ever seen her in photographs before, and since she knew that most photographs were touched up in some fashion, sometimes in the most minor of ways, she didn't expect the other mare to be as perfectly perfect as her photos were. It was pretty close though, and Insipid even accounted for both the age difference since the mare's last photoshoot and the fact that she was super pregnant. 

Even with all that considered, Ivory Charm was still drop-dead gorgeous, living up to her reputation in every possible way.

Hence the intimidation. But this time, Insipid sucked it up and made her beeline for the table, where Ivory was seated and chatting with her husband, Virtuoso. He was intimidating in his own way—former reputation notwithstanding—but that didn't scare Insipid so much as potentially making a fool of herself in front of the one-and-only Ivory Charm did. First impressions were everything in the business.

As she reached the table, she realized that she'd drawn the attention of the couple just by being there, so after taking another breath, she smiled and looked right at Ivory and tried her best to hide just how nervous she was. "You're Ivory Charm, right?" she asked, knowing the answer but determined to be as polite as possible.

Ivory nodded. "Oui, c'est moi," she said. 

Insipid felt her heart skip slightly from sheer nerves; she didn't know the other mare was fluent in Romantique! Or was she? Did she just have the same basic knowledge that she herself knew? It didn't sound like that was it; this mare had the distinct accent to go with a pony who spoke the language fluently, just like Curaçao did. She was more thankful than ever that her sister had been teaching her over these few months. 

Her career, no, her life depended on it.

"It's, like, a total pleasure to meet you," Insipid replied, gently offering her hoof. "My name's Insipid, and I'm a big fan."

Ivory briefly touched her hoof against Insipid's, not quite a hoofshake or hoofbump but a friendly acknowledgement nonetheless. "Are you now? I have not modeled in some time since moving, so— oh la la, you must be one of the guests from New Pandemonium, oui? That would explain it."

"Yeah, that's right. I've known the king for, like, almost a year now? We're pretty good friends, or at least I think we are since he invited me to his wedding. Cha."

"Ah, our dearest Lockwood is always making wonderful new friends, isn't he darling?" Ivory said, smiling at her husband and patting his hoof.

"He has a way about him like that," said Virtuoso, who leaned back and stroked his pencil-thin mustache. "È un piacere incontrarti, Miss Insipid."

Insipid froze briefly as she recognized Virtuoso's Baroque accent and mastery of the language. She was confident in how she could handle herself with that language too, but had definitely not been expecting him to know it so well, not when his wife spoke Romantique. Between the two ponies, they spoke three languages. That had to make things complicated when they communicated. Didn't it? She hoped it didn't and wouldn't.

"And a pleasure to meet you too, Mister Virtuoso," she said, offering her hoof in his direction and reminding herself very strongly not to refer to him as "Don" Virtuoso, because that wasn't who he was anymore and would be a major faux pas. 

The stallion took her offered hoof and gave it a delicate shake, just the precise amount of friendliness to give to a stranger. He seemed impressed with her knowledge of his language, a good first step in her book. It wasn't a difficult phrase to learn, of course, but Insipid knew that some ponies just didn't bother with learning greetings beyond "hello" and maybe "how are you?".

"What can we do for you, darling?" Ivory asked as she sipped from a glass of orange juice, looking every bit relaxed and poised despite her heavy pregnancy. Insipid was almost a little worried the mare would pop!

"For me? Oh! Oh, nothing, nothing at all," Insipid quickly said. "I just wanted to, like, take the opportunity to meet you since I don't know if I'll ever get a chance like this again. So, like, I'm a huge fan and junk, and I wanted to, like, tell you that your work with fashion and modeling inspires my work."

Ivory raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Are you a model as well?" She glanced up and down at Insipid's figure then giggled to herself in a way that made Insipid feel very comfortable. "Oh la la, pardonne-moi, of course you are! I can tell. You have the bearing of a mare who knows all about poise, oui? And that dress, oh, c'est merveilleux. Almost as lovely as Her Majesty's."

"Thanks!" Insipid said, carefully twirling the hem to show off the dress. It wasn't a Rarity Original, unfortunately, since there were so few of those left and they needed to be saved for other occasions, but it was one of Lace's designs so Insipid cared very much what other ponies—especially Ivory—thought about it.

Ivory patted her husband's hoof again. "Mon amour, it will be so good to get back into a luxurious dress like that. Having to tailor my dresses to fit my big belly is such a hassle. I will never forgive you for putting this foal in me, vaurien."

Virtuoso grinned and leaned over to kiss the nape of his wife's neck and breathe in her ear. "You weren't complaining the night I did it, tesoro mio. Era musica per le mie orecchie."

"Mmm, tu es une bête," she purred, lifting her neck up to give him better access.

"Oh! And congratulations on the new foal, by the way," Insipid interjected, gesturing at Ivory's pregnant tummy. 

She had no problem with public displays of affection—her best friends were Lace and Lapel after all—but this seemed like it was neither the time nor the place for it. Not for her sake, of course, but for theirs.

"Merci beaucoup, dear," Ivory said with a sweet smile, pulling back from her husband ever so slighty.

"When are they due? Ooh! Are they gonna be a colt or a filly?"

"Next month, give or take a week, and it's going to be a sweet little filly." Ivory rubbed her stomach softly with both hooves, looking supremely content and happy. "It will be different raising another daughter in this environment compared to how it was when we lived up north, but I know we can do as well for her as we did for our sweet Crown Jewel."

Insipid gasped, fanning herself gently. "Awww, a little filly? Do you have any names picked out?"

Virtuoso grinned, his own hoof on Ivory's tummy now. "Sweet Symphony, after mia nonna, Symphonia Fantasia."

"That's, like, a lovely name," Insipid said with a nod. She then cleared her throat. "Well, um… I don't want to take up any more of your time together, but like, before I go, I wanted to say that Chantilly Lace and Peaked Lapel say 'hello'."

Ivory's eyebrows shot up. "Oh la la, Lace and Lapel? Are you friends with them?"

"Oh yeah, they're really good friends with me, and I even model fashion for their company, Lovers' Lane," Insipid said, relieved that she was able to slam-dunk the lead-in to this part of the discussion. She'd learned well from Curaçao on how to direct conversations. "They're super awesome. I love working for them!"

"How are they doing? They are still together then, oui? I know we did not get to attend their wedding, quel dommage."

"Yup! Still married and going strong."

Ivory grinned. "And they have foals of their own by now, oui?"

"Oh, no, they don't have any kids," Insipid replied. She tapped her chin. "Y'know, I never asked why, actually, but that's more, like, because it's not polite and junk. My mentor Rarity told me allll about the proper way to talk to another mare about having or not having foals, and the best piece of advice she told me about asking questions was, like, 'just don't'."

"Aha, a wise mare this Rarity must be."

"She's the absolute best!"

Ivory gave Insipid a bright smile. "Well! A fashionable mare that is close to Lace and Lapel and Lockwood is a mare I would like to know very much, oui?" She motioned for one of the empty seats at their table. "Our darling Jewel is playing with the other young ponies, so why don't you take a seat, dear? I would love to hear more about you."

Insipid felt her heart skip a beat. This was everything she'd been waiting for since getting that invitation. She gave Ivory a grin, a nod, and then pulled up the seat. "I would love to, Missus Charm. Cha."


*****


Gray sighed and leaned against the wall far to the side of the dining hall, away from most of the other wedding guests. Subtly signaling to Flathoof that she wanted to talk alone was relatively easy, and he soon joined her over here without so much as an ounce of fuss. Once he did, they'd shared a long, loving kiss, longer than any that Gray remembered sharing with him before, enough that they had to take a moment to breathe and collect themselves afterwards.

"So, how have you been?" she asked, taking a sip from her glass of spiked punch to collect her wits.

He gave her a little smile, then looked out at the crowd towards were his parents were busy dancing out on the dance floor. "I'll be honest, I never thought things would ever get better for me and my family. But in just a month or so, we've been… well, happier than I think I've ever seen any of us. This move was probably the best thing that could've happened to the family."

"I'm glad to hear that. You guys deserve it after all you've put up with," she said, looking at the floor, still hurting from not being there with them when it happened.

"Dad's loving his new job," he continued. "Says that it feels more fulfilling to him to be making parts for things that are helping ponies rather than weapons for hurting them. I don't think he even cares if he gets promoted or not. The pay's good, the hours are good. He's been spending more time with the family than he did before even Pattycake was born.

"Mom's been enjoying the chance to just… be a mom. To not have to constantly worry about providing for any of us and to just be there to love everypony and care about them. She doesn't like the time she spends alone, though, but now she's trying to figure out how to use that time to do things she enjoys." He chuckled. "I think she's planning on joining a book club."

"A book club? Really?" she chuckled, picturing the slightly chubby older mare sitting down with tea and cakes and gushing about a book to other moms. "Well hey, everypony's gotta have a hobby, right?"

"Heh, eeyup." He tilted his head towards the table where Thickhoof was sitting. His brother was still in a wheelchair, but he looked noticeably brighter than Gray had ever seen him. "Blackburn wanted to rush Thickhoof's appointments through, y'know. He told her not to worry about it, that he'd wait. Said he'd already spent years in the wheelchair, so what was a few extra weeks?"

"That's nice of him. Didn't want to make other ponies wait?"

"Pretty much. But he's going in for preliminary treatments next week, and if all goes well the doctors say that he'll be walking again in two or three months." He grinned. "I saw the prosthetics myself. Mighty fancy stuff, kind of like how the AMP Trooper limbs look. Makes me wonder if they repurpose them.

"And Shorthoof, boy, let me tell you, that kid loves it here. Not just that, but even though we were only down south for an hour at best, that's all he talks about. Green fields, blue skies." He shook his head, still smiling. "Mom's already looking into potential farming schools or something in Newhaven for when he gets older, but hopes to find something closer."

She raised an eyebrow. "Farming? Like what Applejack does for a living?"

"Eeyup." Flathoof sighed and looked at the ceiling wistfully. "I gotta come clean with them eventually, somehow. The kid's got this idea in his head that he's gonna work on Applejack's farm someday and be her best worker and everything. It's gonna break his heart when he finds out he can't."

"Sounds to me like your little brother has a crush," Gray chuckled.

"Probably. A little young to get his hopes up, though, and AJ would probably turn him down anyway since he reminds her of her sister. But it's still cute." 

He then smirked and nodded his head towards Pattycake, who was seated at the family table with her eyes locked towards Her Majesty's table, where Crossfire was seated alone and practically stuffing his face instead of dancing with anypony. 

"Speaking of which," he said, "my sister's got it bad for that one there. I've never seen her fawn over a stallion like this before."

Gray tilted her head to glance between Crossfire and Pattycake, then gave a half-hearted shrug and drank from her punch again. "Yeah, but I get it."

"Oh?"

"I mean, just on looks alone I can see why she's into him. If you dig hunks, he's the hunkiest guy in the room. Velvet's already made a pass at him, y'know? I didn't see how it went but she sounded disappointed afterwards." She then squinted and stared at Crossfire pushing his empty plate aside and grabbing a fresh one before starting to eat some more. 

Flathoof turned to watch the display as well, then snickered lightly. "Sheesh, where does he even put it all?"

"With the way he's practically making out with that plate, I'd say your sister has a shot with him if she just smothers herself in gravy or something and sees how things play out," Gray said, completely straight-faced.

"Ha! That might just work. I'll tell her it was your idea, though."

"How about you?" she asked. "How've you been?"

"Personally, I've been… pretty good, actually," Flathoof said with a nod. "Being in the militia's not quite the same as being a cop up north. I don't actually have to worry about patrolling since ponies are quick to report things in, and the things we deal with here are so… petty. The most serious thing I've seen all week was a pony arguing that a cashier had short-changed him."

Gray raised an eyebrow. "They call the militia for that?" 

"Well, what else are we gonna do all day? Sit on our asses and watch TV?" Flathoof shrugged. "It was an easy fix, anyway, barely an inconvenience. The laws and rules around here are simple, so solving problems is simple. Mostly just comes down to negotiating and compromising. I actually spend the majority of my time running drills otherwise."

Gray eyed Flathoof's muscular form which practically strained to get out of his tuxedo. He was bigger now than he had been when he left, big enough that it was noticeable. Come to think of it, most of the earth pony guards and soldiers she'd seen were in the same ballpark from a fitness standpoint. This place should practically be heaven for Velvet… and she could admit she'd let her eyes drift now and then until the wedding started and she saw Flathoof in his tux.

Flathoof, though, topped them all in her opinion. Even Crossfire, who was actually bigger by a respectable amount, didn't hold a candle to her Flathoof. She didn't want to admit that she'd been staring at him through the entire wedding ceremony. She hoped that none of her sisters had noticed, but felt confident she could play it off since, as the Best Stallion, he was close enough to the main event that she'd be looking in his direction anyway.

"Gray? You alright?" he asked.

She blinked. "Hmm?"

"I asked you how you've been doing. You kind of went… quiet. Is something wrong?"

She blushed, embarrassed that she'd been staring at him again and losing track of herself, so she quickly downed some punch. "No, nothing. Nothing's wrong. And, um… I've been fine, I guess. It's a lot quieter up north now that I'm at home all the time."

"You don't get outside much these days, I take it?"

She shook her head. "Nah. The only reason I ever left the tower was to… spend time with you, actually. Now I just kind of spend my whole day in the tower's gym."

"Well, you certainly look like it, especially in that dress," he said, squeezing her leg gently. "Wow! You could bench press an airship with legs like that. I don't even think you need your 'abilities' to do the kind of things I've seen you do anymore."

Gray rubbed her leg in the spot he'd touched, a little disappointed that the touch had been so fleeting. She'd never admit it to anypony—she had a hard time admitting it to herself—but she wanted Flathoof to touch her all over, to feel his naked muscles against hers. She wasn't the thirsty sort like Velvet was, but damn it all if she didn't want him.

"Thanks…" she muttered.

"Eeyup, I bet if we ever saw Applejack again, she'd be pretty jealous," he said with a jovial smirk. "I'd love to see you two hoof-wrestle again. No powers this time. Just some raw mare-on-mare action." He paused, then cleared his throat, his cheeks redder than normal. "That… that came out wrong."

"Hmm… wishful thinking…"

There was a moment of long silence between the two of them, until Flathoof stepped closer so they were face-to-face. "I do miss you. You know that, right?" he said softly.

She weakly nodded. "Sorry. I just… things are so different now and a lot of stuff is moving really fast back home. I don't know what to do about it, but it's a lot for me to take in. I wasn't expecting any of it. I didn't get a say in how things went down. I just…" She let out a long breath. "I need time…"

He placed his hoof on her chest. "Take all the time you need, okay? You gave me time to come to terms with things once, it's only fair to give you the same. I don't want to rush you into anything." He paused, then pressed his forehead against hers. "Just know that… I'll support your decision, whatever that might be."

"Thank you…" she murmured, savoring the moment of closeness while it lasted.


*****


Dawn glanced out towards the rest of the wedding guests as they enjoyed themselves, content with staying exactly where she was, at one of the round tables with nopony to disturb her. She'd only eaten a single plate of food and partaken in what little nonalcoholic beverages that were being served, figuring that becoming intoxicated at the queen's wedding was a suicidal political move considering how tenuous the peace proposal was currently. 

Director Underhoof's "Aye" vote had been hard won, but the battle was far from over; the ceasefire was moving forward, but official peace was likely years away if Treasurer Vendetta had anything to say about it. It aggravated her immensely that he could stymie her efforts to any degree. Now she had to contend with Queen Blackburn and her Council once again, but would have to begin doing so openly; this would be her last secret visit and had been tremendously difficult to arrange.

Luckily, she wasn't entirely alone at the table, stewing in her own aggravation.

"I would like to reiterate how pleasant it is to share your company again, Winter," she said, turning slightly to glance at the fellow unicorn mare. "I must also apologize once more for failing to maintain contact with you. You are a prohibitively challenging mare to track down."

Winter took a long sip of beer from what was her third bottle of the evening, then grunted and shrugged. "Crikey, this again. Look, it's no trouble at all, Dawn. Really. I've got work to do, you've got work to do; we're both extraordinarily busy mares that have better things to do than keeping in contact with a friendly acquaintance from almost a year ago that has nothin' to do with our work."

"Be that as it may—"

"Dawn, mate, really. No hard feelin's."

Dawn tilted her head briefly. "If you truly take no issue with the situation, then I suppose I need not exacerbate it with my own concerns." She shook her head. "But, seeing as we can share one another's company for the time being, might I inquire as to your activities as of late? You are certainly aware of the machinations that I have been involved with this past year."

"Ya know I can't speak openly about my work—"

"I do not require intricate details."

"Ugh, fine. It's been a right pain in my ass dealin' with rifts lately. When we first met, we were in the eye of a 'storm' that was passin' through the Void, yeah? Well, we left that eye a few months after your dear old dad changed the status quo, and it's been fucky ever since. I could barely handle the first few months."

Dawn glanced over towards the table where the younger wedding guests were seated, since it seemed like a good idea apparently to let the young colts and fillies engage with one another. Seeing as this age group included even teenage fillies like the daughter of Virtuoso, it seemed ill-planned at best. One among the group was the filly that Winter had brought along, Hourglass.

"Could it be that providing room and board to a young ward like Hourglass simply aggravates the issue further?" Dawn asked. "Surely it can be no simple matter providing care for a young filly while also participating in your unique line of work?"

"What? Oh, ya mean Hourglass?" Winter brushed the thought away with her hoof. "Nah, that's a different kettle of fish altogether. After the storm passed through, HQ determined that it was high time I began trainin' my replacement. Normally I could've argued for a delay, but… I just didn't feel like it. So here we are."

Dawn smiled. "Ah, so she is less your ward and more your apprentice, would that be accurate?"

"Yeah, that'd be accurate." Winter shrugged and looked right at Dawn with a smile. "To be honest, the main reason I didn't argue against taking my apprentice so early is because she was available, in particular. We used to be friends, once… a long time ago."

"I do not follow."

"Eh? Oh, that's right, I never told ya, I told—" Winter paused, then grunted and looked away from Dawn again, upset. "Long story, but we knew each other back before I got taken in by my mentor some fifteen years ago. I'm surprised nopony picked her up before then, but I guess she's just a little… different. Her situation was unique.."

Dawn tilted her head. "Fifteen years ago, you say? Impossible. That filly cannot be older than eight years of age."

"Ah, yeah, but time passes differently at Chronomancer HQ. Comes with the territory of not being on any specific plane of existence."

"I am most curious as to how such an effect manifests and functions."

"I ain't gonna get into an intellectual discussion with ya on the mechanics of a construct that, frankly, even I have trouble understandin' at times," huffed Winter. "The theoreticals of time distillation makes me want to just grab a drink and forget it, which is why I do field work instead of stayin' there."

Dawn wrinkled her nose. "Very well." She cleared her throat. "Might I inquire then as to the manner of training you are availing to your apprentice? I admit that I never took the proper interest in your work during our time together studying with Twilight, and I must apologize."

Winter winced slightly at that for some reason, then said, "Mostly trainin' her in the basics of field work. Basic-level survival trainin', like how to pitch a tent and start a campfire. Basic-level self-defense—no spellwork just yet."

"Not teaching her spellwork at such a young age seems ill-advised—"

"If she wasn't a unicorn, I couldn't teach her magic anyway," Winter interjected. "I've got standards to follow."

"Ah, an acceptable circumstance, I suppose."

"Once she finishes her first rounds of trainin' in about oh, sixish years, she'll head to HQ to take advanced courses for a week in our time, then come back and be ready to move forward into the job." Winter sighed and leaned back in her seat. "I'll retire a few years after that. Good old borin' retirement…"

"A complicated procedure," Dawn mused.

Winter turned to look at Dawn, straight-faced as good be. "Can't be any more complicated than tryin' to make peace between two cities that've been at war for decades, eh?"

Dawn chuckled and looked at Winter like the old comrades they had once been. "No, I suppose not."

Winter stared at Dawn for a long moment, right into her eyes in fact, then snorted and slumped back into her chair.

This left Dawn feeling quite perplexed. "Winter… might I inquire as to why you become so apprehensive when you look at me so closely? Nopony has informed me of a disfigurement that might elicit such a reaction, so if there is one, I would appreciate being informed."

Winter paused a long moment, then took a long swig of her beer, finishing the glass. "It's your fuckin' eyes…"

"My eyes? Is there some issue—"

"They look just like hers…" Winter sighed, looking away from Dawn entirely now. "Every last fuckin' detail, down to the little imperfection in her right pupil."

Dawn tilted her head. "Whose eyes do you mean?"

"Twilight's…"

"Ah, yes, now I understand. My sisters and I greatly differ in physical appearance from Twilight and her friends, but our eyes are identical. Doctor Blutsauger explained to me that it was an unforeseen byproduct of our cloning procedure. I believe he attempted to put a philosophical spin on the situation: 'The eyes are a window into the soul'."

Winter snorted in apparent disagreement. "What, like you and Twilight share the same soul?"

"That is one interpretation—"

"Let me tell ya somethin', Dawn," Winter said, her voice hard and low. "You are nothin' like Twilight Sparkle. Ya might share her DNA, ya might be smart like her, and ya might even be as gifted magically as she is, maybe more. But I've seen the kind of mare you are, Dawn… and you ain't Twilight Sparkle."

Dawn frowned, unsure what to make of the statement. "I never attempted to directly compare myself to Twilight, Winter."

"Good. Keep it that way." Winter then flagged down a waiter to bring her another beer and remained quiet otherwise.

Dawn was left without words, an odd conundrum if there ever was one. What was it about Twilight that got Winter so riled up? She felt it better not to ask, lest she upset her comrade further, but it still bothered her. She wondered if Curaçao might have an answer, seeing as she had been able to maintain some semblance of contact with Winter all these months. Perhaps they had spoken at some point?

Either way, Dawn was just glad to let the conversation end there if Winter didn't want it to continue, but she at least posed a question or two about what the Wastelands were like; Havoc's opinion was unreliable and she desired more information. 

Besides, she had more important tasks to focus on anyway, like figuring out how to ensure that Treasurer Vendetta would not prove a further thorn in her side at future Committee meetings. This peace proposal was too important to let it be stymied by some egotistical, bit-pinching, inconsistent bureaucrat, even one with his reputation. Her father wouldn't allow such opposition to his plans, and neither would she.

There simply had to be a way to make him see reason.


*****


Once the dancing portion of the evening had finished, desserts and snacks were provided to the wedding guests via a catering table so that everypony could get their preferred share of the wide selection that was available. This was after the royal couple cut the first slices of wedding cake and started passing those out to everypony; the cake was delicious, incidentally, a luscious marble cake with vanilla frosting, tall and wide enough that all of the guests could get a generously-sized slice.

Velvet had, of course, partaken in a slice of the wedding cake, and had thoroughly enjoyed it. It certainly made up for what was otherwise a rather uneventful eventful evening. Sure, okay, this was probably the most important event she had ever been invited to from a purely objective standpoint. Royal weddings tended to be pretty crucial events to attend when your sister was trying to schmooze her way into the queen's good graces.

However, it was uneventful purely from Velvet's personal perspective, and that was what mattered the most to her now that the bride and groom were hitched and she no longer needed to have much investment in the affair beyond just being on her best behavior. Which was really, really hard, she had to say, seeing as there were all these hunky stallions about—in uniform, no less—that she wasn't able to just lure away for some fun. It might spark an incident!

Adding onto the issue was that the two hunkiest hunks in the room both had eyes for… not her. Flathoof was a given, because no matter how thirsty she was for him, she'd never do anything to hurt Gray. The other, Crossfire, was almost comically oblivious to her advances, just giving polite responses to all of her attempts at subtle and not-so-subtle innuendo and going back to his food. What did a mare have to do, smother herself in gravy? 

She'd done weirder things, honestly.

So, it was with a heavy heart and an aching longing in her loins that Velvet sauntered over to the catering table to partake in some of the spiked punch and provided desserts, especially the delectable selection of cookies. 

After filling her plate and cup, she sat at an empty table nearby and figured she could observe the rest of the crowd for a little while. It was all she could do to keep her mind off of things. The instant she returned home, she'd have to crack open her little black book and make up for the lamest excuse for a vacation she'd ever taken. 

Also the first vacation she'd ever taken, so… yeah, natch.

"How's the party?" asked somepony from behind her.

She turned to see a stallion, a tall pegasus with large wings in a crisp tuxedo. She was sure she saw him talking with the bride and groom at some point during the earlier stages of the evening. He must have had a good connection with the pair, which meant he was important in some capacity. Nothing like being on the Council—Dawn would've told her—but something important nonetheless.

She just needed to recall his name.

"Meh," Velvet responded as she took a drink of punch. "Food's good, music's good, the open bar is nice, but I'm not really feeling the lovey-dovey atmosphere."

The stallion tilted his head and grinned. "Well, three out of four ain't all that bad, I'd say." he offered her his hoof. "I don't think we've met. Captain Briarthorn of the Hope's Point Air Force."

"Red Velvet, of… being an important pony's sister," she replied with a grin of her own.

"Ooh, Red Velvet, huh? That's pretty high on my dessert tier list, I've gotta say," he said as he grabbed a plate from the table and placed some cookies on it.

Velvet rolled her eyes. "Yeah yeah, I haven't heard that one be—" She paused and watched him load his plate for a moment. "Wait, 'tier list'?"

He looked back at her just as took a bite of a cookie. "Mmhmm." He swallowed. "Currently ranking just below carrot cake, key lime pie, and like… maybe these snickerdoodles here." He paused, then giggled into his hoof, smothering what would have been a spray of crumbs from the eponymous cookie. "Seriously, who names these things? This cookie is a snickerdoodle. Where do they come up with this stuff?"

Velvet blinked, then tilted her head, intrigued all of a sudden. "So, I'm guessing since you're a captain, that means you pilot one of the fancy ships you folks employ?'

"Mmm, naturally! Got my own ship and everything," he said, taking a cup and filling it with punch. "She's a real beaut', my Thunder." He paused, and took a sip of his punch. His lips pursed. "It's a good thing there's an open bar. This punch is weak. Guess how many glasses of this I've had."

Velvet bit her tongue in thought. "Twelve."

"Close! This is thirteen. Baker's dozen for luck, or something. But I am barely getting a buzz on this… prom night special. Had to make several passes 'round Mojito's bench and get real drinks. Want one? The guy knows how to shake and not stir."

Velvet squinted at him. This was pretty direct, more than what she was used to. A nice change of pace, actually. 

"What? Can't be worse than sitting here waiting for a thrill." He didn't smile. Not with his mouth, anyway, but his eyes.

She sighed dramatically. "Well, when you put it like that, Mister Genre-Savvy."

"Be right back, Miss Point-of-View Character."

Velvet watched as the bizarre stallion did an extremely quick orbit around the room, affably using his wings to slap the backs of friends, laughing loudly at their jokes and— did he just let that wing cop a feel? A mare in a cocktail dress looked around, startled, but Briarthorn had already moved on. He slid over to the bar, and with the very wing that had committed the act performed a surprisingly elaborate gesture to the bartender—Mojito, Velvet guessed—who rolled his eyes and procured, with all due speed, two tall mixed drinks.

Once he had the drinks it was, in a sense, all business. He beelined back to the table, and this time actually sat down across from her, sliding her the drink.

"You look like a lady who could use a little kick but doesn't mind a little pageantry on the way down," he said. "I mean, you're here, right?"

Velvet grimaced. "I'm definitely here." She took the glass and had a small, experimental sip. She paused. 

The stallion was grinning at her, his drink untouched. "Verdict?"

She took a longer, more relaxed gulp. "You're not kidding about wanting a stronger drink. This stuff could be used as paint thinner. Delicious paint thinner, though."

"Hey, if this is turpentine, sign me up for art class, am I right?"

"It's like… tropical fruit. Mango? But the sheer potency of the alcohol and yet, there's something else there." Another sip. This was definitely top-tier stuff, yessir.

He started on his own drink. "Measured Romantique Rum, my dear. The alcohol is strong, but it never loses that molasses tinge. Mixed with a few spices, it kicks funny all the way down."

Velvet chuckled, but then paused. "Right, so it's good, but… why are we getting this plastered again? You're not that bad looking, you know."

"Ah, well, pilots get free booze; it's a whole thing."

Velvet clicked her tongue. "Very nice, but… open bar. Mojito would've given me something like this anyway. You didn't answer my question, flyboy."

"Because I'm dodging it," Briarthorn said in mock anger, before his tone became gentle and subdued. "I mean… you get it a little bit, right? The stress of this whole…" Here his tone became briefly bitter: "Affair. It weighs on you, y'know? Physically and psychologically."

"Ooh, psychologically? There's a story there." Velvet sipped from her drink and motioned for him to continue. "Go on, spill."

Briarthorn eyed his drink briefly, then glanced at the marble tiles. "I dunno, they just waxed this floor."

Velvet snorted once, genuinely amused. It was rare to find a stallion that tickled her funny bone.

He grinned briefly, and she felt a thrill from his smile at having made her laugh; but suddenly his expression became noticeably soured.  He glanced over towards the royal couple seated at their table, chatting away with Crossfire and Gadget. "It's like this: me and the queen used to be a thing back when she was just a princess. An item, if you will. A real couple o' hormonal teenagers."

Velvet's eyes widened slightly. This was too juicy to ignore. "Re-he-he-heally? You and Her Majesty used to date? Color me impressed."

"Hey, I was just as surprised as you when it all started. Imagine you're me, a wide-eyed youth with stars in his eyes, and the princess herself asks you out on a date. That's some fairytale stuff right there, right out of a storybook with the color pictures and everything." He shook his head and chuckled. "Good times."

"Let me guess: things didn't work out in the end?"

Briarthorn tilted his head. "That's the thing: they did… and then the wedding happened."

"Huh?"

"Well, y'see, we were thick as thieves, Her Majesty and me. We taught each other everything about each other." He looked vaguely nostalgic. "She'd do this 'spell-your-name' thing with her tongue…" He paused. "Anyway! Sorry, not the point! Well, things were going pretty good, I figured. She spent a lot of time out of the city, so she wanted to make our relationship open."

Velvet rolled her eyes. "Ah, I see where this is going. You didn't agree?"

He blinked, genuinely confused. "What? Oh no, I was all for it. She didn't want either of us to hold onto anything too serious since we were always so far apart." He glanced towards the royal couple's table and sighed. "I mean… we loved each other. We did. We do. But we were never… in love. Not together. Together, together. Maybe we could have been, but…"

As he began to trail off, Velvet interrupted: "So, okay… then what's the problem? Believe me, I know all the rules about open relationships. I'm in my fair share of 'em at the moment, and we all understand that it's purely physical between us."

"Were any of those closer than that beforehand?"

"Naw, I don't believe in tying myself to a single stallion. I mean, unless it's rope-related, but that's something different altogether," she said matter-of-factly, starting right at him and sipping her drink as she did so.

He raised an eyebrow, his mouth curling a little bit. "So, I didn't know that the entire time we were apart, she was in the process of falling in love with our future king, y'know? I mean, I want to be more upset about it, but… how can I be?" He gestured at the royal couple in exasperation. "I still love her. And the grown-up thing to do is to love that she got married."

Velvet watched him for a long moment, saying nothing, and Briarthorn absently went on. 

"I mean… look at those two!" he exclaimed. "Perfectly perfect for one another, like… like a two-piece puzzle. Yeah."

"A two-piece puzzle sounds pretty boring, if you ask me."

He nodded sagely. "Ah, but some ponies like boring."

"Do you?"

He snorted loudly. "Hell no, boring is boring."

Velvet nodded back then took a final drink, draining her glass. "So, question for ya."

He copied her posture exactly; his drink hit the table, empty. "Shoot."

"You seem to know your way around here pretty well, so, is there anywhere we can sneak off to for a quick fuck? I don't feel like waiting until after the party."

He didn't miss a beat. "Oh sure, I know a few places."

"Wonderful," she said as they both rose from the table simultaneously, their rhythm already beginning to synchronize, a wonderful rarity that made her just a little giddy. "'Cause if I have to go one more chapter without a confirmed score, I'm gonna blow a gasket."

"Really? Well, then let's end it with a tease!"

"Fine, fine. Now… how about you teach me how to spell my name?"
> Chapter Nine: Tidings
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


One Year Later


Havoc double-checked her supply bag to make sure that she had everything she needed for the trip back to New Pandemonium: packed meals for tonight, tomorrow morning, and tomorrow afternoon; a canteen of water; a datapad with documents that she needed to give to Dawn and Curaçao; a change of clothes; a sleeping bag. Yes, everything was all set.

"Everything good to go?" asked Cotton from behind her.

"Yup," Havoc replied. "Should be a pretty quick trip anyway, nothing to worry about. Even packed an extra meal in case I get sidetracked taking out some bugs again."

"Good." Cotton walked past her and into her kitchen—Havoc was getting ready in Cotton's living room—brushing her tail along Havoc's muzzle as she did so. "Don't take too long coming back though. Two weeks is long enough, so you'd better not make me wait longer than that."

Havoc grinned as she watched Cotton's backside sashay away; the other mare always looked good in everything she wore, but that short skirt was something else with the way it highlighted the shape of her rear. She zipped up her bag and followed Cotton into the kitchen, helping herself to a soda—grape—from the fridge and cracking it open before taking a seat.

"I think you can last that long. It's me I'm worried about," Havoc noted.

"Exactly," Cotton replied. She tilted her head. "So, not joining me for breakfast, huh?"

"Yeah, sorry. I would, but the king and queen wanted to meet me to discuss some matters before I head out." Havoc paused a moment, then perked up. "You could, uh... you could come along with me if you want? I'm sure they won't mind."

Cotton smiled and patted Havoc's hoof. "I appreciate the offer, but I know this meeting is supposed to be just for you and the king and queen. I don't want to step on any hooves."

"Bullshit, you won't be bothering anypony."

"I'm sure I won't be, but trust me, I don't want to change the dynamic going on there. I'm still amazed that they were so comfortable with me being at their wedding since they don't even know me—"

Havoc frowned. "Do you just not want to go? Is that it? 'Cause if that's it, you can just say so. I'll understand."

Cotton paused, sighed, and shook her head. "That's not it, not exactly. I just think it's not... appropriate, I guess? I mean, I appreciate you inviting me and everything, but it would feel a little awkward to me if they started asking questions about us, y'know?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"I mean that we still haven't exactly talked about us, so it doesn't feel right trying to explain it to somepony else, especially the king and queen."

Havoc's mouth hung open slightly as she tried to process the words, her eyes blinking a few times to let the gears run their course. Though it took her a moment, she realized the implication that was being said. "Oh. No, okay... I get it. So like, if we talked about it and figured it out, you'd be cool with it?"

Cotton let out and breath and walked over to the fridge to get herself a beer. "I don't think you really get it."

"Then help me understand."

Cotton turned and looked right at Havoc; she looked... upset wasn't quite right, but she didn't look angry. "Havoc, what are we right now, exactly? Because some days it feels like we're a couple, and other days it feels like this is just a casual friends-with-benefits thing. Here you are inviting me to lunch with the king and queen like we were dating, but when you introduce me you call me your 'friend'."

"I do?"

"Yes, you do. Just your 'friend'. Not 'fillyfriend'. You act like I am when we're together, but—"Cotton let out another breath. "This isn't the first time I've had this conversation with somepony. I get it if you're embarrassed—"

"No!" Havoc blurted quickly. "That's... that's not it."

"Then what is it?"

Havoc hung her head. "Look, I'm sorry. I never realized I was doing it. You're the first fillyfriend I've ever had, y'know, and I just... I guess it never occurred to me to start calling you that when talking to other ponies." She ran her hoof through her mane. "I'm still getting used to all this kind of stuff. Dating and sex and couples and stuff like that." She then looked right at Cotton. "I do think of you as my fillyfriend, though. I promise I'll start introducing you like that from now on, okay?"

Cotton tilted her head, a slight grin forming on her lips. "Really?"

"Really. I don't want to hurt you, and I'm sorry if I have been. I really am trying to be better about these kinds of things, and—"

Cotton swept forward and kissed Havoc's forehead. "You don't have to go on, honey. I get it. Sorry if I seemed angry, it's just... y'know, ponies like me deal with this a lot. I've dated more than one stallion that was perfectly fine with the sex and everything but didn't want to treat me like their fillyfriend in public." She sighed. "I just wanted to know if you were the same. I'm glad you're not."

"So... are you cool with coming to breakfast with me and the royals?" Havoc asked with a little grin.

"I'm cool with it, but I think I'll let you go on your own this time. I know they'd be fine with it, but I wasn't invited and this sounds like it's all business. Maybe next time we can make it a double date?"

Havoc's grin widened a little. "Sure. Yeah, it's a date."

Cotton then perked up. "Oh! I almost forgot, I had something for you. Stay right there."

Havoc raised an eyebrow and watched Cotton rush off to the bedroom. "Something for me?"

Cotton returned after only a minute with a box balanced on her back, which she hoisted onto the table in front of Havoc. "Yup! Go on, open it."

Havoc opened the box up, revealing a black jacket inside that reflected the light of the kitchen. There was an embroidery on the back that looked like her cutie mark: a meteorite burning up in the atmosphere. She lifted the jacket out, marveling at the feel of the material, which was slick and smooth, sort of like the inside of her military-issue body armor. Her name was embroidered on the front, over one of the pockets.

"Nice jacket," Havoc whistled. "You made this yourself?"

Cotton nodded proudly. "Uh-huh! Hoof-stitched and everything. Go on, try it on. I'm sure got your measurements just right, but I didn't have you to model it for me. A ponyquin gets the job done, sure, but a live model is better."

Havoc stood up and did just that, sliding the jacket on over her uniform; it fit perfectly. "What kind of material is this?" she asked, running her hoof along one of the sleeves.

"It a specialized weave made from some of the bulletproof material the militia uses for their body armor," Cotton said as she checked the fit around Havoc's midsection. "It wasn't cheap to get and I had to sign a bunch of forms to get it, but I got it."

Havoc blinked. "You made me a bulletproof jacket?"

"Of course! Knifeproof too. Fashion is about form and function, honey, and now you'll look good and be safe. It even protects against wind sheer, perfect for a pegasus who's always on the move."

"Y'know my bodyarmor already does all that and more, right?"

"Well, duh. I know that, dummy, but you're not going to be wearing your body armor all the time, right? If we go out on a date, for instance." Cotton made sure the jacket's wing-slits weren't squeezing down on Havoc's wings; they weren't, because again, the fit was perfect. "Do you like it?"

Havoc glanced down at the jacket, then grinned. "I love it. It looks badass as hell. Thanks, babe."

Cotton pressed her cheek against Havoc's. "Anytime, honey." She then kissed Havoc's cheek. "You'd better get going, though. His and Her Majesty await, hmm?"

"Yeah, you're right," Havoc agreed, glancing at the clock. She turned and kissed Cotton's cheek back. "Thanks again. See you in two weeks?"

Cotton giggled. "Don't keep me waiting."


*****


Havoc had come to truly appreciate Baroque cuisine more than she ever thought she would. She knew that it wasn't as if she had some forgotten heritage that gave her that connection, unless Fluttershy had some Baroque blood in her. So technically, yeah, she could have some sort of ancestry, but for the most part that seemed highly unlikely. Still, she often wondered what it was about this particular culture's food that just clicked with her.

Best of all, Hope's Point had some of the most top-notch offerings available, and this was considering that Havoc had been accustomed to having a world-class personal chef at her beck and call for her entire life. It wasn't necessarily that the restaurant she was at for breakfast this morning was better than what Crème Brûlée had to offer back home, but there was a certain level of charm to it that she enjoyed. Maybe it was the atmosphere?

Or maybe it was the company? Havoc rarely had the opportunity to dine with her sisters even when she was at home, since everypony had different schedules and tastes these days that they just couldn't get together very often. It was hard to put her hoof on, though, because Queen Blackburn and King Lockwood proved themselves to be rather… personable. Well, Lockwood had always been that way, no surprise there, but Her Majesty was surprisingly friendly and pleasant to be around once you got to know her.

For now, though, she and Lockwood were alone at their booth at the restaurant, with only Crossfire for company otherwise, but he rarely chimed in in conversations unless necessary or unless it was related to the food. Havoc had ordered a frittata made with spicy peppers at Crossfire's suggestion; Lockwood had ordered the crespelles with raspberries, which he said was a favorite. It was all-in-all a pleasant, intimate breakfast meeting, and Havoc loved every second of it.

It made her feel… respected. Appreciated.

"So you're leaving after breakfast, hmm?" Lockwood asked, absently poking at his nearly-empty plate.

"Yup. Gotta jet back north before noon so I can make it home by tomorrow night," Havoc replied as she took a bite of her meal. "And that's already a stretch. I should've probably just grabbed a quick bite and bounced."

"Wow, so soon? What's the hurry?"

"Curaçao wants me to deliver separate reports to her and Dawn, since she doesn't trust our littlest sister to give her all the details. Dawn tends to skim my reports because she feels my continued work out here is a waste of time. She doesn't think I need to do it anymore now that we've got our 'in'."

Lockwood nodded in understanding. "Well, I'm glad that Curaçao takes your work seriously. We've had a big boom in incoming refugees lately thanks to you, y'know? If anything is gonna make these peace talks work, it's the effort of ponies like you rather than anything a bureaucratic meeting could accomplish."

Lockwood was looking much better than when he and Havoc had first met. He'd put on a healthy amount of weight and a teensy bit of muscle so that he didn't look like he'd break if somepony bent him too hard. He was grooming himself to a much higher standard, not that his standard wasn't already good, but now it was regal. 

This included his clothing, as he now dressed mostly in whites and didn't wear the same clothes every day. Today, for instance, he was wearing a gray vest over a white dress shirt. And he never wore that crummy old fedora anymore, either.

He looked every bit like the handsome young king he was supposed to be. Havoc was still completely over him, but she had to admit, he was looking damn good these days. Cotton thought so too, and said that word on the street was that the king had a lot of admirers. Because of course he did, he always did. Something about his eyes, actually.

"I do what I can," Havoc said with a nod. "It's getting a little strange out there lately though, y'know? Like, I barely see any Gargantuans anymore."

"Apart from the major breeding grounds, we haven't seen a lot of them lately, either," Lockwood said, steepling his hooves. "The theory is that they've started moving underground for some reason, and rarely pop up on the surface. Nopony knows enough about them to give us a decent explanation."

"Maybe they're spooked because of the appearance of a higher class of predator out there?" Havoc suggested, waggling her eyebrows. "Me. I mean me."

He grinned and gestured at her with his fork. "Well, if they are scared of you, then I'd say you're doing a bang-up job out there, Commander. Keep up the good work." He then tilted his head. "Y'know, I just realized that that's a new jacket. Did Cotton make that for you?"

Havoc glanced down at her jacket, then back to Lockwood with a grin. "Yup! Hoof-stitched it herself. Looks badass, huh?"

"I'm not the best judge on what is or isn't 'badass', but it definitely looks nice."

"Thanks. I'll tell her you said that. A compliment from the king is sure to give her a kick."

Havoc noticed a slight commotion coming from the front of the restaurant, which turned out to be due to the arrival of Her Majesty Queen Blackburn herself, along with Gadget. The Queen of Hope's Point hadn't changed herself much at all over the past year; she still mostly wore assorted white jackets and that green and gold scarf of hers, and always kept herself in the best of shape.

But Havoc didn't really care about Her Majesty's arrival for its own sake. What mattered to her was the third guest that had come along for the ride. Literally, actually, since the little three-week-old filly rested comfortably in a sling along Blackburn's side. Havoc actually rose from her seat just to get a better look at the adorable foal, with her ash-gray coat and bright blue mane, but most importantly those wide, beautiful golden eyes, just like her father's.

"Sorry we're late," Blackburn said as she and Gadget placed the little filly into a high chair beside the table. "Bluebolt's been fussy all morning. Postponed meeting with Chief Storm to handle it." She nodded at Havoc and smiled. "Havoc. Heard you're leaving shortly; need any supplies?"

"Already taken care of, Queen Bee, " Havoc said, though her focus was more on the not-at-all-fussy foal in the high chair. 

She smiled at the filly and waved; the filly's attention flittered around the room for a long moment before finally landing on Havoc, upon which her eyes widened and she gesticulated with her hooves slightly before slapping the high chair table a few times and gurgling. Havoc had never seen anything more adorable in all her life, fake memories included.

Lockwood reached his wing over and gently tickled his daughter's dangling rear hoof, earning a peel of laughter. "She hasn't been too much of a hoof-full, has she honey?" he asked his wife.

"No, just slight temperament regarding mealtime," Blackburn said, shaking her head as she reached over to give her daughter a small stuffed airship; Gadget, meanwhile, gave the tyke her bottle. "Books enlightening on subject of raising foal; firsthoof experience, different ordeal. Unpredictable. Messy." She sighed wistfully. "Wonderful."

"You could always ask Shortcake for more help than you have been," Lockwood suggested, giving his wife a look. "She has loads of experience raising kids, and she'd love to spend more time with her granddaughter. She won't mind if you want a break. If you wait long enough, she might start begging you to give her a shot."

"Yes, but don't wish to overburden her, would also prefer more hooves-on approach with firstborn," Blackburn replied. 

Lockwood smirked. "Couldn't agree more, really. Still, she's always willing to help. Bluebolt is her first granddaughter, after all."

Since Bluebolt looked to be calm for now with her toy in one hoof, her bottle helpfully in her mouth thanks to Gadget's magic, Blackburn turned her attention to Havoc. "Apologies in advance: must bring business matters to otherwise personal meeting."

"Oh, hey, no problem at all," Havoc said with a nod. "Business first, right?"

"Mmhmm." Blackburn leaned back in her seat and let out a breath. "Must commend you. Efforts in Wastelands helping stir public opinion towards peace. Less pressure on me when time comes to sign treaty, whenever that is."

"Always happy to help, you know that."

"Indeed. Still commendable. Valuable asset; valued companion." Blackburn took a breath and nodded. "News from your sister: NPAF publicly announced cessation of hostilities against Hope's Point this morning. Ceasefire official; peace talks now top issue in public consensus."

Havoc leaned back and nodded in return. "I didn't know when they were gonna make it public yet, but yeah, it's been the talk of the officer corps for weeks now. I know that Admiral Hotstreak anticipated pushback, but it's been… a pretty big deal. There are a lot of upset ponies, let me tell ya."

"Please do," Blackburn said, leaning forward and hardening her gaze. "Strife within NPAF could affect peace talks. Pays to have information."

"I wish I could tell you more, really I do. I might be an officer, but it's pretty common knowledge in the corps that I'm loyal to the Admiral and his decisions. The only officer I'm on good enough terms with to chat is his son, Commander Jetstream, and he's in the same boat, obviously." 

"Unfortunate…"

Havoc shook her head. "I couldn't tell you the numbers or which individuals might make trouble. But my other sister, Curaçao, she's doing her best to monitor the situation. Sorry, but that's all I've got."

Blackburn sighed, dejected. "Could you anticipate potential attempts to prevent peace proposal's success? Somepony on Committee, perhaps?"

"The only ponies I know that are opposed to it that much are Taskmaster Concrete and Treasurer Vendetta." Havoc shrugged, knowing there was little more she could do about it. "But I don't have any involvement with them. Dawn's dealing with that stuff as best she can, but I don't think either is in the position to be an actual threat."

Lockwood grunted, his expression sour. "I'd still keep an eye on Vendetta, regardless. I know the kind of pony he is, and he won't let this grudge against Virtuoso go so easily."

"Indeed." Blackburn shook her head. "Regrettable circumstances; will need to be mindful moving forward. Peace talks paramount to betterment of the north; will not see it fail."

"I assume you guys are doing the same dismantlement deal that we are, right?" Havoc asked, taking a sip of her drink. "I haven't been included in the actual negotiations so I've got no idea what the agreements are."

"Indeed, have begun conversion of portions of fleet for other purposes," Blackburn said with a firm nod. 

Lockwood smiled proudly. "Most of them got repurposed for cargo and passenger transport, some others were repurposed for resource gathering. We figure if we're entering into trade agreements with New Pandemonium in the future, we should stake our claim early."

"Smart move," Havoc said with a grin. "Shrewd. I like it."

Blackburn smirked. "Thank you. Few other ships given more unique purpose: deep sea exploration. First volunteers, crew of the Comet Chaser, under Captain Ember Heart. Potential resources at certain depths, potential for scientific research. Never had opportunity before."

Havoc blinked. "Huh, neat. Can't say I know much about what's down there."

"Nopony does," Lockwood said with awe and wonder in his eyes. "That's the point of exploring it, right? Who knows what kind of things that we might find that far underwater? Plants? Minerals? Shipwrecks? Could be anything!"

Blackburn tilted her head and steepled her hooves, looking intently at Havoc again. "Other question; not business-related. Weather patterns in Wastelands have changed over past year. Minimal reliable first-hoof accounts. Enlighten me."

Havoc hummed and stroked her chin. "Yeah, the weather's been acting up lately. Never seen anything like it before. I'm used to a little bit of wind every now and then out there, but it's been getting a bit gusty."

"'Gusty', apt assessment. Nopony's seen anything like it; asked ponies who were part of Hope's Point's initial construction." Blackburn leaned back, deep in thought. "New weather patterns, unpredictable, concerning. Will need to observe further."

"I'll keep you posted if that helps."

"Would appreciate it."

Havoc then glanced at her watch and sighed before rising from the table. "Welp, it's time I blow this popsicle stand. I gotta get moving so I don't keep ponies waiting for me back home."

Blackburn nodded. "Appreciate your time, Havoc. Have a safe trip."

"Say 'hi' to the others from me," Lockwood said with a wide smile. He gave Blackburn a brief look; she responded with a smile and a nod. He then reached into the vest pocket and passed Havoc a photograph. "And show this to 'em, too. You're the only one that's seen our little bundle of joy so far, and we trust you to keep that in the right ponies' hooves."

"Thanks, guys," Havoc said. She took the photo and looked it over, grinned widely as she did. The royal couple were posing with their sleeping newborn daughter, who was the main focus of the picture and looked like the cutest little thing that Havoc could imagine. "I can't wait to show this off. Congrats again to you guys, if I haven't said it enough yet."

As Havoc headed out of the booth, she stopped to wave her hoof at little Bluebolt, who gurgled again and smiled wide, making motions with her hooves like she was trying to wave back. The filly was just the sweetest thing; Havoc couldn't think of any reason not to coo and fawn over her.

Blackburn apparently took notice and gave Havoc a little grin and a nudge. "Would you like to hold her, Havoc?"

Havoc stared wide-eyed at Blackburn, shocked. "What? Really? You'd let me?"

"No reason not to; trust you implicitly." Blackburn nodded at Gadget, who nodded back and unfastened Bluebolt from the highchair. "Don't need to tell you to be careful."

"Of course, yeah." Havoc gently, cautiously, accepted Bluebolt as Gadget levitated her over.

"Gotta warn you, she gets fussy," Gadget said with a tiny grin.

As the little filly settled into Havoc's grip—Bluebolt was heavier than she expected—she couldn't help but let herself give a big, dumb smile. "Am I doing it right?" she asked nervously, not wanting to look at Blackburn for fear of taking her eyes off the filly.

"Doing just fine," Blackburn gently replied. "A natural.'

Havoc had no idea where she got the fondness for little foals—she suspected it was something she'd inherited from Fluttershy—but she was glad she had it. Bluebolt seemed to sense just how safe Havoc was and wanted her to be, because she didn't fuss one little bit as the adult pegasus rocked her gently back and forth. They just looked into each other's eyes, and Havoc felt as though the filly was looking right into her soul, giggling softly as she did.

She made a pact to herself right then and there: she would do absolutely anything in the world to ensure that this peace proposal went through. The north needed to be a better place not for herself, or for ponies like Blackburn or Dawn, not even for ponies like Cotton Rose. It needed to be a better place for young colts and fillies like the Shadow Candidates back home, and like Bluebolt here.

And Havoc knew that when she made a pact like that, she'd keep it. Nothing was going to stop her.


*****


In Pandora Tower's Shadow Candidate training facility, Velvet watched from a perch near the instructional area as Pedigree fielded questions from the students about the latest video they'd just watched. The topic was history, specifically on the nature of New Pandemonium's second "era" of growth. 

Velvet knew next to nothing on the subject and hadn't really absorbed much of it over the past week that the students were learning—she wasn't great at most of the subjects, really, having never had a formal education—but that wasn't important. What was important was that she was invested in the students' learning capabilities and how well they absorbed the information, as well as how well Pedigree was handling the material and the kids.

One little colt, Vermillion Blaze—earth pony, red coat, orange mane—raised his hoof. "Overseer, I didn't understand the part of the video where they explained why the old city was buried."

"Yeah," agreed one of the fillies, Honey Heart—earth pony, gold coat, blonde mane. "Why wouldn't they just use all the old buildings?"

Pedigree paced in front of the currently deactivated video screen. "A good question, and one that many historical scholars throughout our history haven't been able to agree upon. The prevailing theory at the moment is that the structures left behind by the Old Pandemonium builders were too dilapidated for safe use."

"What does 'dee-lapi-dated' mean?" asked Vermillion.

"Dilapidated: ruined, abandoned, unfit for use," Pedigree explained.

The answer seemed to satisfy those questions. Velvet didn't really get it herself, though, but she had a unique perspective on it. She'd gotten the idea from the video that the city had been essentially built on top of the Old Pandemonium hundreds of years ago. Knowing that it had been her father that had ordered it that way, she wondered why just as much as those kids did, and figured maybe she could ask Dawn to ask him.

Another colt, Razorwing—pegasus, silver coat, red mane with white streaks—raised a hoof. "The video never said what happened to the ponies of the old city though, Overseer. Where did they go?"

"Nopony really knows," Pedigree said with a nod. "Most of them may have lost their lives in the Great Northern War, and survivors likely fled elsewhere out of fear of retaliation. Some evidence suggests that they fled into the Redblade Mountains, back before they were perpetually active."

"But wouldn't they be in danger there?" asked a colt, Cloudy Day—pegasus, gray-blue coat, gray mane. "Those are volcanoes! Volcanoes are dangerous!"

Pedigree grinned. "They are, yes. I see you've been paying attention in geology, Mister Day. For once."

The class chuckled and giggled, and Velvet quietly joined in. It was only natural that some of the kids developed a taste or distaste for certain subjects. But Cloudy Day had been getting better about paying attention, enough that he didn't mind the little quip and joined in with the laughter.

"The majority of those ponies seemingly returned to New Pandemonium City and integrated into the new society. Any that were left once the entire volcanic range went active likely fled towards the coastline, or simply died out."

"Ooh ohh!" chirped a bigger filly in the back, Double Trouble—pegasus, orange coat, white mane. "What if they learned to live in the volcanoes? Like, uh… adopted?"

"Adapted," Pedigree corrected. "And that is unlikely. Creatures don't adapt to an environment quickly enough to survive a single generation like that without sheer luck and numbers, and there isn't any evidence to suggest they had either." He then tapped his chin in thought. "Though, to be fair, nopony has ever really explored the Redblade Mountains since they were activated."

"So you think there might be ponies that live in the volcanoes?" asked Cloudy Day with wide eyes.

Pedigree shaked his head. "Scientifically-speaking, it's impossible. But we do live in a world where magic is commonplace, and the Beacon within this very tower generates enough magical energy that there could be a slim possibility of such adaptive ponies surviving in the volcanoes. But nopony's ever seen them if there are any."

Cloudy and Trouble looked at one another in awe. "Cooool! Secret underground lava ponies!" gushed Trouble with a giggle.

"Any other questions?" Pedigree asked. There were none. "Very well. Your homework assignment for the night is to write me a full paragraph detailing one aspect of the second age that you found particularly interesting." He glanced in the direction of one of the other colts. "That's five complete sentences, Mister Wildcard. Understood?"

Wildcard—pegasus, green coat, blue mane—grunted and slumped in his seat. "Yes sir."

Pedigree nodded and turned back to the rest of the class. "The assignment is due next week at the beginning of class time. Class is dismissed."

The entire class gleefully hopped out of their seats and rushed off towards the elevator so they could return to their rooms. Velvet waved at them as they passed by her, and they all waved and greeted her in turn with big smiles. Once the last of them had cleared out, Velvet headed into the "classroom" to greet Pedigree, who busied himself setting up the video to play again from the beginning for the next class.

She got his attention by knocking on one of the desks. "Hey."

He turned and gave her a polite smile. "Miss Velvet. You're here early."

"Ate a light breakfast," she replied as she moved further into the room and took a seat at one of the frontmost desks. "Everypony seems to be moving along pretty well in their schoolwork. I'm really glad we're making so much progress."

"As am I, though I will still insist that they would have more success with more specialized instructors for their subject materials." He shook his head. "I can certainly assist the students more readily with mathematics and the various scientific fields much more effectively than history and social studies. They weren't exactly my strong suits growing up."

"Dawn approved my request last night," Velvet said with a wide smile. "Starting next week, you and I can start looking into hiring a few ponies to help out. First priority goes to members already on the tower staff, of course."

He raised an eyebrow, though he was grinning. "That's wonderful news. I assume we're still expected to follow proper Pandora Protocols for outsiders?"

"Yeah, full package deal. Dawn's ready to perform memory wipes as necessary." She bounced up out of the desk, excited as she'd felt in weeks. "This is gonna be great! They're gonna do a lot better having actual experts teaching subjects. We'll be able to focus more on their training!"

"Agreed. We've fallen behind on schedule with ability development for some of the more advanced students." Pedigree pulled out his datapad and scrolled through it briefly. "Specifically I wanted to address some of the youngsters with potentially dangerous powers. I don't want to sound as though we're pushing them too hard, but I believe we have room for improvement."

Velvet nodded in agreement. "I agree one hundred percent." She then sat directly on the desk instead of in its proper seat. "So, besides that, I wanted to talk to you about the social development program. I think it's going well, but I've noticed something a bit… well, it's not weird, but it's not typical."

He tilted his head. "Go on."

"Have you noticed that the kids are acting a bit mature for their age? I mean, for the most part they still have that youthful wonder, at least as far as interests and general behavior—"

"You mean the way in which they speak?" Pedigree hummed and nodded. "Yes, I've noticed it. I attribute it to the circumstances of their social interactions and education. If I may be blunt: I'm not exactly skilled at interacting with young colts and fillies of their age at a level that they can understand."

"You mean they talk the way they do because of all the time spent around you?"

"Precisely. I am their only educational instructor, so I am their primary source of input, alongside our purely academic educational videos." Pedigree shook his head. "In addition, they don't have the sort of variety in outside experiences that others their age do. The best they get is from television in their free time."

"Hmm… yeah, I see what you mean," Velvet said, stroking her chin. "Hopefully the mentorship program starts working out soon. I'd rather have some of these kids talking like my sisters than everypony just being the same."

"It's working well so far, from my observations. Several of the students have latched onto you or your sisters and adopted traits." He nudged Velvet and chuckled. "Bravo to Miss Havoc for keeping her language in check."

"Yeah, kudos to her."

The sound of the elevator opening behind them indicated that the next group of colts and fillies was coming in. Velvet beamed, seeing young Caramel Rye among them, and he in turn beamed when he saw her. He practically pushed his way to the front of the line so that he could run up and leap into a hug.

"Miss Velvet! Hi!" he said with a wide smile as she returned the hug. "How are you?"

"I'm doing great, kiddo!" Velvet replied. "Ready for class?"

Caramel wrinkled his nose. "Ech, history class is boring. I wanna do another cooking class with you! Everypony does!"

"Oh really?" Velvet turned to the other students with a grin. "Does everypony really want to do another cooking lesson?"

The entire line of a dozen students spoke at once in affirmation, creating a literal chorus of "Yeah!" that echoed throughout the room.

"Well okay then, I'll put another cooking class on our extracurriculars, okay? Maybe this time I'll teach you something more complicated than PB&J sandwiches. Maybe…  salad. Yeah, that'll work. Simple, healthy, perfect."

She knew how to cook far more complicated things, but these kids were too young to be learning how to operate a stove or an oven by themselves. She stuck to things where the most dangerous utensil required was a butter knife; she'd make it work for the salad.

"Aww, can we cook now instead of learning history?" piped up one of the other colts, Silver Spots.

Velvet smiled wide. "Wellll…" She paused, then leveled the class with a look. "No. Your schooling is important, kids. If you want to take a cooking class with me, you need to do well in school. I'll ask the Overseer, and if he tells me you haven't been doing your homework, then you won't learn how to make salads."

"Awww…" groaned the class.

Velvet set Caramel down and ushered the class into the "classroom". "Go on, kids, take your seats and get ready to learn. And no more whining, okay? School's super important, and the Overseer and I want everypony to grow up smart."

"Yes, Miss Velvet," grumbled the class.

Velvet noticed one of the students wasn't grumbling, though: Sunspire. In fact, he'd already taken his seat at the front of the class while everypony else was arguing about cooking classes. She frowned slightly at that. Not because she felt ignored or because she disapproved of his behavior, but because of why he was acting this way.

After the Overseer gave his brief introductory spiel to the class about the video they were about to watch, Velvet signaled for him to step aside to speak with her. "Yes, Miss Velvet?" he asked quietly after they'd stepped away.

"I'm a bit concerned about Sunspire," she bluntly stated.

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Why? He's at the top of all of his classes and has been excelling in his training exercises."

"Yeah, and that's all wonderful stuff," she replied. "But he's not being as social as the others. I've been watching him for weeks now, and I've never seen him strike up a conversation or join any of the other kids for playtime."

"We have a number of students who share those qualities to some degree, Miss Velvet, if you don't mind my saying? Green Guard hardly says two words to myself or to any of the other students—"

"That's because he's shy," Velvet said dismissively. "He's bonded just fine with Gray, though, and she's told me how talkative he gets when they're alone. He'll get there with the others eventually, but this isn't the same thing."

"How about Lemon Lime? She tends to keep to herself most of the time—"

"She's still getting used to her telepathy, that's all. You try having a conversation when you have trouble filtering out the other pony's thoughts." Velvet nodded firmly. She had to be careful with her thoughts around the young filly so that she didn't accidentally stumble onto Velvet's more… adult interests. "Once we help her focus better, I'm sure she'll be a regular chatterbox."

Pedigree hummed. "Very well, then what is your concern regarding Sunspire? I honestly cannot find fault if he wishes to engage fully with his studies and education. I've already offered him advanced private classes to take on his own time to advance further, and I haven't offered that to many of the students at all, and certainly not in so many subjects."

"No no, I get it, he's a total smarty pants, just like Dawn is." Velvet gave Pedigree a terse look. "That's why I've got a problem, actually. I wanted to talk it over with you."

"Regarding Miss Dawn? What about?"

Velvet sighed. "We both knew when we implemented the whole 'mentorship' program that all of my sisters would be spending time with a small selection of the students to help them develop socially, right?"

Pedigree closed his eyes and nodded, letting out a breath as he did so. "Ah. You fear that he may have adopted Miss Dawn's… social skills."

"Or lack thereof. But that wouldn't bother me by itself. It's the why."

"I don't follow."

"My idiot sister did exactly what I knew she was gonna do: she turned her mentorship program into a damned career planner. She got the idea in her head that assigning roles to her kids was a good idea—"

"You must admit that she made informed decisions," Pedigree interjected. "Rubedo's newfound interest in chemistry meshes well with his transmutation capabilities, and Chroma Key—"

Velvet put her hooves to her temples. "Gah! I get it, she picked out the perfect life paths for the kids she was assigned to, but we weren't supposed to be doing that! They're supposed to be making their own choices and figuring out what they want to do in life. We don't even know if these kids can get cutie marks like other colts and fillies can, and she's practically forcing the issue!"

Pedigree rubbed his chin in thought. "The scientist in me commends her for initiating the circumstances that would potentially lead to that discovery more quickly than our laissez-faire attitude towards the whole thing." Seeing the glare Velvet was giving him, he cleared her throat. "But you're right, that isn't the direction we agreed to take. Still, I'm at a loss for why this is a problem specifically for Sunspire."

She gestured towards the colt in question. "That little guy was the first pony my idiot sister named. He got attached to her because of it, just like the other ponies she named. All of the kids have that kind of connection with those of us who named them, like me and Caramel, or Gray and Green Guard."

"So I've noticed."

"Yeah, well, over the few times they met, Sunspire noticed how smart and bookish Dawn is, and he wanted to be just as smart and bookish as she is. You know what he told me before we started up the mentorship?"

"You don't need to tell me, I remember," Pedigree mumbled. "He was hoping to become Miss Dawn's apprentice, to learn under her and be just like her when he was old enough. A typical expression of idolization."

"And then my idiot sister picked Serendipity as her 'apprentice'." Velvet groaned and rubbed her temples. "I get it, I really do. Serendipity is a great filly. She's got charisma for days and a real drive compared to a lot of the other students, and a natural luck that just makes things go her way. If I were looking for leadership qualities in a pony, I'd point her out and say, 'that's your girl'.

"And that's what Dawn wanted: a leader. She wanted somepony that would take charge of these kids as they got older, like she thinks she does with our family." She pointed at Sunspire. "And what did Dawn do with Sunspire? Told him he was gonna be a glorified librarian. He's good with books, I get it! He'd be perfect for it, and I know he'll love it!"

"But that wasn't the choice he wanted to make," Pedigree finished. He shook his head. "Miss Velvet, I understand your concern, but if I may play devil's advocate for a moment, this might end up benefiting Sunspire in the end."

"Oh yeah? How?"

"Well, he's learning a lesson that the other students aren't, really, one that I doubt many of them will ever learn."

"What, never to meet your heroes?" Velvet scoffed.

Pedigree paused. "Well… technically, yes. But no, I meant more along the lines of something many ponies out in the city learn, regarding the idea that you don't always get what you desire in life, but that if you work hard you can still succeed." He glanced at the colt and smiled lightly. "He may not be Dawn's favorite student, but he will certainly be the best librarian you could ask for."

Velvet narrowed her eyes. "And what if she continues to isolate him away from herself and the others?"

"Then I suppose we can only hope that he comes out of it himself," Pedigree sighed. "There's nothing wrong with how he chooses to express himself, Miss Velvet. I would advise that we let him be; don't force him to contort to what you deem socially acceptable."

Velvet took a deep breath, then nodded. "No, you're right. I'd be no better than she is to try and make him fit my ideals." She then poked Pedigree in the chest. "But you better bet your ass that I'm gonna have a talk with my sister if I think he's shutting himself away because she's not treating him right."

"That is your prerogative, Miss Velvet," he agreed. He then glanced towards the classroom, where the video was just finishing up. "I'd better return to my educating duties, though. Trust me, Miss Velvet: things tend to have a way of working themselves out. Who knows, there might just be something that breaks Sunspire right out of that shell, hmm?"

"I hope you're right…"

"Don't you worry, I'll keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn't feel isolated from the others as best as I can. Would that alleviate your worries?"

"It would, yeah. Thanks, Pedigree, you're a peach." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, then turned and headed for the elevator to make for the training facility; Pedigree sputtered in surprise behind her.


*****


Gray sat on her bed, alone in her room like she was nearly every day, and had been nearly every day for more than a year now. She held the phone close to her ear and waited as the signal made an attempt to connect; it had taken tremendous effort to establish a method of communicating between Pandora Tower and Hope's Point's royal palace, and it was neither easy nor convenient at the moment. The NPAF's technology was effective for transmitting data across long distances, certainly, but it was imperfect and untested in this regard.

It took several minutes for her to actually establish a link, and several more of going through assorted go-betweens before she managed to get in contact with her desired party.

"Gray? Can you hear me?" asked Flathoof.

"Yeah, I can hear you," she replied.

Of course, there was a delay in the audio feed, so it took a few seconds for her to actually hear what he said, and vice versa. They'd gotten used to the delay by this point and knew that they needed to pause and wait when they were finished talking so the other party could respond. Worse, the quality was so poor that he sounded as though he were in a windy tunnel that would drown out his voice if he didn't speak loudly and clearly enough.

Was it aggravating? Absolutely. Was it inconvenient? Supremely. Was it necessary?

No. 

She knew she could probably put an end to all of this if she just made a decision already. But every time she thought about it, she thought about how much of a change it would be and how much effort it would take. Worst of all she thought about how stupid she'd feel if something happened and things didn't work out between them; uprooting her entire life to be with somepony and risking them changing their mind terrified her for some reason.

"I wasn't expecting you to call today," he said. "Is everything alright?"

She wanted to tell him that she just wanted to hear his voice. What she said was, "Yeah, everything's fine. Just felt like calling you up and checking in on you. Y'know, seeing how you're doing with the militia work."

"Oh, I've been doing just great lately. I've got an official squad to work with now, Squad Eight-Six-Two. I've never had a partner before—your sister in disguise doesn't count—so this is kind of new for me." He laughed. "They're pretty good guys and gals, actually."

She felt a pang when he laughed. She missed hearing it in person instead of over this stupid telephone connection. "Well, that's great to hear," she said. "They got names?"

"Eeyup, of course. Hard Copy, Pirouette, and Drumbeat. All earth ponies like me. They divide up squads like that down here, makes 'em easier to assign to tasks and defense work."

"Cool, cool, glad to hear you're making friends," she said, a sinking feeling in her gut. If he was making friends and feeling so happy, did he even need her?

"What about you, you getting out of the tower these days?" he asked, with what might have been concern in his voice; it was hard to tell with the audio distortion. "Last time we talked you said you were gonna head out to eat instead of eating at home all the time."

"Oh. Right. Um… yeah, I sure did," she lied, knowing damn well she still hadn't done it. "Got a PB&J at that sandwich place you showed me way back when. Good stuff. Got a little misty-eyed with nostalgia."

"That good of a sandwich, huh?"

"Yup, that good."

"Well, glad to hear it. Did you bring that colt with you? The one you were talking about before, uh… Green Guard, was it?"

She smiled weakly to herself, glad that he remembered her young protégé; knowing he cared about the kid made something in her stomach stir. "Yup, sure did. He liked it a lot."

"What did he get?"

"Uh… eggplant parmesan," she lied again, knowing that Green hadn't left the tower once since he was born. "It's his favorite." Well, at least that much was true.

"Good choice, good choice. Sounds like you really like this kid."

"Yeah, he's pretty special," she said, settling down entirely on the bed now and staring up at the ceiling while that warmth in her gut continued to flutter about. "Still a bit quiet, but I told him he doesn't have to rush if he doesn't want to, and that he doesn't just need to fill dead air, y'know?"

"You said you've been doing physical training with him, right? How's that going?"

She grinned. "Great, just great. He's benching about two hundred right now and getting stronger every day. Breaks the equipment if I'm not careful."

Flathoof whistled. "Two hundred?! And he's how old again?"

She laughed. "Just five. Don't forget, he's got abilities just like I do. Not the same kind, but still. He needs a proper outlet or he's liable to break a lot more than a few pieces of weightlifting equipment. He's getting stronger and learning control."

"Yeah, I know, but… wow. I'm feeling a bit self-conscious right now, y'know?"

"Why, what're you up to these days?"

"Best I've got is just a little shy of three hundred, and I barely managed it."

Now she whistled. "That's way better than it was last time I asked you. I bet you look great." She immediately regretted saying that, because she knew it was true but couldn't see the proof for herself.

"Heh… I mean, I guess so." He cleared his throat. "So… um…" Then, he sighed. "I know we can't stay on call all day, so in case we get disconnected, or if I have to leave for duty, I just wanted to tell you that I… I miss you. I don't want to sound like a broken record, but I just had to say it."

She felt her stomach turn into knots; it hurt so much to hear him say it. "I… know you do. I just… I need more time to think about what I want to do. I'm sorry I don't have an answer for you just yet."

He didn't respond for a good moment, long enough that she was worried the connection got lost. Then, he said, "I don't want to rush you, Gray. I know you'll let me know what you decide when you're ready. Just… take care of yourself, okay? Be safe."

"I will…"

There was another pause. "Hey, I'm sorry, but we just got a call and I've gotta get to it. I hope we can talk again soon. Maybe next week?"

"Yeah, next week sounds good."

"Great. I'll talk to you then. Bye."

There was a long, long silence, followed by a click on the other end.

"Bye…" Gray muttered to nopony at all. "I miss you too…"

She slowly hung up the phone, then let out a breath and put a pillow over her face.

Stupid stupid stupid! Why the hell can't I just tell him?!

She growled and snarled into her pillow for a good moment before chucking it across the room, then headed for the door and out into the hall, making a beeline for the tower elevator. She wasted no time at all in heading down a few levels to the tower's gym, which at this time of day was usually empty—Curaçao tended to do her aerobics in the evening, and Velvet preferred to do her cardio at the crack of dawn.

Once in the gym, Gray made directly for the punching bags, whereupon she loaded one up and wasted no time at all getting right to work on it. She struck it once, twice, three times with barely any effort at all, which at her strength level was still enough to rock it roughly back and forth on the chain. She struck it again, and again, putting more and more effort into every hit as she did so.

And with every strike, she thought about how stupid she was for not coming clean to Flathoof about much she missed him. Every strike, she thought about how stupid she was being for not just up and leaving for Hope's Point to be with him, and fuck whatever Dawn had to say about it. Every strike, she thought about how stupid it was that she couldn't find the guts to tell him how she really felt about him, about how the distance between them made her realize she didn't want to be apart from him anymore.

And every strike made her angrier, and angrier, and angrier about how stupid she was, about how selfish she was for keeping him hanging for an entire year, about how much she hated that her only contact with him was a distorted voice over a stupid phone call instead of being able to see him, touch him, or hear him without anything in the way. 

Worst of all, she got angrier every time she thought about how much of a coward she was for not standing up to Dawn, who wanted her here so that she didn't "cause an incident by being romantically involved with the queen's brother-in-law" or whatever bullshit reason she'd given.

And with one last strike, the punching back ripped clean off its chain and smashed into the opposite wall hard enough to crack it. Gray was left staring and her handiwork, sweat beading on her brow, her breathing heavy.

She noticed something out of the corner of her eye, and turned to see Green Guard standing there watching her. He was the largest colt in his class by a fair margin, and he hadn't even hit puberty yet, so she was surprised she hadn't seen him there sooner; he was still just a colt, though, and she'd been a little heated, so she guessed he'd just escaped her notice.

A quick glance at the clock on the far wall told her that she'd been working the punching bag for several minutes, and that Green had shown up for today's workout a few minutes early. Gray wiped the sweat from her brow nonchalantly and turned to face her protégé fully. 

"Hey, squirt," she said, sniffing back any potential sign that she'd been upset. "Sesh doesn't start for a few more minutes. Didn't expect to see you here yet."

Green nodded. "Class ended early. Black Bolt sneezed and short-circuited the TV again."

Gray raised an eyebrow. She liked Black Bolt, he was a good kid. Bad allergies, though, and they didn't interact well with his electricity powers. "Anypony get hurt?"

"No. The Overseer got spooked, but that's it. He's been acting weird since Miss Velvet left earlier. I saw them talking outside of the class area."

"Hey, no problem then," Gray said with a shrug. "We can get an early start if you want. I figure we can work on cardio today, so go on over and hop on the treadmill." 

"Sure thing, ma'am," Green said with a nod. He then tilted his head, looking at the busted punching bag. "Is, um… is everything alright?"

Gray glanced over at the punching bag, then back to Green. "Yeah, everything's just fine," she lied. She tilted her head towards the treadmill. "Now stop stalling and get your butt over to the treadmill. We'll start you off at fifteen percent incline, keep you going for two miles. Y'know, starting off easy."

"Yes, ma'am."

Green hustled over to the treadmill and let Gray punch in the numbers, then started galloping in place on the machine while she watched.

Gray observed his posture, his speed, and his heart rate for any sign of slacking or overexertion, and was satisfied with what she saw. The colt was definitely a physical powerhouse, faster than any colt his age had any right to be, and with the kind of stamina that would make an adult jealous. All of the earth pony students had good stamina, this was true—she'd taken notice—but Green was far and away above the rest. Stronger too, and if Pedigree was right, tougher as well.

Yeah, she thought. This kid's special. Flathoof would like him…


*****


Insipid sat at the table of a lovely little Romantique restaurant, just a little past her regular lunchtime. She'd worn one of her best dresses for the occasion, a purple and gold lace affair from her private collection that she hadn't worn in several weeks, so it was fair game and wouldn't spark any controversy. She'd ordered the salad to start, of course, and was eagerly waiting for her ratatouille to arrive; Curaçao had recommended it from this particular restaurant, and if anypony knew anything about good Romantique cuisine, it was Curaçao.

But she wasn't focused on any of that at the moment, not really. She was focused more on who sat across from her at the table: Sterling Shine, a suave earth pony with a silvery-gray coat and a perfectly-combed white mane. He was a trendy action star that she'd met earlier in the week at a party, and he had asked her out for lunch overtly enough in fact that quite a few ponies had overheard him do so.

Lace had subtly nudged her to accept the invitation, but Insipid didn't need Lace to tell her that; she'd fully intended to accept regardless. Sterling was popular, well-connected with a few big name directors, and most importantly, hot. Mares throughout the room now were staring in his direction or directing jealous glares at her, but Insipid didn't mind at all, because he was all hers right now.

"—and let me tell you, doing your own stunts is a surefire way to attract attention," Sterling said with his nose in the air. "You would not believe the sort of press I get after every Impossible Operation flick. Reporters are always eager to hear about how I managed to pull off the latest stunt."

Insipid gave a wistful sigh and set her chin on a hoof, leaning on the table. "Uh-huh…" she muttered, so lost in his eyes that she could barely register what he was saying.

"So in this latest installment, we filmed on-location out in the Wastelands rather than using a set," he continued, putting a hoof over his own chest. "And yes, I absolutely did jump from that airship without a parachute. Pretty amazing, right? Did the entire sequence in one take."

"Uh-huh…"

"So I dive after the villains, right? They've got the datadisk that contains the virus that can hack into the entire world's nuclear weapon stockpile, and my character Ace Hunter, he's gotta get it back." Sterling chuckled and used his hooves to help visualize the scene. "But the bad guys took all the parachutes! Sounds pretty dire, right?"

Insipid smiled and nodded. "Sure does. Like, how does Hunter win?"

Sterling grinned. "Well, in the scene, I dive fast enough to catch up to one of the baddies and try to take the parachute off of him mid-flight, but first we have a little scuffle. The ground's rapidly approaching and everything; if I don't get this parachute within the next ten seconds, I'm gonna hit the ground, kersplat!" He emphasized this by slapping the table hard enough to shake the silverware.

"Oh no!"

"But, y'know, I manage to get it off the guy and knock him out and away so that I have the parachute now. I deploy it just in time so that I can make a safe landing." Sterling brushed a hoof against his chest, a cocky smirk on his face. "Yeah, it looks awesome in the final cut. They really captured how dangerous the situation was and how my life—not just Hunter's—was at risk."

"Wow, that sounds so cool!" Insipid bubbled. "I guess you had a lot of pegasi on hoof to use for the other stuntponies?"

"Hmm?"

"Well, I mean like, if you took the parachute off of somepony else, he had to make it to the ground safely too, right?"

Sterling tilted his head. "Oh, yeah." He shrugged. "I guess, maybe? I don't really pay much attention to how the other stuntponies do their work unless it's directly involved with my stunt. After I get the parachute, it's entirely on him to get out of it. I mean, I guess he was a pegasus?"

"Still, you sure are brave jumping, like, for realsies," Insipid gushed, putting her hoof near his on the table. "It's really cool!"

"It is, isn't it? The Impossible Operation films always draw in a huge box office profit. Ponies want to see me doing all these dangerous stunts because they know I do them myself, and we always aim for bigger, more outrageous stuff every year."

"I haven't seen all of them yet," she admitted. "When you asked me out I watched the first one, though. You were amazing."

"Always am. The first one… ooh, I remember my favorite stunt from that one. We rigged up a building to collapse, and I leapt out of the window to escape and landed on the roof across from it." He patted her hoof reassuringly. "It's filmed at an angle that makes it look further away than it really was, but it was still a big jump."

She took a sip of her red wine—she knew what wines paired with what foods, and red went with ratatouille—and gave him a wide smile. "The worst danger I'm ever in is—"

"So anyway, we put that skydiving shot in all the trailers, of course," Sterling continued.

"—tripping over my own dress," she muttered. Sterling didn't seem to have heard her at all.

"It really draws in the crowds to see the most dramatic-looking stunt like that, because it's usually the biggest one in the movie." Sterling nodded sagely, tapping his hooves together. "But it's never the only one. There's a shot where I'm knife-fighting with an enemy agent and we get this super close shot of him nearly stabbing me in the eye with his knife. It's a real knife too, not a prop."

Insipid shook off the interruption. "So, like, you really almost got stabbed in the eye? Oh. My. Stars. That sounds super dangerous!"

"Oh, it was, but we did it slowly enough so that there wasn't a real risk, then sped it up in post. I wanted to use a real knife because it'll always look more real than even the best props or CGI ever could." He stuck his nose in the air and grinned. "The Impossible Operation films are the most realistic action movies on the market. That's my selling point."

"Well, I'll totally be sure to watch the others in the series before long, then," she said with a grin of her own. "Cha."

He took a sip of his own wine. "Please do. You'll be impressed, I guarantee it."

"Sooo…" She brushed her mane aside a little, just a casual flirtatious gesture Lace had taught her. "Have you ever been to any of my shows?"

"Shows? Oh, are you a theater actress? Just so you know, I've always had an appreciation for classically-trained actors. Don't let my blockbuster career fool you."

She blinked. "Um… no? I'm a fashion model. I wanted to know if you ever came to any of my fashion shows before."

"I can't say that I have," he replied with a tilt of his head. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you asked me out? I mean, I figured you must've known who I was or something and had an interest in fashion—"

"You know, come to think of it, I dated a model once back when the Impossible Operation series just started. What was her name again? Hmm…" He hummed and paused a moment, then shrugged. "Eh, what does it matter? We're not together anymore anyway, and that was quite a few years ago."

"Oh, uh… that's… nice?"

"Say, you said you're involved in fashion, right?"

"Yeah, that's right. I'm a model—"

He gestured at the black suit he was wearing. "Maybe you could give me some advice. My agent says that this color goes better with my eyes, but I disagree. I think green would bring them out more. What do you think?"

Insipid paused. "Well, I'm not, like, an expert on stallions' fashion or anything, but a green suit would be really tacky. And it does not go with your eyes, like, at all. Blue might work, but—"

He fiddled with one of the sleeves slightly. "So yeah, I'm thinking maybe I'll start wearing green more often. What does my agent know anyway? He's a talent agent, not a fashion designer. You'd know more than he would."

"But I'm not a designer either, though? I said I was a model—"

"So, have you seen any of my other work?" he asked with a wide grin. "I know that the Impossible Operation films are my passion project and they pay the bills, but I think I've got a pretty solid filmography at my back. I was nominated for a PFTA two years ago, you know? Best Actor, of course."

She narrowed her eyes. "Did you win?"

He blinked, then slumped back in his seat slightly. "Well, no. But the nomination is still a big deal! I'm not just a blockbuster action star, okay? I'm a serious actor too. You're sure you haven't seen any of my other work? Well, when you do, you'll see that I'm perfectly capable of doing other types of movies."

"Uh huh," Insipid replied, fighting to keep her tone courteous. 

She had had enough of Sterling Silver by now. As somepony who loved to talk about herself, Insipid understood the desire to brag and posture; it was only natural for beautiful, talented, high-class ponies. But she also knew the importance of carrying on a proper conversation with another pony, that the experience was shared and thus both parties were expected to be able to contribute.

So she just continued to sit there and listen to him talk about himself, only ever asking her questions if they pertained to him in some way. She kept her responses short and polite, and maintained the proper amount of eye contact to indicate that she was listening, but she'd long since stopped paying much attention. She was more focused on sipping from her wine and eating her ratatouille when it arrived.

Sterling had the graciousness to at least pay the bill when it came, seeing as he asked her out. As the waiter left with his credit card, Sterling turned to Insipid and gave her that same winning smile that had, an hour ago, made her swoon. Now she noticed that his teeth weren't quite right; he had what Insipid could only describe as a "middle tooth" that was perfectly centered with his nose.

"So," he said, touching her hoof with his. "I was thinking for our second date that we could go to this lovely little Baroque place I know. It'll have to be in two weeks, since I have some shooting to do for this other big action movie I signed on for. It's about a mummy! I've got high hopes for it."

Insipid politely withdrew her hoof and gave him a polite smile. "I'm sorry, Sterling, but like, I think this date is our one and only."

"What? Oh! You must have something scheduled for then that you don't think you can cancel." He nodded in understanding. "Let me talk to whoever it is you've got this obligation to, and I'll make them adjust things so you can get away for an hour or two. I've got the right amount of pull in this town, y'know, especially for an aspiring actress like yourself."

"I appreciate the offer," she replied, wrinkling her nose at his lack of memory; she'd just told him she wasn't an actress. "But that's totally not what I meant. I meant there won't be a second date. Like, at all. It was fun, but like, I just don't think you felt anything special between us. Right?"

He blinked, stunned. "Wait, what? But I thought—"

Insipid rose from the table, taking her purse with her, and patted Sterling's cheek. "It's okay, Sterling. You just didn't find me all that interesting, but I'm sure there are, like, plenty of mares out there that you'd find much more to your liking." With a bright smile to show off her straighter teeth, she added. "Enjoy the rest of your day! Oh, and thanks for lunch. Toodles!"

She then strutted away from the table, proud of herself for turning the situation around. Making it seem as though he hadn't enjoyed her company would prevent the situation from getting out of hoof and potentially causing drama that she couldn't afford. She wasn't scared of what Sterling might do if she so casually dumped him like she technically just did, but she knew it wasn't worth risking.

She did sigh quietly to herself as she left the restaurant—alone—and hailed a chariot taxi. Paparazzi had of course gathered across the street, and were being just subtle enough that most ponies wouldn't realize that they were taking photographs of her leaving. The gossip rags would probably make this their top story for the week, just like they did every time she dated a stallion and then decided they weren't for her.

She was going to have to have a long talk with Lace and Lapel this weekend before the show. She loved them both dearly, but she was beginning to grow anxious about the image angle they were trying to craft for her. She'd coasted along for most of this year as being "available", and enough talk was going around about how she'd yet to find a partner that she was still in the public eye, but how long would that last?

She'd never really thought about having a coltfriend before that fateful conversation with Lace last year, and despite all her attempts, they all fell flat. There just weren't any guys out there that could keep her interest for more than a few weeks at most. 

The best so far had been Sharp Tone, a trending pop music sensation who she'd met at a commercial shoot. He was a nice guy with a pleasant attitude and was a great kisser, but they both realized quickly that they had nothing in common beyond being beautiful ponies. Despite his label pushing for him to keep the relationship going, he and Insipid had both decided to end it. At least that had been mutual, and they were still friends.

As Insipid boarded her taxi and headed back home, she sighed again and looked skyward, wondering to herself if she'd ever find the kind of happiness that the most important ponies in her life had. Lace and Lapel, Curaçao and Shroud, Ivory and Virtuoso, Lockwood and Blackburn. Even Gray and Flathoof, despite their complications at the moment, were happy when they were together. Insipid didn't have anypony like that, and was worried that she never would.

No, today had not been as good as she was hoping it would be.


*****


Dawn despised late meetings with the Committee. She preferred to get them out of the way as early in the day as possible so that she could focus the rest of her day on dealing with whatever issues needed to be addressed following said meeting. Taskmaster Concrete was either the master of getting on Dawn's nerves and was making these delays on purpose, or he was so unhealthy that the delays should be taken as a sign that he'd need a replacement sooner rather than later. 

She hoped it was the latter; her father had never liked him much either.

"Doc said I've gotta watch my cholesterol intake," Concrete said; Blutsauger had asked him how his appointment had gone, likely to seem polite but mostly just to weasel out potentially useful information. "Might have to start cutting back on dairy."

Blutsauger nodded sagely. "Ja, that sounds like the proper advice in your situation. Doctor Heavenly knows her stuff, I assure you. She was a resident under my care years ago, you know?"

"I'm aware. She seems like the type of mare you'd insist on having under you," Concrete snorted derisively. "So yeah, apologies for postponing the meeting, everypony. Doctor's orders, you understand?"

"Quite," Dawn muttered, steepling her hooves. "If there are no further delays, I have assembled the Committee today to discuss the progress of our vaunted peace proposal." She turned her attention towards Admiral Hotstreak. "Admiral, I witnessed your public announcement of the official cessation of hostilities this morning, and had the transmission delivered to Hope's Point."

Hotstreak's mustache bristled; did it always do that? "Everything went better than I expected, but not as well as I'd hoped. Public opinion might be swaying in favor of this peace proposal, in no small part due to that New Pandemonium Times article about the royal wedding. I guess it helps if the average citizen realizes that even Her Majesty Queen Blackburn has a romantic side."

Vendetta grunted and grumbled, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "And to marry what her culture would consider a 'commoner' at that. È sconcertante. I'm still stunned that a random landlord under my employ managed to catch the queen's attention. 

"Queen Blackburn's father married twice, once to a high-ranking officer in their military, then to a southern noble. Her grandfather was married to an Inner District socialite before they even established the city. Why would she aim her sights so low?"

"Not everypony marries for status and power, Vendetta," Champagne scoffed, touching up her mane. "Some ponies marry for love. I know you wouldn't know anything about that. How's the wife, by the way?"

"At home living a good life because of the status and power I provide her," Vendetta said with a cruel sneer. "I suspect the only reason Her Majesty married somepony so plebeian is to have somepony she can control. She'd been the queen for six year before marrying, so she had to be waiting for a reason. Likely just needed a pair of balls to give her a legitimate heir, that's it."

"If that's what caught her attention, he must have an extraordinary pair hanging off of him," Underhoof chortled. "More than what my ex could provide me with, at any rate."

Blutsauger clucked his tongue, shaking his head. "Ah, poor Chief Smokestack. There's no blow quite as harsh to a stallion's ego as learning they're infertile. The urge to sow one's oats is sometimes tremendous, ja?"

"Speaking from experience, Doc?" asked Concrete.

"If we can remain on topic, please?" Dawn interrupted, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking.

Hotstreak cleared his throat. "Right, well, as I was saying, public opinion might be in favor of the peace proposal right now, but I'm afraid that my concerns about the military reception are indeed true: I was met with a great deal of pushback from my officer corps when I made the announcement to them. After decades of training to fight Hope's Point, of believing them to be the enemy… well, old habits die hard."

"Will they prove a threat to the peace proposal?"

He shook his head. "I cannot say right now, as for the most part I think that the majority of them are just upset. I doubt any of them have the balls to try anything stupid. I have, at the very least, identified a number of officers that are in total support of the measures we're taking, so I know which ones I can trust with important duties. The rest will fall in line over time, one way or another."

Dawn nodded. "I will trust your assessment of the issue, Admiral." She then turned her attention to the others in the Committee. "Are there any further issues of note that require our attention? Secretary Quill, has opinion in the bureaucratic sector been agreeable as of late?"

Quill adjusted his glasses and nodded once. "Surprisingly so, Miss Dawn. The staunchest opponents to the proposal's success for most of the past year have changed their tune lately, saying that they thought it over and came to realize that the extra work hours will be worth giving our city the advancement it desperately needs."

"It seems, then, that they only needed time to come to terms with the future," Dawn said, barely able to hide a smile. Curaçao apparently did fine work in finding and blackmailing the individuals responsible for threatening Secretary Quill's life. "Cooler heads prevailed at last. If I might inquire, Secretary, does this mean you are now perhaps in favor of the peace proposal?"

"I am, Miss Dawn," he replied. "If my constituents are all in agreement, then I have no reason to oppose the proposal moving forward. I have already begun the admittedly arduous process of arranging for the various changes in our bureaucratic codes to cease punishment of citizens for collaborating with Hope's Point.

"Furthermore, as part of the proposal's guidelines, I've also begun taking steps to establish building codes and an allotment of real estate for the development of an embassy within our borders. I sent a notification to Her Majesty and her Council on the particulars required for them to purchase the land; it should arrive within a week's time."

Dawn let her smile show, impressed with Quill's initiative. "Exemplary work, Secretary. We may need to hasten our decisions regarding the assignment of an official ambassador to Hope's Point. If we display our willingness to open up our borders to their embassy, they will most certainly emulate our efforts."

"Agreed."

Vendetta grunted again. "I will remind this Committee once again that the city's economic sector does not support this peace going forward. I've had my top financiers and accountants go over the numbers, and we anticipate that New Pandemonium City is likely to go bankrupt, assuming we agree to these insulting reparation requests."

"I understand the concerns, Treasurer Vendetta," Dawn said evenly. "You assert them at every Committee meeting. But this peace proposal has been agreed upon by a five-to-two vote now that Secretary Quill is in full support, so I must remind you that it is your sworn duty to this Committee and to your position as Treasurer to ensure the success of the measure. Can I assume that you will do so?"

"I know my place, Shadow Associate Dawn," Vendetta said with a light smile. "I can assure you, I will do everything within my power, to the best of my ability, to ensure that your peace proposal is a success. I am merely voicing my continued discontent with the measure, as is my right, in hopes of enlightening this Committee to the ramifications of its success."

"Very well, your continued discontent is noted." Dawn turned her attention to the rest of the Committee again. "Any further issues to address?"

Director Underhoof shifted in her seat. "It's not related to the peace proposal, but I do have a concern I'd like to bring to the attention of the Committee."

"The floor is yours, Director."

"Over the past year-and-a-half, there have been many reports of disappearances in several different parts of the Mid Districts. While my agents have yet to determine if they are all connected, we have naturally noticed the increase in volume, and frankly, it's been disturbing. I even had the agents working the cases look deeper into it, and we found that the Outer Districts have dealt with the issue as well, and in much higher numbers."

"What sort of numbers?"

"We've got an estimate at the moment of over one hundred cases from the Mid Districts, and quadruple that from the Outer Districts. And those are just the cases that we've deemed are possibly connected, not counting the 'average' annual cases and cases that we've managed to solve."

"Over five hundred ponies just don't go missing, Director," said Quill. "Surely these are abductions of some sort and this is just an upswing in the city's crime rate as of late? History shows that we have dealt with higher crime rates in the past, though it's been rather low most of this year."

"Maybe, though that would assume that we're getting similar upswings in other crimes and misdemeanors. My statistics show that discounting these disappearances, the city's crime rate is three percent lower this year than last year, which was already six percent lower than the prior year."

"Who cares if a bunch of slum rats go missing?" grunted Concrete, ever swine-like. "I wouldn't even bother counting those numbers, Underhoof. I'm more concerned that the Mid Districts are dealing with so many."

"Agreed," said Vendetta with a nod. "Most of the elite class in our fair city may not pay them much mind, but I'm fully aware that we depend upon the middle class for the majority of our services."

Dawn nodded as well. "Director Underhoof, has your investigation met with any success thus far? You have kept this Committee informed of these disappearances for over a year now, but apart from circumstantial belief that they are connected, and with no trace whatsoever of the ever-growing number of missing ponies, I am beginning to wonder if this might be beyond your scope."

Underhoof paused, looking mildly insulted. "I assure you, Miss Dawn, my department is putting all of our efforts into investigating this issue. Believe me, I'm just as aggravated as you are that we haven't been able to find hide nor hair of any of the missing ponies. It's not like they could've just vanished off the face of Equestria, but there haven't been any witnesses whatsoever."

"Would it help if the NPAF got involved with the investigation?" asked Hotstreak, stroking his mustache. "With this Committee's approval, I can lend the CIA a number of AMP Troopers to assist them with anything they need. I doubt the CIA and NPPD alone can patrol the streets and the city outskirts enough to catch anypony in the act, but the AMPs can."

Dawn shook her head. "I will not have our city's streets flooded with mechanical soldiers, Admiral. Your suggestion amounts to imposing martial law, and with the peace proposal ongoing, we cannot afford to allow our potential allies to witness such paranoia. Her Majesty may misinterpret the gesture."

"I agree with Miss Dawn, mostly because I feel it would draw too much attention to our investigation." Underhoof sighed. "We can't catch whoever might be responsible for these disappearances if they simply fall back because we cast too big of a net. A subtle approach would be best. I just need more time and resources."

"Perhaps that we can agree upon," Dawn said. "Members of the Committee, let us commence a vote to increase the allotment of resources for the CIA in the interest of solving this investigation."

The votes passed with a unanimous seven votes. Only Concrete had hesitated, but he went along with it in the end.

"I believe, then, that all of our business for today is concluded," Dawn said, glancing amongst the Committee. "This meeting is adjourned."

The windows all winked out as the Committee members left the call and prepared to go about their days. Dawn herself was about to get out of her seat to do the same when she received an incoming call from Treasurer Vendetta. She huffed and returned to her seat, but answered the call without much delay.

"Treasurer Vendetta," she greeted flatly. "There must be some matter that you wish to bring to my attention privately. Explain."

Vendetta smiled gently and confidently leaned against his desk. "There is indeed, signorina, in regards to the financial matters of this peace proposal. I wished to discuss with you if we could perhaps find an alternative to negotiating these reparations, as far as requiring the negotiations to be between myself and… Secretary Virtuoso."

"Hmm… I would be willing to entertain any suggestions on the matter. I assume that you feel your feud with Virtuoso may potentially sour the mood or perhaps cause issues with achieving peace?"

"That is precisely it, but… I was wondering if we might have a chat in private? And I don't mean via this video conversation, either. Perhaps… over dinner tonight?"

Dawn hummed briefly. "I was intending to make preparations for partaking in dinner shortly. I suppose conversing with you on the issue over a meal would certainly provide an expedient usage of my time." She nodded. "Very well. Provide me with a location where we can rendezvous."

Vendetta's smile widened. "Eccellente. You won't be disappointed, mia cara."


*****


Dawn applauded herself and Treasurer Vendetta for the terrific idea of meeting over dinner; it proved to be most expedient indeed. She was able to partake in an exquisite meal of Baroque cuisine—Vendetta naturally knew where the best offerings in the city would be—and to do so while discussing business. Usually she took her meals privately since she didn't like to be disturbed, but she'd never considered this possibility before.

The atmosphere was pleasant as well, surprisingly soothing actually. A candlelit table at the back of the restaurant proved an ideal place to hold a private conversation, especially when Vendetta had apparently cleared out the entire venue for his own use tonight. A truly private atmosphere; even the waiter knew to keep his distance and only approached the table when Vendetta signaled for him.

The strange thing about the evening was really how cordial Vendetta was throughout it all. Granted he was always polite and professional when they spoke in private, and he had made it clear to her many times that his opposition to her plans did not reflect upon his respect for her; it was "just business" after all. There was just something a little more… amicable about his behavior tonight. Maybe it was just because they were face-to-face instead of separated by a screen?

"I think that we're in agreement then?" he asked as he topped off her glass of magmaberry wine, her favorite. "You'll have words with Her Majesty in regards to the financial negotiations?"

"I do not perceive any potential harm in doing so," she replied, delicately taking the wine and clinking her glass against his, as was polite. "Her Majesty must understand that the feud between yourself and Virtuoso may yet prove itself a roadblock in our peace agreements. I imagine it to be an unlikely scenario where she does not realize this if I bring it to her attention."

"I couldn't ask for more, signorina. So, it would seem as if we have settled our business for the evening, yes?"

Dawn nodded and glanced at her empty plate as well as his. "It would seem so, and it would also seem as though we have concluded our meals. A most expedient usage of our time this was indeed, as I anticipated. Kudos to you, Treasurer."

Vendetta set his wine glass down, scooted along the booth so that he was right next to her, and took her hoof in both of his. The gesture surprised her; this wasn't typical behavior for a business dinner. Then again, perhaps things were slightly different in Baroque customs? That had to be it, so she didn't let herself show any confusion for more than a second.

"Dawn, mia cara, can you forgive me?" he said, giving her a sincere look.

She tilted her head; what a perplexing question. "Forgive you for what?"

He sighed dramatically, then gestured with one hoof around the room. "I am afraid that while all of this has proven most fruitful, I had an ulterior motive for asking you here for dinner. The business discussion was important, yes, absolutely, but one that we could have conducted as we have all of our other business meetings."

"I do not follow."

His hooves gripped hers again, and he gently stroked the pastern while looking into her eyes. "Allow me to be honest with you, Dawn: I asked you here because I could no longer restrain myself, could no longer stand our only contact being over a video call. I have wanted to meet you in person for quite some time."

"Ah, I see. Then you prefer the intimacy of a physical encounter," she said with a knowing nod. "Completely understandable. I, too, have found the constraints of the video conferences to be cold and impersonal. It is my understanding that Her Majesty Queen Blackburn attends all of her Council meetings in person, and I envy that."

He smiled warmly at her. "I agree wholeheartedly, mia cara. A computer screen does not do your beauty justice. Here, I can hear your voice clearly, see your face in the subtle glow of the candlelight, smell your perfume." His hooves roamed up her foreleg ever-so-slightly. "Feel the softness of your coat."

She glanced down at his hooves, and raised an eyebrow. Baroque customs were quite confusing; she would need to ask Curaçao about the intricacies of the culture so that she could better understand them.

She was most confused though when Vendetta leaned in towards her face. "Perhaps… taste the warmth of your lips?" he whispered as he moved in, lips puckered just so. 

This was a gesture she recognized. Why was he trying to kiss her? That wasn't a Baroque custom too, was it? Romantique custom involved kissing cheeks as a greeting, but she'd never heard of anything lip-related, and that seemed too personal to be part of even Baroque culture.

"What are you doing?" she asked, pulling back slightly so that he didn't make contact, not until she had some answers.

He pulled back as if surprised by the question. "Che cosa?"

"You attempted to kiss me," she said, trying not to sound upset, because she wasn't; she was just confused. "Why?"

He looked just as confused as she was. "What do you mean, 'why'? Is it not obvious, mia cara?"

"Is what obvious?"

He squeezed her hoof tenderly; she was growing more irritated by the gestures by the minute because she didn't know why he was doing them. "You are the most incredible mare I have ever met, Dawn. Cervello, bellezza, potere, you have it all. Any stallion would be a fool not to see you as the ideal partner, the ideal mate."

She shook her head, utterly lost. "I was under the belief that you were married, Treasurer Vendetta. You already possess a partner—"

"A mare like you is worth upsetting the wife over." He sighed and leaned in again. "This 'hard-to-get' attitude of yours is just… perfezione."

"'Hard-to-get'? What—"

"What do you want me to say, mia cara? That I want you? Stars above, I do. I have never wanted a mare as badly as I want you. My heart aches every moment that we are not together."

Dawn paused as all of the gears clicked into place. "Wait… you are romantically attracted to me? Specifically, you possess romantic feelings for me?"

He pulled back, eyebrows raised. "I… yes? Have I not made that obvious by now?"

She pulled her hoof away from him slowly. "Then I am afraid that it is I who owes you an apology, Treasurer Vendetta, for I must inform you that these romantic feelings are not mutual; I hold none for you." She nodded firmly, satisfied with her assertion. "I have neither the time nor the inclination to enter into a romantic relationship, or more succinctly, I consider myself aromantic."

"Ah… I see. An unfortunate setback." He took her hoof in his again. "Mia cara, if that is your wish, then so be it. We need not enter into any sort of romance." With a sultry grin, he added, "But there are other sorts of relationships we can partake in besides romantic."

"What do you mean?"

"The pleasures of the heart are one thing, Dawn, but the pleasures of the flesh are another. If you don't desire love from me, then so be it." His other hoof went beneath the table and touched her leg, moving up towards her thigh. "I would settle for sharing each other's bodies if we cannot share our hearts."

"I… I do not follow—"

"I said that I wanted you, Dawn. Not just your heart, of course, but all of you." His muzzle came up to her ear. "All of you."

Dawn glanced down at his hoof as it snaked its way further up, much too far up in fact, then leveled him with a glare. "Remove your hoof from me immediately, Treasurer."

"Mmhmm, that's the attitude I'm talking about. You have no idea how much of a turn-on it is to have a mare like you pretend she doesn't want it. They all want it in the end, though."

Her horn flared, and she snatched his hoof and abruptly yanked it away; she had to resist the urge to put enough power into the spell to quite literally rip him apart. She looked him in the eyes, barely repressing the sudden rising anger even though she knew it was justified. She despised him with every ounce of her being, but killing or maiming him would solve nothing and potentially make things worse.

"There is no pretending here," she hissed. "I have no interest in you, or anypony else, romantically or sexually. Was I not clear earlier?"

He scoffed, unfazed by her sudden display of force. "You would be surprised how excited a mare gets when she knows what I can give her. Not just money, but power, control. You say 'no' now, but—"

"Shut up," she spat. "I am not just some mare that you can harass or bribe into compliance. I am the most powerful mare in this city, more powerful than you seem to believe. So I warn you now, if you so much as think about placing your hooves on me again, you will see just how powerful I really am."

Vendetta smirked and scooted away slightly, as if feigning fear. "Dawn, mia cara—"

"Do not attempt to finagle your way out of this," she snarled as she rose from her seat. "I never paid much heed to it before, but witnessing this display opened my eyes to the repugnance within my sister's tale."

He seemed confused, as though she were speaking an alien language. "Scusami?"

"My sister, Curaçao. She recounted a chance meeting with you at a charity ball roughly two years ago, in which you attempted to force yourself upon her romantic partner similarly to what you have attempted upon me just now. Until this moment I did not comprehend the magnitude of that situation."

His eyes narrowed in thought, then suddenly opened in surprise and… concern? Worry? "The masquerade ball. I remember that mare—" He then paused and stared wide-eyed at Dawn, his pupils tiny. "Lei è tua sorella? She's you sister?"

"She is."

"Merda." Vendetta sat up straight and set his hooves on the table, then looked straight ahead, away from Dawn entirely. "I apologize, Shadow Associate Dawn. My behavior was uncalled for." He cleared his throat briefly. "I hope that my utter lack of proper decorum does not affect our working relationship?"

Dawn stared at him briefly, then gave him a terse nod. "I will not mention this to anypony. We will return to business as usual: I will endeavor to further this peace proposal, while you will continue making your puerile points of contention." She briefly lit up her horn. "However, allow me to make clear that should you make any attempts to stymie my efforts to broker peace with Hope's Point going forward, you will regret it."

"Duly noted."

"Enjoy the remainder of your evening, Treasurer Vendetta," she said. With a glance at the table, she added, "Thank you for dinner. It was delicious; my compliments to the chef." 

And with that, she strode off with all the confidence in the world before teleporting immediately back to her office at Pandora Tower, eager to place as much distance between herself and Vendetta as possible.


*****


Curaçao relaxed in bed late that night, comfortable under the warm covers of her and Shroud's bed. She slaved away at the datapad in her hooves, swiping her hoof to and fro to sort through data and organize it in such a way that it would be clear to anypony else that read it. Most of these dossiers were for Dawn's benefit, but Dawn was the sort to be more invested in statistics and practical information than in emotional observations. 

When Curaçao put together similar dossiers for Havoc, she scaled it down to be a quick, easy summary; Havoc read between the lines fairly well but wasn't a fan of the numerical aspects.

As she finished one dossier and moved onto the next, Curaçao chanced a glance over at Shroud, who was fast asleep by her side. Shroud always looked so peaceful when she slept, especially in the past year or so; Curaçao had ensured that the mare she loved would never have to go through the sort of stressful days bogged down with work that she once did. She took a portion of that burden upon herself, and practically made Dawn take up some of the slack as well.

It made her particularly happy to see the little gold earring in Shroud's ear, which matched the earring she herself had. Fond memories came to her of last month's wedding. 

It had been a small, private ceremony conducted here in the tower itself, and all of the staff and Curaçao's family were invited along if they were able to make it. She didn't hold it against anypony that didn't come—she hardly expected the janitorial staff to care—and that included Dawn, who had been unable to pull herself away from her work to attend.

The actual ceremony had been short, the after-party had been short, but then their wedding didn't need to be a grand affair. They weren't like most normal couples, so they didn't need to have a normal wedding. The wedding night, though, had not been short; Curaçao had pulled out all the stops to give Shroud a night she'd never forget.

Curaçao turned her attention back to her work with a renewed smile on her face. Her next project was an ongoing one, and one that she and Shroud had been working on for a few weeks now. It was a delicate procedure, because anything that involved the CIA tended to be delicate at times, but especially these days when they were busy investigating a string of strange disappearances. The department couldn't appear to be compromised or it might disrupt the investigation.

Once it was done, though, Curaçao was looking forward to operating a little more openly on certain issues.

"Hey, Curie? You got a minute?" came Velvet's voice in her head.

Curaçao did not stop her work, but responded to her sister nonetheless. "Oui, I have all the time you need, Velvet."

"Great, I'm glad I caught you at a good time. Okay, so, uh… I'll just get to the point: I'm worried about Gray."

Now Curaçao paused, because this had come out of nowhere. "Is there something wrong?"

"C'mon, sis, you know there is. There has been for a long time. I'm only bringing this up because I think it might be getting worse, and I felt that I needed to do something about it."

"Ah… oui, I know what you mean," Curaçao said with a sigh. Gray had long since forgiven her for what had happened regarding the Hoof Family moving south, but the two were still not on the best of terms, and likely wouldn't be for a while longer. "What's troubling you?"

"Well, Green Guard said he went up to do his daily workout with her—he's such a good kid—and when he got there, he saw that she'd been really emotional about something. She busted another punching bag."

"Ouah, that is the fifth one this month. Those aren't cheap, you know?"

"Well, apparently she hit it so hard she actually cracked the wall. I went up and checked it out afterwards, then called in the repair crew so, uh, I took care of that before anypony could tell Dawn about it." A pause. "We both know she can't keep doing this to herself, sis."

"She is free to leave whenever she wants," Curaçao murmured. "I have made that perfectly clear to her many, many times. I do not know why she doesn't go."

"You know how she is, Curie: indecisive. Not lazy, like Dawn thinks she is, but not much better. And it's not helping that Flathoof's too damn nice to just ask her to move south. He thinks he's doing the right thing by not making her decide."

"A true gentlecolt, in my opinion, but I can see your point."

Velvet scoffed. "See, this is why I don't believe in monogamous relationships. Avoids all this shit." A brief pause. "Not that there's anything wrong with what you've got. I said the same thing to Pinkie once, y'know? Nothing wrong with eating the same flavor lollipop every day instead of trying something new. Just not my speed."

"Oui, nice save," Curaçao replied, glancing towards Shroud, her raspberry lollipop, with a grin. "I want to help, truly I do, but I do not think Gray wants me to get involved in her vie privée."

"Well we've gotta do something," Velvet grumbled. "Either she needs to break up with Flathoof and find somepony closer to home—I knew a few guys she'd dig—or she needs to get off her ass and move south. C'mon, sis, you've gotta have an idea. I don't want to force her to do anything, but dammit, I will if I have to. She's miserable!"

Curaçao rubbed her chin briefly, glancing over the document she was currently working on. She hadn't planned on things working out this way, but maybe she could help, in a manner of speaking. "Well… I think I might have one idea."
> Chapter Ten: Tears
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Three Months Later


Lockwood rode the elevator down from the royal palace to the hangars far beneath Hope's Point. He was alone apart from Crossfire, as was typical, and his daughter Bluebolt, who rested comfortably at his side in a sling. Once she grew older, Bluebolt would be able to ride on his back or on Blackburn's safely, but for now, the sling or a stroller were best for traveling. She was currently enraptured with her little stuffed airship toy, bouncing it along in her grip and laughing all the while. 

It still boggled his mind that he had a daughter. If anypony had told him ten years ago that one day he'd have a kid of his own and that she'd be a legitimate princess to boot, he'd have laughed and joked about them hitting whatever psychedelics they were on just a little too hard.

Crossfire tapped the side of his visor, then cleared her throat to get Lockwood's attention. "The Lunar Spear is just finishin' up it's dockin' procedures. Captain Starstorm confirmed that the ambassador from New Pandemonium City is on board, doin' well, and most importantly eager to disembark."

"Oh, I have no doubt about that at all," Lockwood chuckled. He gave a wistful sigh and a meaningful look to Crossfire. "Just think, old buddy: this is the next big step we need in order to make the north a better place for ponies everywhere. I never thought we'd ever see it in my lifetime."

"You 'n' me both. I tell ya, I ain't never seen Blackburn as happy as she's been since y'all came back to 'er." Crossfire gently nudged Lockwood's side, and waved his hoof in front of Bluebolt's face; she responded with a little laugh and slapped his hoof with her toy. "I bet this lil' tyke's got a lot to do wit' that."

"A big part of it, I'm sure, but I know Blackburn's just happy to have the opportunity to make it possible for her citizens—our citizens—to live without fear."

"We can only hope everythin' goes right. I know ya keep sayin' we can trust that there Shadow Associate, but it ain't easy for any of us, 'specially Her Majesty."

"Old grudges die hard, I know." Lockwood paused a moment, then grinned and gave Crossfire another meaningful look. "Let's change the subject, hmm? How was your date last night?"

Crossfire stiffened and nervously scratched his chin. "It was… kinda nice, actually. Yer sister's a mean cook, I tell ya what. She done learned real quick-like how to use genuine southern ingredients. Got a real knack for makin' collard greens 'n' black eyed peas, yessiree."

"I'll definitely give her credit for that. It didn't take her long to get her old culinary degree, either." Lockwood tilted his head, still grinning like crazy. "Got a second date planned, by chance?"

"I, uh…" Crossfire blushed and cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah, but I told her that I wanted to cook this time, figured I'd give her a taste o' some good ol'-fashioned southern cookin' recipes like my mama used to make. Think Mama's succotash oughta impress her."

"Mmhmm," Lockwood said, licking his lips as he remembered just how good Crossfire's family recipes were; the succotash was definitely his favorite. "But I'm sure anything you cooked for her would do the trick just fine, so don't feel like you're being pressured for perfection, eh bud?"

"Sure as shootin'. I ain't nervous… 'bout datin' the king's sister."

The elevator came to a stop at the bottom of the shaft, and the doors opened into the port area. Most of the bay doors along the corridor were open while crews and workers performed maintenance and conversions of the entire Hope's Point fleet to fit in with the guidelines they'd agreed upon with New Pandemonium. 

Blackburn, ever-paranoid, had gone to great lengths to ensure that the conversions could be done quickly, just in case they needed to be converted back into warships at a moment's notice. Lockwood thought she was being unnecessarily cautious, but didn't argue the point since it put her mind at ease to do it.

Lockwood had gotten used to the reactions and treatment he received from the citizens of Hope's Point by now, be they civilians, military personnel, or otherwise. It was definitely not what he'd been expecting, though. All the fictional tales he'd ever heard gave him the impression that "subjects" always paid reverence to their monarchs by bowing down before them.

Instead, the ponies of Hope's Point didn't treat him much differently than how the ponies up north would treat a popular celebrity. Better, actually. Friendly smiles and waves were all it took to acknowledge them, and they all respected his privacy and didn't snap candid photographs. It was comforting, actually. Only the military personnel treated him differently, but that was just with salutes because they were professionals above all.

He walked by rows of hangar bays until he reached the hangar slated to accept the Lunar Spear, which had indeed just finished its docking procedure and already drained the hangar of seawater. He and Crossfire arrived just as the boarding ramp was deploying, and the crew's ensign disembarked first to quite literally roll out the red carpet for the arriving ambassador. 

Lockwood felt it was a little much, but this entire thing was essentially just for show anyway. Pomp and circumstance and all that.

He smiled as the ambassador disembarked soon afterwards, then stepped forward to greet her with a polite, friendly nod. "Ambassador Gray Skies, welcome to Hope's Point. I trust that your journey was a pleasant one?"

Gray, who'd only barely dressed for the occasion in a slightly-nicer-than-usual gray jacket without a hood, grunted and looked about the hangar bay. "Yeah, everything was fine. I've gotta tell Dawn and Curaçao they need to do something about those boxships though." She paused, then nodded politely as well. "Your Majesty."

"Oh?"

She gestured towards the Lunar Spear. "Your airships fly smooth as silk. We barely felt anything even while moving through the Belt. Our ships up north fly like busted old washing machines, and that's before the Belt. Might as well just throw a pony down a flight of stairs if you wanna duplicate that feeling."

"Oh, I recall the feeling quite well." Lockwood grinned, remembering the trip south in that boxship. It was awful. "I'm told it's because our airships were designed by pegasus engineers for pegasus pilots and with stability in mind, while yours are piloted by any pony with the proper training and were designed just to fit as many ponies inside as possible. Quantity over quality."

"Hmph. Makes sense, I guess."

Lockwood moved in for a hug, and though she seemed surprised at first, she accepted it and returned it. He figured she would; the two of them had always got along fairly well, seeing as he'd spent more time with her than with any of her sisters before moving south, except maybe Curaçao. The only ponies he'd spent that kind of time beforehand were Fluttershy and Rarity.

He tilted his head as a young colt nervously descended the boarding ramp, coming up near Gray and using her as a sort of shield to hide behind despite carrying a sizeable amount of luggage all on his own. "And who is this?"

Gray shifted her wing to glance back at the colt, who she gave a small smile to before turning back to Lockwood. "This is Green Guard, my protégé. It's a complicated situation, but that's what I consider him."

"What isn't complicated these days?" Lockwood chuckled. He nodded politely at Green Guard. "A pleasure to meet you, Green. I'm Lockwood."

Crossfire cleared his throat.

"King Lockwood," Lockwood added with a roll of his eyes. "Gotta keep up appearances and titles, sorry. Once we know each other a bit better, nopony'll care whether you're formal or not. I personally won't mind it if you slip up, but it is what it is."

The colt just nodded, but otherwise didn't respond much, his eyes mostly moving between him and Gray as if expecting… not protection, but something else. He wasn't scared, just nervous. He rather reminded Lockwood of Fluttershy, actually, especially the way he used his longer mane to hide his eyes behind.

"He's a little shy," Gray said quietly. "Once he gets used to you, he'll talk your ear off, I'm sure of it." She stepped alongside Lockwood and looked into the sling at his side, a warm smile on her face. "So this is little Princess Bluebolt, huh?"

Lockwood beamed and nodded. "Oh! That's right, I almost forgot that you haven't met her yet." 

He looked over his wing at his daughter, who was staring wide-eyed at Gray, who was likely the largest mare she'd ever seen and ever would see. After all, Gray was just barely shorter than Crossfire, and he was the largest stallion in the city. If anything would ever confuse the little filly, it would be how adult ponies could come in such drastically different sizes; Gadget was half Gray's size, for instance.

"With how Havoc's been gushing over her, I was expecting the most adorable little bundle of joy you could ever imagine," Gray said evenly. With a nod and a grin, she added, "I think Havoc had the right of it. I'm happy for you." She also clapped his shoulder. "Good job, by the way. You didn't waste any time, did you?"

"Thank you," he replied with a grin of his own.

He noticed Green's eyes peeking out from his mane to look at Bluebolt as well, watching with a sense of curiosity and wonder. It was as though the youngster had never seen an infant filly before. Sensing an opportunity, he shifted himself to the side slightly so that the colt would have a better look.

"This is my daughter, Bluebolt," he said, giving the colt the most pleasant smile he could. "You can say 'hi' if you want, it's alright."

Green looked to Gray with wide eyes, searching for approval. She gave that to him with a nod. The colt then gulped and waved weakly at Bluebolt. Bluebolt only seemed to barely register him, giggling slightly and continuing to play with her toy. It was enough interaction for the colt, it seemed, who immediately set his hoof back down and returned to hiding behind his mane.

Foal steps, I suppose, Lockwood thought.

He then clapped his hooves together. "So! Enough chit-chat out here in the hangar, hmm? My queen should be finishing up her meeting shortly, so we're set to meet up with her afterwards to discuss this unique situation we find ourselves in. I'll fill you in on the way."

As Lockwood escorted Gray and Green—the latter, he noticed, carried all of their luggage himself without looking the least bit put-out—he regaled them with stories about how things were going in Hope's Point these days, what with the prospect of peace on the horizon. 

He talked about how he had taken it upon himself to serve as a diplomat regarding the city's southern allies and how they were making strides in asserting proper trade agreements with many of the southern towns and cities, particularly the port at Seaside. He updated her on how the fleet's conversion was progressing and how the pilots were looking forward to their new assignments. He explained how they'd begun adjusting their own resource allocations, mostly out of weapon and defense development and fully into medicine and communication technology.

Yes, this peace proposal really was the best thing for both worlds, and Lockwood hoped beyond hope that this simple step today would be just the first of many towards a brighter future.

Gray returned the favor, telling Lockwood all about the developments occurring up north, most of which hadn't changed much from when Havoc was last in town. The only development that intrigued Lockwood was that Gray actually knew all of this now, but that was likely because of her new position as Ambassador. He was impressed with her dedication to the role, despite him and her both knowing the real reason she was here.

When they got off the elevator and made their way into the royal palace, it did not take long to reach the private meeting chamber that Blackburn had asked to meet them in. The room itself was smaller than the Council Chamber, only large enough to hold a table that could seat four or five at most, but it was in this room that the king and queen would meet with business associates and visiting dignitaries when a more intimate environment was appropriate. Otherwise, the throne room was fine.

Lockwood was not at all surprised that Blackburn and Gadget were already here. He smiled warmly at his wife as he circled around the table, all while Gadget automatically swept Bluebolt out of the sling and into a high chair at the table where she could sit comfortably. It didn't surprise him one bit that Gadget took such charge in caring for Bluebolt; she was the filly's godmother, after all.

"You finished earlier than expected," he said as he kissed Blackburn's cheek. "Which of course is to be expected of you."

"Negotiations short, arrangements made as needed," she replied evenly. She tilted her head to smile and wave at her daughter briefly, earning a giggle and a coo from the filly, then turned serious again as she rose and moved towards Gray. "Ambassador Gray Skies, a pleasure to make formal acquaintance."

Gray offered Blackburn her hoof, which Blackburn took and shook. "A pleasure to formally make your acquaintance as well, Your Majesty. On behalf of New Pandemonium City, I look forward to working together for the betterment of the north."

The corner of Blackburn's mouth curled in a smile. "Well spoken." She glanced briefly at Green Guard—who shied away behind Gray after setting down the luggage—then back to Gray, tilting her head again. "And your companion?"

"Green Guard, my protégé," Gray replied. "It's complicated."

"Everything is 'complicated' in past year or so," Blackburn hummed. She shook her head, then nodded briefly at the colt. "A pleasure. I am Queen Blackburn of Hope's Point. Welcome to my city." She paused and looked at him briefly, then nodded more to herself than anypony else. "Hmm… a shy one. Will not push. Also strong; carrying that much luggage. Interesting."

Gray grinned. "Like I said: complicated."

"Indeed." Blackburn cleared her throat. "Your sisters Dawn and Curaçao made formal arrangements for embassy exchange. Ambassador Concord has agreed to take position as our northern ambassador, is making arrangements for travel; my husband temporarily taking his former role in southern negotiations, if curious. Will need official replacement soon."

"He said as much on our way up here," Gray said with a nod. "Dawn'll be happy to know this is being taken seriously by both sides. She was worried you wouldn't agree to… this. Y'know, me. She's not exactly happy that Curaçao and I made the arrangement for reasons she doesn't quite get."

Blackburn hummed and tilted her head. "Situation is complicated, as has been said. Your position unique. Officially an ambassador, but truth of matter different: have been informed of telepathic bond with your sisters. A spell of your sister Dawn's devising. Powerful, complex." She took a breath. "Convenient.

"Terms of arrangement, simple," she continued, pacing around the room. "You are face of New Pandemonium City within my borders. Truth only known to those within this room: meetings with you not with you, but with sisters Dawn and Curaçao, authorities of New Pandemonium. Questions?"

Gray nodded firmly. "That's the way I understand it, and I don't have any issues with it whatsoever. My job is just to be available to you whenever you need to chat with the ponies who actually make the decisions."

Blackburn returned the nod. "Correct."

"I still get to live in whatever embassy you guys are setting up though, right? Me and Green?"

"Of course!" Lockwood said with a big, friendly smile. "Construction started as soon as the arrangements were made, and it should be done within the next week or so. Until then, as a gesture of hospitality from the royal family, you've been provided a guest room here at the palace."

"Sweet, you've got a nice pad," Gray said with a smirk. "It better not be a downgrade moving to the embassy."

"It won't be, trust me. Also, seeing as you've got a young colt living with you, we'll make arrangements for him to continue his schooling whenever he's ready. I only know some basics about the, uh… 'program', or whatever it is, from what Velvet told me, and that was a while ago." 

Gray looked at Green and smirked. "He'll be ready to get back to school soon enough, won't you kiddo?"

Green nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Lockwood cleared his throat. "Now, for the sake of appearances, once things are settled and the embassy is ready for you to move in to, you'll need a staff from up north to move down here to 'assist' you in your ambassadorial duties. I haven't spoken yet with your sisters on the matter, but I assume you've all made arrangements for that?"

Gray nodded. "Curaçao's taking care of it, yeah."

He smiled in return. "Then I can rest assured that everything will run smoothly."

"Other arrangements made to maintain appearances," Blackburn said. "New Pandemonium responsible for providing security for your embassy. However, as a foreign diplomat, Hope's Point will provide you with private protection if you lack your own. At your discretion, of course."

"You mean you want to provide me with a bodyguard?" Gray asked, eyebrow raised.

"Precisely."

"I mean, thanks, but I don't really—"

"Please, Gray, we insist," Lockwood said. With a wink, he added, "Trust us, we picked out the best pony for the job. Our militia is well-trained in this sort of thing."

"Yeah, Flathoof's always talking about how flexible your militia is." Gray paused, then her eyes widened. "Wait, you mean—"

Blackburn smiled and nodded, then turned to Gadget. "Believe arrangements already made with Squad Eight-Six-Two, Earth Pony Division?"

"Of course, Your Majesty," Gadget said as she whipped out her datapad and started swiftly sorting through it. "A replacement was assigned to their squad to fill for a sudden vacancy as ordered by Her Majesty herself this morning."

"Excellent. Send out the summons."

"Already done, and the confirmation was received. He should be here any minute."

Lockwood watched the expression on Gray's face run the gamut from surprised to excited to anxious in no time flat. It wasn't often he felt he could do anything for anypony on a personal level these days; all of his business arrangements and deals were for the betterment of the entire city. So, when he got to do something like this, it made him feel warm and fuzzy inside.

It only took about three minutes before there was a knock on the door, and Lockwood nodded at Crossfire to open it. In walked Flathoof, clad in his official militia uniform, which was composed of a light suit of black body armor that fit his frame perfectly and would be comfortable in any environmental condition, and even protected from small arms fire. His helmet and visor covered most of his face except his nose, mouth, and chin.

"Reporting for duty, Your Majesties," he said with a brisk salute, adhering to proper protocol despite his familial relation to the royal couple. 

He always did like to do things by the book unless given reason to do otherwise. 

It took him only a few seconds to notice that there was somepony else in the room. "Gray?" he blurted, dropping his salute in shock. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

Gray gave him a small, nervous smile. "I made a decision." She then tilted her head back and forth briefly. "Well, technically a decision was made and I was asked if I wanted to participate in it, and… I made the decision to join in."

He removed his helmet—his mane was matted a little with sweat, and he was keeping it shorter these days—so that Gray could see his eyes. "You mean you decided to move down here? For good?"

She nodded. "It's a little bit more complicated than that, but yeah, I'm down here for good."

"What's so complicated about that?" Flathoof then blinked and looked between Blackburn and Lockwood. "Wait, you called me here on official business. I thought I was being assigned as security detail for the new ambassador from up… north—" He blinked again. "Oh."

Blackburn grinned. "Astute of you. Yes, this is official business." She gestured at Gray with a professional sort of flair. "Captain Flathoof, meet Ambassador Gray Skies of New Pandemonium City. Will be staying at embassy once construction completed, guest at royal palace until then. Lacks personal security detail; obligated to provide some."

He turned to Gray and grinned. "Really now? You're the ambassador?"

"Officially, yeah," she replied with a smirk. "Unofficially I'm just a glorified telephone or messenger filly. But you know what? That doesn't bother me. I'll be able to do good for both cities, which means better lives for all of my friends and family, most importantly for you and your family."

He stepped forward and pressed his forehead against hers. "That doesn't matter to me. What matters is you made a decision. I would've been fine with whatever choice you made, Gray… but I'm happy that you chose to be here with me. I've missed you. A lot."

She took a breath and nodded firmly, then leaned in to kiss him, albeit briefly. "And I missed you, too. I'm sorry that I never said it before… and I'm sorry that it took me so long—"

"Hey, it's alright," he said, pulling her in for a hug. "You don't have to apologize to me. I'm not upset with you, not one bit. I'm just glad to be able to see you again." He pulled back from the hug to look her in the eye. "I didn't want to say this until you made your choice, so I'll say it now: I love you. Have for a while now."

Gray looked at the ground, her face more than a little red. "I love you too, Flathoof. I wish I'd have done something sooner—'

"You're here now, and that's what matters." Flathoof then paused and glanced down at Green, who was watching the exchange with wide eyes. "Oh! I didn't even notice you there behind all the luggage." He paused, then glanced at Gray. "Is this Green Guard? I mean, he sure looks green to me, heh."

She nodded and smiled. "Yup, this is him." She tousled Green's mane. "He offered to carry all of the luggage himself just to see if he could. I never had any doubt."

"Well, it's a pleasure to finally meet you, Green," Flathoof said with a nod, lowering himself just a little to be down at the colt's level. "Gray's told me a lot about you. She said you can bench two hundred?"

Green stared at Flathoof for a moment, then nodded. "Two hundred fifteen now…" he murmured.

Flathoof whistled. "Eeyup, that's pretty strong alright. I only just hit the three hundred mark myself the other day, but I bet you'll hit that in no time at all."

"Um… thanks…" Green murmured, hiding behind Gray and the luggage a bit more than before.

Lockwood smiled, thinking back to how things had gone between the two when the family first moved south, and how their brief meeting at the wedding hadn't quite been enough to satisfy either of them. He knew things would work out between the two of them eventually, and was glad to have been able to help however he could to make it happen.

He then cleared his throat to get the couple's attention. "Captain Flathoof, I hate to interrupt, but the ambassador has had a long journey and likely needs some rest. Perhaps you'd be so kind as to show her to her guestroom? We'll arrange for the luggage to be taken up later."

Flathoof raised an eyebrow and glanced at Lockwood. "Huh? What about Green?"

Lockwood glanced at Green and gave the colt a smile. "With the ambassador's permission, I think it might be prudent to see that the youngster gets something to eat. He's a growing colt, after all." With a smile, he addressed the colt next: "I know those big boxships don't exactly offer the best meals, and you probably didn't get a chance to eat down in Newhaven, so you're probably hungry."

As if on cue, Green's stomach gurgled. He gulped. "I dunno…"

Gray nodded in agreement with Lockwood, giving Green a reassuring smile. "Hey, remember when I told you about Flathoof's mother, Shortcake? About how she makes just the best home cooking? I bet His Majesty'll be happy to let you meet her and have make you some lunch."

"Oh absolutely," Lockwood agreed with a firm nod. "My dear mother would love the opportunity to make lunch for a growing colt like him. Why, if he eats good and healthy like that, he could be as big as Crossfire one day." He gestured to Crossfire, who caught on quickly enough to stand up tall and proud, towering over everypony in the room, even Flathoof. "See?"

Green eyed the huge stallion with wonder in his eyes, then nodded. "Lunch sounds… nice…"

Lockwood then looked at Flathoof with a mischievous grin. "There you have it. You and the ambassador can join us after giving her a… tour of the quarters?"

Flathoof blinked. "What—"

Gray grabbed his hoof and led him towards the door, her face redder than ever. "You heard His Majesty, Captain. My quarters. Now."

Flathoof followed along, oblivious, for just a moment, then perked up and stared at Lockwood as he seemingly realized what he'd been getting at just as the couple was leaving the room. Green watched them go, a little confused but not upset, then glanced about the room at the strangers that he'd been left with; Lockwood felt a small amount of sympathy for the colt, but it would all turn out great in the end.

"She needs a… a little push, sometimes…" the colt murmured. "I've never seen her that happy before, so… I'm happy too."

Lockwood gave Green a smile and a nod. "So, how about that lunch?"


*****


A turquoise pegasus stallion with a stark white mane, which he kept slicked back and relatively short, walked through the streets of New Pandemonium's Mid-East District. He was dressed to impress in the best suit he owned, which to be fair was a pretty cheap suit and could barely be classified as formal. But it was clean and crisp enough to fit the purpose he needed it for, so that was all that mattered.

He walked up to the door of a bar on the corner and glanced up at the sign which proclaimed the joint as The Launchpad. He remembered this bar. He'd been a regular patron once upon a time, back when his life looked to be taking a turn for the better for the first time in a long, long while.

A glance across the street reminded him why that dream had come crashing down. The old Mid-East Rockets skyball team—just a semi-pro team, nothing too fancy—had once stationed their headquarters in the large building that still stood there today, though that wasn't the purpose it served anymore, not since the team was dissolved and all of its assets sold. Nothing had been done with the building yet, if the lack of activity or lights and the abundance of graffiti were any indication.

He had once been Rainslick, manager of the Rockets, responsible for scoping out the talent that had turned around an eight-year losing streak into a year where the team went undefeated, the first team to do so in nearly forty years. Now he was just Rainslick, a regular nopony with nothing to show for years and years of struggle and effort apart from a picture of the trophy the team had won, because of course the trophy had been sold, too.

Rainslick grunted and set those thoughts aside. That life was gone now.

He entered the bar to see that the loss of the Rockets hadn't just affected him or the old training facility, but apparently everything in the surrounding city blocks. This bar had seen better days not all that long ago. There wasn't much of a crowd, the floors could barely be considered clean, and it just looked like less effort was being taken to maintain everything. What had once been a thriving little hole-in-the-wall bar was now just a shitty dive, the kind you'd be afraid to be at late at night.

What confused Rainslick though was that despite there being such a small crowd, he recognized most of them. It was too convenient not to notice that the members of his old team were all present, though none of them looked to be in any better shape than he was. A few had dressed up in decent-looking suits and dresses that would be presentable, but why would they be here?

There was Dart Blazer, a stallion with a cobalt blue coat and a short, chocolate-covered mane; Sweet Crespelle, a young mare with a red coat and blonde mane; Salsa Fresca, a greenish-blue mare with a purple mane, and her sister Lily Typhoon, an orange mare with a pink mane; Brisk Gallop, an old stallion whose black coat was practically gray and whose mane was white by now; lastly, Gilded Match, a large black-coated stallion with a red mane tinged with gold. All of them were pegasi, of course, because only pegasi could play skyball.

They had all seated themselves around one of the largest tables in the bar, which had more than enough room for him to join them. It was Dart who noticed him first. "Hey! Rainslick! We were wondering if you were gonna show up." He gestured to the open chair. "Come join us, eh buddy?"

Rainslick let out a sigh, but smiled and nodded and took the seat as offered, flagging the bartender for a beer as he went; it was the same bartender as it used to be back in the day, so he'd know what Rainslick liked. "Hey everypony, good to see you all again even under the circumstances. So, I guess it was you who sent me that invitation, Dart?"

Dart shook his head. "Nope. Wasn't me."

"One of you, then?" Rainslick asked, looking to the others. They all shook their heads as well, so he turned back to Dart, confused. "But you said you were wondering if—"

"I mean, look around you," Dart said, gesturing at the others with a grin. "We're all here, so we figured you'd show up eventually. Doesn't take a genius to put two-and-two together that all of the champion Rockets were gathered up. I figured it out after Salsa and Lily walked in, and Gallop was already here before me."

"The only ones not here are Rainbow and Havoc," noted Lily, "but I know getting in touch with Rainbow is hard to do, what with her being on the other side of the world. And I mean, technically she didn't win the championship."

"And Havoc's probably doing just fine for herself these days," Salsa grunted as she angrily sipped her beer. "Last I heard she joined the NPAF. Can you imagine that? Havoc in military fatigues? Saluting and following orders from a drill sergeant?"

Rainslick scratched his chin. "Huh. So… you all got invitations out of the blue too?"

"Sure did," said Crespelle, slowly sipping her own drink; she was finally old enough to legally do so as of last month if Rainslick remembered correctly. "Told me to be at this place on this day and at this time to get in on 'the skyball opportunity of a lifetime'."

"Same here," said Lily, slowly twirling a hoof through her mane. "Same proposal with the same date, time, and place, and with the same watermark at the bottom."

Dart nodded sagely, crossing his hooves over his chest. "Yup, me too. I was gonna ignore it until I saw the old Rockets logo at the bottom and figured, you know what, why not? I can afford to waste an hour or so of my time."

"I figured maybe it was an old fan trying to get an autograph," said Gallop, bristling his mustache as he chomped on some bar pretzels. "A bunch of autographs seeing as we're all here."

"Hmph, if it is, we'd better be getting paid," Salsa grumbled as she kicked her hindlegs up onto the table.

"I would gladly give an autograph to any true fan of the greatest skyball team to ever play!" boasted Gilded, striking his chest proudly. "Let all who deny our majesty perish in glorious battle!"

"Are you drunk already, Gilded?" chortled Lily as she playfully slapped his shoulder.

"No, fair maiden, I am merely filled with exuberance to be in the company of such a merry band of companions!" Gilded snatched up his full mug of beer and downed it all in one go, an impressive feat. "Ah! This is a wonderful feeling! United with my comrades once again!"

"For the evening, anyway," Dart said with a grin. He turned to Rainslick, serious again. "So, we were just starting to get caught up on a few things right when you walked in. We all got here within minutes of one another, so we didn't get far beyond ordering drinks and grabbing a table. How're things with you these days?"

Rainslick sighed, then sipped from his beer the moment the waitress brought it over. He preferred the lighter fare with a wedge of lime and some salt. "Well, nine years of managing a semi-pro skyball team that only won any games in their ninth season doesn't exactly get you a lot of clout, y'know. No offense, gang."

"None taken," Lily said as she lazily nudged her glass. "We sucked before the one good season, and I heard the lineups you had before even we all got together weren't exactly hot either."

"Well, all I ended up getting out of it was just a single response to the hundred or so job applications I sent out. I'm a manager at an office supply company now: Cubicles 'R' Us." Rainslick leaned back in his seat, dejected. "Pay's good, but damn is it miserable. You can't just go from the excitement of sports management to managing a supply of pens and pencils and not miss the old days."

"Tell me about it," Dart said, sipping from his beer. "Y'know, I tried out for a couple of other teams after we got our pink slips. Turns out that only one good year on your record—even an undefeated year!—isn't enough to turn heads on its own. Nopony wants to gamble on whether that year was just a fluke."

"Psh, as if we all just found a lucky horseshoe on the same day or something and only won because of sheer chance," Salsa scoffed; Rainslick noticed she'd already finished two beers and was working on a third.

Dart shrugged. "So yeah, I've just been doing handiwork and odd jobs lately. It's barely enough to put food on the table and keep the landlord off my back, and it's not exactly fulfilling stuff, either."

Rainslick's eyes darted between Dart and Salsa, and he took another sip of beer. "How're things working out between you two, by the way?"

The pair glanced at each other, looking a bit embarrassed by the question. "It was good while it lasted," Salsa muttered, nursing her beer. "But neither one of us have the income or the career prospects to really make a stable relationship work."

"We agreed that for now… maybe it's better to just be friends," Dart said, giving her a longing look. "Maybe if things pick up—" He sighed and gave her a smile. "It's nice to see you again, though."

"Same to you," she replied with a blush.

"You're on hard times too, huh?" Rainslick asked Salsa.

"Yeah. I mean, I play on an amatuer team these days but that's just for fun, it doesn't pay the bills. Or pay at all, actually." She sighed and slumped forward on the table. "I work for a parcel delivery service now, so y'know, at least I'm keeping my wings in shape if I ever get scouted again."

"I play for my community college team!" Crespelle awkwardly blurted out. The group collectively glanced her way, and she sank into her seat, red in the face. "Sorry, just thought I'd bring the mood up a bit…"

"No no, that's great news!" Dart said with a wide grin. "You're going back to school?"

She nodded. "My parents wanted me to get back to my education since it was obvious my sports career wasn't gonna go anywhere. I, uh… didn't get into any of the universities I applied to…"

Dart immediately frowned. "Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's okay, though, because community college is just fine!" she blurted again. "I'm working on my BA in journalism, and I play on our skyball team. It's great!" She paused, then sighed, frowning and shaking her head. "But it's not the same as the Rockets were. Collegiate skyball doesn't draw the same crowds that pro and semi-pro do. I miss the thrill of it…"

"I hear ya, sister," Salsa said, tapping her beer against Crespelle's.

Rainslick turned towards Lily. "How about you, Lily?"

Lily frowned and slumped back into her seat. "Do I have to?"

Salsa gave her a sympathetic look. "You don't have to if you want to, sis. The gang'll understand."

Dart raised an eyebrow. "Understand what?"

"She doesn't like to talk about it," Salsa said firmly. "So don't force her if she doesn't want to."

"I wouldn't do something like that." Dart gave Lily a reassuring smile. "We're all friends, here, Lily. If you don't want to—"

Lily threw her hooves in the air. "Ugh! Why do you have to be so nice and supportive?! If you were a jerk about it I'd feel fine just telling you to shove it and move on." 

"Uh… sorry?"

She sighed and ran her hooves through her mane. "Okay, so, I used to model before I joined the team, right? I wasn't, like, super popular or anything, but I did some ad work here and there, modeled for a horseshoe line once."

"Oh yeah, I remember that," said Rainslick. "Silken Steel Horseshoes. Good brand. My sister swears by 'em."

"Yeah, well… I tried getting back into it," Lily grumbled while staring into her beer. "Modeling, I mean. I've been keeping up with the trade, y'know, to see if I had a shot. This new chick, Insipid or whatever, she's been making waves 'cause she's not like the other models."

"Isn't she the poster girl for Parfum de Rose?" Dart asked. The others gave him a look. "What? I put up one of the billboards two weeks ago in Mid-South's shopping center. I don't buy the stuff."

"Anyway, so like, the industry's looking for different looks, y'know? Problem is that I'm too close to the old look they liked—thin and delicate—but too different from what they're looking for now—curvy. Nopony wants a fashion model with muscle tone, and playing as hard as we did for that championship got me in great shape."

Rainslick nodded in understanding. "I get it. You're unemployed. There's no shame in that, Lily. I think statistics show that more than fifty percent of the middle class has been unemployed at one time or another, even if only for a month. You'll get back on your hooves."

Lily sunk further into her seat. "No, I'm not unemployed." She sighed. "I've still been, uh… modeling. Just not for…  reputable sorts of magazines."

Most of the table went silent. Dart broke the silence. "I'm sorry to hear that, Lily. Y'know, if you need help so that you don't have to do that anymore—"

"Please, Dart. Don't. I'm… I'm not really ashamed of it. It makes good money, and I'm not about to be a charity case for you. I appreciate it, but… I'll survive. It's just photo shoots, not… y'know, anything too involved. I'm a model, not an… actress. Though I've been asked a few times… then lost gigs because I refused…"

Crespelle gently set her hoof on Lily's. "Things'll get better."

Rainslick nervously cleared his throat and looked at Gallop, eyes wide. "Well now I feel a bit awkward keeping this going—"

"Oh, just keep the train rolling, guys, don't worry about me," Lily said, sitting up straight and taking a drink of her beer. "The last thing I want is my new porn career stopping all the fun of this little reunion party."

Gallop bristled his mustache and let out a harrumph, then said, "Well, far be it from me to deny that request, hmm? I'm afraid I've got little to share, though." 

"Hey, if Lily feels alright sharing what's happening with her life, we can handle whatever you've got to throw at us, ya old goat," Salsa said, clapping the elderly stallion on the shoulder.

He sighed. "Well, once the team was disbanded, I felt the writing was finally on the wall. I had my last hurrah and won a championship in the process, alongside a group of teammates that I truly admire and respect." With a shrug, he added, "So I retired. For good this time. My retirement savings will give me enough to live off until I kick the bucket. Now I just stay at home all day, every day, and order takeout and watch the tube."

"Doesn't sound too bad," Dart said.

"I hate it."

"Oh."

Rainslick hastily looked at Gilded, desperate for better news. "Big guy, please tell me you've got good news for us?"

Gilded brazenly pounded a hoof against his chest. "Do not be so glum, chums! Allow me to bring a little ray of sunshine to this humdrum table, hmm? For I, Gilded Match, have landed a position on a professional skyball team! Huzzah!"

The table collectively stared at Gilded with amazement. "No shit?" Salsa chuckled. "Well hot damn, at least one of us came out okay out of all of this. Who're you playing for? I haven't been keeping track of the rosters this season as closely as I would like."

"The Mid-North Trailblazers!" Gilded exclaimed with a wide smile on his face. "Yes indeed! Why, our manager says that I am the best watercolt the team has ever had! Nopony is better than Gilded Match!"

The table then collectively froze. A collective chorus of "What" came from everypony else in the gang in perfect unison.

"Did you say 'watercolt'?" Dart asked, dead-serious and wide-eyed.

"Yes indeed! You are looking at the Head Watercolt for the esteemed Mid-North Trailblazers, in the flesh." Gilded flexed one of his large forelimbs. "Gaze upon greatness, comrades. Why, our manager has revealed to me in confidence that if I maintain my level of dedication and skill, he may allow me to try out for the reserve squad!"

"You said you were on the team!" Salsa blurted, hooves in the air.

Gilded blinked. "I am, my friend! Oh, I had the same concern, of course, but then I was told that we are all part of the team: the announcers, the players, the managers and coaches, me, even the janitorial staff. We all contribute to make the Trailblazers great. Huzzah!"

Lily shook her head, dumbstruck. "Why do I suddenly feel better about modeling for porn now?"

Rainslick grumbled and finished off his beer. "Well it sounds to me like we've all sort of fallen on hard times over the past year or so, haven't we?"

"Ha! Speak for yourself, comrade," Gilded said with a boisterous smile.

"Right, uh… apart from Gilded, we've all fallen on hard times." Rainslick stared down the throat of his empty bottle. "Y'know, I was kind of hoping for something good to happen when I showed up here, but all that's happened so far is that I've managed to feel more miserable than before."

"That's because you're all a bunch of sorry-ass sad-sacks," came a voice from the table in the corner, its owner barely visible in the darkness save for the glow of a lit cigarette.

The table collectively looked in the voice's direction. "What's it to you, pal?" huffed Salsa, looking ready to fight.

"Nothin' much, it's just that when I invited you all here, I wasn't expecting to want to shoot myself in the head to put me out of my misery."

Dart raised an eyebrow. "Wait a minute… Havoc? Is that you?"

The owner of the voice stepped away from the booth and into the light. Sure enough, there she was, the only missing member of the Rockets' championship lineup.

Rainslick was used to seeing Havoc looking confident and maybe a little smug when they all played together, and today was no different. She bore a cocky little grin on her face that complimented the cigarette perfectly. She looked like she'd just walked off the set of a film noir with that attitude. No military fatigues, though, just a cool black jacket with her name stitched into the front and her cutie mark on the back. It looked hoof-made.

"Well look who decided to show up," Salsa grunted. "Or have you been sitting there the entire time eavesdropping on us?"

"The second one," Havoc said with a nod and a long draw of her cigarette. "None of you even noticed me in that corner."

"That's because it's hard to notice you unless you open your mouth, shorty."

"Har har, laugh it up, mailmare."

"Wait, did I hear you right?" Crespelle interjected before Salsa and Havoc could get at each other's throats. "You sent us those invitations?"

Havoc brightened. "Yup! Sure did, kiddo!"

"Why?" asked Dart, baffled. "Just to get us all together? For some sort of reunion or something?"

"Something like that, yeah." Havoc pulled up a seat at the emptiest section of the table, looking like she was all business all of a sudden. "And after hearing all of your sob stories, holy shit, I'm glad I did. I wish I'd have done this sooner, actually, 'cause now I'm gonna feel guilty that it's my fault Lily's showing off her snatch in some skin rag. At least I caught her before she got on the casting couch, eh?"

Salsa sharply rose in her seat. "Watch it, Havoc, that's my sister you're talking about."

Lily snorted, and rather loudly at that. "And what the hell is that supposed to mean, anyway? Why would you feel guilty about me showing off the goods?"

Havoc held up her hooves in a showing of peace. "Whoa whoa, hold your horses there, ladies. I don't mean nothin' by it. Look, it's like this: when was the last time you guys all can remember when you were happy? I mean, really happy."

The group collectively answered the same: when they won the championship, beating the Arcadia Wizards 32-27. Though Gilded did hesitate a little, even he admitted that he was happiest then, not last week when he delivered a water bottle to the Trailblazer's star striker, Éclair Tempête.

"So we can all agree that the Rockets getting disbanded was pretty much when the shit all went sour, right?" Havoc asked. 

Everypony agreed, obviously.

"Get to the point, already," Lily huffed.

Dart nodded firmly. "Yeah, I wanna hear it. There's gotta be a better reason to call us all here than just to share some drinks and listen to our sob stories."

Havoc leaned back in her seat with a smug grin. "You all know the next semi-pro season starts in two months, right?" Everypony nodded. "Well, it just so happens that that's the deadline to put in an application for forming a new club in the league. In fact, tonight is the last chance to do it. You know that, don't you Rainslick?"

Rainslick blinked, confused, then nodded. "That's right, league rules stipulate that you have to have the application in two months to the day from the start of the first game of the season, which would be scheduled to start in two months from today."

"So when's the exact deadline?"

He glanced at his watch. "Assuming that they still keep to the typical scheduling, the first match would start one minute from now in two months."

"That's right, one minute to go." 

Havoc pulled a small datapad out of her pocket and set it on the table. It was currently loaded up on a screen from the league's datanet page, which instructed the viewer to check back for the league's upcoming schedule with a timer counting down to the update time. Havoc waited until the timer ran out, then refreshed the page; on cue, the season's schedule was displayed, and Havoc slid the datapad forward for everypony to see clearly.

"Take a look."

Rainslick reached forward first and pulled it closer to himself, and the others scooted around to get a better look over his shoulder or by just plain hovering in the air over the table. Eyes went wide all around when they saw that there was a Mid-East Rockets game scheduled on the third day of the season, against the Mid-South Redwings.

"What the hell is this?" asked Salsa, indignant. "The Rockets don't exist anymore."

Havoc scuffed her hoof on her chest. "Sure they do. They're on the schedule, aren't they?"

"But… how?" Dart asked, utterly lost.

"You're looking at the new owner of the Mid-East Rockets," Havoc said, rising in her seat. "I bought the rights to the team name, put in the application to reform the team, and even bought the old training facility and hired a crew to start putting it into tip-top shape. The Rockets are back, bitches!" 

With a grin, she then slammed her hooves on the table hard enough to draw a look from the bartender. "All I need is a bunch of players and a manager."

"Wait… wait, what?!" Lily sputtered. "What do you mean you bought the Rockets? How? With what money?"

"I always told you I was a trust fund brat, Princess," Havoc said with no shame whatsoever. "It just took me a little while to get my ass in gear and put together everything I needed to make it work. I probably could've gotten it done last season, and I'm sorry I didn't, but there was… a lot going on with my life at that time."

"So, you're reforming the Rockets? And you want all of us to play with you again?" Crespelle asked, sounding extremely excited.

"Sure did, kiddo! There's only one catch: I can't play with you."

Gilded bellowed his disapproval: "No! It cannot be! Why not?!"

"League rules prevent club owners, coaches, managers, and other members of a team's staff from playing on the field," Rainslick said matter-of-factly. "If Havoc owns the team, she can't play with the team."

"Them's the breaks," Havoc said with a shrug. "I know, I know, that means the team pretty much loses like, hmmm… ninety percent of its skill, but hey, it is what it is." She crossed her hooves over her chest. "Still, I'll take ten percent of the old team if it means giving your sorry asses another shot at glory. So, whaddaya say?"

The team all collectively looked amongst themselves, and it was clear to Rainslick almost immediately that the question didn't even need to be asked. Dart put his hoof into the center of the group first, then Salsa, then the others in turn, even Rainslick. On three, they all cheered, "Go Rockets!"

Havoc just grinned, then turned to the bartender and raised her hoof. "Yo barkeep! Another round for my team! And put everything on my tab!"


*****


Velvet sat patiently in the office belonging to Soft Touch, the nurse that attended to all of Pandora Tower's staff. This was the first time Velvet had ever been here for herself, actually, so she took stock of the little room she was in while she waited. It was decorated with fake plants and tasteful artwork, colored in soothing, cool colors, and she could even hear a very soft tune playing over a sound system; all of it felt carefully-crafted to provide a calm, relaxing atmosphere that was also professional.

Nurse Soft Touch entered the room a few moments later, a datapad held aloft with her unicorn magic. She was a white-coated mare with a reddish-pink mane, and she'd dressed in a typical set of scrubs—pink, of course—and wore a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. She gave Velvet a polite smile as she entered, but maintained her magical grip on the datapad.

"Hello there, Miss Velvet. How are you feeling today?" the mare asked, her voice a pleasant mix of polite and friendly.

"Just fine, Nurse," Velvet said with a nod and a grin.

"You're usually here with one of the tykes from downstairs," Soft Touch noted. "Imagine my surprise when your appointment said it was for you. I believe that this is your first visit to me since you moved into the tower."

Velvet shrugged. "Never had the need to come in before."

"Of course, likely a result of your 'blood magic', I suppose. I won't claim to be an expert on Hemomancy—that would be Doctor Blutsauger's speciality—but your file notes that it grants you a sort of healing factor." Soft Touch skimmed through the file on her data pad and nodded. "Being able to control your own bloodstream would certainly also prevent you from getting sick."

"Yup! I've been perfectly healthy every day of my life," Velvet said with a wide grin. "No colds, no hiccups, no sprains or cuts or bruises. I can't even get drunk, y'know? I just filter the alcohol right out of my system."

Soft Touch set the data pad down and took a seat near Velvet. "Well, if that's the case, then what brings you here today? You hardly sound as though you'd ever require medical attention."

Velvet tapped her hooves together and took a calming breath. "Okay, so first, a bit of background. I've been in charge of that Shadow Candidate program along with Overseer Pedigree for a while now, right?"

"Of course. Like I said, you're usually up here with one of the tykes whenever they need something taken care of." The nurse chuckled. "I've given out my fair share of lollipops this past year."

Velvet smiled briefly. "Yeah, and I have to thank you again for being so good with them. I was expecting the kids to be scared of going to the nurse, y'know? But everypony that's been up to see you has seemed to like you, and word gets around. The lollipops helped, I'm sure."

"I'm sure." Soft Touch gestured for Velvet to continue. "So, you were saying?"

"Oh! So anyway, I've been taking care of the kids for so long that I've kinda had this urge to, uh… well, I decided that I wanted to have a foal of my own, y'know?" Velvet chuckled. "I mean, it doesn't help matters that my big sister Curie managed to get Shroud preggers, eh? I wasn't sure how she did it until I remembered she's a shapeshifter. She said you helped her out with the process?"

Soft Touch nodded and adjusted her glasses. "For the sake of my patients' privacy, I won't go into any details, but I can at least note that yes, I did lend my medical expertise to the logistics of the conception. I understand that Hope's Point has some similar procedures, actually. I suppose that is why you've come to me?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Well, I'll be happy to assist you in this bold, exciting life decision, Miss Velvet. I can offer you guidance on which sorts of steps you can take to increase fertility, and—"

Velvet shook her head. "Oh no, I don't need any of that. I've done my research and believe me, I know what I'm doing when it comes to sex. Not to say I wouldn't appreciate any advice! I just mean that that's not exactly why I'm here."

Soft Touch raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Velvet tapped her hooves together again. "Okay, so, this all happened when I went into heat last month. I know that's the ideal time to conceive, obviously—like I said, I did my research—so that's when I made my move." With a sly grin, she said, "Not to brag, but I took a week's vacation so that I could take all the time I needed. A full week's worth, ya feel me?"

Soft Touch jotted this down on the datapad. "So you and your partner spent the majority of the week participating in sexual intercourse?"

"Partners. Plural."

The nurse blinked, then jotted that down as well. "Multiple partners, then, over the course of that week. As your primary care physician, it's in the best interests of us both for me to ask for more information, just to make sure I understand the situation. When you say 'multiple partners', you mean…?"

Velvet perked up. "Oh! Not all at once, or anything like that. That's just a casual thing I do for funsies sometimes. No no, everypony I asked did the deed in a purely one-on-one encounter. I figured that if I was gonna get knocked up, I wanted it to be a little more intimate. I'm a romantic like that."

Soft Touch raised an eyebrow and jotted that down as well. Velvet was actually impressed that the nurse was taking it all in stride, but supposed that as a medical professional she wasn't fazed by much. It was kind of nice not getting a judgmental glare when talking about her sexual proclivity.

"So anyway, I took a test last night, but… nothing." Velvet frowned. "I'm not pregnant. Not according to the test I took, at least. I even took more than one just to be sure, both standard medical ones and one of those fancy technomagic ones. All came up the same: no bun in my oven."

"I see," Soft Touch said, setting the datapad aside. "With your permission, I can perform a purely magical test now, just to be sure?"

"Please do!"

The nurse lit up her horn, and Velvet felt a tingly sensation around her stomach, which then expanded outwards until her entire body felt like it was being dunked in warm water. It only lasted for a few moments, then the nurse's horn dimmed and the sensation was gone. 

"Well, I can confirm the results of the tests that you've already taken: you're not pregnant," Soft Touch said simply.

Velvet frowned, immensely disappointed. "Dammit." She took a breath. "So, you see my problem, right? I spent the entirety of my most fertile week getting a healthy amount of Vitamin D, and I've nothing to show for it. I mean, I've got a lot to show for it, but not what I want to show for it."

"Definitely worth being concerned about, but I will remind you, Miss Velvet, that having unprotected sex even during your heat season does not guarantee pregnancy," explained Soft Touch. 

"But I thought—"

"It is a common misconception, though not without merit. The odds are extremely high, certainly, but there is no such thing as a one hundred percent guarantee without utilizing magical medicinal aids, and even those aren't always surefire. Did you utilize any such aids?"

Velvet tapped her chin as she recalled the wedding gift that she and Havoc had been asked to give to Lockwood and Blackburn on behalf of Miracle and Vaccine. Princess Bluebolt had been born eleven months to the day following the wedding night. It wasn't hard to put two-and-two together and figure out that the stuff had been ludicrously effective.

"Hmm… no, but maybe I should consider using one of those next time," she muttered. "I mean, I don't want to bring magic drugs into this—I'm an old-fashioned traditionalist when it comes to this part—but I suppose if I have to…"

Soft Touch shook her head. "Before you begin considering anything like that, we should rule out other factors first."

"Like what?"

"Well, let's begin with your chosen partners. I will not assume that you asked any of them for medical records, but I would suggest that you consider it. While the odds are low, you cannot dismiss the possibility that all of your chosen partners were sterile. I've heard of stranger things happening."

Velvet proudly shook her head. "Nope! I took care of that, for most of them at least. Shroud helped me get records for a few of the partners I had here in the city, and I know they all had squeaky clean bills of health as far as making foals was concerned. Good genes all around."

The nurse noted that in her datapad. "If you want me to double check their records for you, I can do so. I might see something you missed. Just provide me with some names and basic information to better filter my search."

"Oh, sure. Anything helps I guess." Velvet bit her tongue and listed them off: "There's this Foundry worker named Hammer Toss, then there's a cop named Keystone, and lastly, a personal trainer named Deadlift. All total hunks, by the way. Peak physical specimens with huge—"

"And were these your only three partners?"

"Stars, no," Velvet chuckled. "Just the only ones you could really help me with."

"Hmm?"

"Well, one other guy—Briarthorn—lives in Hope's Point and works as a pilot, and I just straight up asked him for his records. Apart from a couple of minor health issues, he was fine too. And while I'm sure you can get it, I don't think you need to look up Pedigree's medical record. He went over his, heh, pedigree with me himself."

Soft Touch's eyebrows went so high they disappeared into her mane. "Wait, one of your partners was Pedigree? The Overseer of the Shadow Candidate program?"

"Hey, I didn't just pick a bunch of random stallions, y'know?" Velvet said, nose in the air. "If I'm gonna get knocked up, I wanted to be sure that I picked ponies with good genes that would give me a strong, healthy foal."

"A responsible decision. But don't you two work together? Sorry if that doesn't seem like any of my business, but—"

"Look, Pedigree and I might have a working relationship, but that stallion has some damn good genetics, so I couldn't not ask him," Velvet noted, dead-serious. "We agreed that it was just a professional courtesy between two close friends. Besides, I don't see the problem with two co-workers sleeping together, do you?"

"Some might consider it unprofessional," the nurse said, shifting slightly in her seat. "I know that your father was surprisingly lax about that sort of thing, but Miss Dawn is significantly less so."

"Pshaw," Velvet scoffed. "Dawn can bite me if she wants to tell me who I am or am not allowed to fuck."

"So you don't agree with her policies?"

Velvet rolled her eyes. "Look, Curaçao and Shroud got married and are having a foal together. Curie's technically Shroud's boss nowadays, so you tell me which of us is more 'unprofessional', 'cause knocking up your secretary sounds like a big no-no if we wanna go that route."

"That's… actually a fair point, noted." Soft Touch paused briefly, then cleared her throat. "Well, I'll double-check these other records after our appointment is concluded. However, in the interest of fairness and to rule out all possible outcomes, I would like to perform a few tests on you, with your permission."

Velvet raised an eyebrow. "On me? But I'm totally healthy. We both know that. Pedigree's gone over how precise the genetic engineering that made me more than a few times, most recently because he was interested in how our kids might turn out." She sighed wistfully. "He'd make a good dad. Shame. Maybe next time."

"Yes, well, Doctor Blutsauger was very thorough in his notes on the procedure and its results, and at a glance I would say you have a clean bill of health. However, seeing as you never come in for any appointments—you're the only one of your sisters not to have taken a physical—I feel we should at least explore every option we have."

Velvet rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine. Get on with it, then. Just be gentle when you're exploring me, okay?" she said with a wink.

And so, Soft Touch performed the tests that she needed to perform, which included a routine physical, of course. It was all very professional, very clinical, and not at all fun but not unpleasant, either. Magic tended to work more quickly than a purely-medical process, so it only took about an hour before the nurse had all the data required.

The nurse then left the room to analyze everything, and returned about an hour or so later; the mare was nothing if not a professional, just like she'd always been with the kids. Velvet was immediately concerned when Soft Touch did return, however, because she did not seem pleased.

"Miss Velvet, I'm afraid I have some bad news."

Velvet froze up; that was never a good line to hear from your doctor… or nurse. "What kind of bad news?"

The nurse sat across from Velvet as before and adjusted her glasses, glancing at her datapad as she did so. "According to the tests I ran, I was able to diagnose the problem. Your body simply isn't producing the eggs needed to become pregnant. In purely clinical terms, you're infertile."

Velvet's jaw dropped; she felt like she'd just kicked in the gut. "Wh-what? You mean I… I can't…"

The nurse set her hoof on Velvet's. "I'm sorry, Miss Velvet. All the data that I collected points to this conclusion."

"But that's impossible," Velvet said, shaking her head in disbelief. "If there was something wrong with me, Doctor Blutsauger would've fixed it, or told me about it. There has to be a mistake. You're wrong."

Soft Touch removed her glasses briefly. "I've compared my notes and data with the information in your medical record. You're absolutely right: Doctor Blutsauger would've told you if anything was wrong, or would have fixed the issue otherwise. I know him; he's nothing if not a perfectionist."

"Then explain how he missed this!" Velvet snapped.

"He didn't. This issue was not present in you whatsoever when you were 'born'. You were given a perfectly clean bill of health; you should be more than capable of producing eggs. Believe me when I say that even your fertility status was documented. Whatever caused this happened after your birth."

"But I can heal myself from anything! How could I possibly have this… this problem if I can just heal from it?"

Soft Touch nodded. "That's what I intend to find out. Seeing as how you are capable of recovering from even the most severe physical injuries, I will for the moment rule out the possibility that you somehow sustained damage to your reproductive system. Infertility is not just something you 'catch', either."

"So, what, it just happened? Give me a break!" Velvet blurted, throwing her hooves in the air.

"My first theory on the situation is that, seeing as this is a fertility issue, that perhaps it may be related to your sexual history. These are some personal questions, Miss Velvet, so feel free not to answer them if they make you uncomfortable." The nurse drew up her datapad again. "How many sexual partners have you had in the past two years since your 'birth'?"

Velvet blinked, then strained her mind to think. "I'm gonna ballpark it here, Nurse, and say… seventy-five. I assume screwing the same guy twice doesn't count as a separate partner, right?"

"No, it wouldn't." The nurse noted this down. "Did any of your partners have any sexually-transmittable diseases?"

"Not that I know of, no, but I always asked just to be polite. I'm not worried about catching anything, y'know?"

"Because your blood magic allows you to prevent and recover from any illness, diseases included?"

"Yeah, exactly."

Soft Touch noted that down as well. "Given what you've told me thus far, can I make an assumption that you never use protection, Miss Velvet?"

Velvet scoffed. "Pfft, no. I like it au naturale. All of my partners think I'm on the pill, except the ones I asked to be my foal-daddy last month. For them, I just said that I stopped taking it so they could get me pregnant. Apart from Pedigree, of course, I can be honest with him about my powers."

"And have you ever had sex before while you were in estrus?"

"Yeah, plenty of times. The scent drives stallions wild, y'know? Surefire way to get a good evening in."

The nurse paused, then lowered her glasses slightly. "So, if I am understanding this correctly, you have never once utilized protection with any of your sexual partners over the past two years, including during times when you should be at your most fertile?"

Velvet tilted her head. "Yeah?"

"And yet you never became pregnant before?"

"Nope! But I wasn't trying before, either."

"Statistically-speaking there is an astronomically-low chance of you making it this many years with that many partners without becoming pregnant, Miss Velvet," said Soft Touch. "This seems to be an ongoing issue that somehow Doctor Blutsauger did not catch sooner. Have you never wondered why you haven't become pregnant before?"

"Pshaw, I know why. I didn't want to get knocked up before, so I used my blood magic to shut down everything that could cause that," Velvet said matter-of-factly.

Soft Touch leaned back in her seat and removed her glasses. "Miss Velvet, I am no expert on Hemomancy like Doctor Blutsauger is, but I am a medical professional."

"Right, so, lay it on me already. What's the problem here?"

"According to a comparison between your older medical records and the tests I performed today, your entire body is in a state of physical perfection," the nurse said gently. "Your constant use of your abilities to recover from injuries and prevent illnesses has manifested so strongly that you don't need to actively make it happen; your body will naturally do these things."

"So my body heals itself without me even trying to do so? Neat! And that's relevant because…?" 

"I believe the same may apply to your body's adapting to your decisions regarding impregnation. Constantly forcing your body to shut down its egg production has taken a permanent effect.."

Velvet froze, suddenly feeling a wrenching in her gut as she realized what the problem was.  "Oh… oh shit. You're saying that… that this is my fault?"

Soft Touch gave Velvet a sympathetic look. "I do not want to assign blame to you for these circumstances, Miss Velvet, because you could not have known. This is a matter that goes beyond just medical science, so I cannot even give you a definitive answer."

Velvet stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, trying to make sense of the situation, to find any possible escape from the hole she was suddenly sinking into. "Can't I… can't I just make my body start working right again?"

"As I'm not an expert on the nature of your powers, I can't say what that might do to you." Soft Touch set her hoof on Velvet's gently. "I would recommend speaking with Doctor Blutsauger about this for a more informed second opinion. He knows far more than I do on the subject of your abilities."

Velvet nodded slowly; her entire world felt like it was spinning; she found it hard to breathe. "I… I think I'll do that. Thanks, Nurse."

"Of course, Miss Velvet. I hope that Doctor Blutsauger is able to provide you with the answers you need."


*****


He did just that. But they were not the answers Velvet wanted.

Velvet had called up Blutsauger immediately after finishing with her appointment and explained the situation to him exactly as Soft Touch had explained it; Soft Touch had even been courteous enough to send the relevant data to him ahead of time. His response had been simple, professional, and sympathetic:

"I am sorry my dear, but the data I've been given suggests that Nurse Soft Touch's diagnosis is correct," the doctor told her. "Your frequent use of your Hemomancy has indeed caused your bodily functions to adopt your current condition as its natural state, completely adapting to your lifestyle.

"You'll heal quickly on your own, you cannot contract illnesses or diseases, you'll enjoy the benefits of a greatly-heightened metabolism… but you cannot produce the eggs needed to conceive. The data suggests that your body simply doesn't remember the state it was in when you were born. 

"Reversing the effect on one aspect could potentially do the same for the others, namely your healing factor. In other words, you may very well gravely injure yourself, or worse. Medicines of a magical variety could potentially work, but your immune system will likely fight back, believing the medicine is an intruder. I am sorry, mein lieber. There is no definitive solution I can offer."

She thanked him then hung up the phone and immediately collapsed onto her bed in her room, staring up at the ceiling feeling like the entire world had just come crashing down on her. She couldn't think of a word to describe how she felt. "Devastated" just didn't seem strong enough; her soul had just been crushed. And worst of all, she knew that it was all her own fault caused by her own selfish behavior.

For months now, she'd seen her friends and even family become elated with the news of foals of their own. Lockwood and Blackburn were beyond happy with their new daughter; Curaçao and Shroud had reacted to the news of the latter's pregnancy with such joy that the entire tower could feel it. Velvet had wanted some of that happiness for herself, but now she knew she never would.

She curled up on her bed, grabbing a pillow to cradle against her body, and let herself break down. The tears came easily now, and she didn't bother fighting them. She had no intention of doing anything else for the rest of the day but sitting here and sobbing, and that is exactly what she did.

It felt as though everything was a complete blur, and time had no meaning anymore to her. She vaguely felt as though one of her sisters had tried to contact her telepathically—she could swear she might have heard Havoc's voice in her head multiple times—but she hadn't responded. She didn't really have the desire to talk to anypony at all.

Eventually a knock came at her door.

"Go away!" she shouted, tightening her grip on her pillow. "Leave me alone!"

"Miss Velvet? Are you okay?" It was the voice of Caramel on the other side. "You didn't show up to watch our lessons today… or yesterday, actually."

Velvet turned her back to the door. "Everything's fine, Caramel," she said, utterly incapable of keeping her voice even. "Just… just go back to your room and do your homework like a good colt."

"I already finished my homework, Miss Velvet. Lessons ended hours ago, and the Overseer told me that I should come check on you 'cause he's worried." He paused. "Is everything okay? You don't sound so good. Are you sick?"

"No, Caramel, I'm fine. If you're done with your homework, go spend some time with your friends."

Silence. "But… Miss Velvet, I wanted to spend time with you today. You were gonna show me how to make toast."

She'd forgotten about that. "Oh, right." She sniffed and took a breath. "Just… give me a little bit and I'll come find you in the dorms, okay? I'll show you everything I know about making toast."

"Are you sure? You really don't sound okay. Should I get the nurse?"

"No, Caramel, I'm fine," she quickly responded. The last pony she wanted to see right now was Soft Touch, not that she was angry with the nurse, just… well, she didn't want to.

Silence again. "Miss Velvet… you always tell us that when we have a friend that's in need, we should be there for them, no matter what it takes. I don't know what's wrong, but… I'm here for you, if you need somepony."

Velvet felt her heart break just a little. She didn't want her little Caramel to see her like this, but what kind of lesson would she be teaching him if she shut him out? He just wanted to help her, like how she'd wanted to help Pinkie Pie when she was at her lowest. 

So she stood up and headed for the door, wiping away her tears on her sleeve as she went. She opened it and saw Caramel on the other side, looking up at her with concern almost immediately.

"Hey, kiddo," she said, forcing herself to smile. "You caught me: I'm not doing so hot right now."

He frowned and nodded. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I don't think so, no. At least not with what's wrong with me." She sighed, then gestured for him to come in. "But you know what? Maybe spending a little time with you might make me feel better."

He followed her into the room and looked around at her décor, since he'd never seen it before. She'd painted the walls dark pink a long time ago just to give her room a nice warm color to it, but she used black furniture because she liked the way they clashed and complemented one another. 

She'd decorated the walls with posters of hunky stallions, mostly firefighters, athletes, cops, and the occasional movie star; the most recent addition had been a promotional poster for a big action movie starring Bolt Rockhoof. It was all tasteful enough not to require her to hide it from Caramel's eyes—no packages on display, so to speak—but saucy enough to give her material to work with on lonely nights.

She sat down on the edge of her bed and patted the spot next to her, indicating for Caramel to sit, which he did. She took his hoof in hers and gave him a smile again, a little less forced this time. "How was class today?"

"It was good, I guess?" Caramel replied. "I don't really like history all that much, but the Overseer's been helping me through the harder parts. It's tough remembering all those dates. It sucks."

"I bet." She forced herself to laugh. "Y'know, I never liked history that much, either."

"What subjects do you like?"

She sighed. "To tell you the truth, I'm not a big fan of school in general. I know it's important and everything, but I just… never really found an interest in it." 

She knew she didn't have an interest in it because Pinkie had never really been interested in it, having only received a rudimentary education while living on a rock farm—whatever that was—for most of her youth. Which wasn't to say that Pinkie was dumb, she was just… different. She'd learned everything she knew from word-of-mouth and pop culture, rather than from a classroom. 

Even Velvet herself had had all of her knowledge implanted into her brain by her father as part of her creation. She felt no need to expand her knowledge further than what Daddy deemed was necessary. Except for how to raise and teach young ponies, of course; she'd definitely researched that as much as possible to be the best at it.

"Even so, just because I never had much of an education doesn't mean you don't deserve to have one," she continued, tousling Caramel's mane. "I want the best for you. For all of you. You deserve to have the choices and opportunities that my sisters and I never really had."

He nodded in understanding. "I guess so. I just wish it wasn't so boring sometimes…"

"Well, maybe when the next semester starts, things'll be different," she said, knowing that she and Pedigree had already narrowed down a few candidates to come in and help teach certain subjects, namely the ones that Pedigree disliked teaching.

"Miss Velvet, um… why were you crying earlier?" he asked tepidly.

She paused, then took a breath. "It's kind of a difficult thing for me to talk about, sweetie. I don't know if you'd really understand it."

"I can try. You're my favorite pony in the whole world, Miss Velvet. I don't want to see you sad." His eyes went wide and puppy-like. "Please?"

Her heart fluttered a little bit; he was such a sweet colt, always quick with words of kindness and encouragement to his classmates, and now to her. 

She smiled weakly, then hung her head. "Okay… I'll try and put it in the best terms I can, because you asked so nicely." She took a breath. "Do you remember when Miss Curaçao announced that she and Miss Shroud were going to have a foal of their own?"

He nodded. "Yeah, there was a big party and everything. You made cupcakes for everypony. We were all really happy to hear about it, because we all like Miss Curaçao a lot. Especially Marée! She loves Miss Curaçao, and even tries to speak all… Romantical?"

"Romantique. It's Miss Curaçao's first language."

"Romantique. Tique."

"You and Marée are total besties now, right?"

Caramel nodded happily. "Yup! We have lots of fun playing together! I like Marée a lot."

Velvet couldn't resist a smile there. "Well, anyway, Miss Curaçao and Miss Shroud were super happy to get the news themselves that they were gonna have a foal, and… I saw how happy they were, and I wanted to be happy like that."

He tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"I wanted to have a foal of my own, like they're having." Her smile faded, and she sighed and shook her head. "I guess that I was maybe a little jealous of my sister. Out of all of us, I think she's probably the happiest with her life. Anything that she wants, she gets. And she makes it look so… easy."

"Is that why you're sad? 'Cause you're jealous?"

"Not exactly, no. I went to see Nurse Soft Touch today. Do you remember her?"

He nodded. "Uh-huh. She gave me that big lollipop after patching up my leg last month, when I sprained it."

"Well, she and I had a long talk, and… when we were done, we found out that I… I can't have foals."

"Aww… why not?"

She found the next part hard to say; it still hurt knowing it was true, and he was too young to understand it entirely. "I just… can't. You'll understand it more when you're older, but all I can tell you now is that I just can't." She found herself unable to stop the tears from coming again. "I can't be a mom…"

A long silence sat between the two, with Velvet quietly breathing and trying to fight the urge to start sobbing again. After a moment, she felt Caramel lean against her softly, hugging her from the side as gently as she'd ever felt. He said something to her, but she didn't quite hear it because he was being so quiet. 

She sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve. "Did you say something?"

Caramel gulped, then nodded. "Miss Velvet… would… would you like it if I called you Mom?" he whispered.

She perked up, turning to look directly at him. "What?"

He looked right back at her, a determination in his eyes she'd never seen before. "I mean… I don't have a mom, and you're saying that you can't have a colt or filly to call you Mom, so I thought maybe that… you could be my Mom?"

She felt her heart start to melt in her chest. This little colt couldn't know just how impossibly thoughtful and sweet he was right this moment, that he'd just said the most meaningful thing in the entire world to her when she needed to hear it most. She berated herself silently for not realizing sooner that she didn't need to have a foal of her own; she already had so many, Caramel most of all.

Her hooves moved so quickly to embrace Caramel that she didn't even realize she'd done it, pulling him in for a hug so tight that she was afraid she might hurt him. "I would love to be your mom, Caramel…"

"And I'd love to be your son… Mom…" Caramel— her son returned the hug earnestly. 

Velvet started crying again, right into Caramel's mane.
> Chapter Eleven: Thrive
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Five Years Later


Green Guard rolled the dice across the table for a result of five; this was perfect, because this stretch of the board was dangerous and a five was the best result to hope for. He moved his token, an anvil, five spaces along the board, landing on a space designating Whiskey Avenue. 

He glanced at his funds—three hundred fifty bits total—and then at the price of the space—three hundred bits. He knew he didn't get anything from the space himself, but Flathoof owned Scotch Lane and Bourbon Street as part of the set. The strategy was obvious: deny Flathoof the complete set, even at risk of bankruptcy.

With a devious grin, he pushed three hundred bits—plastic ones, of course, not actual legal tender—towards the bank. "I'll buy Whiskey Avenue."

Flathoof scrunched up his nose as he watched Gray—who always liked being the Banker—pass over the property card. "Smart move, sport. Tell you what, I'll buy that property off you for four hundred bits right now."

"Nope, you're gonna have to do better than that," Green replied. 

Flathoof had done exactly as he expected him to, but he wasn't about to make it that easy. This was one of the two most valuable sets of property on the table, and Flathoof had been desperate for several turns to complete it.

"Four-fifty."

"Nuh-uh."

Flathoof grumbled. "Fine, five hundred."

"Throw in the Power Company and you've got a deal. Final offer."

"You little—" Flathoof grunted once, then sighed and smiled. "You are one shrewd operator. Fine, deal."

Green smirked as he and Flathoof exchanged the funds and property cards, then shook hooves on the deal. He loved playing board games with his family—because they were his family now—no matter how competitive they got at times. He loved spending time with them in general, and they didn't always have to spend time at the gym. Exercising the mind was just as important as exercising the body, after all, or at least that’s what the Overseer always used to say.

While Flathoof then busied himself buying houses to put on his new property, Green smiled then passed the dice to his left, over to the little filly playing with them, Rosewater. "Your turn, sis."

Rosewater was a pink-coated pegasus with a short blue mane, and unlike her mother she liked to dress in girlier clothes. Today she was wearing a light blue dress that would supposedly complement her mane, but Green didn't know enough about clothes to make a comment about it. That would be something to ask Aunt Insipid or Aunt Curaçao.

The board games they played were typically advised for an age group older than Rosewater was, but Gray and Flathoof had confidence in their daughter's ability to comprehend the rules and were always willing to lend a hoof when things got difficult. The "junior" versions of the games were just too simple for everypony else, and ironically more competitive because of the simpler rules.

The filly eagerly grabbed the dice in her hooves, then bit her tongue, shook the dice, and rolled them on the table. Nine. She leaned over and grabbed her token, a horseshoe, and counted out the nine spaces one at a time as she moved across them, "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine! I landed on… Northside Bus De-pawt?"

"Depot, sweetie," Gray corrected gently. "The 'T' is silent."

"Depot. Depot." Rosewater nodded excitedly, satisfied with her pronunciations. "Okay! So, um… nopony owns the depot, right?" She looked at her allotment of bits and counted them out loud. "One hundred, two hundred—" She gasped. "I can buy it! I can buy it!" She shoved the bits towards Gray. "I wanna buy the depot!"

Gray chuckled, took the bits and added them to the bank, then passed over the property card. "There you go. Lovely doing business with you, Miss."

"Yay!" She watched Flathoof placing his house tokens on his properties, and her eyes went wide. "I wanna buy a house too!"

Gray glanced over the board briefly, then shook her head. "You don't own a full set yet. You need to own a full set if you want to buy a house on them."

Rosewater's lip quivered. "But Mooom…"

"Ah ah, no begging. We play by the rules in this household, muffin," said Flathoof with a firm nod as he finished setting up his houses. "Don't worry, you're not too far off. You just need… White Wine Drive to go with your Red Wine Boulevard, and then you can buy all the houses you want on those two spaces."

Green perked up. "Oh! I just remembered that I own White Wine Drive." He turned to Rosewater and flashed the property card at her. "You can buy it off me if you want, Rosie."

"Look at the little entrepreneur over here," Flathoof chortled, shaking his head. He looked to Rosewater and grinned. "If you buy that from him, muffin, you can start building houses just like Daddy."

Rosewater looked at her large collection of bits—she had more than enough to buy the property at its normal value and then some—then at the house token that Flathoof had placed, then at Green. "Okay! How much do you want, Greenie?"

"Well, this space cost me four hundred bits originally," Green mused, making a show of stroking his chin. "But for you, I'll sell it for… one bit."

"Yes! You're the best big brother ever!" Rosewater threw her hooves around Green in a brief hug, then practically chucked the singular plastic bit at him before snatching the property card up like it was made of gold. "Yay! Now I can build houses too!"

"What happened to the shrewd negotiator from before?" Gray asked, giving Green a knowing little grin.

Green shrugged. "I was feeling charitable all of a sudden."

The game continued around the board for several more turns, taking nearly an hour before it was finally over. Games of Proprietaries tended to last a while, so they always made sure to set aside the proper amount of time to play on Family Game Night.

Gray went bankrupt first, having a series of bad turns in a row while moving towards the end of the board rotation and landing on Flathoof's property set twice, then on Rosewater's set twice. Green went out next after having the same problem, but it didn't matter much to him. 

What mattered most was seeing Rosewater win after Flathoof went several turns in a row of landing on bad spaces, paying taxes and rent to his daughter, and not getting any income from her in return. Ironically, he even landed in jail more than once, grumbling about the game’s corrupt legal system all the while.

Green wasn't certain whether or not Flathoof noticed Gray subtly shifting her wings whenever the dice were rolled so that they would land perfectly in Rosewater's favor every single time. Flathoof said nothing if he did notice, and Green said nothing either, and of course Rosewater had no idea that her mother was cheating.

Once the game was done and the pieces and board were put away, the family left the embassy's lounge and made their way to the dining room for a late dinner. Gray tasked her assistant, a unicorn stallion named Highbrow, with getting things prepared while she helped Rosewater wash up before eating. He was little more than a butler, truthfully, but that's all the family needed.

Green didn't understand everything about the politics of the situation between Hope's Point and New Pandemonium City, but he did know that the embassy here in Hope's Point was hardly treated any differently than other buildings nearby. It essentially served as little more than a house for Gray and her family, with minimal staff—just Highbrow, really—to assist her in her ambassadorial duties.

The building was located on the surface level of the city in the middle of a city block that contained a wide variety of sights and sounds that would attract any tourist, or in this case, be of interest to a foreign ambassador. There were several different restaurants with different offerings from all over the world, entertainment venues like an arcade and a movie theater; as well as clothing stores, toy stores, grocery stores, and electronics stores. Anything the embassy’s residents needed was readily available.

The interior of the building was decorated to suit the tastes of the current ambassador, and Gray preferred things to be rather sparse and spartan. Thus, there wasn't a lot of clutter, but there was plenty of open space that could be used for whatever anypony wanted or needed to use it for. 

Typically, Green used the space to play more active games with Rosewater when Gray and Flathoof had work to do or needed “private time”. His sister loved playing tag with him, because he was the only earth pony she knew who could leap high enough to catch her while flying.

Dinner today consisted of some take-out ordered from one of the nearby restaurants, one that specialized in hayburgers and hay fries. Rosewater was the only one in the family that ever ordered light; she didn't have the need at her age for the kind of diet the others did. Gray and Flathoof tended to eat the most, followed closely by Green, who, as Gray was always keen to point out, was "still a growing colt". He knew that he ate more than other colts his age by a large margin; he'd seen as much for himself when the family went out to eat instead of eating in.

As the kids ate, the adults talked business. Green knew Rosewater would mostly be tuning them out to quietly eat her hayburger, but he always made sure to listen in as much as he could, even if it didn't interest him much. It always paid to pay attention and remain observant; that was a lesson that Gray had taught him when he was younger and one that she lived by, so he would do the same.

"You see the weather reports about that big sandstorm coming?" Flathoof asked while sipping from his soda.

Gray shook her head. "I've heard about it here and there but haven't been watching the news about it. How bad is this one gonna be?"

"Oof, worst one yet. Supposed to be big enough to cover almost the entire continent for weeks. Your sisters say anything about putting in a lockdown order up north to keep ponies safe? I know it's been discussed before, but…"

"Yeah, Dawn said something about that." She took a big bite of her hayburger. "Said it’s the first time the city's been completely locked down in its history, rather than just a few districts here and there. And you're saying it's gonna be for weeks?"

"At least three, maybe four, yeah. Chief Storm already sent out word to our agents up north not to let anypony head out the land route at all until after the storm passes. Can't risk somepony getting stuck out there in the thick of it." He took another sip of soda. "Sounds to me like we're cutting that peace treaty signing pretty close."

"Ten days…" Gray breathed. "Hard to believe that we're just ten days away from making this peace thing a reality. Shame it took so damn long, right? I mean, better late than never, I figure. At least my sisters finally got the job done."

He leaned over to press his forehead against hers. "Hey, it's not just them. You've been a big part of this, too. No matter how much you want to act like you were just a go-between, what do you think any other ambassador is supposed to do, hmm? They'd still have to confer with the ponies in charge back home. You can just do it faster."

"Meh, a job's a job. Glad to be a part of it, I guess. Kinda wish I could be more involved with the signing, but I’m fine if we can’t. I don’t suppose Lockwood said anything to you about us maybe coming along?"

Flathoof shook his head. "Nope, it's just gonna be him and Blackburn for the actual signing, at least as far as what Dawn said was needed. You know how she is: minimal unnecessary business." He nudged her side softly. "Too much to ask for her sister to come visit after five years apart, I guess?"

"That's Dawn for ya."

"Well, anyway, the royal family's gonna take a little vacation afterwards, so we'll meet 'em all in Newhaven after they're done with this treaty business."

"Are they bringing the kids with them to the treaty signing?"

"Yeah, just as a courtesy from Lockwood towards your sisters, since this is kind of a rare opportunity. I don't think all of them have met Bluebolt and Fireglow yet, have they?"

Gray tapped her chin. "No, I don't think so, apart from Havoc and Red. Insipid hasn't visited since Fireglow was born, so she hasn't met him yet." She shook her head and chuckled. "Still hard to believe that we're all related now. We've come a long way since you were just a humble police captain and I was just an unemployed mooch focused only on making friends with Fluttershy."

"We sure have, haven't we?" He chuckled. "Heh, imagine the reaction of the ponies up north if they found out that the Shadow Associate's sister was married to Queen Blackburn's brother-in-law. What would that even be called? Sister-in-law… twice removed? I don't know how family trees work."

"Don't worry about it."

She leaned into him and pressed her nose against his ear, where she said something that Green couldn't hear but which made Flathoof's face redden, which meant they were talking about something private that he didn't want to hear anyway. So Green just turned his attention back to Rosewater and watched her eat her hayburger and fries, and gave her a smile when she looked his way, which she returned.

He'd never imagined ever being part of a family before, but now that he was part of one, he couldn't imagine his life any other way.


*****


Caramel sat at his desk that day in class and felt just a little confused. He'd noticed on today's curriculum that the upcoming lesson wasn't one of the subjects he was accustomed to, nor was it a special, fun subject like when his mom sometimes came and taught everypony basic cooking skills and recipes. She'd taught everypony last week how to use an oven now that they were old enough, specifically how to make cupcakes using a recipe she'd learned from her best friend Pinkie. Caramel had never met Pinkie before, but she sounded amazing.

Anyway, today's subject had nothing to do with history, nor with mathematics or science. The subject was just listed as "Life Development, Lesson One", whatever that meant.

Even so, he and his fellow classmates still sat at attention as Overseer Pedigree finished prepping the video screen for the presentation. He said it was about "puberty" or something like that, and while Caramel was certain that he recognized the word and knew what it meant, he didn't really understand it. Some of the smarter students seemed to get it and started to snicker a little, so he assumed it was a funny topic.

Over the years, his friends and fellow students had all grown more and more unique. They were slowly learning how to properly dress themselves and style their manes and tails in ways that they felt defined who they were, himself included. He still liked wearing his regular jacket when he wasn't doing training exercises, though he'd had to get bigger jackets as he got taller and more muscular; he was the biggest colt in the class now that Green Guard had moved.

Most of the other colts were also getting taller and more muscular, with the exceptions being those who didn't like doing physical activities as much. Sunspire, for instance, sat at the front of the class like he always did, and while he was taller, he was more… what was the word? Lanky? Yeah, that was it. Not like himself, no sir; Caramel had put on a good amount of muscle, because he liked spending time at the tower's gym and so did some of his friends.

He knew of course that he and the other students would be getting taller eventually, but he didn't know how to explain some of the other… changes that had been going on in his life. They were just difficult to think about, and he got nervous sometimes when he thought about them or noticed certain things. He'd never had any of these problems before the past month or so, and he figured that he wasn't alone.

Then, the Overseer got the attention of the class by rapping on his desk with his hoof. "Okay, everypony, settle down, and get ready to take notes. Today's subject is probably the most important one anypony here will ever have to learn, because it doesn't pertain to anything you've ever learned before. It has everything to do with you, and your lives going forward, so I want everypony to pay close attention."

Now Caramel was extra nervous; the Overseer always treated every subject like it was important over the years—all of the teachers did, actually, even the newer ones—but he'd never gone into such a spiel about any of them before. Whatever this "puberty" subject was, it sounded like it was extra important, and that meant Caramel knew he'd need to pay extra special attention to it so that his mom would be extra proud of him.

Once the video started, Caramel became acutely aware of just why it was such an important topic: it explained everything about the various changes he'd been noticing in himself and his classmates, the things that he’d been wondering about just a few minutes ago in fact.

It talked about how colts like him grew larger in size while fillies tended to stay slightly slimmer; it talked about why the voices of most of the fillies in class had already changed but why not as many colts' voice had done the same; it talked about how sometimes they might get pimples and how their manes and tails would get oily; it talked about certain parts of a pony's anatomy that were more… noticeable and fascinating to themselves and others.

It also talked about the fact that colts and fillies might start to take an interest in one another in ways that were different from how they'd view a friend or family member. Caramel didn't really get it, but he noticed that a number of his classmates' gazes shifted here and there to particular others in the class. 

He didn't know why, but he couldn't help himself from glancing sideways towards where Marée de Rêve was sitting. When he did, he noticed that she was looking in his direction as well, and almost immediately they both looked away from one another. He didn't really know why he'd looked in the first place, nor why he panicked when she noticed him looking. Marée was his best friend, and he'd never felt nervous like that before. Why was her face red? Why did his cheeks feel hot?

The video also went over a number of things that were kind of gross, embarrassing, and humorous all at once. Part of it was regarding hygiene, particularly about the importance of cleaning parts of the body that might start smelling that didn't smell before. Another part started talking about the fillies' naughty parts as well as the colts', plus things like "estrus". It was all kind of fascinating, especially in regards to the fact that all of this puberty stuff was supposed to be preparing their bodies for adulthood, especially for… reproduction.

Caramel knew a little bit about sex and how foals were made, probably more than most of the other students did. His mom had told him a thing or two about why she couldn't have foals of her own once she felt he was old enough to understand. This video just helped to clarify things his mom had told him in regards to mares, and helped him understand more about a stallion's part in such things.

What the video also made clear though was that sex was something special and important done between two ponies, and that having a foal was a big responsibility. There was a lot of information in the video about "safe" sex, a term that sounded weird to him, as if the act of sex was dangerous otherwise? The instructions were extremely clear about how colts and fillies their age should not be engaging in such activities at all, though.

The other students were invariably giggling, fidgeting, or watching with rapt attention as the video went on, all the way until the end. 

Once the Overseer shut off the video and returned to the front of the class, he cleared his throat and rapped the table again to quiet everypony down and get their attention. "Okay everypony, now, for a little clarification, this video was designed to be shown to colts and fillies that attend the various public schools out in the city, just like all of the other educational videos we watch.

"However, unlike those videos, it is worth noting a difference in the subject material for all of you. You are all aware that you were born different from the common colts and fillies out in the city. This has had an effect on your bodies and minds that causes all of you to develop differently and absorb information more readily than your more average peers.

"So, some of the information in this video is slightly inaccurate. Many of you are already likely further along in the puberty process than you even realize, because your bodies are engineered differently and mature faster than average. Nonetheless, it was imperative that we present this information to you, out of interest in your well-being."

That got Caramel to thinking, since the video did indicate age groups for colts and fillies and how soon they should be developing, and the ages presented were just a little older than he and his classmates were. Did that really mean they were all going through this phase earlier than average colts and fillies did? Would they be considered stallions and mares sooner? He'd have to ask his mom about it; he was embarrassed to ask the Overseer in front of the class.

The Overseer looked out upon the class with a hard look. "Your learning environment is far different from your peers in the public school system," he continued. "You all learn together, play together, eat together, and live together, and I am well aware that many of you have bonded together as friends." 

This much was true, Caramel thought. Spending every day in the company of the same thirty or so ponies his age and forged bonds between many of them. Like him and his best friend Marée, for instance. His mom always liked to joke that he and Marée were like two peas in a pod, considering how much time they spent together. The same went for ponies like Cloudy Day and Double Trouble, or Rebel Noise's little skyball clique.

With a sigh, the Overseer added, "And I know it is unlikely that I or your other caretakers could ever be successful in preventing any of you from engaging in sexual activity as you mature."

A collective groan went through the class, as though they were disgusted by the very idea of doing anything like that with anypony in their class, Caramel among them. Why would the Overseer think any of them would do something like that? Gross.

"You all say that now, but you're all young and it won’t be long before you all reach your teenage years and your hormones begin raging out of control," Pedigree said with a cheeky grin. "Our lessons on sex education will continue throughout the remainder of the month."

The class groaned again. More videos about how gross all these changes were? No thank you.

"But," he continued, "I will also note to everypony in this class and the others that you do not need to be afraid of myself or any of the other caretakers being upset with you if you and a fellow classmate wish to engage in such an activity. 

"We do, however, want you to do so safely. So, if anypony wishes to discuss the subject matter in the video, whether for their own curiosity or for practical reasons, myself and Miss Velvet are making ourselves available for questioning during our normal office hours." With a smirk, he added, "We want you all to be happy with whatever decisions you make, but they should be informed decisions."

He cleared his throat again. "So! I will now open the floor to the class: any questions regarding today's video?"

Every single pony in the class raised their hooves, even Caramel's. Yes, even Marée's.


*****


Razzle Dazzle sat at a round table that had been covered with a lovely white tablecloth, and which was laden with all of the amenities required for an afternoon tea party: there was tea, of course—a tasty chamomile, a crisp mint, and some lemon iced tea; a little tray of bite-sized sandwiches—cucumber with herbed cream cheese and radishes; a little tray of tiny treats—lemon meringues and strawberry tarts; as well as linen napkins, plenty of genuine silverware, and small plates. The tea cups were made to look like peacocks, very fancy.

She sipped daintily from her tea, at roughly the same time as the other fillies at the table did. The other fillies were all friends of hers: Chroma Key, a unicorn whose coat and mane were never the same color combination two days in a row—today she'd decided on a pink coat and a blonde mane; Sweet Lullaby, a unicorn with a light blue coat and a pink mane; Souvenir, a lavender-coated unicorn with a blue mane; and Plum Crisp, a plum-colored earth pony with an orange mane. 

They all wore frilly lace dresses appropriate for their age, all of which matched in color: a pale lime green. It was always appropriate to dress properly for a social engagement, after all, and Razzle and her friends treated these social engagements with the same amount of due diligence that they treated their schoolwork and their training. It was lovely to have an afternoon to spend with friends, after all.

Most importantly, to spend the afternoon with Miss Insipid was a true delight. She sat at the other end of the table across from Razzle, her gorgeous mane done up in airy curls. Her dress matched those of the fillies present, and she'd complemented it with a sun hat decorated with flowers—fake, of course—and a thin veil that gave her eyes a sense of mystery to them. Miss Insipid always looked her best.

These "courses" were a rare occurrence, but they were always a pleasure. They were considered extracurricular activities, too, so Razzle was glad to be getting school credits for attending. All the other colts and fillies had their own favorite extracurriculars, but Razzle's favorite was Miss Insipid's "High Society Training". Nopony was more of a high-class mare than Miss Insipid, and Razzle and her friends figured if they could learn to be like her and get credit for it and see Miss Insipid's fancy loft apartment out of the tower, all the better.

It wasn't always tea parties, of course. Last month, Miss Insipid had taught them all how to properly apply makeup, which they'd all applied before coming to today's lesson. The month before that had been learning how to style one's mane for a variety of occasions; before that it was learning how colors complemented each other and the importance of dressing for the occasion; before that was learning how to walk like a lady. Razzle wondered how that would have played out if any colts ever signed up for these classes.

Today, though, was a tea party, because when somepony frequently engaged with high-society ponies, they needed to know how to properly sit, drink, eat, and converse at a social event, and tea parties were such an event that was, as Miss Insipid put it, "appropriate for fillies your age". Razzle figured that meant there were more adult parties where they probably drank adult beverages.

As everypony sipped from their teas, they followed Miss Insipid's example, with dainty, light sips so that they wouldn't spill their tea or look boorish. She then lifted a sandwich from the tiered tray on the table and set it on her plate, and the fillies all followed suit; Plum was able to keep up with the others despite her lack of unicorn magic, but needed a little help—Razzle was closest, so she did it—so that she wasn't reaching across the table.

The sandwiches were, incidentally, delicious. Razzle found it extraordinarily difficult to take small bites as was proper etiquette, but resisted that temptation. Embarrassing herself in front of Miss Insipid would just be the worst.

"So, how is everypony's schoolwork going?" Miss Insipid asked after everypony had finished their sandwiches, all while she was pouring everypony a fresh cup of tea.

Souvenir spoke up first. "I got an A on my math test last week," she said with a proud grin. "The Overseer was happy with how much I'm improving."

"Oh my stars, an A? Way to go, Souvenir, I'm super proud of you. Sugar?" 

"Yes please."

Insipid passed over the sugar tray, and Souvenir carefully plonked a single cube of sugar into the teacup, then began to stir. "Ah ah," Insipid said gently. "Don't use circular motions, Souvie. Back and forth, or up and down, never circular."

Souvenir nodded and started stirring back and forth instead. "Like this?"

"Perfect! Just like that. And be careful not to spill. A lady never spills. Cha." Insipid smiled and looked to the others at the table. "Anypony else have anything they'd like to share about schoolwork? No? Well, how about anything you girls are doing in your free time?"

Plum raised her hoof.

"You don't have to, like, raise your hoof, Plum," Insipid said with a smile. "The proper way to get attention in a conversation is to, like, observe the group, and if it seems like nopony else is gonna jump in, then just do so yourself. Use your judgment, and always be polite. Otherwise, lightly clearing your throat will totally work. For. Sure."

Plum nodded, then looked to the others for a moment before clearing her throat. "I finished reading the Berry Trotter series last night. I really liked the ending, except that—"

Razzle and Lullaby perked up quickly. "No spoilers!" they exclaimed in unison.

Plum put a hoof over her mouth, embarrassed. "Oops. Sorry, I forgot you guys are still reading it. How far along are you, anyway?"

Razzle smiled. "I just finished Chalice of Fire last week. Oh my stars, it was so exciting! I was really worried about Berry the whole way through, especially when he had to escape from the dragon! And ooh, I can't believe how much of a jerk Moss Whistler was to Orange Ginger. She deserves better."

Lullaby stuck her nose in the air and grinned. "Well I finished Chalice last week. I'm just finishing The Phoenix Society, actually. Probably gonna finish it up tonight. Just you wait, Moss and Orange—"

"No spoilers!" Razzle huffed and narrowed her eyes. "Besides, it's not a competition, Lullaby. If it was, I started two weeks after you did, so that means I'm reading faster than you are."

"Are not!"

"Am so!"

Insipid cleared her throat to get the fillies' attention. "Girls, it isn't proper etiquette to, like, bicker and argue at a social function, especially over minor things like who can, like, read faster or whatever. Major unfresh. Now, apologize to each other right now."

Razzle and Lullaby glanced at one another, then hung their heads, embarrassed. "I'm sorry," they said in unison.

"Good." Insipid took a sip of her tea, then turned to Chroma with a smile. "How about you, Chromie? You've been super quiet today, much more than usual."

Chroma gulped, then nervously sipped her tea. "I don't really have anything to talk about today…" 

"That's okay! Another aspect of being part of a social event like this is, like, knowing how to just sit there and listen." Insipid said, gently patting Chroma's hoof. "Sometimes you'll be at a table where everypony is a total chatterbox and you can't get a word in edgewise! And that's okay! You never have to talk if you don't want to."

"She's just embarrassed because she has a crush on Black Bolt," Souvenir giggled.

Chroma's eyes went wide in horror. "I do not!"

Souvenir nodded excitedly. "I saw her staring at him at lunch the other day."

Lullaby gasped. "Oh yeah, that's right! She was totally looking over at his table the whole time!"

Chroma's face was growing redder by the second. "Shut up! No I wasn't! I don't have a crush on him!"

Razzle and Plum joined in with Lullaby and Souvenir, chanting together: "Chromie likes Black Bolt, Chromie likes Black Bolt!"

"No I don't!" Chroma snapped, entirely red by this point—literally, her coat had turned a dark shade of red from her head to her tail, and her mane too. She pointed her hoof angrily at Souvenir. "You wanna talk about crushes? You have a crush on Switcheroo!"

Souvenir froze up instantly, a look of pure terror on her face. "Wh-what? No I don't! Switch is gross! He picks his nose!"

"Yeah, well, I saw you passing notes to him in class the other day, so what do you have to say about that, huh?"

Souvenir, red in the face, nearly fell out of her seat. "I wasn't passing notes!"

Razzle, Plum, and Lullaby chanted, "Souvie likes Switcheroo, Souvie likes Switcheroo!"

Insipid cleared her throat loudly. "Girls, please? This is, like, super bad etiquette at a social function. You are proper ladies, not a bunch of…" She paused for a second as though considering her words carefully. "Juveniles. Proper ladies do not taunt each other about schoolyard crushes and junk, okay?"

With her nose in the air, Insipid added, "Learning how to properly gossip like a lady is another lesson for, like, another day. It is an art. Now, you two apologize to each other, and we can move on with our lesson, okay?"

The two fillies looked at one another, then sighed and apologized. After that was done, Miss Insipid moved the lesson along to teaching the fillies how to properly dab—not wipe!—with a napkin, and what not to do with it, like blowing your nose or spitting food into it that you didn't like.

Razzle was glad that the conversation turned away when it did from the topic of crushes. She wasn't sure whether or not her friends knew she had a crush on Vermillion Blaze, and frankly would rather not find out if they did. She just knew that she'd have to be more careful when she was spying on him at the gym during physical education class if she wanted to keep her secret a secret.


*****


Rebel Noise swooped down as low to the floor as she was able to before soaring back up as fast as she could and tagging her opponent's flank. Heatblast—a pegasus colt with a blue coat and blond mane that always wore a visor over his eyes—had been so focused on keeping away from her that he'd been flying predictably, which of course left him open to a classic flanking maneuver. She tagged instead of tackled, as was typical in proper skybal games, because the adults wanted to avoid injuries; it was just as easy to tag, anyway, if not easier.

The instant that she tagged him, Heatblast froze up and dropped the ball he'd been dribbling on his head, as he was supposed to do according to these "junior" rules, and the ball fell to the floor. When it hit the ground, a whistle sounded, indicating that the ball was no longer in play and that the players were to return to their off-court positions.

"That was good work out there, Rebel," said Coach Brisk Gallop as Rebel and Heatblast flew off the court and landed on the ground in front of him. "Where did you learn to move like that?"

Rebel smirked and ran a hoof through her wild mohawk. "I learned by watching Miss Havoc's old matches. She's the greatest blocker ever!"

Gallop's mustache bristled, so it was hard to see that he was smirking underneath it. "She certainly is a talented player, one of the best I've ever seen. A shame we can't officially watch her in action these days, hmm?" 

Heatblast shook his head and glanced at Rebel. "Good job, Rebel. I didn't even see you dip down that low," he said with a nod.

"Thanks," she replied. "You're pretty fast, Heat. I bet you'd have scored if it was somepony else."

He smiled back. "Thanks."

Rebel stood up straight and listened intently as Coach Gallop turned to the other pegasus colts and fillies that were present. She knew that the old stallion knew his stuff better than most pegasi; he'd retired two years ago from playing with the Rockets to serve as their coach, since that position was technically empty.

As part of that capacity, he'd been glad to help Miss Havoc out when she wanted to open up an extracurricular source for the students to learn how to play skyball. Rebel and several of her fellow students—all pegasi, natch—thoroughly enjoyed the opportunity not just to get out of the tower, but to train in a physically-demanding sport under one of the best. Having the chance to even train with Miss Havoc herself sometimes was a perk, but it was rare that she was in town long enough to do so.

Besides Rebel and Heatblast, four other students always signed up for these training courses: Razorwing, a colt with a silver coat and a red mane with white streaks; Hypercharge, a purple-coated colt with a red mane, and whose eyes were perpetually and completely red; Wildcard, a colt with a green coat and a blue mane, and who had prominent canines; and Skybreaker, a tan-coated filly with a brown mane, and who had a blue streak across her forehead that looked like an arrow. All of them were huge fans of Miss Havoc, mostly because she'd been the one to give them each a name.

They all wore a training jersey for class, and Miss Havoc had had them customized to not just be in the Mid-East Rockets colors of white with red trim, but to have their names on them as well. They weren't allowed any other accessories besides those they needed for keeping their powers in check or make up for a disability, hence why Heatblast wore his visor so that he didn't accidentally vaporize somepony by looking at them, and why Rebel wore her noise-filtering headphones so that she could safely hear everypony talk.

"As Miss Noise here just demonstrated," Coach Gallop said once everypony was paying attention, "the key to being a good blocker is to anticipate the opposing striker's path and hit from where they least expect it. It's rare for a block to be faster than a striker, or at least fast enough to catch normally; that's why they're strikers.

"For our next exercise, we'll learn the proper method of avoiding such a flanking maneuver, which requires that your opponent is able to watch and predict your movements. The optimal way to do so is via a maneuver called a 'feint', in which you give all indication that you are moving in one direction, then you move in another."

He glanced through the students before him, then picked two: "Wildcard, why don't you serve as our blocker. Skybreaker, you're the striker in this scenario, and you'll be demonstrating a feint for us." 

He then beckoned Skybreaker over to whisper something to her, most likely how to go about feinting; he'd whispered to Rebel what he wanted her to do so that she could flank Heatblast earlier. He was a good coach—a great coach!—both for the Rockets and for this little "youth league" that Miss Havoc had started. The only issue was that there were only six students playing, not seven.

They needed seven, because as just six they were missing the last player needed to give them the proper lineup for an actual skyball team. Not that they'd actually have anypony to play against—there weren't enough pegasi in their class to make two teams, and they couldn't exactly play against civilian schools—but Rebel kind of wished that they could convince somepony else to come along just so they could all be a real team if only to say that they were.

But Blue Mist was always more concerned with stuffing his face with food and wasn't interested in athletics; Cloudy Day and Double Trouble were inseparable and would both want to play, and then somepony would need to sit on the bench—they needed seven, not eight; Serendipity was much too busy with her tutoring from Miss Dawn to dedicate time to skyball training; Marée de Rêve had already declined, claiming that skyball was too rough for her tastes, unless they needed a cheerleader or something like that. 

Things just didn't work out, but that's just how the chips fell, as Miss Havoc would sometimes say.

At any rate, Rebel focused her attention on Wildcard and Skybreaker as they flew to and fro over the court, with the former chasing after the latter. Skybreaker was the faster of the two by a decent amount, which is why she was given the striker position for this exercise, but Wildcard wasn't slower by any meaningful margin. They were all too young and training together too often that none of them could really pull ahead of anypony else just yet.

Rebel watched as Skybreaker led Wildcard around in a chase for nearly a full minute before moving towards the goal ring. Just as she swooped in as if she was going left, with Wildcard right on her tail, she abruptly banked right and darted straight up instead. Wildcard nearly slammed into the floor; it had happened so suddenly. Skybreaker took advantage of the distraction to bolt for the goal, then struck the ball towards it. The shot went a bit wide, but it at least passed through the outermost of the three rings.

Gallop blew his whistle, and the two students flew off the court and back over to the training line. "That was a good move, Skybreaker," he said, his mustache bristling—did it do that every time he talked? "Once you get faster, you'll even have the time to properly aim your shot."

Skybreaker nodded. "Uh-huh. I panicked because I didn't know if Wildcard had gotten back behind me. I didn't want to look!"

"You always have to be aware of where your opposing blocker is," Gallop said. "Getting distracted and losing track of your opponent leaves you open to a hit, and statistically-speaking, that guarantees your team loses a point when you drop the ball. Also, remember to mix-up your dribbling! Your opponent has to be watching both you and the ball, and you can use that to your advantage."

The instructions continued as the students switched places to practice the maneuvers they'd seen so far, trading partners every few minutes when Gallop blew his whistle, just so that they could see how the plays worked from both sides and with different opponents. It didn't matter much to them in the short term, but they knew that it would be good practice for the future. 

Rebel and her friends had determined by now who belonged in which positions if they were to ever form a team of their own, and even started figuring out "tiers" among themselves to determine assignments in a theoretical game: 

Wildcard, Hypercharge, and herself were blockers, with Rebel being a "lead" blocker of sorts because she was the smallest and most maneuverable of the three yet could still pack a punch. Skybreaker, Heatblast, and Razorwing were the strikers, with Skybreaker being the "lead" because she was just a little faster and more maneuverable than the others. Their seventh would either replace somepony else or take goalkeeper; Wildcard and Razorwing had no problem taking the position if needed.

Once they'd finished their exercises, Coach Gallop called them all off the field for one last speech. "Good hustle out there, kids. You're all mighty quick for colts and fillies your age, so I have no doubt in my mind that you'll be able to find teams to play with when you're older." The edges of his mustache curled up when he smiled. "And having references from the Rockets certainly won't hurt.

"Now, before I send you all off to the showers before sending you home, do any of you have any questions?"

Rebel excitedly raised a hoof. "Coach, are the Rockets really planning on going pro next season?"

Gallop's eyes widened in surprise. "Who told you that?"

"I've been reading lots of rumors on the league's datanet message boards," she replied matter-of-factly.

She'd been a member of the forums there for the past four years under the username RocketRebel231, and had gotten into her fair share of flame wars with other users that didn't think the Rockets were the best team in the league—idiots, all of them. She did it on behalf of all of her friends, of course, keeping them in the loop of what might be happening behind the scenes.

"Hmm…" Gallop murmured, stroking his mustache with his hoof. He then shrugged. "I can neither confirm nor deny these rumors you're speaking off, Miss Noise."

"Awww, why not?"

"Because I can't just make a statement either way regarding such an important issue without the team owner's permission. If you want an answer, you can ask Miss Havoc, hmm?"

Heatblast huffed and crossed his hooves over his chest. "She won't tell us!"

"Well then what makes you think I would?"

"Because you're the cool old grandpa that's super nice to young colts and fillies like us so that we can succeed," said Skybreaker with a big grin, fluttering her eyelashes. "Right?"

Gallop chortled. "You've been watching too many movies, Miss Skybreaker. And I don't see how me telling you will help anything."

"Please?" pleaded Wildcard with wide, puppy-dog eyes that only he could pull off. 

Rebel considered it cheating, since Wildcard could shapeshift his eyes—or as much of his body as he needed—to look like a genuine puppy's, or any other animal's for that matter. He had to be careful not to go too far with the transformation, though; Coach Gallop didn't know about their powers.

Gallop bristled his mustache and shook his head. "No can do, kids. I'm sure if you ask Miss Havoc real nicely, she might just tell you what's going on, though. Okay?"

The collective group grumbled in affirmation.

"Good. No go on, young'uns, hit the showers."

With another grumble, the students headed off on their way, with Rebel and Skycatcher making their way for the mares' changing room while the colts headed for the stallions'. Once there, Rebel took off her jersey first, then her headphones—the Overseer hadn't been able to engineer them to be waterproof just yet—before taking some earplugs out of her bag and plugging them in her ears and heading off to the showers.

Once there, Rebel couldn't hear a single thing; the ear plugs were specially-crafted to completely block all incoming noise rather than filtering it like her headphones did. With these plugs she was effectively deaf, but it was better than being in pain because of how loud the showers were, or if she or Skybreaker closed their locker door—it didn't even have to be hard—or even if Skybreaker just tried to talk to her in a low voice. Rebel hated it, but it was just part of her life.

She and Skybreaker chatted a little bit while they washed off the day's sweat, as they were comfortable enough with one another that they didn't mind showering like this; they'd seen that weird "puberty" video yesterday morning, and while they'd all laughed at the time, it had made the pair of them and their other friends think about things they'd never thought about before. 

"Chatted" was technically a bit inaccurate, though they did still hold a conversation. Rather than using words, of course, they communicated with their wings using the wing language Miss Curaçao had taught them years ago. 

<Do you think we can try again to get a seventh player after lunch today?> asked Skybreaker.

<I wanted to try asking Blue Mist again, maybe when he isn't eating,> Rebel replied. <Can you imagine how cool it would be to get a full team together? He'd be a good goalkeeper. Nopony's getting a shot past him.>

<I think we should keep trying with Marée, actually. She's faster than he is.>

Rebel rolled her eyes. <You're never gonna get Marée to join up no matter how many times you ask, Sky. She doesn't like flying like we do. That's why she spends all her time with Caramel.>

<Hmph. Oh well.> Skybreaker gave Rebel a small smile as she started putting shampoo into her mane. <It doesn't matter anyway. The six of us are tight without a seventh as it is. Even if we never find another player, I don't care if I get to be together with all of you.>

<Yeah!> Rebel replied with a grin. <The six of us can handle anything. Best friends forever?>

Skybreaker grinned wide. <Best friends forever!>


*****


Sunspire's head pulsed lightly as he adjusted his goggles for what was probably the tenth time this afternoon. Usually he could stand to keep them off for extended periods at a time, but for the past few hours he'd been uncomfortable with the sensations he was feeling, so he needed his goggles to filter everything out. They pinched his nose a little too tightly, so they weren't exactly comfortable; he'd have to ask the Overseer for another adjustment to the fit.

Without the goggles, the world looked like it was made up almost entirely of glowing lights. Anything and everything that used magic, even the most minute amounts, had a subtle sheen of light around it. The more powerful the source, the brighter the light, sometimes to the point of blinding; Miss Dawn, for example, was absolutely radiant, like… well, like the morning sun.

Not that he knew what the morning sun actually looked like. All the knowledge on that subject he had was from pictures he'd seen in books, and what little reading he was able to do on the subject. He didn't know what it looked like in reality, nor what its warmth felt like. He wanted to know those answers more than anything, though really he just wanted to experience what everything was like outside of the confines of the tower. 

But Miss Dawn had her tasks for him, and he wouldn't do anything to upset her, so here he stayed.

After becoming comfortable with his goggles again, he parsed through the list of books stored within Pandora Tower's database, narrowing down his search with the sort of swift efficiency of somepony with as many years of experience as he was of age. He sorted as he went, discarding books and files that were of no use to him, not because they weren't of the proper subject matter or even because of mediocre reviews, but because of his personal experience with them.

It only took him a few minutes to put together a collection of books that fit the requirements he'd been given, after which he stored them all onto a data drive that could be inserted into any computer or datapad for future access. He then took this data drive with him from behind his desk at Pandora Tower's library and made his way towards the library’s reading area.

The library had been established years ago when Miss Dawn had decided that having a dedicated floor for ponies to study in would be a benefit to everypony involved. Considering that it had seen frequent use over the years, almost exclusively by Sunspire and his fellow students, it was obvious that the decision had been an exemplary one. 

That Sunspire was given the responsibility of librarian duties also came with a sense of pride; he'd ensure that Miss Dawn noticed his skills and talents at every turn.

He found the "client" that had requested the materials he’d found: Miss Curaçao. She was seated on the comfortable couch that was present in the reading space, and by her side was a young unicorn filly with an indigo coat and a two-tone red and pink mane. The filly was currently occupied with something that Miss Curaçao was showing her on her datapad, clapping excitedly at whatever it was.

Sunspire cleared his throat quietly to get the pair's attention. "Miss Curaçao, I believe you'll find everything that you asked for on this drive. I personally chose documents and materials that would be most appropriate for your preferences."

"Merci, Sunspire," Curaçao said with a smile as she took the data drive from him and inserted it into the datapad.

"De rien," he replied, pulling from his limited, but still useful, understanding of Romantique; he wasn't anywhere near as fluent as she was, but was doing his best to learn.

Curaçao glanced through the materials that had been provided briefly, then glanced at Sunspire, eyebrow raised. "And you sorted through all of these yourself, oui?"

"Yes, ma'am. I took the liberty of choosing materials that I myself utilized when I was younger. They are not standardized texts like what my classmates and I were using when we first started our schooling, but I found them better suited for the task than the regulation materials."

Curaçao nodded. "Considering how well-read you are, I certainly have high expectations for the materials here."

"As do I, but I have little doubt that they should assist you with your homeschooling efforts for Jellybean."

"I trust your judgment, mon amie." Curaçao then put the datapad away in her saddlebag and got up off the couch, pulling the filly—Jellybean—along with her. "Come along, mon trésor. We'll have some lunch and then we can begin your lessons for the day, hmm?"

Jellybean pouted. "But Mama, I don't wanna do lessons…"

"Oh? But don't you want to go to the study group with the other students, hmm? I am sure your friends will be there, and maybe your cousin Caramel, hmm?"

"I do wanna see my friends…" Jellybean hummed, then nodded. "D'accord Mama, I'll go."

Curaçao grinned, then hoisted the filly up onto her back. "C'est une bonne fille." She nodded at Sunspire as she left. "Merci again, Sunspire."

He nodded back and watched his instructor and her daughter leave, then adjusted his goggles again before returning to his computer station and getting back to work. Miss Dawn had asked him to catalogue a few important documents for her, and he wanted to be sure that he took care of that before lunchtime.

He didn't get very far in his task before he was interrupted as two colts came up to the desk. One was Black Bolt, a unicorn with a jet black coat and a silver mane; the other was Silver Spots, another unicorn, though his mane was white and his coat was dark gray and covered with silver spots—hence the name, which Miss Gray had given him. The pair of colts were good friends with one another and in a majority of Sunspire's classes, and so considered him a friend too.

"Hey, Sunspire!" Bolt called as he strode over to the desk with a big smile on his face. "How are ya?"

"I'm well, thank you." Sunspire then put his hoof over his lips. "Also, shhh. This is a library."

Bolt raised an eyebrow and glanced out into the reading area, which was currently empty; Miss Curaçao had been the only client so far today, as most of their classmates didn't frequent the library on weekends. "But… there's nopony here? We're not bothering anypony who's trying to study."

"I'm trying to study," Sunspire noted with a grin.

"You're always trying to study," Spots huffed. "It's the weekend! We didn't get that much homework, either, especially not after puberty lessons." He snickered. "Hee hee, I hope the other videos we watch are as funny as that one."

"I fail to see the humor in a video so enlightening," Sunspire retorted, tilting his head. "The subject matter of sexual maturity is quite serious."

Bolt chuckled. "Heh heh, you said 'sex'."

Spots put his hoof over his mouth. "The video was talking about our wieners and fillies' no-nos. Of course it's funny." With his nose in the air, he added, "I don't care what that video says, I'm never gonna be interested enough in a filly to put my weiner anywhere near a filly's no-no."

"Is the purpose of this visit just to regale me with your opinions on the…" He glanced at Bolt and decided to avoid using the "sex" word again. "The developmental education video? Because I fail to see the benefit."

"Naw, we wanted to see if you wanted to hang out with us at lunch!" Bolt said with a grin. "They uploaded a new episode of Botch-o-Rama on the datanet this morning and we were gonna watch it over some snacks and drinks. You're in, right?"

Sunspire's heart sank ever-so-slightly. Botch-o-Rama was one of his favorite wrestling programs, sometimes more fun to watch than the actual shows and headliner programs from which it pulled its material. Had he really been so preoccupied with his assignments today that he didn't notice that the new episode was uploaded? 

"Sorry, I guess I'll have to watch it later tonight," he said, hiding his disappointment. "I've got a lot of work to do for Miss Dawn, and it's going to take me a few more hours to do."

"So? You can take a break for a lil' bit then come back to it after lunch, can't you?" Spots asked.

Sunspire shook his head. "Sorry, but no. Miss Dawn wouldn't like it if I delayed my assignments for self-gratification."

Bolt frowned. "Aww, c'mon, bud. You'll only be gone for like an hour at best. Miss Dawn ain't gonna get mad."

"I already gave you my answer, Bolt. Please don't make me repeat it."

Spots snorted and turned away. "Fine, whatever. We'll just watch it without you, then. Let's go, Bolt."

Bolt shook his head and sighed. "Yeah, right behind ya. See ya later, Sunspire. Let us know if you change your mind, though. We can always hold off on lunch for a little bit. But we won't wait forever, okay?"

Sunspire nodded and waved them off. "If it comes to it, I'll let you know," he said, knowing full well he wouldn't be done in time to join them.

As the pair left, Sunspire sighed, then returned to his work, at least for a few seconds before he was interrupted again by somepony clearing their throat behind him. The sudden sound was so close that it shocked him; he nearly leaped out of his chair, spinning it around while he flailed his limbs. The chair stopped moving when the throat-clearing pony grabbed its sides so that he was face-to-face with her.

"Oh! Hello, Serendipity," he blurted, adjusting his goggles nervously. "You spooked me. You really shouldn't do that; I could've hit you."

"You would've missed," the filly said with a sly grin. 

Serendipity was a white-coated pegasus with a short black mane with white stripes in the bangs. She also had a large splotch of black on her coat over her left eye that could be easily mistaken for a tattoo, but wasn't. She liked to wear a denim jacket over a tight-fitting gray t-shirt.

Sunspire paused, then nodded, realizing she was right. Like a few of his classmates, Serendipity's powers were always "on"; if he didn't have his goggles on, she'd be glowing gold right now. In her case, she just had an unnatural knack for achieving favorable outcomes in almost every situation she was in. He didn't tell anypony, but he suspected that that was why Miss Dawn had picked her as her apprentice. He didn't want to seem… jealous.

"Um, what can I do for you?" he asked her.

"You can tell me why you didn't go hang out with your friends, for one," she said, spinning his chair around once before stopping it so they were face-to-face again.

Sunspire tilted his head. "Huh? You mean Bolt and Spots?"

"Who do you think I mean, dummy?"

"Hmph. I'll assume that you heard our conversation, so you already know the reason," he answered, sticking his nose in the air. "Miss Dawn has given me an assignment, and I aim to complete it with expedience."

"Yeah yeah, I heard that, but you and I both know you could finish the assignment after having lunch with your friends and taking a break to watch your dumb wrestling show."

"Botch-o-Rama isn't dumb—"

"Don't change the subject."

Sunspire narrowed his eyes, then nodded firmly. "Fine, I could potentially finish my assignment by tonight even if I took an hour-long break to enjoy some leisure time, but I would rather not risk Miss Dawn becoming upset with me if I slacked off. I would think you of all ponies understand that."

She rolled her eyes. "Look, Sunny, I love Miss Dawn just as much as you do, same with Emp, Ruby, Blaze, and Chromie." She was referring to Empyrean, Rubedo, Vermillion Blaze, and Chroma Key, who had all been named by Miss Dawn and later assigned important tasks by her as well. "But all of us still make use of our free time and hang out with our friends."

"Maybe so, but I am permitted to make my own choices, am I not?"

Serendipity narrowed her eyes, then spun his chair around again.

"Please stop that," he said wearily. "It's making me ill."

She poked his nose with her hoof. "Fine, you're right, you can make your own choices, Sunny. I won't stop you if this is the kind of choice you want to make." She sighed and pushed off of the chair, causing it to bump roughly against the desk. "But I don't think it's healthy."

He sighed and rubbed his nose. "If you're done lecturing me, Serendipity, I believe you have delayed me enough from my work. I would like to get back to it, if you don't mind?"

Serendipity stared at him for a moment, then shook her head dejectedly and headed off towards the exit. "Good luck with your work, Sunny. If you're finished in time for dinner, I'm sure your friends would be happy to see you there."

He watched her go, then huffed and turned back to the computer station, reconfiguring his chair again after she had somehow put it entirely off-balance. He immediately returned to his work of sorting documents, and managed to get a fair few of them done before he was interrupted yet again, this time by the intercom at his desk. 

The incoming ID was from Miss Dawn's office; Sunspire felt immediately quite nervous that he had delayed his assignment too long by talking with his friends.

"Sunspire," Miss Dawn's voice said from the other end. "I require your assistance with an important assignment. Are you currently preoccupied?"

Sunspire blinked. "Oh, um, n-no ma'am. I was just finishing up the documentation sorting assignment you required of me—"

"Ah, yes, I recall delivering that assignment to you this morning. No matter, I will see that it is reassigned and dealt with appropriately. This new assignment takes precedence. Report to my office immediately."

"Yes ma'am, right away ma'am," Sunspire said, saluting even though she wasn't physically present. The call terminated immediately after he confirmed his orders.

He took a deep breath, then straightened his jacket, adjusted his goggles, and locked up his workstation before hopping out of the chair and making for the elevator. Whatever this assignment was that Miss Dawn had for him must have been absolutely critical if she was taking him off of his other assignment, and clearly required his expertise, otherwise why call him?

Whatever it was, he told himself right then and there that he was going to fulfil it to the absolutely best of his ability and make her proud.
> Chapter Twelve: Time
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Earlier That Day…


Winter Glow watched carefully as her apprentice, Hourglass, handled the Timekeeper—a nondescript-looking pocket watch—with the careful precision that was required for such a device. The little watch belonged to Winter, of course, not to Hourglass; the latter would receive her own once she was fully accredited as a Chronomancer, and that was still some ways away. This was just a training exercise so that Hourglass would be ready for the real thing.

The pair practiced in Winter's apartment, a shabby-buy-not-too-shabby hole in the wall located on the upper floor of a smaller complex in the Mid-North District of New Pandemonium. It was barely large enough for Winter alone, so living with Hourglass was tough at times, but Winter had been insistent about not getting help from Lockwood to get a better place than this. She didn't want to get so comfortable that she actually liked being at home, because that just made work suck that much more.

As always, they wore their official uniforms: Winter in a purple turtleneck sweater with a matching scarf and beret, Hourglass in a mare's black tuxedo with a matching bow tie and little top hat. Chronomancers got to choose their "look", which became a permanent fixture for the remainder of their tenure. They could adjust it for things like environmental conditions but rarely did it for much else, even formal occasions like, say, a wedding.

Chronomancers had odd rules at times, but this was one of the tamer ones.

"Okay, now ya just give the left dial three quarter turns clockwise," explained Winter as she carefully looked over Hourglass's shoulder, "and then ya click it back in."

"Like this?" asked Hourglass

The younger mare followed the instructions to the letter, giving the left dial on the Timekeeper three clockwise quarter turns—they had to be precise!—before popping it back into place. The device dinged and glowed a dim green momentarily before returning to its normal color.

Winter smiled and nodded. "Ace! Now, read out the information on the display for me, see if ya can tell me how accurate it seems to ya."

Hourglass squinted and read out the data aloud: "Currently active anomalies: zero. Reported anomalies in the past day-cycle period: zero; in the past week-cycle period: one; month cycle: four; rotational cycle: twelve." She tilted her head. "Is this a catalogue of the Void anomalies we've closed up all year?"

"That's right. Do the numbers match up to ya based on what you've seen?"

Hourglass closed her eyes briefly—she always did that when performing calculations in her head—then nodded. "Yeah, the numbers are bang on." She pointed at the bottom of the screen. "Oh look, there's even a figure here at the bottom that predicts when we can expect the next anomaly. Four weeks out? How accurate is that?"

"Typically one hundred percent," Winter said with a confident grin. "Good for figurin' out how long ya get to take a break."

"Neato. Bloody shame it can't predict where it'll pop up until it's closer to us. Would make it easier to prepare, right?"

Winter shrugged. "Yeah, damn shame, that. But then where's the excitement in the job, eh?"

"I thought you hated this job?"

"Oh, sure, but can ya imagine how much worse it would be if it was borin' too?" She then gestured back at the pocket watch. "Let's move on though. We've got a bit more to cover today, and we'll head to lunch once we're all finished up. I'm feelin' like given' a go to that hay fries place downtown."

"Wicked, sounds good to me." Hourglass said with a nod; the top hat on her head didn't even move an inch, as though fixed in place. "Righto then, what's next?"

"This one's complicated, so listen closely: first, you're gonna pull out both right-side dials. Then, twist the one closest to ya one full turn clockwise, then twist the one furthest from ya one quarter counterclockwise, then click the closer one back in, turn the father one half turn clockwise, and lastly you'll click that one in as well."

Hourglass bit her tongue as she followed the instructions, but once she was finished, the device gave a loud beep, briefly glowing red. She sighed, gave the pocket watch a gentle shake to reset it, then tried again. Again it beeped and glowed red, and this time she grumbled a bit more angrily, shook the pocket watch, and went right back to it. The third time, she got it right; the device dinged and glowed a dim green.

"Finally. Why was that one so tough?" she asked, giving Winter an aggravated grunt.

"Because that's the combination that activates the Timekeeper's ability to manipulate a Void anomaly's dimensional data," Winter explained. "The more complex combinations tend to be for more powerful functionalities. Ya haven't seen the worst of it yet, let me tell ya."

Hourglass glanced at the device again, then back to Winter, awestruck. "That wasn't even the most complicated one?"

"That's the most complicated basic function, sure, and one that you'll be using frequently, so ya better memorize it. In fact, ya gotta memorize all of the combinations, in case ya gotta use 'em in stressful situations." With a grin, she clapped Hourglass on the shoulder. "Don't worry though, mate, they're all written down in the guidebook. Just click the top dial five times to access it."

Hourglass did so, which displayed written instructions on all of the different basic combinations features. Her eyes widened in shock. "Bloody hell, there're so many." She glanced at Winter again. "And these are just the 'basic' ones? You mean there're more advanced ones not written down in here?"

"For emergency functions, yeah. They'll go over those with ya at HQ when ya get your own Timekeeper, though; I can't show 'em to ya. Goes against protocol."

Winter took the pocket watch from Hourglass briefly and spun it about. "Just remember, this device is what makes you a Chronomancer, not just some survivalist twit who happens to know their way around the world, eh? Whatever happens, once you get your own one of these, you need to keep it with you—intact—at all costs."

"Right, makes sense," Hourglass said with an understanding nod. "What kinds of other things can it do, anyway? To be honest with you, it doesn't seem like it does anything but read data and close or open Void anomalies."

"I can't go over those features with ya, sorry. But hey, I can tell ya that it's not called a 'Timekeeper' for no reason, eh?" She passed the device back to Hourglass. "Now, do that last combination for me again, and I'll open up a simulation anomaly for you to practice with. Remember, the most important part of your job is keeping those rifts in check, so—"

They both went quiet when the Timekeeper suddenly turned completely black and began vibrating violently in Hourglass's magical field.

"I didn't do anything!" Hourglass blurted as she tried to pass it back to Winter. "I swear!"

Winter narrowed her eyes at the device and quickly took it from Hourglass's field into her own. "This isn't you, mate. This is—" Then, just as suddenly as it started, the Timekeeper stopped shaking and returned to its normal coloration. "What the… hmm."

She popped the device's front open and adjusted the dials multiple times in the proper combination. Once she was done, the screen on the device displayed a graph of data, which was composed of a pair of flat lines—one white, one black—that ran flat across the horizontal axis with blips up or down so tiny that they were almost impossible to see with the untrained naked eye.

Except now, at the very end of the graph, there was a huge spike in the black level, which then instantly reverted back down to the flat line, except that it was just slightly above the white one. Winter adjusted the graph so that she could see the results of the spike, and she could see that the difference was so miniscule that the average observer wouldn't find it odd at all.

To Winter, though, it meant everything: not only was the balance between the two lines different now than it had been before the sudden spike, it was growing more disparate by the second. The rate was pathetically small—less than a thousandth of a percent per minute—but it was noticeable enough to somepony whose entire job it was to observe such imbalances.

"What's wrong?" Hourglass asked. "What happened?"

Winter observed the data for another moment, then shook her head. "We've got a problem. There's an imbalance in the world's Light/Darkness levels. I don't know what the hell that spike was, but it looks like it was the cause of it."

"Don't you mean 'Law/Chaos'?" Hourglass asked, sincere as ever.

"Semantics at this point. This world calls their balance levels Light and Darkness, so that's the terminology I'm usin' even though I know it's not what you're used to. They taught ya about it being the Law/Chaos dynamic back at HQ, but every world is different—" 

She paused, then sighed; getting into an argument about it was the last thing she wanted to do right now, for multiple reasons. "Besides, it's not relevant what they're called unless you wanna be a stuck-up twat about it. Balance is balance, and it's our job to observe imbalances like this. These things cause Void anomalies if left unchecked. Big ones."

"I know that, Winter. How big are we talking about there?"

"World-ending big, if that spike was any indication." She changed the display with another combination of dial turns and clicks. "There's no Void anomaly yet, but the imbalance is growing. If the level of imbalance reaches even one-tenth as high as that spike's peak did, we're looking at a potential apocalypse-level scenario. Last time I dealt with a situation like this was…" 

She frowned as memories came flooding back, of happy times spent at the side of the best friend she'd ever had, the only pony she'd ever developed stars-be-damned feelings for, all knowing full well that the fate of two entire worlds depended on ensuring that they never saw each other again. She'd done a good job over the years avoiding reminiscing about Twilight Sparkle… but sometimes she couldn't help it.

But there was work to do, so Winter violently forced those thoughts to the farthest recesses of her mind, like she always did.

She adjusted the Timekeeper dials slightly, displaying a map of the northern continent on its screen. "Let's see if I can pinpoint that spike's origin, hmm?"

It took her only a few moments to do so, adjusting dials as she went to manipulate the map's display and to calculate readings as accurately as she possibly could remotely. Once she got her results, she read them aloud:

"Somewhere in the Goldridge Mountains, looks like. Huh… that's weird."

Hourglass tilted her head. "It is?"

"Ya know how I've told ya that the Gargantuans don't like headin' too close to Goldridge, yeah? It's because there's a higher concentration of Light magic in the area than elsewhere in the north. Something to do with the ancient ruins of the gryphon city there, but nopony knows for sure."

"So this is weird because…?"

"Because the spike was entirely Dark magic. The last dangerous imbalance our world dealt with was roughly seven years ago, and that was related to Light magic, and it wasn't quite as volatile." Winter squinted at the data again, and shook her head. "That spike was so fucked that I think it might be glitching my readings. It isn't a signature I recognize."

"Huh?"

"Powerful sources of Light and Dark have signatures that are recognizable. It makes it easy to track them and pinpoint what's causing issues. I have the signatures for the Beacons both up here and down south, as well as a few other powerful sources, but this one is… new." She shook her head. "Anyway, I don't want to assume that our situation here is the same as in the past, but it's still our job to investigate it."

Hourglass nodded firmly. "Righto then, let's hop to it. What's the plan?"

"Traveling to Goldridge itself is the easy part. We can handle a few little dust storms before that big one arrives, eh? It's leavin' the city that'll be the tough part."

"Ah… right, the lockdown," Hourglass muttered, rubbing her chin. "They haven't ordered the full curfew yet, but nopony's allowed to leave the city until after the all-clear is given, not without proper clearance. So… we need clearance, right?"

"Right," Winter grunted. "Luckily, I know who to ask."


*****


Winter and Hourglass rode in the elevator of Pandora Tower all the way up towards the topmost floor. Winter remained calm and collected the whole way up; Hourglass, however, was staring wide-eyed out the elevator's window onto the city beyond, not exactly awed per se, but more… curious. This would be the first time the younger mare had ever seen the city from this angle, come to think of it, and Hourglass was the sort to get a little giddy over that sort of thing.

"Strike me pink! I knew you knew some important ponies, Winter, but I didn't think you actually knew anypony who lived up in this big tower," Hourglass muttered, her face practically against the glass. "I didn't know they even made buildings this tall. Bloody hell, how high does this thing go?"

Winter snorted. "I don't particularly like takin' advantage of my connections except in emergencies. I'd say this constitutes an emergency, yeah?"

She quietly tapped her hoof on the floor as she mentally prepared herself for the upcoming meeting. The elevator music—some sort of symphonic ballad—wasn't helping matters; it was too slow and tranquil for her tastes and just aggravated her stress rather than alleviating it. The last time she'd rode this elevator had been to meet with Lord Silvertongue, and back then the elevator had been pleasantly quiet.

"So, this 'Golden Dawn'... I recognize the name, I think," Hourglass said, not turning to look at Winter. "She was at the wedding a few years back, right? I don't remember everything about the trip, but I think I remember her. She was the posh-type unicorn mare… the one that was a bit snooty, right? Not the half-sharp one?"

"That's the one. Good on ya with the memory there."

"You talked about her before, I think. Her and… That Other Mare."

Winter clenched her teeth briefly, but she was glad Hourglass was trying not to be too direct about it. She'd talked with her apprentice in the past about the situation that led to HQ deciding to assign her an apprentice early; apparently dealing with the Elements of Harmony situation as well as she did convinced them she should immediately start training others. 

She hadn't gone into a lot of detail at the time, but Hourglass had been able to pick up well enough that Winter did not want to talk about Twilight Sparkle if she could help it.

Hourglass tilted her head. "Huh. I still find it hard to imagine you being friends with somepony so full of themselves. I didn't think much of it until I met her myself, but she seemed worse than how you described her before."

"Strewth, but I wouldn't exactly call Dawn and I 'friends'. We're acquaintances, nothing more. Apart from you, I don't have any friends… at least not in this world." 

"So, even King Lockwood—"

"Still just an acquaintance. Better than most, sure—I wouldn't have gone to the weddin' otherwise—but we don't exactly talk much anymore." Winter shook her head dejectedly. "You'll learn eventually, mate: attachments aren't worth much in this line of work, not for folks like you and me. All they do is lead to gettin' hurt."

"What about me? You said we were friends, right?"

Winter froze up slightly, then shook her head again. "As if ya have to ask. Of course you are, mate; you're my mate! Always have been. You're different. I know I wasn't expectin' to get ya as my apprentice, but worse-case scenario, there was always a possibility of seein' ya again."

Hourglass stayed silent a moment, then turned her attention back to the elevator window. "Bloody hell, it's not any less weird today than it was when you first picked me up. I used to be older than you, but here you are now, nearly twice my age and still considering me the only friend you can talk to. Bonkers is what it is."

The elevator came to a stop at the top floor, and the pair disembarked and made straight for the Shadow Associate's office. A knock at the door was all they needed to do so that Dawn would know they'd arrived.

"Enter," came Dawn's voice from the other side.

They did so.

Dawn was seated at her desk, currently turned away from the door and facing the tinted window that looked out onto the city. She wordlessly gestured towards the chairs on the opposite side of her desk so that Winter and Hourglass would know to seat themselves, which they did wordlessly as well. Winter inwardly snorted; this all seemed a bit pretentious, but then again that was so Dawn.

"This is quite the surprise, would you not agree, Winter?" Dawn asked. 

She swiveled around in her chair to face them as they sat down, and Winter could see the other mare had hardly changed a bit since they'd last seen each other: still the same professional style of dress and presentation, still the same disinterested, almost dismissive look in her eyes. The only difference was that Dawn now wore glasses, horn-rimmed of course since those seemed the most professional.

Winter grunted. "The only surprisin' thing here is seein' ya wearin' glasses. Your eyesight goin' bad there, Dawnie?"

Dawn quietly removed her glasses and cleaned them with only her magic, something that Winter knew required fine, delicate control over one's spellwork to do without damaging the glass. The other unicorn always did like to show off in subtle ways. Or not-so-subtle, on occasion.

"If you are curious," she replied, "then yes, my eyesight has faltered this past year. My vision is still crisp enough without these spectacles that I am capable of seeing clearly, but I am of the opinion that I had best prepare myself for the eventuality that I will require them at all times."

"Doesn't this world have the technology to repair eyesight?" Hourglass asked.

Dawn gave her a brief, cursory glance, then turned back to Winter. "I have refused corrective laser surgery unless it is required to correct a catastrophic deterioration in my eyesight." She cleared her throat. "But I do not theorize that the intention of this rendezvous was to 'check up' on me and inquire about my optometric health."

"No, it's not," Winter replied.

"Of course." Dawn shook her head, her lips curling in a slight grin. "How much time has passed since we last encountered one another, Winter? Lockwood's wedding, I believe?"

Winter nodded. "That's right."

"Approximately… six years, if I am not mistaken. My, how time flies…" Dawn tilted her head and glanced at Hourglass, who she also gave a smile. "Your apprentice has matured quite admirably. A pleasure to make your acquaintance again, Miss… ah, I cannot seem to recall your appellation. Forgive me. You are?"

"Hourglass," the younger mare said with a polite nod. "A pleasure to meet you again, too, I suppose. Though I don't really think we 'met' back then, so much as we just said 'hi' and that was it."

"I see." Dawn shook her head and returned her attention to Winter. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this encounter, hmm? I have afforded you visitation rights to Pandora Tower for years now, but you have never deigned to utilize the privilege until today. You will need to forgive me if my inquisitiveness comes across as demanding."

"You don't at all, actually," Winter snorted. Dawn's false modesty was almost worse than her typical egotistical attitude was. She didn't like the adjustment. "And to be blunt, I just haven't felt the need to take advantage of our acquaintanceship so blatantly. A Chronomancer is intended to conduct themselves independently outside of extraneous circumstances."

Dawn frowned slightly. "Our… acquaintanceship, yes, of course." She cleared her throat, then was all-business again. "Well, if you have determined that whatever circumstances you are experiencing are extraneous, then I would be pleased to offer aid. What seems to be the trouble that you deemed my assistance in particular worth seeking out?"

"There was a massive spike in the world's magical balance just a few hours ago, specifically a spike of Dark energies," Winter explained. "The last time a spike of any significance occurred was when our world had extradimensional visitors, and we both know what the results of those circumstances were, and what was at stake."

"Naturally," Dawn said cooly, leaning back in her seat and steepling her hooves.

Dawn would remember of course that one of the most important results of that event was that she was even sitting in that chair drawing breath. Winter didn't feel the need to remind her so overtly that if not for Twilight and her friends accidentally ending up here in Equestria-V, Dawn and her sisters wouldn't even exist.

"I came to ya because I know that if anypony in this world would have any sort of insight into the situation, it would be you. Or, more specifically, your father Silvertongue."

Dawn raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yeah, y'know, seein' as he's supposed to be in charge of controllin' all of the world's Dark magic and keepin' it balanced and all that?" Winter leaned forward, a serious expression on her face. "I first had to be sure whether or not your dear old dad had anythin' to do with this."

"And if he does?"

"Then whatever he's doin' needs to stop before he tears the damn world apart." Winter tilted her head and grinned. "And if it's not him, then I need his help findin' out who or what is responsible. Because if it ain't him, then that means we've either got extradimensional visitors again, or somethin' else is wrong that I can't explain."

Dawn nodded slowly, then swiveled in her chair to look out the window again. After a moment, she responded, "I should inform you that I anticipated your arrival today, specifically regarding this circumstance. I had hoped our conversation would be more… pleasant, but I should never have expected us to spend much time discussing personal matters when business is at stake."

She then turned back to face Winter and Hourglass. "My father and I communicated a mere hour before your arrival. Our conversation was thorough, albeit brief. I can assure you that he is not responsible for this sudden 'spike' in Darkness levels, but that he is most definitely aware of its occurrence."

"Good, then he's willing to help us, I take it?" Winter asked, sitting up straight in her seat.

Dawn nodded. "Of course. My father's primary concern, his long-standing goal for the entirety of his life and beyond, had always been to maintain our world's balance between Light and Darkness. Though his methods differ from yours and those of your ilk, you share that purpose in your endeavors."

"Fair enough. Would he happen to know anythin' more about this anomaly than we do?"

"You have yet to inform me what exactly you do know about it. If you would enlighten me?"

Winter paused, then nodded, realizing she hadn't actually shared any details yet. "Right, right. All I know about it so far is that it was a humongous surge of Dark magic originatin' from somewhere in the Goldridge Mountains. I couldn't pinpoint exact coordinates since the spike was so brief, so if your dad knows where it started it'd be a big help."

"Yes, that coincides with my father's assessment of the situation. Unfortunately, the Goldridge Mountains are rife with oddities that make it a difficult place for him to scry upon from within the Dreaming. He suspects the ancient gryphon ruins may be at fault for it—"

Winter couldn't help herself. "Which is, ironically, his fault to begin with—"

Dawn scowled. "Do not assume you can understand the complexity of my father's decisions, Winter. The regrettable choices my father made to ensure his ultimate goal came to fruition will be worthwhile." With a huff, she continued, "Now, as to this 'anomaly', I regret that neither I nor my father can offer you much insight beyond what you already possess knowledge of."

"Fat lot of use he is, then," Winter grunted.

Hourglass looked between Dawn and Winter. "I'm not sure I follow all of this. Who's this 'Silvertongue', exactly?"

Dawn turned fully on Hourglass, more than a little irked at this point. "Lord Silvertongue is my father. He formerly served as the Warden—an empowered chaplain of sorts—to the former Goddess of Disparity, Nihila. The details would require an elongated expository exchange, but to summarize, he deceived her and usurped her power, and now serves in her place as God of Triumph."

Winter rolled her eyes. "Is that what he's goin' with? 'Triumph'?"

"The entirety of his life's work exemplifies the ideal of triumphing over adversity," Dawn snorted, giving Winter a hard look.

"Whatever you say."

Dawn then looked back to Hourglass. "I now serve my father as his Warden, as he once did for Nihila. It grants me the capability to communicate with my father within the Dreaming—a separate plane of existence from ours—and to carry out his wishes. I have utilized my past seven years accomplishing just that; soon, the Queen and King of Hope's Point will sign a peace treaty that will usher in a new age of prosperity throughout the north."

"Don't sound too proud of yourself there, Dawn," Winter huffed with a grin. "You've done good, I'll give ya that, but don't act like your success ain't built on the efforts of others, too."

Dawn narrowed her eyes again. "All of which was carried out due to my commands."

"Just sayin'." Winter shrugged and leaned back in her seat, casually playing with the hoofrest. "So anyway, what're you and your dad gonna do to help us out here? All I really came to ask for was permission to leave the city, but if your dad's been talkin' with you about the situation then ya must have more in mind."

Dawn leaned back in her seat as well. "Permission to depart New Pandemonium City shall be granted; it is a trifling matter. As for other assistance, I had originally planned on assigning a team to investigate the issue. I cannot do so myself, you must understand; I know not how long such an endeavor will take, and I must be present in the city for the arrival of King Lockwood and Queen Blackburn."

Winter tapped her chin. "Yeah, makes sense. Can't sign a peace treaty without both parties present."

"So you're giving us a team of ponies to help?" Hourglass asked, wide-eyed.

"No, not exactly," Dawn said, giving Hourglass a disapproving look before turning back to Winter. "I am aware of the dedication you assign to your work, Winter. You do not delay yourself for anypony, and I would be delaying you via the process of selecting a collection of ideal candidates for such an assignment."

"Meh. We can handle this on our own, anyway," Winter grunted. "I appreciate ya lettin' us leave the city at least. That's really all we needed anyway. So, thanks for everythin', but yeah, we'd better get to it." She turned to Hourglass. "C'mon."

Before Winter and Hourglass could get out of their seats, however, Dawn cleared her throat. "Winter, I did not plan on allowing you to depart entirely empty-hooved. I had already decided upon one participant of the team I was to assign to this task, and I can still assign him to you would be willing to allow it."

Winter and Hourglass shared a brief look, taken aback. "Yeah, alright. The more the merrier, I suppose," Winter said. "There are stipulations, of course. Whoever this is needs to know how to keep a secret; the nature of our work isn't meant to be common knowledge, as you know. I don't know what might come up in the course of this excursion, but it's worth sayin'."

"I am of the opinion that such a request would be no trouble for him whatsoever. You have my word on that."

"Good. Get on with it, then."

Dawn pressed a button on her intercom. "Sunspire. I require your assistance with an important assignment. Are you currently preoccupied?"

There was a slight pause on the other end, then a response: "Oh, um, n-no ma'am. I was just finishing up the documentation sorting assignment you required of me—"

"Ah, yes," Dawn said, glancing at the ceiling in thought. "I recall delivering that assignment to you this morning. No matter, I will see that it is reassigned and dealt with appropriately. This new assignment takes precedence. Report to my office immediately."

"Yes ma'am, right away ma'am."

Dawn then shut off the intercom and leaned back in her seat. "He will arrive momentarily."

The group waited for only a couple of minutes, and then there came a knock at the office door. "Enter!" called Dawn.

In walked a young unicorn colt, no more than ten years of age, with a peach-colored coat and a spiky orange-and-gold mane. He wore a little brown jacket over a plaid shirt and sported a set of goggles with green-tinted lenses which looked more like overly-large glasses.

"Reporting for duty, ma'am," the colt said with a salute.

"Punctual as ever, Sunspire," Dawn said with a nod. She gestured to Winter and Hourglass. "These are associates of mine, Winter Glow and Hourglass."

The colt, Sunspire, gave the two mares a nod. "Hello there. A pleasure to meet you both."

"Sunspire, as I iterated earlier, I have an assignment for you. Miss Glow and Miss Hourglass are intending on embarking on an expedition into the Wastelands to investigate a magical anomaly. I believe your unique talent may be of benefit to them in locating its precise location and the nature of its constitution."

"My talents, ma'am?" he asked, tilting his head. "Do they require guidance with an atlas?"

"Not that talent, Sunspire, no. I was referring to your ability to observe magical signatures."

He seemed surprised. "Oh. Um… okay then, ma'am. I'll do my best." He then paused, and his eyes went wide. "Wait, you mean… you want me to leave the city? As in venturing out into the Wastelands?"

Dawn nodded as if the answer was obvious. "Of course. They require your physical presence to benefit from your abilities."

Winter stared at the colt for a moment, then narrowed her eyes at Dawn. "You're kiddin', right? He's just a little colt! He doesn't even look like his balls have dropped yet, for stars' sake. I don't make it a habit of takin' kids out into the Wastelands—"

"You have engaged in repeated excursions into the Wastelands with your apprentice, have you not?" Dawn asked, eyes also narrowing.

Winter froze, glancing at Hourglass briefly. "That's different. She already had basic survival trainin', and I just helped expand—"

"Are you capable of pinpointing the precise location of this anomaly within a reasonable timeframe?" Dawn interjected. "As you will no doubt recall from the previous anomaly that caused such distress in our world, time served as a critical factor in the severity of the crisis. There is no telling what circumstances may have been different had certain elements been altered by mere hours, minutes, or even seconds."

"And ya think we can get there fast enough if I'm draggin' along a little colt?" Winter snapped.

"Sunspire, like all of the other students in the Shadow Candidate program, has participated in rudimentary survival courses, and each and every one of them are physically fit and sound of mind," Dawn continued, leaning forward in her seat.

"Dawn—"

"You conducted expeditions into the Wastelands with your apprentice when she was the same prepubescent age that Sunspire is now, younger in point of fact. No offense intended to Miss Hourglass, but I have absolute confidence in each and every one of my Shadows' capabilities. Their training has been exemplary, and I have overseen the reports personally; I cannot say the same for you and your apprentice."

Winter clenched her teeth and sharply rose from her seat. "Hourglass is at least as capable as any one of your 'Shadows' or whatever the hell you call 'em. And she's older now to boot."

"All the more reason to cease this inconsequential ruckus and accept the aid that I am willing to lend you," Dawn said, rising from her seat as well. "Between yourself and your exalted apprentice, you should not experience any complications by allowing Sunspire to join you on your excursion."

Hourglass cleared her throat and gave Winter a soft look. "Winter, c'mon… we can handle this. If this kid's even half as good as me, there won't be any trouble, right?"

Winter stared at Hourglass for a moment, then sighed and looked at Dawn. "Fine. Whatever. Thanks for the help, Dawn."

"You are quite welcome," Dawn said with a polite nod. She turned to Sunspire. "You have your assignment, Sunspire, and are to depart immediately."

Sunspire, who looked a little stunned after witnessing the argument, gave a tepid salute. "Yes, ma'am. I'll have to make a visit to the Overseer before departing, if I have your permission? I need him to make some adjustments to my goggles if I am to leave the tower for an extended period of time."

Dawn glanced sharply at Winter. "Assuming that is alright with Miss Glow, then you have my permission."

Winter gave the colt a brief look, then gestured towards the door as she got out of her seat; Hourglass followed suit, right behind Winter almost immediately. "Alright, come on, kid. We'd better get a move on if we're gonna get anythin' done before that big sandstorm hits. We'll see this 'Overseer' of yours, then make a stop at our place for supplies before we head out to the Gate District."

Sunspire nodded and followed after her and Hourglass out of Dawn's office. "Yes, ma'am, right behind you ma'am."

"And cut out that 'ma'am' sh— stuff," Winter hastily corrected. 

She didn't have a problem swearing in front of Hourglass these days—the young mare was almost an adult, after all, even if she was young—but she didn't want to start swearing in front of a youthful stranger, not unless she knew what kind of language he was used to.

"Just 'Winter' will do. No 'ma'am', no 'Miss Glow', none of that; we're working together, kid, and I hate being formal at work."

"Yes ma— yes, Winter," he replied.

"So, Dawn says you've got some sort of ability to 'see' magic signatures or something?" she asked as they headed down the hall.

"That's correct. It's rather difficult to explain how it works without you being able to witness it for yourself, but…" He paused and tapped his chin. "Everything that uses magic leaves a sort of 'residue'. I have the ability to see that residue; the more powerful the magic, the brighter it is and the longer it lasts."

"Blimey, and your goggles let you do that or something?" Hourglass asked, gesturing at said goggles.

He shook his head. "No, the opposite. The goggles filter out the ability for me to perceive magic entirely. Without them, I can see magic all the time, and sometimes it's overwhelming to my senses and gives me headaches, especially if there's a powerful effect responsible."

"Hmm… alright, I'll buy it for now," Winter grunted. "I know Dawn's sisters have powers they shouldn't have as non-unicorns, so I can buy you, a unicorn, having some sort of strange powers like that too. And this Overseer of yours, he's going to fix your goggles or something? Are they broken?" 

"No, I'm still just adjusting to the fit. I had a growth spurt early this year. The Overseer designed them so he can adjust them without damaging the technomagic mechanisms inside. I also should pick up an emergency communicator from him so that I can keep in touch with Miss Dawn."

She hummed and nodded; she'd never given it much thought, but the ponies here at the tower sure did have a lot more resources that she thought possible given the rest of the city's atmosphere. Developing technomagic for such a specific purpose would have likely been deemed a waste of time, money, and energy for the commercial or military sectors to even bother with.

"And Dawn was serious about your trainin'?" she asked. "Ya think ya can handle the Wastelands?"

"Yes, ma— Winter. I'm confident in my capabilities. It's my first time going out there in person, but I know the basics of making camp, hiking, long-distance travel, tying ropes, rationing supplies—"

"Okay, okay, good on ya, ya know your stuff," Winter interjected to avoid a long list. "And you've actually trained in all of this?"

"Mostly just practiced it on my own time, actually. I read all about it in a few books on the subject, since I felt what we'd learned in class wasn't sufficient enough for my tastes."

"Heh, learning about everything from a book, huh? Reminds me of—" 

Winter paused, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The absolute last thing she needed right now was to keep going back to thoughts about Twilight. If this kid was going to talk and act like that for the whole trip, that might be harder than it had originally sounded.

"Of what?" Sunspire asked, drawing Winter out of her temporary freeze.

Hourglass interjected, "A geek. You sound like a geek."

"Oh," he murmured, red with embarrassment.

Nice save, Winter thought.

As the trio boarded the elevator, Winter couldn't help but feel as if she'd have been better off just taking Hourglass and sneaking out of the city in the first place.


*****


It took roughly four days for Winter, Hourglass, and Sunspire to reach the Goldridge Checkpoint from New Pandemonium's Gate District. This was roughly twelve or so hours longer than the average time that Winter was accustomed to making the journey in, but weather patterns in recent years—and especially the past few months—had been making things difficult for her and Hourglass for quite some time, so it wasn't totally unexpected.

Massive sandstorms were sometimes an issue, but rarely were they ever so harsh that the pair would have needed to completely adjust their route. The most they had to deal with on a frequent basis were the occasional small-scale dust storms, dust devils of varying sizes, and otherwise strong enough winds that they couldn't take shelter out in the open. Nopony knew why the weather had been worsening lately, and that was probably the worst part; it made it difficult to predict and difficult to defend against.

Still, Winter was glad to see that Sunspire was hardly the handicap she thought he would be initially. He proved himself just as capable as Dawn and himself had claimed him to be: he knew how to set up his own tent and tie it down to prevent it from blowing away; he could keep up with the more experienced ponies' pace and didn't lag or complain; he rationed his supplies well once he'd calculated the length of the journey and the amount of food and water were assigned to him. 

He'd actually taken to it better than Hourglass initially had, something that caused the younger mare no small amount of annoyance.

The only complaint Winter had at all was that he was a precocious, curious youth who was probably a little too smart for his age and had the urge to learn more.

On their first day and night as a troupe, he'd bombarded Winter and Hourglass with questions about their careers. Winter had to carefully word her answers so as not to reveal the full nature of their work. Dawn knew well enough not to reveal the nature of alternate realities to just anypony, so she doubted Sunspire knew about it, but damn it all if he wasn't persistent.

"So what exactly is a Chronomancer?" he asked, not even close to out of breath as they hiked along. "I've heard Miss Dawn talk about you a little bit before, Winter, but I don't think she actually knows what it is you do. Apart from investigating these weird imbalances, that is."

"A Chronomancer's duty is to maintain and observe the balance in nature within the world's fundamental makeup," Winter explained as she took a sip of water from her canteen. "The world has a sort of 'heart', let's call it, and that heart is composed of two equal-yet-opposing forces: Law, and Chaos, or more commonly, Light and Darkness. 

"When those forces are in perfectly equal harmony, then the world is in a balanced, secure state. When there's an imbalance, however, the world becomes opened up to an outside force called the Void. Void energy is highly destructive; if left unchecked, it can tear the entire world apart."

"So we go around and find where these imbalances have let in rifts of Void magic, and we bloody well close them," Hourglass finished with her nose in the air. "It's an important job, and somepony's got to do it, and that somepony's us."

Sunspire hummed and nodded. "So this 'Void' energy is so dangerous because it exists outside of the world's natural order?"

"Essentially, yeah."

"How are Chronomancers so certain of its effect? Has anypony witnessed its destructiveness?"

Winter saw Hourglass's face fall, because the subject was a hard one for her to talk about; Sunspire couldn't have known that and they couldn't tell him why, either: 

Hourglass was a rarity within the Chronomancer collective, because she'd been old enough when her world was destroyed to remember it happening, to remember what made her world unique, to remember friends and family. Winter couldn't claim the same, for instance; the only memory she had of her old world was a fleeting image of what might have been her parents, but that was about it.

"Nopony's allowed it to get out of hoof enough to actually destroy our world, if that's not obvious enough," Winter answered carefully. "But the effects of it have been witnessed. Creatures and objects that are too close to a rift without proper protection simply vanish into the Void, gone forever."

It was the most tactful way Winter could explain it while still answering the question.

"Would you say the Void is considered a separate plane of existence, like the Dreaming is?" he asked next.

Winter shook her head. "Not exactly, but that would be one way of looking at it. Unlike the Dreaming, though, the Void is inherently destructive. The Dreaming, at least according to those who have given accounts of it to some degree, all agree that it's a peaceful place. It's where our souls supposedly go to rest when we die."

Sunspire nodded in understanding. "Fascinating stuff. And so your job is to go around, find these 'rifts', and close them up? How often do you have to do that? I thought our world was in perfect balance?"

"There are always minor fluctuations," Hourglass said. "They're small enough that a rift can still pop up, though they're usually not big enough to cause a world-ending rift. It'd take a huge fluctuation to cause that kind of impact."

"Which is what we're investigatin'," Winter added. "A surge of Darkness created enough of an imbalance that there's potentially world-endin' danger at hoof." 

"Wow, so you're saying that this trip could potentially save the world?" Sunspire asked, his eyes wide with awe.

"I mean… yeah, if ya want to look at it that way?"

"Cooool." Sunspire grinned widely. "So how are we gonna actually save the world, huh? Is there like a technique for closing these rifts? Ooh, are gonna see a rift? I hope we do, all this talk about it being alien magic makes me wonder what it looks like." 

He then paused. "N-not that I hope we see a world-ending anomaly or anything. Purely a scientific curiosity. Will it be dangerous? Do you have some method of preventing it from hurting us?"

Winter sighed and shook her head. "Crikey you've got a lot of questions, don't ya?"

The line of questioning continued for probably an hour or so as Winter kept her answers exactly as detailed as they needed to be in order to avoid the truth of the matter, and yet Sunspire never seemed to tire of asking for more details or going off on a tangent of excitability over some part of the discussion, which gradually turned into questions about where they were going and how they were getting there.

At the end of it all, Hourglass summed up the conversation… rather succinctly. "Oh my stars you are such a nerd," she groaned as he asked what had to be his hundredth question of the afternoon. "Do you ever bloody stop?"

He froze up, suddenly looking embarrassed. "Oh, s-sorry, I was just curious, is all."

"It's a good trait, kid," Winter said, looking back at the red-faced colt. "But ya gotta learn to tone it down a tad, eh? We've got no problem answerin' questions for ya, but we've got a long road ahead of us and ya could spread these questions out a tad, can't ya?"

"Yes, ma'am," he muttered meekly. "I mean, yes, Winter."

"Don't take it the wrong way, alright? We're just used to travelin' without too much talkin' between us. I get that you're a new addition to our little travelin' troupe and all, so it's fine, just… space it out. A few questions here, a few there, easy peasy." She chuckled. "It ain't like I've never dealt with somepony askin' twenty questions a second."

Her gut turned just a little bit as the recollection came back to her. It had taken some getting used to, but Twilight had been a literal question machine in the first few days after they'd met. They'd bickered and argued over facts that Twilight was certain about or that Winter had new or opposing knowledge on, and Twilight had just eaten it all up like she was starving for more. It had gone from irritating, to familiar, to endearing, to straight-up adorable, and stars above, it hurt just thinking about it again.

So she stuffed those thoughts down again, like she did every time, and returned to the present moment.

"So yeah, let's just be quiet for a little bit, eh? Try to save any more questions ya might still have when we take a break for dinner," she said. "And keep it to things ya think are actually important, not just idle curiosities."

He nodded in return. "Sure thing, Winter."

The second day, the questions returned, but now they were more practical than academic.

"Why are we traveling along this particular route?" he asked, noting how close they were to the steep cliffs of the nearby Goldridge Mountains. "I only ask because if the mountain range is our destination, why are we not scaling the cliffs?"

"To answer your first question, it's because the Gargantuans tend to stay away from the mountains," Winter replied. "They might not show up as much these days as they used to, but there's risky, and then there's stupid. I can handle a cluster of young Gargantuans myself or with Hourglass, but that's risky; with you along, it's stupid. They are absolutely faster than a colt your age, but neither of us are strong enough to carry ya and still move at top speed."

"I've never actually seen a Gargantuan before," he interjected. "Just the pictures in books. It's so weird to me how such a creature could evolve as quickly as it did. The Dark magics of the north must be stronger than most ponies think they are, aren't they?"

"Yeah, that's the long and short of it."

"I'd love to have a chance to see one up close. Just to study it, mind you. Seeing one face-to-face would be so much better than a picture in a book."

"Not many ponies want to see one of those nasty things in the flesh," Hourglass snorted. "They're the most dangerous things on the planet. The young ones alone could tear you to shreds." She shuddered with disgust. "Bloody things give me the creeps, too. Look like a spider shagged a mantis."

He tilted his head. "'Shagged'?"

"Never mind, just a bit of slang, eh?" Winter quickly replied. "To answer your second question, you can't just scale Goldridge. The mountains' outer layers are made of solid gold, yeah? Well, gold's extremely soft and malleable; rock climbing gear just doesn't work the same as you'd want it."

"Yeah, you'd pound your piton in there and it wouldn't get the same kind of grip you'd get from regular rock," Hourglass added. "Worse, if something happened and chunks fell off below you, gold's heavier than rock, so that plus gravity would beat you by a long shot." She held her hooves up to measure Sunspire's head. "Why, a gold rock just the size of your head would easily weigh more than you do."

"I was aware of all of these characteristics of gold," Sunspire huffed. "My question was intended to find out why nopony had bothered to invent a method for scaling the mountain without wings before."

"Oh," Winter said. "Well that's easy: nopony cares."

He blinked. "What?"

"Yeah, nopony cares to invent a method. I mean, why bother? The Checkpoint is typically only two, maybe three days at most from the northwesternmost tip of the mountain range, and you'd usually need to stop at the Checkpoint anyway for supplies." She shrugged. "If ya want to blame anypony, blame the folks who founded Hope's Point."

"What? Why?"

"Because their founders were mostly pegasi," said Hourglass. "So they can just, y'know, bloody well fly over the mountains. But there needed to be a checkpoint for resupplies and information-gathering, so they put it at the place they figured most earth ponies and unicorns would want to cross, and that's just the way things are."

Sunspire tapped his chin. "Hmm. I will need to inquire with Miss Havoc about this. She is most well-versed in Hope's Point's culture and history, even more so than Miss Dawn, so she might know how true that is."

The third day of the trip was thankfully a mostly quiet one. Sunspire's only questions pertained to the severity of the weather, which he was unaccustomed to, and Winter was able to easily answer with "nopony knows why" when asked what was causing the weather to be so unpredictable. It didn't exactly satisfy him, but when she told him that even Dawn couldn't answer it, he didn't ask further; it was clear he was trying to formulate his own theory on it anyway.

It was Hourglass that surprised Winter the most when she started asking him questions.

"So, you said that you read about all these survival tips and stuff in books, huh? You like to read, I take it?"

He smiled and nodded. "It's my favorite thing to do with my time, yeah. I make it a habit to finish at least one book every week. I could do more than that, but I have homework for my advanced classes and those assignments eat up a lot of time."

"You just read about whatever?"

"No, I like to read different things, but I try to keep it related to my interests or academic subjects. If I'm spending time on magical theory assignments, I sometimes like to start reading a book about famous unicorn mages, or the history of interesting and important magical formulas and spells, or I might even pick up a booklet filled with mathematical puzzles to wrack my brain with."

"Blimey, you're such a geek," Hourglass said, rolling her eyes. "You don't do anything but read and then you read books about bloody maths puzzles too?"

"There's nothing wrong with books about mathematical puzzles," he huffed. "It keeps my mind fresh and engaged. I'll have you know that I'm at the top of my class in every academic subject. And besides, I do have other interests apart from reading."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

He seemed to hesitate slightly, as if embarrassed. "I, er… I happen to enjoy professional wrestling, thank you very much."

Hourglass blinked, apparently taken aback by the answer. "Really? Professional wrestling?"

"It's a fascinating sport, you know? In case you were unaware, the matches are scripted," he said matter-of-factly. "Mostly, of course. There are slight exceptions where matches sometimes go off-script because of a mistake, which is called 'botching', and—"

Winter listened quietly as the colt went into a long lecture all about his love for the sport, from how the athletes worked in tandem to the personalities they crafted and the storylines they acted out. He knew a variety of terms utilized in the sport, statistics for his favorite wrestlers, the particulars required for performing certain moves, how the current atmosphere in the sport had changed compared to how it was five years ago, and more, and more, and more. He was an encyclopedia on the subject!

And, to Winter's amusement and approval, Hourglass paid rapt attention to the entire spiel, asking him questions here and there about things she didn't know about, which was pretty much everything since she'd never taken an interest in the sport before. Winter knew a part of it was just her trying to goad him into getting annoyed at all the questions but it had the opposite effect: he loved answering the questions.

All-in-all, though, Winter had to tune most of it out. The more she listened to the colt passionately talk about a subject he enjoyed—no matter how ironically non-academic it was—the more she was reminded of Twilight would go on and on about something she found fascinating, whether it was the magical theory on teleportation spells or about how her friend Rainbow had become addicted to a series of adventure books.

Just before dinnertime on the fourth day, the trio arrived in the vicinity of the Goldridge Checkpoint. Sunspire naturally asked about the vibrations in the ground, which Winter explained caused painful sensations in the Gargantuans and thus kept them away. Hourglass had helpfully answered a few questions about the building earlier in the trip, such as it being officially owned by Hope's Point, but that it wasn't officially operated by them these days.

Instead it was operated by Pewter, who always personally greeted guests when they arrived at his doorstep. "Well now, look who it is," said the large stallion with a big smile after he opened up the door to greet them. "Winter, Hourglass, how are you?"

"Bloody exhausted," Hourglass muttered as she shoved her way inside the building. "I need a bath. I've got sand in places I didn't bloody well know I had."

"Bad dust storm?" Pewter asked, turning to Winter as he let Hourglass by.

"Crikey, yeah," she replied. "Big one picked up about an hour or two before we hit the perimeter line. Stupid things are unpredictable as ever, and gettin' worse by the day."

"You hear about the big one coming in within the next couple of weeks? Supposed to be the worst storm yet. I thought I heard that they were completely locking down New Pandemonium? How'd you even get permission to leave?"

"I know some ponies, just leave it at that."

Pewter smirked. "Ooh, mysterious as usual, gotta love it." He glanced off to the side at the young colt waiting eagerly outside, and gave him a bigger smile than before. "And you brought a stranger with you! Hey there, friend, what's your name? I'm Pewter, by the way."

"I'm Sunspire, sir," the colt replied with a nod. "A pleasure to meet you."

"Well now, aren't you a polite one? You certainly didn't pick that up from Winter and Hourglass, I know that much," Pewter said with a wink to Winter. "Say, aren't you a little young to be traveling out here all alone? Did you come all the way from the city with Winter?"

"He did. He's helpin' Hourglass and me with a job," Winter answered. "Again, just leave it at that. It's complicated."

"It's not all that complicated," Sunspire started to say.

"It's complicated enough that we can talk about it another time, eh?" She gestured into the building. "Go on in, let's stop talkin' out here before another dust devil whips up. I'm sure you're hungry, and Pewter's the best cook on the whole northern continent, or I'll eat my hat."

"You flatter me, Winter," Pewter said, a hoof over his heart. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to butter me up for something. Whatever could it be?"

"You get a new shipment of ponimite from Hope's Point?" she asked with a grin. "Because I wouldn't say 'no' to takin' a few jars off your hooves for the road ahead."

He nodded. "As always, seeing as you're practically the only pony north of the Belt that enjoys the stuff. I'll throw a few jars in your resupply cache for tomorrow. You guys are just in time for dinner, and I was thinking… roasted potato stew, extra potatoes. I've been on a real tater kick all week."

"Heh, can't imagine your guests are happy about eatin' potatoes every day."

"Oh, no guests here except you guys tonight. Been slow since Her Majesty issued her own no-travel order. Her agents up north aren't letting anypony travel by land, even though I'm sure they could get past the city's official lockdown." He shook his head. "Been a mighty lonely few days, I tell you. Not even any visits from my favorite Fire Warrior."

Winter grunted, then nodded and headed inside. "That's just the way things go, I suppose. Don't be so glum about it, though. Maybe one day a beautiful mare will decide she wants to stay and keep you company forever. I mean, she'd have to be a little crazy to want to live out woop woop like this, but you seem like you'd like crazy."

He laughed. "Wishful thinking, Winter. Wishful thinking."

"Need any help with makin' dinner?"

"For such a small group, naw, I've got it handled," he said with a grin. "Appreciate the offer, though. You go get cleaned up. Dinner'll be ready in an hour."


*****


Once everypony had eaten their fill of dinner, the younger ponies headed upstairs to get some shuteye, leaving Winter and Pewter alone in the Checkpoint's living room on the ground floor. Winter busied herself with her fourth beer of the evening while Pewter enjoyed his third; the stuff was relatively light since Pewter didn't stock the stronger stuff that Winter preferred, if only because he felt it wasn't wise to be giving travelers hard liquor. She didn't like it, but he was right.

The warmth of the fireplace in the room was nice, lending a calm, pleasant atmosphere to everything. It was rare that Winter actually had the chance to relax, and she cherished the opportunities she had when they came. The Checkpoint was one of the only places where she felt at peace these days.

"Your new friend certainly does ask a lot of questions, doesn't he?" Pewter asked, breaking the silence at last.

Winter nodded. "Yeah, sorry about that."

He waved the thought off with his hoof. "Oh hey, no trouble at all. I love answering questions about the place. I mean, I've been operating it since before Dad passed, and I've made a few touches here and there myself. If anypony would like to talk about it, it'd be me."

"Still, there were a lot of questions bein' thrown at ya. We didn't get to chat about the goings-on around here like we usually do." 

"He seems like a nice kid." Pewter took a drink and gave her a sidelong glance. "What's your assessment of him? I don't imagine it's easy looking after another kid that acts too old for their age, but you seemed a bit different around him than you were when Hourglass was that age."

Winter took another sip of beer. "He's alright, I guess."

"Come on now, don't avoid the question like that. Something about him is bugging you. I can tell."

"He… reminds me of somepony. A little too much, in fact. I'd rather not get too much into it."

"Hmm. Well, regardless of how much he might remind you of somepony else, no matter what the context of it is, it's not fair to him to avoid him because of it. They're different ponies, even if they have similarities."

"I haven't been avoiding him," Winter grunted.

He gestured at her with his beer. "Maybe not yet, but I can tell the difference between your typical 'don't get attached' attitude and this 'keep my distance' thing you're doing. I know it's not any of my business—"

"You're right, it isn't. So let's just drop it and move on to actual important topics, hmm?"

He paused a moment, then sipped his beer. "Sure, no problem."

She set down her empty beer and cracked open another one. "What's new out here in the bush, eh?"

Pewter considered that for a moment, then replied with a question: "Did you happen to see any Gargantuans on the way here at all?"

"Not a one. We stuck near the mountainside, practically shimmied along it the whole way here."

"I didn't necessarily mean that you dealt with any of them personally. I meant did you even see any? At all? Even from a distance?"

"Can't say that we did, but you know they've been showing up less and less all year." She raised an eyebrow, concerned about the direction this was going. "What're ya gettin' at?"

He shook his head. "I got a notification from Hope's Point a few days ago. Something big happened recently, and they wanted me to know about it. I'm supposed to hold any travelers here at the Checkpoint until further notice; luckily I didn't have any guests here when the order was issued, and hadn't for a few days before that, so I don't think anypony was affected."

"By what? What happened?"

"You know how the queens have been migrating about more frequently and farther away for the past year? And how we've been seeing them less, because they're spawning their clutches in different areas?"

She nodded; this was common knowledge at this point.

"Well, a few days ago, something happened. The reports couldn't explain it, but all of the broods Hope's Point has been monitoring just went… crazy. The entire eastern half of the Wastelands has turned into a killzone; Gargantuans are tearing each other apart over there in a frenzy that hasn't been seen since, well, ever."

"Shit. How bad is it?" she asked.

"Well, the report I got said that they only have eyes on two of the brood queens anymore: Capitula and Lichenys, and their broods have sort of assimilated the broods of the other queens," Pewter said, scratching his chin.

"'Assimilated'? How does that happen? What about the other queens?"

"Aculeata completely vanished off the radar months ago, and Setacea and Vertexine are dead. Setacea got ripped apart somewhere north of the breeding grounds, and Vertexine's remains are all over the Blood Mire barrier region. Thank the stars she didn't get in." He shuddered. "Can you imagine?"

"Zombie Gargantuans? No thank you, I'd rather not imagine that in the first place." Winter paused and blinked as the rest of his words registered. "Wait, one of them vanished? How does a Gargantuan queen—a creature bigger than some airships—just vanish?"

He shrugged. "That's what the report said. Anyway, I hope wherever your journey's taking you, it doesn't go into the eastern Wasteland. 'Cause if it does, I'm gonna tell you right now not to go, and I'll lock this place down to keep you here if I have to. I know you'd just break out anyway, but at least I'll feel better for trying."

"We're just heading into the Goldridge caverns, probably only looking at the Gryphon Ruins at most," she replied. She then paused, thinking over what he'd said again. Something had stuck out: "When did you say this bloodbath started?"

"A few days ago," he replied.

"Be more exact than that. Three days? Four?"

"Uh… let's see, I got the report… four days ago?"

Shit. "You're certain of that?"

"Positive. Why? Something important about the date?"

She sighed and downed the rest of her beer in one go. "Let's just say that my job's gotten a little weirder."
> Chapter Thirteen: Terror
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Velvet practically bounced her way down the busy street of a Woodhill District block, feeling more excited than she had felt for quite some time. Following behind her were Caramel and Marée, both of whom were looking about with wide-eyed wonder. This was their first time out of the tower, so they were excitedly taking in the sights of the city, and there was no better place to do it in as far as Velvet was concerned. 

They'd all dressed for the occasion, with the kids in casual, comfortable clothing appropriate for the age—and none of their "protective" gear since they wouldn't be training today—while Velvet sported a jacket and a t-shirt proclaiming her as the "#1 Mom in NPC".

Woodhill was known as the entertainment capital of the Inner Districts; most of the city's movie stars lived here, and this was where they filmed the majority of their films. Besides the film industry, though, the district was also home to a robust collection of other entertainment activities: two state-of-the-art laser tag facilities, a water park, a roller coaster park, three go-kart tracks, a virtual reality center, and much, much more. It was a literal paradise for anypony looking to add some excitement to their day. 

And also prohibitively expensive. A ticket into the water park, for instance, cost enough bits that the average Mid District worker would be— might be able to afford one if they gave up all of their paychecks for a month and neglected to pay for bills, rent, and food. But Velvet had no such limitations; her father's bank account was as close to limitless as could be so long as she was smart with the money and didn't get locked out by Dawn for being "irresponsible".

Today Velvet was taking her son and his best friend on a little trip to the district's most popular arcade, an establishment large enough to cover most of a city block. It was supposedly stocked with every single arcade machine that had ever been made, from pinball and skeeball to dance simulators and hi-octane racing. It also offered its own restaurant and snack bar, a well-stocked bar for the adult patrons, a karaoke lounge, and a play area for younger ponies complete with a ball pit. 

If Woodhill in general was a paradise for ponies looking to have a little fun, then this arcade was sheer nirvana for kids, teens, and young adults who loved gaming alone or with others.

"Wow…" the two youngsters said, mouths agape as Velvet walked them inside.

"This place is huge!" Caramel added. "Look at all the games!"

"Ooh, look, they have that dancing game I wanted to try!" Marée chirped, pointing the flashing lights out to Caramel. "I bet you that I could get the highest score before we leave. Miss Curaçao's been teaching me how to dance, and she's the best there is."

"Hey yeah, we should try for high scores in all the games! They have a lot of good two-player ones I bet." He turned to Velvet. "Mom, can we stay until we get all the high scores?"

Velvet chuckled and tugged them both in for a little hug. "We can stay as long as you two want to, so long as we make it home by bedtime, okay? We can eat lunch and dinner here, and they've got plenty of drinks and snacks and everything, so we don't need to leave until way later. This is our day together, and we're gonna enjoy every second of it."

"Yay!" the two kids cheered.

Velvet smiled wide at the two, glad to see them so excited. She'd been planning this trip all week, mostly because that's how long it took to needle Dawn for permission to take two of the kids out of the tower by herself.

She hadn't expected it to be so difficult, seeing as Havoc routinely took six of the kids out for training exercises at the Rockets' headquarters, and how Dawn herself had sent Sunspire out of the city on an assignment—with ponies that were strangers to him!—without so much as asking Velvet or Pedigree if it was okay. Dawn's standards were all over the place.

Then again, that was why Gray had practically foalnapped Green Guard so they could move to Hope's Point together. As far as Velvet knew, Dawn wasn't even aware of it, and that wasn't a compliment to Gray's subterfuge.

But Velvet would be damned if she couldn't take her son out for a bit of fun, and if he wanted to take his fillyfriend—sorry, his best friend—with him, she wouldn't deny him the opportunity. Having the chance to share this together would be good for them, and Velvet was nothing if not supportive and encouraging of the two growing closer. 

Hopefully those sexual education lessons would ensure they were careful as they grew older, but she knew she'd have to have the real "talk" with her son soon enough. She'd only gone over the concept of sex to explain her condition to him, nothing more, but she'd make sure he knew everything he needed to know to be safe with whomever he decided to be with. She was too young to be a grandma.

They were greeted before getting too far past the door by one of the staff members working here, whose name tag identified him as Joystick. He was barely old enough to be out of high school at best, and his face was composed of nothing but smiles, stubble, and acne. Velvet sympathized with this poor young stallion. Puberty had hit him hard, but she knew he'd probably be a looker in a few years; not her type, but he'd probably make some mare happy for sure one day.

"Hey there, folks!" he greeted, puffing out his chest proudly; his voice was a little squeaky, as though it hadn't finished maturing yet. "Welcome to Ready Up!, your one-stop source for all things gaming and entertainment. Is this your first time here?"

"Yeah!" exclaimed Caramel and Marée in unison.

"Well, that's great! For a couple of first-timers, how 'bout you take a few complementary tokens on the house."

The stallion reached into a pocket on his work apron and pulled out eight tokens, giving four each to the kids. 

"You or your parent or guardian can buy more at any of the token stations throughout the arcade. And here, take these too." He handed them a pair of small lanyards which advertised them as newcomers. "We like to make our newest customers feel welcome, so those will let our staff know you might need a little guidance here and there."

His attention then turned to Velvet, passing her a lanyard as well. "And welcome to you too, Ma'am! Just so you know, the staff here at Ready Up! offers parents and guardians a little reprieve from tending to their young ones. Our entire facility is monitored carefully by a multitude of cameras and supervisors, such as myself, so if you feel the need to let your kids run free, then by all means."

Velvet gave him a small smile as she put the lanyard around her neck and helped Caramel and Marée with theirs. "Wow, talk about handy. I bet that takes a load off a lot of the parents, huh?"

"It's one of our top selling points, ma'am." He then gestured over towards the nearby snack bar, located on the floor above them and looking out over the arcade. "You can also observe your kids from our conveniently-located snack bar if you'd like, as it offers a view of over ninety-five percent of the arcade area."

"No wonder the prices here are so expensive," Velvet said, eyeing the snack bar and tilting her head. "You're basically doing double-duty as foalsitters." She shook her head and grabbed up Caramel and Marée in a hug. "Not to worry, though, my kids are the best-behaved youngsters you'll ever meet."

The young stallion nodded. "Well, I hope you folks enjoy your stay here at Ready Up!, and if you need anything, just flag down one of our helpful arcade attendants. Have a nice day!" 

And with that, he gave a little wave to her and the kids and headed off on his way to help another family that was arriving, a larger, louder one that didn't look quite as easy to handle.

Velvet nudged Caramel and Marée. "Let's head up and get a snack and a drink while you two decide what games you're gonna hit first, huh? You can't get your game on with an empty stomach, y'know?"

"I want some hay fries!" Caramel blurted. "And a big soda! The biggest!"

"Me too!" Marée chimed in. "And extra ketchup!"

The trio made their way up the nearby escalator to the snack bar, where they got in line and waited their turn to order. The place was crowded but the service was fast, and the line felt like it was moving at a pretty good clip. The food looked and smelled delicious, all made with real southern ingredients. Another reason for the expensive prices.

"You guys newcomers too?" asked a voice behind Velvet.

She turned and saw a stallion behind her and the kids, a broad-chested earth pony with a green coat and a dark red mane. By his side stood a young colt roughly Caramel and Marée's age, whose coat was gold and mane was brown. The stallion was excessively handsome with the perfect sort of smoldering smile and just the right sort of build; a total DILF, by Velvet's first impression.

"We sure are," Velvet replied. She noticed the lanyard around the stallion's neck as well as the colt's. "You too, then? They really do give those out to everypony, huh?"

"I guess so, yeah. Said something about them making it easier for staff to spot new customers so they could be extra attentive."

"And here I figured that handsome young staff member was doing it just to be extra friendly to a young single mom," Velvet joked with a wink at the dad. She turned her attention to the young colt. "Excited to be here, little guy? I know my kids are."

The colt froze up, looking extraordinarily nervous for such a simple question. It took a nudge and an encouraging look from his father to respond. "Oh, um… y-yeah, I'm… very excited."

"Aww, it's alright to be nervous for your first time. Everypony is, am I right?" she said, giving his father a sly grin. "You don't look quite as nervous. I bet you've got plenty of…" Her eyes tilted down to his chest and broad shoulders, then back to his eyes. "Gaming experience, hmm?"

The stallion smirked; a pony had no right to have a grin so smoldering. "Oh sure, I've been told I know how to handle my joystick pretty well." He offered his hoof to her. "Melon Mixer."

"Red Velvet," she replied, taking his hoof and delighting in the firmness of the shake; his figure wasn't just looks, he had genuine muscle. She gestured to the young ponies with her. "And these are Caramel and Marée, my son and his fillyfriend."

Caramel's face reddened, resembling a ripe tomato. "Mooomm! She's not my fillyfriend!"

"We're just friends, Miss Velvet!" Marée chirped, just as red if not redder as she looked desperately between Caramel and Velvet.

Velvet snickered, hoof over her mouth as she kept her gaze on Melon. "Right, right, sorry, my bad. I forgot you two are just friends."

Melon glanced briefly at the two youths and gave them a slight smile. "Nice to meet you, kids." He then gestured to his son. "This is my own pride and joy, Banana Split. Go on, kiddo, say hello to the nice mare and her kids. Be polite now, like I taught you."

The young colt looked warily at his father, then at the trio of new ponies before nodding politely, like one would when meeting foreign royalty; Velvet should know, she'd done it herself. "Um… h-hello…"

Velvet smiled and waved at the precocious youngster. "It's okay, Banana, you don't have to be super sociable if you don't want to be. I know some ponies get shy around others sometimes, especially strangers, and that's perfectly normal."

She subtly nudged Caramel and Marée, knowing that they would get the idea that they should be nice to the colt and not to push him too hard. The looks the two gave her confirmed that they understood; she was so proud of all of her students and how they'd grown up to understand the importance of friendship and camaraderie.

The line continued moving, and Velvet, Caramel, and Marée placed their orders, as did Melon and Banana. Velvet even offered the stallion and his son the opportunity to sit with them at a table, which they accepted. She'd always told her students to be wary of strangers, but she also told them that being friendly and courteous to others was the best way to make friends. Nothing so ill-advised as "a stranger is just a friend you haven't met yet" of course, but she liked to demonstrate the difference between "stranger" and "potential new friend".

And Melon seemed like exactly the kind of stallion Velvet wanted to be friends with.

"So where are you guys from?" Melon asked; he'd seated himself directly across from Velvet, while the kids took the outermost seats in the booth so they could get out quickly and easily if need be.

"Arcadia," Velvet answered automatically. Arcadia was part of the Inner Districts and one with a decent amount of clout and prominence, so it would make her and her kids look better but also deflect attention; she was rich enough and they were educated enough to make the deception work. "You?"

"Right here in Woodhill," he replied with a grin. "Born and raised."

"Ooh, fancy-schmancy. You got family in the biz, I take it?"

"Unfortunately, no. Parents moved here from Whiteworth Heights just before I was born. I've pretty much had to get a fresh start in the biz myself doing work as a stuntpony for now. It's tough work, but the folks I work with think I might be good enough for speaking roles eventually if I ever get a good break and meet the right ponies."

Velvet lifted her soda to him. "Well, good luck to you. For what it's worth, I think you'd look great on camera," she added with a wink.

"Thanks. How about you, what do you do?"

"I'm a teacher," she said matter-of-factly. "Nothing special, though. I just teach cooking classes to young ponies. Basic stuff like cupcakes and grilled cheese so they can cook for themselves if their parents are at work or if they want to show off to friends when they get older."

All of that was true, of course, for the most part. She felt that cooking was a necessary life skill that the students should have and offered plenty of opportunities for the kids to learn from the best. By which she meant her, not Crème Brûlée; he was a world-class chef but that's not what they needed.

"Sounds like fulfilling work."

"Oh, it is. I love my kids, like you wouldn't believe." She tousled Caramel's mane, earning a tiny fit of embarrassment from him. "My son's even in a few of my classes, same with Marée. You guys like my classes, right? Be honest now."

"My mom's cooking is the best!" Caramel quickly exclaimed. "She made waffles this morning, with maple syrup and everything! We love her classes, don't we Marée?"

Marée smiled widely. "She taught me how to make my own snacks when I don't want to ask the kitchen staff for anything. Sometimes I like doing things myself. I made PB&J yesterday for lunch!"

"Hey, sometimes that's what you have to do all the time," Melon said with a knowing smile. "I don't have any kind of personal staff to work for me, y'know? I make all my meals with my own two hooves, at least when I don't feel like eating out." With a sly grin at Velvet, he added, "Not that I have a problem with eating out."

Velvet's lip curled and her nostrils flared a little; yeah there'd been enough beating around the bush by now. Without missing a beat, she immediately turned to Caramel and Marée, who had finished their fries and were slurping at the last drops of their sodas. 

"Kids, it looks like you're all done eating, so how about you guys head out into the arcade and get started on some games, hmm?" She took her credit card out of her purse and passed it to Caramel. "Go nuts. But only buy what you need, okay?"

The two youths perked up instantly. "Sweet!" chirped Caramel as he took the card, looking at it as if it were a pirate's lost treasure. "Thanks Mom! C'mon, Marée!" he exclaimed as he grabbed her hoof and started to drag her away.

"Thanks, Miss Velvet!" Marée said with a huge grin and a wave.

"And hey, why don't you guys take Banana here with you, huh?" Velvet added, looking to the other young colt. "I'm sure he'd love to play some games with you guys." Her gaze then shifted lazily over to Melon. "If that's okay with you, Mister Mixer? The staff here said they supervise all the kids down there."

Melon's grin widened, and he set his hoof on his son's shoulder; Velvet wasn't sure, but he looked like he was squeezing a little too hard, but then he was probably just a bit eager. "Yeah, that sounds like a wonderful idea. How about it, sport? You wanna go play some games down there and maybe make some new friends, hmm?"

Banana looked between Caramel and Marée, then nodded slowly, hesitantly. "Okay, um… s-sure thing, Sir. I mean, Dad." He got up from his seat, and Marée grabbed his hoof and instantly started dragging him away. "Wh-whoa!"

"C'mon, let's go have some fun!" Marée cheered. "They have this dancing game that's I wanted to try, you'll love it!"

Caramel followed right behind them, looking put out by the fact that Marée was holding another colt's hoof, for some reason. "H-Hey! Wait for me! You can't buy tokens without me and my mom's card! Wait up!"

As soon as the kids were out of eyesight and earshot, heading down the escalator and into the arcade—Velvet and Melon could see them from here making straight for one of the token machines—the two adults looked to each other with slight grins and relaxed slightly in their seats.

"You've got a cute kid," Velvet said, slowly sipping from her soda and making a show of fiddling with the straw. "Don't you worry, I guarantee you that he'll break out of that shyness one day. If I know my Caramel and Marée, they'll probably have him out of his shell by the end of the night. They have a way with ponies."

"Oh sure, I always figured he just needed to make some friends his own age," Melon replied, casually picking at what was left of his hay fries. "Taking your son here with his friend all alone though, huh? I take it his father's not in the picture?"

Velvet had expected the question at some point eventually today, not necessarily under these circumstances but because somepony was bound to ask—Inner District ponies loved to gossip and pry, after all, if Insipid was anything to go by—so she'd prepared herself for the question and had the truthful answer ready, because lying about it was pointless. Besides, the question was logical from Melon's perspective; he had to know what he was getting into, test the waters a little.

"He's adopted," she stated simply. "I can't have kids of my own."

That seemed to give him pause for half a second. "I apologize, that was rude of me—"

"Hey hey, don't worry about it," she replied with a small smile. "It doesn't bother me anymore, and I couldn't be happier with the son I do have. We're just as close as we would be if he were my own flesh and blood." He patted his hoof reassuringly, letting him know she wasn't upset about the question. "How about you? Taking your son to the arcade by yourself tells me something's going on there."

"Divorced," he said simply. "Let's keep it at that."

She nodded sagely; she could respect the bluntness of the response. "Sometimes things are better left unsaid, I get it. Whoever she is, she's missing out."

"I'll say."

She casually brushed aside her mane and bit her lip. "So, a good-looking hunk like you can't get better work than as a stuntpony, huh? Let me tell ya, that's a damn shame if I've ever heard one. You belong on the cover of a magazine." With a wink and a slow look up his broar frame, she added, "Or a centerfold. Rawr."

"Flattery like that'll get you everywhere," he replied, leaning forward in his seat so that they were just a few inches apart. "Miss Velvet, if I didn't know any better I'd say you were trying to seduce me."

"'Trying'?" she asked, fluttering her eyelashes. She slid one of her rear hooves up his leg and towards his crotch. "I don't 'try' anything, hot stuff, but you're no slouch either. Are you gonna tell me you struck up a conversation with me just because you wanted to be friendly to a stranger? Don't lie now."

His grin widened. "Okay, I won't lie: I struck up a conversation with you because I know a mare who likes to have fun when I see one."

"I do like to have fun." She opened her jacket a little to show off her shirt. "This shirt oughta say '#1 MILF', but hey, kids are present. I've got some class."

He tilted his head off to the side, towards the lower floor. "Y'know, I hear the karaoke rooms in this joint are top-of-the-line. Huge selection of songs, right next to the alcohol bar…" His hoof slid under the table to run up her hindleg. "Complete privacy, entirely soundproof, the works. You wanna come sing along with me?"

"Hmm, you think you can make me sing?" Velvet grinned back at him, leaning forward until they were nearly nose-to-nose. "Because I've been told I have a lovely singing voice if you can work it out of me."

"Honey, you'll hit so many high notes that you won't be able to walk straight when I'm done with you."

"Oh, nice." She tilted her head towards the escalator, then slurped up the last of her soda. "Well? Shall we?"

"Lead the way."

The pair left the snack bar and made their way down the escalator and across the entryway of the arcade proper until they reached the karaoke bar, which as Melon had claimed had an alcohol bar nearby that only served adults and that required ID; kids couldn't sign up for karaoke without adult supervision it seemed, which Velvet felt was probably not a terrible idea, and not just because of parents potentially doing what she and Melon were going to do.

She wondered, honestly, if other couples took advantage of the establishment's "foalsitting" to sneak off like this.

Velvet ordered a room for herself and Melon, as well as a bottle of sake to share just to loosen the mood a little, not that it needed much loosening. The room itself was definitely of the private sort catered to fit a small crowd of maybe six or seven patrons comfortably; a luxurious couch encircled a central table, upon which there was a microphone and a small screen for selecting songs; a big screen TV awaited input from the smaller screen to start displaying lyrics for the singers to follow.

She was under no assumptions that there had been any misinterpretations between her and Melon, and was glad that there was no attempt from him to try and play around and actually try to start selecting music for them to sing along to. No, he just immediately poured a glass of sake for himself and for her, downed it at the same time as she did, and set to work without the slightest hesitation.

Melon was an adept kisser, and definitely somepony that knew his way around a mare's body. She hadn't met a stallion with such deft hooves in years, and that was saying something considering her usual fare. It was a rare stallion that could make her feel breathless so quickly, and she figured that maybe it was the circumstances of the act that were making her so excited. 

It wasn't as if she'd never engaged in clandestine fucking before—a public restroom, an alley behind a bar, the changing room at her favorite store at the mall—but getting dicked in the karaoke room at an arcade where her son was busy playing video games was, well, new. Thrilling.

Velvet made a mental note to herself to score some contact information from Melon if he kept this pace of his going, because her little black book at home was always thirsty for new names, and she was nothing if not a willing provider. He was making a stellar first impression.

When he stopped kissing her neck and stripping off her jacket—she kept the #1 Mom shirt on, because that tickled her naughty bone—he rose upright and made a show of removing his shirt. Velvet prepared herself for the next act of their little play, tossing her head back and positioning herself against the couch cushions to get comfortable.

It sounded like he was fumbling with something in his pocket, probably just taking a condom out of his wallet. She was certain that she'd already told him that she couldn't get pregnant, so she figured he was worried about the other things. At least he was responsible, typically a good sign.

"Mmm, you don't have to bother with that, stud," she groaned, keeping her eyes closed in anticipation for a good dicking. "I'm clean and safe, I promise. Cross my heart."

"On the contrary, Miss Velvet: safe is definitely not what you are," he chuckled, his tone suddenly… sinister? "The Dark Lady sends her regards."

She opened one eye. "Huh?

The pain was sudden and brutal, and worst of all completely unexpected. 

Melon had plunged a knife of some kind straight into her throat, right at the spot where it met her chest. The hilt of the knife looked relatively commonplace, made out of simple metal or plastic, but the blade was the weird part. It sort of looked like well-sculpted obsidian, or some other blackish stone rather than the proper metal or even ceramic that she expected.

Whatever. The only thing that mattered to Velvet right now was first, how dare the total hunk have the audacity to ruin what was a perfectly wonderful clandestine sexual encounter by stabbing her with a knife instead of with his dick. That was uncalled for, and frankly, extremely disappointing. He'd even ruined her shirt!

A distant, distant second concern was that he'd actually stabbed her as if expecting it to accomplish anything significant. But he didn't know about her healing factor. Shame on him.

"For fuck's sake," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "Look at what you did, jackass. You put a hole in my favorite shirt and got blood everywhere. Believe me, I know how hard it is to get blood stains out of white clothes."

He tilted his head, though she was surprised to see he wasn't bothered or shocked that she was reacting this way, more… amused? Eh, whatever.

"And," she continued, "if you wanted to kill me, couldn't you have waited until after fucking my brains out? Rude much? I'm not here to play to your… what, necrophilia fetish? Gross."

The stallion snorted and pinned her down with all of his muscle; normally having a big, strong stallion get a little rough with her was a huge turn-on, but not right now. He'd crossed a line. A few lines, actually. 

"I'm sorry to have disappointed you," he said, tone dripping with sarcasm. "I suppose you're going to try to scream for help? Go on. Scream for me. I like it when they scream."

"Naw. I'm just gonna return the favor."

Velvet lashed out at the stallion with a tendril of blood, spearing it straight into the same spot where he'd stabbed her with as much force as she could muster. The impact and violent expansion of the spike would be enough to quite literally rip him open. She'd have to remember to have the arcade send her a cleaning bill or something in case she didn't get all the stains out herself.

Only… nothing of the sort actually happened. There was no explosion of blood, no spiked tendril, nothing.

She tried again, and again, and still, nothing. The more she tried to make something happen, the less seemed to actually happen; it felt as if she had absolutely no control over her blood whatsoever, because while she could still feel her blood flowing, she couldn't feel it the way she normally could.

"What's the matter, slut?" Melon said with a sneer and a laugh. "Can't use your wonderful blood magic to tear me in half?"

Velvet's eyes widened with shock. "How the hell do you know—"

"That dagger was especially crafted to deal with freaks like you with your wasted gifts," he said, casually tapping the knife's hilt. "You can't even use your magic to heal this wound, can you?"

He abruptly yanked the dagger out, letting her blood flow freely from the gaping wound. The sudden shock of losing such a large volume of blood so quickly hit Velvet like a ton of bricks. She could normally heal so fast that even severe gunshot wounds wouldn't slow her down; she'd experimented a bit and found she could even lose a limb and regenerate it with appropriate time and effort.

But this simple knife wound was different. This was real pain, and she couldn't stop the bleeding. In a panic, she placed her hooves over the wound to try and stem the tide of red. She knew she needed medical attention fast, but there was still the problem of the large, muscular stallion pinning her down, and he was definitely strong enough to keep her that way. 

And now she lacked the use of her powers with which to convince him to be anywhere else. Or everywhere else, rather.

"This was easier than I thought it was going to be, to be honest," the stallion boasted, brazenly tracing the bloody dagger along Velvet's cheek, breaking the skin.

Velvet tried to push him back, but he wasn't budging. It wasn't just so much that he was heavy anymore, but also that she wasn't strong enough to do so and was losing strength bit by bit.

"When they told me that I had to seduce you, I was expecting a challenge," he sighed. "Maybe to take a few hours and a lot of booze to lure you away. But you flagged your tail for me like the cock-hungry slut you are without a single care in the world, without even the slightest consideration for your own well-being. Amazing."

"Who… the fuck… are you?" Velvet choked out, finding it harder to talk than it had been a moment ago; her self-healing was failing so spectacularly that the wound was getting worse the more she tried to make it better.

"I am my Dark Lady's instrument," he replied, "sent to strike down those who betrayed her with terrible, violent vengeance." 

With a grin, he flipped the dagger in his hoof and thrust it into her stomach, and this time the pain was indescribable. Without her powers to filter out the pain and begin instantly healing the wound, Velvet could feel every inch of the blade as it tore right through her insides. She couldn't even vocalize just how much it hurt aside from wheezing through clenched teeth.

"Your death will be slow and painful," he muttered, running a hoof through her mane. "And your anguish will not merely be physical. After I have watched the life drain from your eyes, I will walk out of this room and meet with the others I have brought with me. They will have found your little shits out there in the crowd and taken them hostage, killing anypony who stood in their way."

She looked up at him, eyes wide with horror. "What?" she rasped. "No, y-you… leave them… alone—"

"Shut up," he spat, slapping her across the face. "Does it hurt? Hmm? Knowing that you let your precious little colt and his friend be put in danger because of your disgusting cravings? Good. I hope it does. I hope it causes you untold anguish." 

His lips curled in a wicked grin. "With your death and those little brats as bait, the rest of your family will pay for their betrayal in time. Revenge, they say, is a dish best served cold."

Velvet's mind raced. 

Caramel and Marée are in danger, and it's my fault. My fault. I'm gonna die here in this fucking karaoke booth, and it's all my fault. Mine. The guy's gonna go after my family next. My son. My sisters. It hurts so much. My fault. All my fault. The pain is my fault. I don't want to die. What's going to happen to me? What's going to happen to my Caramel? Please, Daddy… help me… I don't want to… 

The stallion grinned and rose up straight, though Velvet was finding it hard to see. Everything was going dark. "And with that, one piece falls. Five to go."


~~~~~


Melon watched eagerly as the pink-coated traitor's eyes flickered with the last bits of life they had left, then carefully rolled his shoulders and rotated his neck to loosen the muscles. He violently ripped the dagger out of the mare, cleaning it on her shirt before carefully putting it back into the hidden folds of his jacket. Brother Flux would want it back to present to the Leaders as proof that their weapon worked.

It hurts so much…

His ears perked up. "What? What was that?" he asked, glancing about, his hoof instantly going back to the dagger. The sounds—was it a voice—had come from somewhere in the otherwise quiet room.


All my fault… The pain is my fault… I don't want to…


He turned in a full circle, trying to find the source of the voice—because it was definitely a voice—but coming up empty. It wasn't from the karaoke speakers, nor from the mouth of the dying slut. He drew the dagger back out from its hidden fold and brandished it, looking for a target. 

"Who's there?" he called out.

He glanced at the dying mare on the couch, who looked as pathetic and helpless as before. There was no way she was speaking; he didn't see her lips move. But it sounded like her voice. 

Then, the mare's lifeless, milky white eyes went completely black.


DIE


The entire room went as utterly dark and quiet as the grave.

He swiveled in place. "What the hell's going—"

A droning sound filled the room, echoing against the walls and utterly drowning out all noise except for itself. The reverberations were so powerful that the room shook.

The subsequent pain was instantaneous, but he couldn't see what was causing it. All that he knew was pain, the most intense agony that he had ever felt in his entire life, localized entirely within his head. He collapsed to his knees, dropping the dagger in the process, and grabbed his temples, desperately trying to stave off whatever it was that was hurting him so much, but it didn't help.

He screamed, but his voice was completely eclipsed by the ear-piercing droning. The pressure was so intense that he felt as if his skull was collapsing in on itself.

And then it did.





Marée cheered as she spun the wheel of the arcade machine, causing her virtual go-kart to make the hard turn needed to cut the corner as closely as possible so she could steal the lead from Caramel. The two raced neck-and-neck down the next straightaway, then came to another hairpin turn that Marée again barely managed to clear at the tightest point, maintaining her lead and then some.

"How are you cutting all these corners so tight?!" Caramel exclaimed as Marée's lead grew and grew.

"It's all in the hooves, copain," she chortled, biting her tongue to maintain her intense focus. "Eat my dust! Here comes the finish line!"

Caramel was too far behind to catch up now unless she made a mistake, and there was no doing that on this straightaway. Marée easily soared across the line in first place, then threw her hooves in the air in celebration, nearly bouncing out of her seat in the process. Her screen flashed with celebratory excitement, while Caramel's was not quite so enthusiastic about his second-place positioning.

"In your face, Caramel!" Marée taunted, hopping out of her seat and over to his, getting right in his face to press her nose against him. "I wonnn! I wonnn! Woo hoo!"

Caramel crossed his hooves over his chest, looking like a disgruntled puppy. "Yeah, maybe you won this time. I bet you that I'll win next time, though! Let's go, it's rematch time. And this time, I get to pick the track, maybe one without so many corners…"

Marée plopped herself down on top of Caramel, hooves under her chin. "Aww, don't be upset. Maybe we should find a game where we work together instead of competing? Ooh, like that one!" she exclaimed, pointing over his shoulder at one of the shooting games across from their set of machines.

"Uh, sure, okay," Caramel gulped, his face a little red; his hooves splayed out as if he was purposefully trying not to touch her. "If, uh, that's what you want to play."

She raised an eyebrow. He was acting weird again, like he'd been doing every day towards her since that funny video. "What's wrong?"

"N-noting! Nothing's wrong!" he blurted.

Marée smiled; Caramel was so cute when he got embarrassed about stuff. He was always cute, but especially when he got embarrassed. "Then why are you blushing?" she teased, booping his nose with her hoof.

"Um… er…" Caramel then glanced about, looking more than a little lost. "Oh! Hey, where's Banana? Wasn't he playing the pinball machine there?" he said, pointing at the pinball machine in question.

Marée rolled off of Caramel and looked over to see that their new friend was indeed gone; she'd thought it was just Caramel trying to distract her. "Huh. Maybe he wanted to play something else? We should go find him so he doesn't get lonely."

"I dunno, I think he liked being by himself, actually. Doesn't he seem a little weird to you?"

"Caramel!" she gasped, slapping his shoulder lightly. "That's not very nice! What would your mom say if you started calling other kids 'weird'?"

"What? I didn't mean anything by it. He's just been acting funny, like he doesn't even want to be here. I mean, who wouldn't want to spend time at the biggest arcade in the city, right?"

She tilted her head, considering the accusation. "Now that you mention it, yeah, he does seem like he doesn't want to be here. He didn't want to play any games with us or anything and keeps wandering—"

There was a loud bang from the arcade entrance. Both Marée's and Caramel's ears perked up; the sound was familiar enough. Gunfire.

"Did that sound like a real gunshot to you?" Caramel asked.

"Yeah, it did," she agreed.

Then there was another, and another, and then the screaming started, and everypony in the main arcade area—kids, parents, and staff—bolted every which way but towards the sound of the shots. Everything turned into complete chaos within seconds as ponies of all ages ran over and around one another to make it to the emergency exits at the back of the arcade.

That's when the gunshots started coming from that direction too.

"What's going on?" Marée asked, looking to Caramel for guidance; he was one of the top-graded colts in their class in survival and self-defense training, so she figured he'd know more about what to do than anypony.

"I'm not sure," he said, shaking his head and peaking over the seat of their arcade machine. "But it sounds like it might be a robbery, maybe? Lots of rich ponies come here and spend lots of bits on games and snacks, right?" He pointed at the way the crowd was moving. "Look, see? They're forcing ponies to move in the direction they want so they can get them all together."

"Yeah, a robbery, that makes sense. What should we do?"

Caramel pounded his hooves together in determination. "We need to get to my mom. She'll stop these nasty old robbers, but she'll want to know we're safe, and who knows, maybe she'll want our help?" He tilted his head towards the escalators. "Come on, follow me. We'll sneak by 'em."

She nodded. "Okay, lead the way."

She followed Caramel as they quietly hopped out of the machine's seat, then stayed low to the ground and used other machines as cover to avoid being seen. They paused occasionally as big, mean-looking stallions stalked through the arcade looking for stragglers. Each of them carried what looked like high-grade rifles, which were strapped to their forelimbs and hooves rather than mounted to their shoulders.

Caramel was good at sneaking around even without his powers, which he couldn't—or rather, shouldn't—use without his suit on, so Marée felt safe following his lead as best as she could manage. There were a few times here and there that she was worried they'd been spotted, but Caramel was always quick to hide the two of them under parts of the arcade machines to avoid any curious glances.

They made their way along the edge of the arcade for a few minutes, but before they could reach the escalators, they had to pass through the prize exchange area, where patrons could trade tickets they won from certain games for cheap prizes. The way ahead looked like it would be harder to get through; it was wide open and they'd be spotted easily.

Caramel quietly opened the door that led behind the counter; it wasn't locked, because normally a staff member would be monitoring it. "C'mon, we can hide here for a minute while we try and figure something out."

"Shouldn't we be trying to get to your mom?" Marée asked as she scooted past him into the room.

"I thought so, but… it's weird, isn't it? Why isn't she doing anything yet?"

Marée paused, then nodded slowly in agreement. "Yeah… yeah, that is weird. I thought for sure she'd be trying to save all those ponies by now. Your mom's a good pony, she wouldn't let these bad guys hurt anypony. Right?"

"Exactly. So, where is she? We should hide for a lil' bit so we can think about what's going on, because this is weird and kinda scary."

"Okay, good idea."

As they snuck inside the room and closed the door behind them, they noticed that they weren't alone here. Cowering behind the counter was one of the staff members, the same one that had greeted them all at the entrance, actually: Joystick.

Their entrance into the room behind the counter startled him, and he nearly leapt into the air in shock. "Don't hurt—" He then stopped and saw the two of them for who they were, and sighed quietly, a hoof over his heart. "Oh, thank the stars, you're not with them. Are you kids okay?" he quietly asked. "Nopony's hurt you, have they?"

"We're fine, Mister Joystick," Marée replied with a nod. "We managed to get away before anypony spotted us."

"What are you doing back here?" Caramel asked.

"Hiding, of course," Joystick answered incredulously. "I was exchanging prizes when the gunshots started and I just immediately ducked down here."

"Why aren't you helping anypony, though?"

"Kid, I just work here for minimum wage. I'd love to help, but look at me." Joystick gestured at his lanky frame and spindly limbs. "What good am I gonna do, huh? I'm no hero."

Marée tilted her head, confused. "Then shouldn't you call the police or something?"

He shook his head. "The phone lines are dead. They must've cut them before—" 

He then paused, ears perking up; Marée had heard it too: hoofsteps. Joystick quietly peeked over the top of the counter, and his eyes went wide before he ducked back down. 

"Oh no," he muttered, biting into his hoof. "One of them's coming this way. Keep quiet, and maybe he won't notice us."

Caramel turned to Marée and put his hoof over his lips, then shimmied up against the edge of the counter to better hide from sight. Marée followed suit, pressing herself as close to Caramel's side as she could; she wouldn't admit it, but she was scared, and having him close by made her feel safer.

They heard the hoofsteps of the gun-toting stallion as he approached the counter, heard him pace nearby and grunt to himself as he moved. Marée couldn't tell from this angle if he was looking over the counter or if he could see them hiding. There was a slight crackling noise coming from his direction as well, which she recognized as a walkie-talkie. 

High-grade weapons? Flanking the crowd from the emergency exits? Cutting phone lines? Using walkie-talkies to coordinate with one another? Something was weird about all of this. These bad guys seemed a lot better organized than she thought plain-old robbers should be.

Then, his hoofsteps plodded away, and Marée let out a silent sigh of relief.

Which she immediately regretted, for a second later, the hoofsteps returned, faster this time, as the stallion leapt over the counter in a single bound and spotted the hiding ponies. "Well well," he said, chewing on the tip of a toothpick, the rest of his face hidden behind a ski mask. "What have we here? You all think you're pretty clever, don't you?"

He aimed his gun towards the ponies and gestured for them to stand and gather together. "Move it. Over there," he said, pointing his free hoof towards the nearby wall which was loaded with stuffed animals. "All together now, get where I can see you. No sudden movements."

Marée gulped and followed Caramel as they did as was asked, as did Joystick.

The stallion looked over the three of them briefly, then smirked and leaned into his walkie-talkie, pressing a button on the side. "Hey, boys, I've got the brats over here by the prize exchange. If that's not poetic, I don't know what is."

Marée looked at Caramel, confused, and her mind raced to try and figure out what was happening. Did she hear that right? Why did it sound like this stallion and his cohorts were looking for them? Did they spot them coming over here? Why make all that effort for just a couple of kids? Were they taking kids to hold for ransom or something? Yeah… that made the most sense.

Joystick held up his hooves, audibly gulping. "Please, sir, you don't have to do this. I'm just a junior staffer here, and these are just a couple of kids," he said, gesturing slowly to himself then the kids. "They don't have any valuables on them, and I don't have keys to any of the safes. Letting us go won't make a difference to whatever it is you're doing around here. If you just let us go, we can't and won't stop you, I promise."

The stallion hummed and nodded. "You're right, you don't have a lot of value, do you? I guess letting you go wouldn't hurt." He then aimed his gun right at Joystick and fired once; blood sprayed all over the counter, the floor, the wall of stuffed animals, and on Marée and Caramel. "But killing you doesn't hurt, either, does it?"

Marée and Caramel gaped at the now-lifeless body of the innocent staff member that had only ever been nice and helpful to them, who had even briefly negotiated for their safety. And now they were spattered with his blood. She began to panic; she wasn't cut out for this kind of thing, she knew that. That's why she'd stopped taking the defense classes after finishing the required minimum.

Caramel, though, was not the sort to let that sort of thing go unanswered. Marée could see from the determined look on his face that he was about to do something potentially stupid and brave, but before she could stop him, he acted, sliding into the shadows behind the counter as swiftly and silently as a ghost, much to the shock of the gun-toting stallion.

"What that— where'd he go?" the stallion muttered, glancing at the spot where Caramel had just been. "Shit, do these brats have weird powers t—"

Caramel appeared just above and behind him, dropping down with all his weight right on top of the stallion's head. It didn't matter how tough the stallion looked, having a ten-year-old colt drop hooves-first on top of him unexpectedly like that would be enough to take him out of commission, at least long enough to get his gun away from him. That's exactly what Caramel did, too, kicking the gun as far away as he could.

"Caramel! You shouldn't be using your powers without your suit!" Marée hissed as quietly as she could.

Indeed, Caramel was already breathing heavily, as though he'd just galloped for a mile in the past five seconds. He shook his head. "I'm fine, Marée," he said, slumping down and taking a big breath. "Quick, we've gotta get out of here and find my mom. Something's wrong here, and I don't like it one bit. Where is she?"

Marée helped him up, and the two shared a brief look towards the body of Joystick. She wanted to apologize to the poor stallion, feeling as though it was her and Caramel's fault he was found and killed. But she'd dwell on it later; for now, they needed to get moving before more of those bad ponies showed up, since they'd for sure have heard the gunshot and would be checking on the situation.

As soon as she and Caramel opened the door out of the prize area, she realized how right she was: four more stallions had shown up to investigate, and they'd arrived far sooner than Marée had expected.

"There they are!" snapped one of them, pointing right at the two young ponies. "Grab 'em!"

"Run!" Caramel shouted.

Marée didn't need to be told even once; she started running behind Caramel immediately, and the two darted off into the arcade as fast as their legs could take them.

Avoiding four full-grown stallions while trying to maneuver through tightly-packed arcade machines was not the easiest of tasks. The adults covered ground far more quickly than they did, and were working together to corner the pair and block off their escape. Though Marée and Caramel were smaller and could squeeze under and through gaps that the adults had to go around, it was only enough to buy them mere seconds of breathing room.

Eventually, they nearly got cornered entirely, and the kids had no choice but to use all of the tools they had at their disposal to get away. Marée leapt into the air towards one of the bad stallions and phased right through him, reasserting her physical self just before she hit the ground so that she wouldn't phase through that as well; she couldn't afford to get separated from Caramel. Since she didn't have her special suit on, she also phased through her clothes, leaving her naked as she continued to flee.

Caramel, meanwhile, slid into the shadows and slipped underneath the goon before following after Marée again, but naturally this left him in clear pain; Marée was worried for him, because at this rate, he'd exhaust himself before they managed to reach the exit, or worse. He couldn't have known to wear his suit today!

As they rounded a corner and saw the exit come into view, Marée felt something grab her tail; one of the stallions had flanked them. "Eep!" she blurted. "Get off me!"

She phased her tail through the stallion's hoof and tried to dart away, but he just grabbed her again; she phased through him as before, but as soon as she tried to run he'd just grab at her hoof or her flank and managed to keep her from getting far; it was difficult to use her powers effectively without getting separated from Caramel.

"Gotcha, you little brat!" the stallion snarled as he lifted her back up, this time by the wings. "You're not going anywhere."

"Marée!" Caramel exclaimed. "Let her go!"

Another stallion caught up to Caramel just as he made to leap at the stallion holding Marée, and slammed the butt of his gun into the side of Caramel's head, knocking him over; it was the same one that Caramel had attacked earlier, the one with the toothpick, though the toothpick was now awkwardly bent. 

Caramel growled and got back to his hooves. "Get away from—"

There was a gunshot, and Caramel's suddenly collapsed, his eyes widening in shock.

The stallion had shot him right in the back.

"Caramel!" Marée cried. She struggled in the grip of her attacker. "You shot him! Why?!"

The toothpick stallion then aimed his gun right at Caramel's head and looked straight at Marée. "Don't you even think about getting away, you little shit, or your friend dies. You had your fun, but playtime's over."

"Let us go! We didn't do anything wrong!" Marée shouted, desperately flailing her hooves to try and get away from the stallion that had caught her. "Please! He's hurt!"

"He'll be a lot more than that if you don't stop squirming around," the stallion holding her snorted, shaking her violently in the process. 

Marée hissed in pain; he was twisting her wing hard enough that it felt like it would break. "Stop it! You're hurting me!"

"Shut up. We're supposed to bring you in alive, but bringing you in unharmed was just an option. If you know what's good for you and your friend, you'll be quiet and stay still. Got it?"

She sniffed, nodded weakly, and stopped struggling, staring at Caramel. She could feel her eyes watering already; was he going to be okay? More importantly, where was Miss Velvet?

"Now what?" asked another of the stallions.

"We wait for the boss," said the toothpick-chewing stallion. He glanced over towards the karaoke booths at the other end of the arcade. "The fuck is taking him so long just to deal with the whore?"

"Heh, maybe he's not finished with her yet," chortled another stallion, nudging the other in the ribs gently. "She's still warm, right? It's all she was good for anyway."

The toothpick stallion rolled his eyes. "Figures. Well, whatever, as long as we have what we came—"

The room suddenly went as dark and quiet as a tomb.

All five stallions froze up; the three not otherwise occupied readied their guns, glancing about in confusion. "The fuck?" one of them said. "Did the power just go out? I thought we only cut the phone lines and alarms?"

"Great timing," snorted the wing-holding stallion. "Hey, at least it'll make it easier to get out of here, right?"

Another stallion nodded. "Yeah, good way to look at it. Should we get moving?"

"We're still waiting on the boss," said another. "He's gotta be done by now—"

Then, a droning sound filled the air, echoing throughout the arcade and drawing out every other sound in the room, from the beating of Marée's heart to her heavy breathing. It was reverberating enough that she could feel a slight tremor go through the hooves of the stallion holding her.

"The hell is that?" asked the toothpick stallion, twisting a hoof in his ear.

Then a loud bang came from the direction of the karaoke booths; it sounded as though one of the doors there had been blown apart. Marée and the stallion holding her gasped, and he barely moved the two of them out of the way as half of the aforementioned door came flying through the air and landed only a few feet away from where they'd been standing, crashing through an arcade game and tearing it apart.

"What the—" one of the other stallions murmured.


☠hurtkill☠


The voice came from everywhere in the room at once, shrill and piercing, bringing with it a fierce cold that chilled Marée down to the bone. She was certain the voice sounded almost like Miss Velvet's, only… not. It sounded more like there were a thousand of her speaking all at once, almost completely distorted beyond recognition and speaking in odd pitches and tempos and volumes.

Then, in the darkness, Marée saw a figure rise up. It looked like a pony, but the posture was all wrong and the thing seemed like it was floating as it moved. Ponies didn't move like that.

There came a shout of terror from two stallions that must have been nearby, and there followed a few bursts of gunfire; Marée could see the muzzle flares barely capable of lighting up that area, and from her awkward angle it was hard to see much else.

But she could hear just fine.


KILLHURTKILLKILLHURTKILLKILLHURTKILLKILLHURTKILLKILLHURTKILL


There was then a loud scream from the stallions, followed by a sickening crunch and a squelch.

"What the fuck was that?" blurted one of the stallions nearby.

The toothpick-chewing stallion turned his attention away from Caramel and aimed his gun towards the source of the disturbance. "How the fuck should I know? Keep your eyes peeled, shoot anything that moves."

The stallions all aimed their weapons outward, forming a sort of protective circle with one another. It was quiet for a long, long time there in the darkness and the cold. The droning was gone, so the only sounds Marée could hear were the breathing of herself and the stallion holding her, the nervous fidgeting of the stallions with their guns, and… a new slithering noise coming from random directions in sudden intervals. Whatever it was, it made the stallions jumpy, and they frequently shifted their attention in the direction of whatever was making the noise.

Off in the distance, there came the sound of other stallions' shouts; another group of goons, apparently, probably the ones that were holding the large crowd of arcade-goers hostage. Whatever had come from out of the karaoke room had made its way over in the direction of the crowd and came across those guards, and they opened fire on it the same as the other two had done before.

WHERE IS MY SON

The voice was blood-curdling; Marée felt every fiber of her being shudder with fear and cold. It was accompanied by roars and screams, both from the stallions and from the crowd of innocents, but soon the gunfire ceased. The screaming crowd carried on, but they sounded as though they were getting further away, probably making for the emergency exits.


WHERE IS MY SON


Then it was all quiet again, save for that slithering sound that echoed throughout the arcade. Worse, it sounded like it was getting closer, and closer, and closer. With how loud it was, Marée was terrified that she couldn't see what the source of it was; she'd have felt more assured if she could at least see the source of that horrible sound.

One of the stallions, who was visibly shaking, his gun trembling in his hooves, completely broke down. "Fuck this! I'm outta here!" he shouted.

"Hey! Get back here!" shouted back the toothpick-chewing stallion.

Marée watched the fleeing stallion run around the corner of several machines and out of sight. Then, he screamed in terror.

W
 H
  A
   T
    D
     I
      D
       Y
        O
         U
          D
           O
            T
             O
              H
               I
               M

The sound that followed was difficult for Marée to describe, like a crunching and tearing mixed together with a bone-chilling screech. She could certainly describe the agonizing screams of the stallion, though, but would rather not. She saw… something through a crack between the machines, but in the darkness she couldn't tell what it was or what was happening.

Then there was the blood, of course. That she could see clearly as it sprayed from over the top of the machines like a fountain.

The stallion holding Marée's wings abruptly dropped her to get a better grip on his gun. "What the hell do we do?!" he spat at the toothpick-chewing stallion. "What is this thing?"

The toothpick stallion gulped, then spit out his toothpick. "Grab the kids. Fuck the boss, let's get the fuck out of—"

Then something came around the corner accompanied by that horrifying droning sound, and Marée finally got a good look at what was causing all the mayhem.

It looked like a pony, a mare if Marée had to guess, with a coat of red that was so stained in blood that that might not have been its original color. There was a violent gash on her throat, right where it met her chest, out of which flowed snake-like tendrils of black stuff that could have been oil or blood or something else for all Marée knew. The mare's mane was drenched in blood as well, sopping down over her face so that nopony could see her features, save for her eyes. 

Those everypony could see clearly, and they were all as black as the deepest darkness Marée could imagine.

The stallions didn't even need to tell each other to react; they all immediately opened fire on the mare.


YOU
HURT 
MY
SON 


The bullets didn't seem to have any effect whatsoever. The mare just moved forward; not stepped, moved, without so much as a single motion of her limbs. She approached the stallion closest to her and her tendrils lashed out with a speed that Marée couldn't visibly see. The stallion screamed half a scream before he just… exploded.

"Oh fuck!" shouted the stallion that had been holding Marée.

He must have figured that grabbing Marée and running, as the group had planned before everything went to hell, was the best course of action; he lunged at Marée and grabbed her tail, and she was so frozen with fear that she didn't even react to it. Soon he'd round the corner and escape with ease.


n     o      e     s     c     a     p     e


He didn't get very far before a barrage of tendrils raced towards him, lifting him into the air so sharply and suddenly that he dropped Marée. The tendrils lifted him screaming up and into the darkness, fearfully pleading for his life, and then the screaming stopped, and the stallion fell. Piece by piece. 

Marée couldn't handle that; she threw up right there on the floor without an ounce of shame. Nopony would judge her.

The other stallion that Marée hadn't given an identifier shouted loudly and kept firing his gun until it ran out of ammo, then threw the gun at the terror mare before taking a smaller gun from his vest and firing that as well. Nothing had any effect. painpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpain
A single tendril struck the stallion in the forehead. At first, nothing seemed to happen. Then the stallion started screaming in agony as his flesh began melting right off of him; Marée had to look away before too long.

The final stallion, the toothpick-chewing one that had murdered poor Joystick, glanced at the carnage that surrounded him, then aimed his gun directly at Caramel. "Stop! Now!" he spat. "I don't know what the fuck you are, but if you so much as move an inch, I'll blow a hole right in this little shit's skull! You hear me?!"

The mare stared right back at the stallion, tilting her head gently to the side.


noƨ γm ʞɔɒd ɘm ɘviϱ


"Just let me leave, or he dies!" the stallion snarled. His hoof was trembling, but he looked ready to pull the trigger. "I'll do it! I swear on the Dark Lady's name I'll put a bullet—"

The hoof on the trigger suddenly and violently separated from his leg; where it went, Marée couldn't see. The stallion screamed in agony for all of a second before all of the mare's tendrils clamped as one around the stump.

Marée couldn't properly describe what happened next, but it looked to her like the stallion's entire body started collapsing in on itself, drying out and shriveling up like a raisin until there was nothing left. The tendrils, engorged and sopping wet, carelessly discarded the husk of a stallion to the side, like a piece of garbage.

Marée then watched the mare slowly walk, like a perfectly normal pony would and should, towards Caramel. Instinctively, she shakily got to her hooves and moved to protect her friend; the other mare noticed and looked right at her with those cold, black eyes, and for a moment Marée was afraid that she was going to die just like everypony else.

But the mare did nothing, just turned back towards Caramel, stepping forward again and crouching down at his side. It looked like the mare was crying. 

Caramel still wasn't moving. 

All of a sudden, the lights in the arcade came back on, and all of the machines too. The sudden influx of light surprised Marée, and she blinked rapidly to adjust her eyes. Once they were used to the light again, she gasped, because the mare's appearance had changed.

She was still drenched in blood, but now her coat and mane colors were recognizable, as were her facial features, as were the clothes she was wearing that hadn't been there before. The tendrils streaming from her neck were gone, but the gash was still there, only as a hideous scar; there was a similar one on her stomach, hard to see from this angle but definitely still there. Her eyes were back to normal as well, but bloodshot from crying.

"Miss Velvet?" Marée muttered.

Miss Velvet sniffed loudly, not even bothering to wipe her nose on her hoof or sleeve. She just set a hoof on Caramel's bullet wound, but otherwise didn't respond to Marée, not with words at least. She just looked at her, and though Marée never considered herself an expert in reading emotions, she could just feel the emotions running through Miss Velvet's head: fear, and shame.

Marée took a tentative step forward; her friend's mother, the mare who had taught her how to make PB&J, the mare who was always quick with a smile and a hug, was scaring her with her silence. "Miss Velvet… what happened?"

Miss Velvet still didn't respond, just shook her head.

"He got hurt, Miss Velvet. Those bad ponies hit him, and I saw him using his powers, and… and…" Now Marée found herself fighting back tears; she felt afraid, and helpless, and sick to her stomach for so many reasons. "Is he going to be okay?"

Miss Velvet's nod was so slight that Marée barely noticed it. It was the sort of nod one would give when they weren't sure of their answer but hoped they were right. Marée hoped she was right, too.

She watched with awe as the blood that coated Miss Velvet's hoof and leg drained itself slowly into Caramel's wound. She knew about the mare's unique abilities, not unlike the ones she and her classmates had, but didn't know what they could do or what they were capable of. But she was at a loss for what else to do but watch. 

So, she just moved herself carefully over to Miss Velvet's side, sat down, and softly leaned against the older mare. Miss Velvet's free hoof moved slightly, just enough to pull Marée in for a hug, the only comforting thing that Marée had felt in what felt like hours. 

All she could do now was hope beyond hope that her friend would be okay.
> Chapter Fourteen: Triage
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Power Flux sat in his chair at the concrete table, fidgeting slightly to try and make himself comfortable. That was the problem with making most of one's workplace furniture out of the remains of a building that had been rotting underground for longer than one had been alive: it wasn't exactly optimized for comfort. He spent most of his time on his hooves, too, walking around and overseeing the work of his fellows, so there was little he wanted more than to be able to sit in comfort at times.

Such was the nature of maintaining the secret nature of their group.

For now he just stared quietly at the two cloaked individuals across from him at the table, listening intently to their tale as he tried to find just the right position to sit in. The room was lit by a simple scented candle, lavender and vanilla this time—he was tiring of sandalwood—if only so he could read the expressions of his comrades and block out the stench of rot simultaneously.

"After that, we lost all contact with the strike team," said one of the two, a blue-coated unicorn stallion. "Nothing but radio static, some of the strongest I've ever heard, as if the radios all shut off at once. When the static finally cleared, nopony responded to my attempts to communicate."

"I saw the crowd fleeing from the emergency exits from my perch," said the other, a red-coated pegasus mare. "But I couldn't get a good enough angle to see inside the building, especially with all the lights out. I definitely know that our team didn't come out, even after the lights came back on."

"Not through the planned route, at any rate," added the stallion. "I even double-checked both of the alternate exit routes we'd scoped out, but there wasn't any sign of them."

Flux rubbed his chin, leaning forward just enough in his seat to stay comfortable. "Did either of you get any visual confirmation of what happened to the team? Of what happened inside the establishment?"

They both shook their heads. "After we lost contact, we fell back to the rally point to wait. Nopony showed up," said the mare. "We waited an hour, as agreed upon. The CIA or NPPD, maybe both, were surely at the scene by then, so we couldn't do much else."

"Hmm… then it would appear as if our target was too much for our team to handle," Flux muttered, rapping his hoof on the table. This was all excessively aggravating. The plan had been so perfect, and yet it had failed. How? "I don't suppose either of you managed to recover the Leaders' gift to us? The dagger that I gave to Brother Melon?"

Again, they both shook their heads.

"Shit. That was our key to dealing with the rest of those traitorous worms. Without it, and without any bait for a trap, we are at a distinct disadvantage. There will need to be some rethinking moving forward." He grunted and waved the two off. "Go, my friends. Rest. Your moment to shine will come soon enough."

They nodded. "Thank you, Brother Flux," they said in unison. They then headed out of the room together without another word and without looking back.

Flux tapped his hoof on the table impatiently for a few moments, then he abruptly rose from his seat and made his way out of his "office", which had been carved into the remains of a small room that may likely have once been a proper managerial office. The halls outside were tight and short, so it did not take long for him to get further into the hideout and find the pony he needed to see most at the moment.

Skyfall was in the midst of torturing one of their latest acquisitions, a thin earth pony stallion who still had enough fight left in him to struggle against his bonds. Flux liked to watch Skyfall work; the other pegasus was skilled at the art of making his victims writhe with agony, breaking their spirit with words and tools so as to best prepare their souls for their Dark Lady's taking.

At the moment, his fellow pegasus was employing a poker and a blowtorch to tease the hapless victim's nethers. It was surprisingly precise work, actually. If the implements were too far away, the heat was just bearable enough and posed minimal risk; if they were too close, they'd risk permanently injuring the target and then there would be nothing left to torture. It was all about finding the exact distance.

"Brother Skyfall," Flux interrupted, doing so carefully so as not to startle his comrade and ruin his work. "There has been a development, and we must discuss our ongoing plans. May I draw you away from your work for a moment?"

Skyfall shut off the blowtorch and lifted his protective goggles; Flux watched the tortured stallion breathe a brief sigh of relief. "We can talk now if you'd prefer. I can multitask."

Flux gave him a small smile. "Very well, then. Carry on."

Skyfall smirked, nodded, set his goggles back over his eyes, relit the blowtorch, and got back to work. The tortured stallion's relief had been so fleeting that he may as well have not even gotten any in the first place. It was wonderful, actually, watching his spirit rise only to be crushed in the next instant.

"What do you wish to discuss, Brother?" Skyfall asked.

"Today's strike has met with… unpleasant results," Flux grunted. "The entire strike team failed to report in following their encounter with the lascivious traitor, and we lost our most valuable asset in the process."

Skyfall nodded shortly. "I see. Then the CIA will likely be on the scene soon to investigate, if they aren't already. Surely the traitor's blood magic was more potent than we thought it was if she could overpower the Leaders' gift."

"Or perhaps Brother Melon made a mistake and was unable to properly strike her with it," said Flux, stroking his chin. He shook his head. "In either case, the dagger is lost for now. Normally I would suggest recovering it from the CIA headquarters, but no doubt the traitors will bring it with them to their accursed tower to study it."

"That… complicates things. If they learn what the dagger's material can do, what it's capable of—"

"There will still be no defense against it, should our Leaders deign to provide us with more. They have assured me of that. However, we may need to reconsider our tactics." Flux sighed and leaned against the wall. "The lust-starved one proved more capable than we gave her credit for, and I was led to believe she was the most vulnerable."

"A shame that we lack the information we need to strike at more," Skyfall sighed. "You are certain this was all that our Dark Lady would provide us?"

"It is all that she deemed fit to show me. Too many souls are needed to return Her to Her former glory and give Her true vision beyond the Beacon, far more than we can provide Her with while those traitors still live. It is enough that She can still gaze upon our foes within their tower to provide us with even this scant intel.

"Regardless, we must press forward, Brother," Flux continued, standing up straight again and looking firmly at Skyfall. "You may need to take further steps to ensure your plan does not fail."

Skyfall smirked and turned his full attention to Flux. "My plan is flawless, Brother, believe me. I have taken every step needed to ensure that we can make our strike swiftly and unexpectedly. What's more, I have taken action to ensure that the strike will succeed in its intent regardless of the outcome."

Flux tilted his head, curious. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that no matter how successful I am in the end: whether our strike is true or if it fails, the Dark Lady's goals will be furthered. My plan's success does not rely on the potency of an untested weapon or the willingness of a treacherous whore to flag her tail. No offense to Brother Melon's talents."

"He's not here to take offense."

Skyfall chuckled. "Indeed. No, my plan relies on something far more tangible, something far more difficult to simply discard or ignore." He turned back to his work, pressing the heated poker gingerly against the tortured pony's flesh. "It's a terrible thing to open up old wounds, wouldn't you agree?"

"Indeed I would, Brother Skyfall." Amidst the victim's screams, Flux merely chuckled as he left the room to oversee some other fellow's work. 


*****


Curaçao had seen many things in her life, and she'd always believed that she possessed a strong enough stomach to be unbothered by wanton violence.

But whatever her dear sister had done to the stallions here at this arcade was so far beyond anything that Curaçao had ever seen before than she'd found it difficult to look at and retain her composure. She'd counted the bodies and was of the opinion that somehow there was more blood splattered all over the machines, walls, and floors than there had any right to be.

Director Underhoof seemed to share that opinion, as she approached Curaçao with a kerchief over her mouth in a clear attempt to filter out the smell of death and to have handy in case she felt the need to vomit. The CIA Director wore a beige trench coat over her regular, professional clothes—as well as a bulletproof vest—likely to prevent them from being contaminated; Curaçao had done the same—though no vest for her—though her coat was dark brown, not tan.

"Miss Curaçao," Underhoof said with a polite nod. "The Shadow Associate's lauded personal spy. I'd imagined our first in-person meeting to be under slightly less… gorey circumstances. I'm glad I haven't eaten dinner yet."

"The feeling is mutual, Director," Curaçao replied, politely nodding in return. "The Shadow Associate wished for me to thank you for your expedient response in regards to these matters."

"That definitely sounds like her. Did she ask you to say that verbatim?" Underhoof tilted her head towards the scene. "I've got a few of my agents checking out the perimeter and the rest of this bloodbath, and trying to find out why the fuck there wasn't any security detail on duty during the event."

"Yes, that's something I wanted to know as well. The security at this establishment is supposedly top-notch, one of the highest-rated firms in the city. Treasurer Vendetta usually takes good care of his investments, and this is one of the most profitable in his possession."

Underhoof grunted. "That he does. Anyway, my boys and girls said you wanted to meet me over here, so here I am. Something caught your attention, I take it?"

"Oui. Shall we?"

"Lead the way."

They'd convened at the arcade's karaoke bar, since the evidence suggested that the carnage originated here; Curaçao had Velvet's statement to confirm this, but the CIA agents lacked it. The rest of the "bloodbath" was mostly inconsequential to Curaçao, as Velvet didn't remember most of what had happened beyond the urge to kill everypony in the building that had dared to hurt her or her son—or Marée, of course.

The inside of the booth was… quite a sight. Since the CIA crews were still in the process of cleaning up the rest of the carnage, they hadn't gotten here yet beyond a preliminary assessment of the room and removing the body. Curaçao had requested the privilege of investigating this particular scene herself—and with the Director, of course—because this was where Velvet had said everything had started.

The corpse of the earth pony stallion had been removed, of course, though Curaçao had at least seen it before that; the Director would see it later at the morgue and have to settle with pictures from her team for now if she wanted to see it. Curaçao was fairly certain that a pony's skull should not have been able to break the way it did—all at once from all directions—but that's what had happened.

The blood splatter hadn't been cleaned yet because it was still being identified; half of it belonged to the stallion, the other half to another unidentified pony—Velvet, of course. The room looked like one of those abstract expressionist paintings at last year's exhibit at the Whiteworth Heights Art Museum, only with different shades of red on red. Curaçao and Underhoof had to watch their step as they entered so they didn't step in anything, be it blood, fragments of bone, or bits of brain that still lingered about.

"I've seen my fair share of gruesome scenes before," said Underhoof as she eyed a particularly thick glob on the wall, "but this one is something else. This kind of damage wasn't done with any conventional weapons or unicorn magic that I recognize."

"Oui, c'est un affichage assez horrible," Curaçao muttered.

She was left baffled by how exactly Velvet had done this much damage, both in here and out in the arcade. She'd seen her sister's handiwork before, and although that was years ago, the memory was still vivid. Those three stallions deserved what they got back then; attempting to murder Velvet and Pinkie had been most unwise. This entire situation reeked of a repeat attempt, and one far more coordinated and sinister, only there was no Pinkie this time. 

Revenge, maybe?

A glimmer of metal caught her eye, stuck just under the karaoke table and soaked in red. She nudged Underhoof gently and pointed it out. "The handle of a weapon, perhaps?" she suggested; the other mare would get the hint and fetch it with her magic so that neither of them had to touch it with their hooves.

Underhoof glanced at it, then nodded. "Good eye." 

She lit up her horn and tugged at the handle, loosening whatever it was until it was out in the open. It appeared to be a dagger, it's hilt made of a common metal but with a blade composed of an obsidian-like material. A strange weapon indeed, and no doubt effective at inflicting wounds, but Velvet had said her attacker claimed it to counteract her Hemomancy. Most perplexing.

Bizarrely enough, the perplexing nature of the weapon didn't stop there. As Underhoof pulled the dagger out into the open, her magical field flowed out to encompass the entire weapon rather than just the handle. The instant her magic touched the blade, though, the dagger fell to the floor; Underhoof's magical field had vanished entirely.

"What the—" Underhoof muttered. 

She lit up her horn again to grab it, or rather, she looked as though she was trying to do just that. But her horn did not ignite, not even with the slightest of glows. 

"What's going on?" she asked nopony in particular, her eyes glancing up at her horn. It appeared perfectly normal, unchanged from how it had looked seconds ago aside from the lack of shine.

Curaçao raised an eyebrow. "Are you alright, Director?"

"My magic isn't working." Underhoof sounded oddly calm for what should have been a concerning experience, though it was likely more curiosity and steel nerves than a lack of fear.

"Quoi? Your magic—" Curaçao paused in thought, then nodded. "It happened as soon as your field touched the blade of the dagger, oui?"

"It certainly seemed that way." 

Underhoof made a few more attempts to light up her horn, and though she was managing miniscule sparks, there was little else. The effect wasn't permanent, it seemed, but still effective, and lasted long enough that Underhoof would be effectively defenseless for several minutes. The blade hadn't even touched her or her horn, either, just her magical field.

Now Curaçao was concerned, more than she had been before at any rate. This dagger wasn't designed to specifically Velvet's Hemomancy, but all magic: an anti-magic dagger? What sort of material was this that could cancel out magic so effectively that just touching it with her field caused Underhoof's unicorn magic to falter? Did it depend on the strength of the spell or the user? Would a more powerful unicorn like Dawn be capable of interacting with it safely?

Then she recalled Velvet's report again: the stallion had made mention of foalnapping Caramel and Marée to use as bait for Velvet's sisters. If this dagger was capable of shutting down a unicorn's magic, maybe it would be effective against even Dawn. It would have to be, otherwise why would the attackers have any confidence in handling her? These stallions had a curious vendetta against the family—Velvet said her attacker had called her a "traitor"—and clearly had intelligence pertaining to their abilities, or at least Velvet's.

"Everything alright, Miss Curaçao?" asked Underhoof.

Curaçao perked up and cleared her throat; she hadn't realized she'd been so deep in thought that she'd frozen up. "Quite alright, Director. I was just thinking about the ramifications of an anti-magic material of this sort. It appears to be similar to obsidian, but it is obviously more than that, oui?"

"I would say so. Obsidian doesn't just cancel out magic." Underhoof stroked her chin. "I won't claim to be an expert on magical theory or formulas, but perhaps some sort of enchantment was placed on it?"

"A magic spell that cancels out other magical effects… hmm… that's certainly possible." Curaçao nodded firmly, more to herself than to anypony else. "The Shadow Associate will want to see this."

Underhoof nodded in return. "Absolutely. I'll have a report for her as soon as—"

"Non, Director, the Shadow Associate will want to see this immédiatement. I will be taking it to her directly once we conclude or business here."

Underhoof snorted and narrowed her eyes. "The Shadow Associate would know that she has no authority here, Miss Curaçao, and so should you. This is my case, my evidence, my investigation. I'm just as curious as you are about this dagger, so I promise you that I won't delay—"

"Committee Guidelines, Article Seven, Paragraph Fourteen," Curaçao recited. "By the authority of the Shadow Associate, I am initiating an emergency requisition of material from CIA custody. In this case: the dagger. I think you will find that I am operating in accordance with the guidelines, Director Underhoof."

"I— That's—" Underhoof shook her head. "That guideline is intended for emergency purposes only, typically pertaining to the safety of the entire city or to the wellbeing of the sitting members of the Committee. This is hardly—"

"These assailants were after somepony, Director, somepony important to the Shadow Associate," Curaçao said firmly; she wasn't angry, but knew she had to put every ounce of authority into her voice. "That is why she took a personal interest, and why she sent me to ensure that everything was handled to her exacting standards."

Underhoof tilted her head. "We got a few statements from the crowd that escaped, but nopony was injured or killed apart from a single staff member. Are you suggesting that this…" She paused, pulling a notepad—a paper one!—from her pocket. "Joystick. Are you suggesting he was of some immediate importance to the Shadow Associate?"

"Non, I am not. But there were others here, others who your agents did not collect statements from. But the Shadow Associate and I did, because she is important to the Shadow Associate; she is family, the Shadow Associate's elder sister."

"The Shadow Associate's sister? I was unaware she even had a sister." Underhoof snorted derisively, putting her notepad away. "Though I suppose that's part and parcel to the position, isn't it? Keeping secrets? Same with her personal spy, no doubt."

"A fair assessment."

"Well, regardless of that, I'm not too keen on the idea that the Shadow Associate's sister happened to be here and was attacked… at random…" She paused, her eyes wide. "Wait, does Miss Dawn believe this attack was specifically directed at her sister? That this wasn't just a random robbery?"

Curaçao nodded, glad that the Director was catching on so quickly; it helped to have other intelligent ponies in positions of power. "The statement I took more than suggested it. I regret keeping it from you until now, but the Shadow Associate requested that I maintain discretion unless absolutely necessary." 

"Par for the course." She gestured sharply at the dagger. "And that dagger makes you believe it is absolutely necessary?"

"Oui. A weapon that could counteract magic would surely be useful if somepony wanted to kill the Shadow Associate, a unicorn like yourself, wouldn't you agree?"

"I would, yes." Underhoof cleared her throat. "Very well, then you are within your rights under Committee Guidelines to requisition the dagger from my custody, and our verbal exchange will serve as evidence of this transition in accordance to the guidelines. Will that satisfy the Shadow Associate, Miss Curaçao?"

"I believe it will, yes, thank you. The Shadow Associate appreciates your cooperation, as always."

Curaçao stepped further into the bloodsoaked room—blocking out the part of her mind reminding her what she was stepping in—and lifted the dagger up by hoof, careful not to touch the blade. She didn't know what might happen to her if she did, even though she wasn't using her shapeshifting abilities right at that moment. She placed it into a plastic bag and then into her saddlebag, then secured it tightly so it wouldn't become misplaced on the way home.

"Is there anything else you want to tell me about this case that might help my investigation?" Underhoof asked, not even bothering to hide her annoyance. "Or am I supposed to bumble around in the dark some more before figuring out what happened? Like how the Shadow Associate's sister left the scene without being noticed by anypony else in the crowd?"

Curaçao smirked as she wiped her hooves on a kerchief she'd pulled from her bag. "The Shadow Associate has requested that I maintain discretion on a number of things, Director. That is one of them."

"Did she happen to see anything else? Like what happened here, what killed all these robbers? Though I suppose now they can be classified as, what, assassins?"

"J'ai bien peur que non." Curaçao gently set a clean hoof on Underhoof's shoulder. "None of that would help you with your case, though, would it? What matters is finding out who these attackers were, where they came from, where they got their equipment, and most importantly, if there are still more of them out there."

Underhoof gnashed her teeth. "You know, I've cooperated with Miss Dawn on a great many things over the years, especially in regards to the upcoming peace summit. Do you have any idea the hoops I've had to jump through to ensure that 'the agent' will be present at the treaty signing so that Her Majesty Queen Blackburn can take him into custody?"

"Quite aware, Director. We coordinated on the entire ordeal, did we not?"

"Exactly, so you'll forgive me if I've been under the impression that I could count on you and Miss Dawn to cooperate with me on similar issues of importance. Would you say that I was wrong about that, Miss Curaçao?"

Curaçao sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She wasn't annoyed with Underhoof's questions in the least, though, but with Dawn's insistence on going about things this way. If it had been up to her, she'd have been open with Underhoof about all of this, but Dawn wanted to keep things under wraps as much as possible. Curaçao thought she was the secretive one; Dawn was proving her wrong time and time again.

"Non, you were not wrong, but the Shadow Associate has requested that I handle this situation in such a way that her family situation does not come to light. I trust I can count on you not to note any of this conversation in your files, oui?"

"I'm more than fine with keeping secrets. What I'm not fine with is having secrets kept from me that affect my work."

"I can assure you that there is unlikely to be a repeat of this in the future," Curaçao said, reassuringly patting Underhoof's shoulder. "You must understand that whoever these attackers were, they came after Miss Dawn's family, and she's taking that matter very personally. She won't admit it, but I know her: she's afraid."

Underhoof bit her tongue, but nodded. "I get it. I do."

"If there's anything that we can offer that will help you with your investigation, we would be happy to share, but for now… make due with what you have."

"Why do I get the feeling that you're personally invested in this just as much as Miss Dawn is? Hmm?" Underhoof snorted, smirked, and shook her head. "They're your family too, aren't they? Dawn and her sister?"

Curaçao smirked right back. "See? Things like that are why you're in charge of the CIA. You read between the lines." She stepped out of the room. "The Shadow Associate thanks you again for your cooperation, Director Underhoof, and requests an update on the investigation if you discover anything of note, no matter how trivial it might seem."

"I don't suppose you want to stick around and help me dig through more blood and guts to find out what the fuck happened here, do you?"

"I'm afraid not. I have important business to attend to." Curaçao gave Underhoof a polite nod. "Best of luck with your investigation."

Underhoof waved her off dismissively. "Yeah yeah, whatever. Tell your sister I'll take care of everything. It's all I'm good for anyway. Something's off about this whole deal, and that's besides what you're not telling me. If this was an assassination attempt, then how did they know where your sister was going to be and when she'd be there?"

Curaçao gave Underhoof a deadly serious look. "That is something that I would very much like to know."


*****


Velvet sat alone in the emergency care room at Pandora Tower wearing nothing more than a medical gown. She was more quiet and contemplative than she'd been in a long while, and felt more than a little scared about what happened and was still happening. She'd already been attended to following the afternoon's… events, and had come away from everything with a clean bill of health. 

Her powers had steadily returned in full and healed the injuries she'd sustained, including the grizzly scars she'd gotten from the stab wounds. A part of her wanted not to heal the injuries entirely, to keep a token of what had happened to remind her of her stupid mistake. But as expected, her blood magic operated almost entirely independently of her own input and healed her before she could even think otherwise.

She wasn't actually alone in the room, of course. Caramel rested in the care bed, breathing steadily but still unconscious. The collection of monitors by his side indicated that he was alive and stable, but that was all that they could tell her. They couldn't tell her why he wasn't awake, or if he was actually okay, or if he was going to be okay.

There came a brief knock at the open door, and Nurse Soft Touch walked in holding her datapad; behind her was Pedigree, who looked as solemn as Velvet had ever seen him. The last time she could remember him looking so down was some five years ago, when she'd told him about her condition. He was a good friend, more supportive than anypony else she knew, which was saying a lot considering how much Curaçao and Havoc had done for her in the wake of the news.

"Miss Velvet," said Soft Touch with a brief nod. "How are you feeling? Is everything recovering okay?"

Velvet nodded and wiped her nose on her sleeve. "I'm just fine, Nurse, thanks. Physically, anyway." She gave Pedigree a small wave. "Hey, Pedi. Come to check up on me?"

"On you, and on Caramel and Marée, of course," Pedigree said, stepping over to set his hoof reassuringly on her shoulder. "Marée's wing is going to be okay, by the way. Just a minor sprain; she'll be flying again by tomorrow morning. Figured you should know."

"That's good. Thanks, Pedi. I wanted to go check on her, but… but I…"

"It's okay, I understand," he said, rubbing her shoulder. He glanced at Caramel. "Believe me, I understand." He gestured at Soft Touch. "I was just speaking with the nurse about what to expect."

"Anything new you can tell me?" she asked, looking from him to the nurse and back.

"I've got some good news, and some bad news," Soft Touch said, glancing at her chart. "The good news is of course that he's alive, and what's better, the injury wasn't severe enough to cause permanent damage. The bullet missed his spine by about half an inch; he was lucky. He'll recover from the wound eventually like it never even happened, apart from the scar."

Velvet breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank the stars. I've been sitting here terrified that he was gonna be paralyzed. Did… did I help?" she asked. "I used my blood magic on him when I saw he'd been shot. I never tried to do that before, but… I knew that I had to do something."

Soft Touch nodded softly. "He lost a lot of blood from what I can tell, but you managed to… hmm. The best I can describe it, you performed a sort of blood transfusion, only you did it with blood that wasn't his, or exactly clean. I don't know how you did it but you even got his rare  blood type right. Not to worry, I already finished up with a proper transfusion; he'll be fine on that front."

"Phew…" She gulped. "You… you said there was bad news, too?"

The nurse took a short breath. "The bad news is that he suffered a lot of severe internal trauma, but not from any sort of injury that I've been able to find. Based on his file, I suspect that it might have been related to the drawback from using his shadow magic." She flipped through the document on her datapad. "All signs point to possible hypothermia."

Pedigree sighed. "I knew I should have made him wear the suit under his clothing, just to be on the safe side, no matter stupid he thought he looked in public."

"We couldn't have known what was going to happen, Pedi," Velvet said, patting his side. "It's not your fault, okay? It's mine. The only reason this happened is because of me, because I was irresponsible. I never thought anypony would or could do anything like this… not to me. Not to us."

She looked to the nurse. "Is he going to be okay? Please tell me he's going to be okay."

"At the moment, I can't give you a confident diagnosis," Soft Touch said gently, obviously struggling to do so. "The gunshot combined with the use of his powers exacerbated his potential recovery time. It could be days. It could be weeks. I don't anticipate anything longer than that, but… the nature of working with these magic drawbacks makes it difficult to predict."

Velvet looked at Pedigree, desperate and wide-eyed. "Pedi, is there anything you can do?"

"I'll be looking into his genetic data to see if I can find any possibility of treating the condition with medication," Pedigree said simply. "But considering that the only solution I found to prevent the hypothermia in the first place was the suit, I don't know if there's anything more I can do. The drawbacks are finicky in nature, difficult to counteract."

"He just needs to stay warm and have his rest," Soft Touch added. "He is otherwise stable, but it may take his brain some time to recover from the strain of the encounter. All I can advise you to do, Miss Velvet, is to be patient. Your son will recover, it's just a matter of time."

Velvet paused, then sunk down in her seat and nodded. "Yeah… thanks, Nurse. I appreciate it."

"Always happy to help, Miss Velvet." She gave Velvet a nod, then did the same to Pedigree. "Overseer. I'll leave you two alone so you can talk."

"Thanks, Nurse," said Pedigree. After Soft Touch was out of the room, he turned to Velvet and sighed. "I wish there was more I could do for Caramel, Velvet. All I can do now is take some precautionary measures to try and prevent any further incidents. I've already imposed a curfew on the rest of the students until further notice: nopony leaves the tower, period."

"I bet you got a lot of pushback on that," Velvet said with a sad smile. "I know a lot of the kids were getting used to their off-campus extracurriculars. They're not gonna be happy."

"No, they aren't, but then they weren't happy to find out their classmates were attacked and injured, either. There was a bit of a ruckus; Rebel Noise and her friends wanted to form a hunting party, if you can believe it. Miss Havoc's aggressiveness is rubbing off on them."

Velvet smirked. "I'm not surprised. I know exactly how they feel."

"I've asked them all to hold off on making visits until Caramel is awake, and even then until he is ready for visitors."

"That's good, they'll be glad to know he's okay at least."

"At any rate, I feel it would be better that they be safe rather than happy until we find out what happened and can do something to prevent it from happening again." Pedigree snorted; Velvet could tell he was angry, but not with her. "These stallions that attacked you also threatened our students. I'm glad you killed them, Velvet, because otherwise, I would've. With my bare hooves if necessary."

"I know you would, Pedi," she replied, patting his side. "I'm sorry I didn't leave anything for you."

"It's quite alright. I'm just glad you and the kids were able to get out of there, even if not in the best of shape." He sighed and shook his head. "I'll be looking into what I can do to help your sisters with their investigation. I promise you, Velvet, we'll find whoever was responsible for this, and if there are more of them out there then they'll pay for what they did to you and our students."

"That's sweet of you, Pedi, but you don't need to do anything for me." She hung her head dejectedly. "It's my fault it all happened anyway. I would have deserved everything that happened to me for putting Caramel and Marée in danger."

"Don't say that, Velvet," he replied, pulling her in for a gentle hug. "You don't deserve anything like that just because of one mistake. Everything I've read about that establishment tells me that you wouldn't have been the first parent to sneak away and let their kids have fun at the arcade; it's commonplace. They should have had ample security and staff members—"

"Shut up," she sighed, pushing him away and trying not to sound irritated. "You're trying to make me feel better by excusing my behavior, I know that, but… I need to live with the fact that I made a mistake and it nearly got me, my son, and Marée killed. I'm going to have to live with that."

He paused for a moment. "Okay. I won't try to excuse anything, then. Just know, Velvet, that despite everything that happened today, I don't blame you." He hugged her again. "You're a good friend, and a good mother. We'll make the ones who are truly to blame here pay for what they've done. I promise."

She murmured to herself and hugged him back. "Thanks, Pedi."

"If you need anything, you only need to ask." Pedigree then broke the hug and rolled his shoulders. "I'll leave you with Caramel for now, okay? I'm going to check in on the other students and let them know what's going on with Caramel's status. I didn't want to give them any details until after I spoke with Soft Touch."

"Okay. Come visit me later?"

He smiled and nodded. "Of course."

Velvet watched him leave, then slumped back into her seat, knowing that despite all of his kind words and reassurances, Pedigree hadn't succeeded in making her feel much better. He could say it as many times as he liked; she still felt responsible for what had happened today, all because she couldn't resist the opportunity for casual sex when it cropped up. Times like this were when she wished that she could find it within herself to settle with a single partner.

Everything about today bothered her, beyond just the results. How had that stallion known about her powers in the first place? It would be the only reason he would bring a weapon that could protect him from them, so he'd obviously have been aware of them even if he hadn't said as much. But how did he know? Velvet never openly used her powers outside of the tower; the only time she ever had was…

Pinkie Pie. The last time Velvet remembered using her powers outside of the tower had been to save Pinkie from those three goons that had been looking to kill her. But there hadn't been any witnesses that Velvet knew about, had there? Apart from Pinkie, of course, who didn't say a word to anypony about it. 

No, the only ponies outside of the tower that knew about her powers at all were Pinkie and her friends; the latter six couldn't have told anypony that mattered anyway. Maybe Lockwood knew on account of being close with Curaçao, since she knew Curaçao had told him about her powers, but even so, Lockwood didn't seem the sort to carelessly spill that information, and he'd been living in Hope's Point for a long, long while now besides. Flathoof knew about Gray's, but that was the same deal as with Lockwood: who would he tell and why?

"Traitor". That's what the stallion called her, the only thing he called her that actually stuck out in her mind out of everything he'd insulted her with. She'd been called a slut before, both as an insult and as a term of endearment—she was a self-proclaimed slut, if anything—so that meant nothing special. But "traitor" was new, and oh so confusing.

What was worse was how he'd known that Velvet was going to be there at the arcade at all, and when she was going to be there. Even worse was that he knew that she was bringing Caramel and Marée with her and wanted to use them as "bait". Nopony knew about her bringings the kids except for herself, Pedigree, Dawn, and a few others here at the tower that she'd talked to about the arcade in the first place, and none of them would have or could have spilled to anypony.

Curaçao would likely look into this more, though, and was always the better thinker and investigator; if anypony could find out what was going on, it was her. All that Velvet needed to focus on right now was her son and his well-being; that was all that mattered and would ever matter again.

"Miss Velvet?" came a voice from the doorway.

Velvet turned to see Marée standing there, clad in a medical gown just like she was, and holding a stuffed pony toy that she liked, a character from her favorite cartoon. The young filly had always possessed a sweet, charming disposition, and right now she looked as sweet and innocent as ever. It hurt Velvet just to look at the filly's face; it reminded her too much of how close she had been to being hurt or killed.

"Hi, Marée," Velvet said. She noticed the gauze around the base of the filly's left wing. "I… heard your wing's doing better."

"Uh-huh. Just a sprain, the nurse said."

"Good. Good…" Velvet turned her attention back to Caramel. "You'd better get back to your room, sweetie. I don't think the nurse would want you wandering around, and it's getting late besides."

Marée was silent for a moment, then stepped forward. "If it's okay with you, Miss Velvet… I wanted to be in here with Caramel, and with you."

Velvet felt her heart ache again. It hurt so much worse knowing how close she had come to letting these two young ponies' lives be ruined because of her stupid cravings. She could already hardly imagine the thought of something happening to her son, but she couldn't imagine what it might've done to Marée if something did.

The puppy love between the two was good and pure, and Velvet had nearly ruined it. Probably did, too; it would hardly do good for either of them to remember their first "date" being one where Caramel almost died and Marée watched his mother slaughter several ponies right in front of her. Marée had every right to want nothing to do with her ever again, and wouldn't blame her if she did.

But she couldn't deny the filly's request even if she wanted to. "Sure thing. Pull up a seat, sweetie."

Marée softly nodded, then pulled one of the empty chairs in the room over to sit near Velvet at the side of Caramel's bed; the seat scooted noiselessly, thankfully, muffled by the soft material on the legs. The two of them then remained in silence for a long moment, just looking at Caramel with nothing but the beeps of the monitoring machinery for company.

It was Marée who broke the silence. "Is he going to be okay, Miss Velvet?"

Velvet paused, then nodded slowly. "Nurse Soft Touch said it might take some time, but… he'll be okay."

"Good." Marée then sniffed. "I'm sorry, Miss Velvet. It's my fault."

Velvet looked right at the filly. "What?"

"Caramel only got hurt because I wasn't fast enough and got caught, and because I can't control my powers as well as he can." She wiped her nose on her sleeve. "If I hadn't gotten caught, he wouldn't—"

"Oh, Marée…" Velvet pulled the filly in for a hug. "It's not your fault. Don't blame yourself. If it's anypony's fault, it's mine. I should've never let you two out of my sight. But because I did, I—" She abruptly broke the hug. "I'm sorry you had to see everything that happened."

"Huh?"

"The things I did to those stallions right in front of you. You shouldn't have had to see that, and… I'm sorry. I wasn't in control of myself, and I wasn't thinking properly." She looked away from Marée and sighed. "I'll understand if you're scared of me and don't want to be near me anymore."

Marée tilted her head. "Miss Velvet, why would I be scared of you? You saved me and Caramel from those bad stallions."

"You saw how I did it though!" Velvet blurted, desperate and a little afraid. "I was a… a monster. You shouldn't have had to go through that kind of experience. It's not right for a young pony to see those kinds of things, to witness all of that. I know I scared you, Marée… I could feel it. Taste it. There was a part of me that wanted to do to you what I did to the stallions."

"But Miss Velvet, I'm not scared of you." Marée set her hoof on Velvet's leg. "You're Caramel's mama, and he's my best friend in the whole world. I could never be scared of you; you love him more than anything, and I know somepony with that much love in them isn't a scary pony.

"I know that I… I was scared," she admitted, clutching her doll tight. "But… I was scared of everything that was going on. I was scared for Caramel, scared of those mean stallions, scared that something had happened to you. But I was never scared of you."

Velvet stared at the filly for a moment, then let a weak smile come to her face. "Thank you, Marée. I appreciate that. I was worried— scared, that you might never want to have anything to do with me again. I was afraid what I did might affect your relationship with Caramel."

"No way!" the filly responded, looking scandalized. "I would never do anything like that to Cara—" She then let out a big yawn. "Oh… sorry."

Velvet smiled and helped Marée out of her seat. "Let's get you to bed so you can get some sleep, okay?"

"But… I don't want to leave Caramel…" Marée said with a pout.

"Hmm." A lightbulb went off in Velvet's head. "Then we'll make a little sleep-over out of it."

"But I don't have my sleeping bag—"

Velvet shifted the two chairs so that they were facing each other, creating a makeshift bed that would easily fit a filly of Marée's size, then scooped up the filly with only a small peep of protest before setting her down onto the "bed". She was just as quick to grab a spare blanket out of one of the supply drawers to throw over Marée.

"Ta-da! This'll work, won't it? Cozy?"

Marée blinked, and settled into her new sleeping arrangments. "Um… yeah, it's cozy, Miss Velvet. But what about you?"

"I'll be fine, sweetie, don't you worry about me." Velvet ran her hoof through Marée's mane. "You're a good filly, Marée, you know that? When the time comes, I'll approve wholeheartedly. No doubt in my mind."

Marée blinked, lost. "When what time comes?"

"You'll know when you're older, Marée," Velvet added with a grin, leaning down to kiss the filly's forehead. "Get some sleep."

Marée yawned again, then nodded, turned over, and though she fought it for a solid minute, looking in Caramel's direction all the while, she eventually fell sound asleep.

Velvet took a breath, then turned her attention back to Caramel before dutifully standing beside his bed; she could rest in the morning.
> Chapter Fifteen: Throttle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


One Week Later


Today was the big day, and Lockwood couldn't be more excited. It had taken years of effort to reach this point, but thanks to some very carefully-handled meetings, well-worded negotiations, and delicate arrangements, days like today could finally happen. Peace was going to be more than just a pipe dream, more than just wishful thinking, more than just a faraway fantasy meant for little idealistic foals with no notion for how the real world worked.

No, today was real. Peace was a reality. And he took no small amount of pride in the fact that he'd played a role in making it happen.

It was late morning, and while his darling wife was making all of the preparations with the airship that would take them north, he'd taken it upon himself to prepare other, less strenuous—but still important—tasks before they left. This first meant making sure that their luggage was packed, as they were not only staying in New Pandemonium City for a few days to go through with the treaty signing and for public, political appearances, but they would be taking a family vacation down south immediately afterwards.

So, Lockwood made sure that everything was tucked away and ready to go: toothbrushes and mane brushes; a variety of outfits that made "statements", as Ivory Charm put it; accessories such as hats and sunglasses; beachwear—including a "special" swimsuit for his wife that she hadn't had a chance to wear yet and had been teasing him about all month; and basically everything he could think of that they would need for a week-long getaway from the city.

He had to make sure everything was put together for the kids, too, which of course included making sure the kids were put together. This was sometimes harder than herding cats—a southern expression, and one that amused him greatly—though Lockwood often found that he was better at it than Blackburn was despite her usual authoritativeness. For now, that meant rounding the two up and keeping them occupied in the royal bedchambers while they waited for Blackburn and Gadget to give them all the go-ahead.

"Bluebolt, come down from there right now," Lockwood said, watching his daughter swoop about near the ceiling. "You're messing up your clothes and mane, and you know you have to be presentable when we get up north."

"But Daddy, I don't wanna be presentable," Bluebolt huffed, remaining up near the ceiling and making tight circles to and fro. "And Momma wants me to practice flying as often as I can so that I can be as good as her one day! So, I'm practicing! Watch me do a barrel roll!"

Lockwood ran a hoof over his face as she barrel rolled and almost flew into the wall. "You can practice flying later, after we make our first public appearance up north, alright? There are going to be a lot of ponies there who are meeting our family for the first time and we want to make a good first impression, don't we?"

"Meh!"

Lockwood grumbled to himself, then looked to Crossfire, who was busy chuckling at the display and shaking his head, causing the little gold earring in his ear to shake. "Crossfire, maybe you could convince her to behave for just five minutes?"

"No can do, Your Highness," the large stallion said with a cheeky smile. "As y'all can plainly see, I've got my own hooves full as-is."

That was true enough, since Crossfire was busy keeping young Fireglow—Lockwood and Blackburn's son—occupied at the corner table. Fireglow lacked the rambunctious energy his sister had, for which Lockwood was thankful. At the moment he was quiet, busy piecing together a simple puzzle more appropriate for a pony a year older; he needed little help with it since he was such a fast learner. 

The little pegasus colt had a dark red coat and a golden blond mane, and yes, Lockwood was keenly aware of how similar in coloration he was to Flathoof—a great many jokes had come of it—but nopony was ever serious in suggesting that anything was going on there. 

After all, Fireglow had Lockwood's eyes, just like Bluebolt did; it was an extremely dominant trait, apparently, the only thing Lockwood's mother had ever given him that lasted. Instead, the coat and mane coloring apparently made Fireglow resemble his grandfather on his mother's side, so that was also an easy enough excuse for it all.

Lockwood wanted to argue that Crossfire didn't need to supervise the puzzle and could help reign in the always-energetic Bluebolt, but he didn't have the heart to do it. So with a heavy sigh, he did the only thing he could think of to convince his daughter to come down: "Bluebolt, will you come here and sit still so that I can fix you back up if I give you a cookie?"

Bluebolt gasped and swept down to the floor faster than a filly her size had any right to move. "Cookie! Cookie!" She started bouncing in place excitedly. "Gimme gimme gimme!"

Lockwood rolled his eyes and took a packet of large chocolate chip cookies out of the luggage compartment meant for snacks and treats, then passed one of them over to Bluebolt. She grabbed it instantly, then hopped up onto the bed and, for a brief moment, pretended it was an airship coming in for a landing; yes, she made the engine noises and everything. Always did. The cookie "ship" came in for a "landing" right in her mouth, and she started eating it one bite at a time.

Lockwood let out a sigh of relief and sat beside her, taking a spare brush to straighten her mane. "I really need to stop spoiling you so much, my little cookie pilot. Your mother's not going to like it if the only way she can get you to listen to her is if she bribes you with sweets."

"Momma won't have to bribe me," Bluebolt said matter-of-factly between bites.

"Oh? So only I have to bribe you to listen to me?"

She smiled and nodded. "Uh-huh!" She said it like it was obvious, like stating that water was wet.

"Well, I don't exactly see how that's fair. Are you telling me you like Momma more than Daddy?"

She shook her head. "Nuh-uh! Daddy always gives me cookies when he wants me to do something. Momma doesn't give me cookies at all, so I just make sure it's Daddy that asks me things the most so that I can get more cookies."

"You're a devious little schemer, aren't you?" Lockwood tousled her mane, then hissed at himself for messing it up before brushing it again. "Just like your mother."

"Her Majesty might be a schemer, but I'd say it's more that the Princess has got y'all wrapped 'round her hoof good 'n' tight, ol' buddy," Crossfire chortled.

"Oh yeah? Well you try resisting this cute little face!" Lockwood said, grinning and putting his hooves on Bluebolt's cheeks.

"Daaddyy!" Bluebolt grunted, pulling away and pouting.

"I can resist just fine," Crossfire said, giving the little filly a grin. "She may be cute as a button, but that ain't nothin' I can't handle. I've got nerves o' steel, I tell ya what."

"Feh, you say that now, but just wait until you've got kids of your own. I'm sure Pattycake's already been dropping hints here and there."

Crossfire's face reddened and he looked away immediately. "I don't know what you're talkin' 'bout."

Lockwood smirked, but dropped the issue; Pattycake had been rather open with him about saying she wanted foals with her new husband, mostly because she felt it would be difficult to be as open with Crossfire about it. The big lug was oblivious to hints but also scandalized by open discussions on the subject of sex, specifically pertaining to his own sex life. Pattycake was… not so closed-off about it.

At any rate, after ensuring that Bluebolt's appearance was back to the picture of perfection it had been before she started getting impatient, Lockwood took a moment to ensure that everything was together one last time.

With the expectedly-perfect timing Lockwood had come to expect over the years, Gadget called in on Crossfire's communicator. "Okay fillies and gentlecolts, we're all situated down here. Head on down and let's get the luggage all loaded up; we'll make it up north before lunchtime! I don't know about you guys, but I'm eager to see if Pandora Tower's chef is as good as Havoc says he is."

"Roger that, Gadget," Crossfire said, leaning into his communicator. He rose up from his seat and tapped the table. "Okay, Your Highness, it's time to get goin'. Y'all can leave the puzzle there for now, we'll worry 'bout it when we get home."

Fireglow looked up at Crossfire, then nodded and slid the pieces he was working with into the pile and hopped out of his chair. Crossfire helped him walk over to Lockwood and then hoisted him up onto his father's back to ride down to the hangars.

Fireglow was all smiles when he did, and patted Lockwood's neck before pointing at his sister. "Da da! Cookie?"

Lockwood chuckled. "You know you're not supposed to be having cookies so early in the day, buddy. What would Mommy say?"

Fireglow stared at Bluebolt, who was still busy chomping on her cookie and—Lockwood was certain of this—deliberately doing so such that Fireglow could clearly see her doing it. "But Buebow got cookie." 

He was still getting pronunciations and grammar right; he was quick-witted and smart for his age but he was still young. Lockwood wouldn't expect a three-year-old colt to be reciting poetry, but Fireglow at least understood a lot of words and vocabulary. It was just that his sister's name always seemed to be a sticking point.

Lockwood glanced at his daughter, then rolled his eyes back to his son before hoisting a cookie out of the bag, taking half of it to give to the young colt. "Okay, you can have a cookie, but don't tell Mommy. Okay?"

Fireglow snatched the cookie and shoved the entire half into his mouth, devouring it just as quickly. He then shook his head. "Won't tell Mommy," he said, not a single bit of cookie left in his mouth.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Crossfire grunted as he hoisted all of the luggage onto the cart he'd be using to lug it all down to the hangar, and then they all set off on their way.

The trip down to the docking hangars was simple and quiet; Blackburn had requested their departure be given as little pomp and circumstance as possible, knowing full well their arrival up north would be quite the opposite. They'd already dealt with the celebratory hullabaloo over the past couple of days from the Queen's Council and from their family and friends, so Lockwood didn't make a fuss.

The hangar belonging to the Wyvern was the most well-maintained in the entire docking bay, if only because the Wyvern saw such infrequent use that it needed to be attended to constantly so that it was always in tip-top shape; other ships were tuned-up and maintained in between flights, after all, so things worked a little different. That just seemed par for the course when comparing the rest of the fleet to Her Majesty's personal airship, which she only ever flew herself.

The Wyvern was a large, boomerang-shaped ship with an elongated forward section that resembled an ancient dragon's head, and its wings, when deployed fully, would even evoke draconic wings. It was easily capable of carrying the entire royal family and then some in complete comfort, yet was also one of the best-equipped ships in the fleet. 

Lockwood didn't consider himself a connoisseur on the subject of airships, but Blackburn talked his ear off every chance she got whenever she made adjustments to it, and she was always making adjustments. The ship was her pride and joy, the closest thing she said she'd had to a foal of her own before Bluebolt was born, and having the chance to show it off to her family was something she enjoyed very much.

The ship was fully modular, meaning that it could have parts and systems swapped out with the quickness and ease that Blackburn preferred everything to operate with. Lockwood could see what adjustments had already been made, having a rudimentary understanding of the ship's layout. Most of the modifications weren't worth mentioning apart from the fact that all of the weapons systems were missing, part of showing good faith to their northern hosts.

"Right on time, everypony!" Gadget declared as she waved the quartet over to the boarding ramp. "C'mon, let's get you all loaded up and ready so we can get moving. Her Majesty's ready to go, and you know much she hates waiting around."

"Don't I ever," Lockwood said with a smirk.

He and the others boarded the ship without much ado. Once on board, Gadget and Blackburn greeted everypony with waves and smiles. And, to Lockwood's surprise, so did Gray, who was dressed in the fancy "uniform" of her ambassador position: a crisp gray coat with a high collar and the customary black and red livery of New Pandemonium City. Gray was always an imposing mare, but the outfit made her look extra imposing, like she was ready to start barking commands and ordering executions.

"Oh! Hello, Gray. What are you doing here?" Lockwood asked. "I thought we already said our little goodbyes at breakfast?"

"As family, sure," Gray said with a smirk. "This is a professional farewell from me as New Pandemonium Ambassador, though. Curaçao would want me to make one last little bit of effort so that everything feels as official as possible, y'know? Not to mention I'm supposed to check in with Dawn to let her know you're leaving."

"As always, appreciate your presence Ambassador Gray Skies," Blackburn said with a polite nod and a coy grin. "This is a momentous occasion between our two cities."

"And we couldn't have done it as effectively without you," Lockwood added with a grin. "To think that when I first met you, you were just an 'unemployed schlub', as you put it, living in my apartment complex. Seven years later and you helped us negotiate peace in the north. Funny how things work out."

"It's been a long journey, hasn't it?" Gray offered her hoof to him to shake, which he did. "Safe travels, Your Majesty."

"Thanks, Ambassador. We'll see you in a few days when we get back."

She then gave a firm nod to Blackburn, waved and smiled at Bluebolt and Fireglow—who each returned the wave and smiled back—then strode off the ship.

While Gadget and Crossfire helped load the kids into their seats and the luggage into their storage compartments, Blackburn pulled Lockwood aside, and did so quite forcefully at that, which Lockwood knew meant she was concerned about something. She was always concerned about something, of course, so this wasn't surprising.

"Still not so certain about aspects of this trip," Blackburn said quietly. Her eyes drifted briefly towards their daughter and son, then back to Lockwood. "Not sure if taking Bluebolt and Fireglow best decision."

Lockwood nodded; they'd had this conversation several times over the past two weeks, and they always went the same way. "I understand your concern, BB, I do. Bringing the two of them to the big city seems like a big deal, but you're making it out to be a bigger deal than it really is. We've taken them on vacation to the southern continent before, haven't we?"

"Still would rather leave them here, pick them up after the treaty is signed, then head south for vacation," Blackburn huffed. She shook her head. "Mind racing constantly; not sure what to make of situation. Pandora Tower, unknown location; unaware of layout, of potential areas for them to get lost—"

"Honey, please, there's nothing like that you need to worry about. I'll assure you again, we have the best guardians possible in Gadget and Crossfire, and I'm willing to bet we can count on a few others to keep a watchful eye on them too."

"But—"

"Look, if you really want to leave them here with Gray and Flathoof for a few days until we get back, I won't argue with you about it," he said, taking her hoof in his. "But I'll at least make the case for bringing them along, like I've been doing. When Gray and Flathoof got married, that made Gray my sister-in-law. That makes Curaçao—a close friend—my sister-in-law too… twice-removed, or something like that. 

"So, their whole family is my extended family, and yours as well, My Queen." With a smile, he added, "That makes Bluebolt and Fireglow their family too, and apart from Havoc and Velvet—and Gray, obviously—none of them have met them yet.

"What's more, Curaçao has a daughter of her own now, too, and that makes little Jellybean a cousin to our kids; she's our niece. Not to mention Velvet and her adopted son, who would therefore be our nephew. This'll be the first and best opportunity for the kids to meet their cousins."

Blackburn sighed, looking up at the ceiling. "Am aware of the familial connection. There will be later opportunities—"

"But this will be the best one," Lockwood interjected. "What better way to introduce our kids to their extended family than by showing how we've all worked together to finally bring an end to the conflict between our two cities that's been going on since before even you were born?"

"Just can't shake feeling that something is off about situation." Blackburn shook her head again. "Paranoid. Always paranoid. Situation has been working well, cannot help self from thinking the worst. Has been… difficult, to open up to others."

Lockwood smiled and set his hoof on her heart. "If it makes you feel any better, remember that Gray said Havoc is gonna meet us out in the field when we're making the final approach into the city. There aren't many ponies out there that would keep a better eye on the kids and keep them out of danger. She loves our kids."

"Hmph. True enough. Treated them like she was their aunt before she was their aunt." Blackburn pulled Lockwood closer and set her forehead against his. "Trying to get better at trusting. Still difficult. Trust Havoc and Gray implicitly; they feel like family, act like family, are family. Insipid, no need to trust, not part of equation. Same with Velvet, but… trust enough. Briarthorn vouches for her."

"In more ways than one," Lockwood added with a raised eyebrow. "I don't think either of us were particularly curious about Velvet's… uh… talented tongue, but—"

Blackburn cleared her throat, thankfully putting a stop to that train of thought immediately. 

"Don't know the other two sisters as well," she continued. "Rarely interact with them. Only interaction with Dawn before was negotiations; still don't trust, professionalism suspicious. Interact with Curaçao only via Gray's 'telepathy'; cannot trust yet, never seen face outside of wedding."

Lockwood nodded. "I understand. I don't think you'd trust me, either, if your only interactions with me were over the phone or something equivalent. If it matters any, though… I trust them. They won't let anything happen. Have a little faith in them."

Blackburn paused, then sighed and nodded. "Again, will concede to your judgment of their character. You knew them before I did, better than I do. Have always been good judge of character before." She then turned and made her way towards the cockpit. "I should just have faith…"

With their conversation finished, Blackburn headed off, Gadget following just behind her without even needing to be signalled for it. Lockwood made his way over to the kids to make sure everypony was secure and calm, not because he didn't think Gadget and Crossfire hadn't done a good job, but because Blackburn's words made him feel the need to double-check everything again; he disliked it when she was nervous, because then he got nervous. 

Bluebolt was as energetic as ever, more so now than she had been before boarding. "Yay! Momma's gonna fly!" the filly cheered as she squirmed in her seat. "This is gonna be fun! Hey Daddy, tell Momma to do some loops! I wanna do some loops!"

Lockwood chuckled. "Sweetheart, you know you won't be able to feel the loops while you're seated. Your seats are gyroscopically-balanced, meaning they rotate to match the ship's movements, and you know your mother won't let you two out of your seats at your age. You haven't mastered your balance yet, especially your brother."

Bluebolt scrunched up her nose. "I know what gyroscoptercal means, Daddy. But I still want Momma to do a loop!"

"Heh. Okay, I'll tell her. You'll have to keep watch out the window, though," he said, gesturing to the large viewing window near the boarding ramp, so that passengers could see outside the ship. "It's not quite the same, I know, but it'll have to do for now, my little cookie pilot."

That seemed to satisfy her, so she gave him a big nod. "Okay, Daddy." She then very suddenly pouted. "I just wish that Symphony could come too. It's not fair…"

"Aww, sweetheart, I understand. I wish your friend could come too, and her parents and sister and everything, but you know they can't," he said, setting a hoof on her shoulder. "I know it's complicated and it might be hard to understand why, but Secretary Virtuoso told you that he and his family don't want to go back north."

She grunted and looked away. "Momma should make them, then, so that I can play with Symphony when we go meet the rest of my bigger family. I wanted to introduce her to my cousins."

"I'm sure you did, honey. I wish there was something we could do, but you know your mother doesn't like to make anypony do anything they don't agree with. That's why her friends and advisors all trust her and follow her loyally." He smiled and gently rubbed her shoulder. "When you're the queen someday, sweetie, they'll do the same for you if you treat them right."

"I guess… I'm just gonna miss my friend." She then tilted her head to the side, smiled, and waved, all of the negative thoughts gone in an instant. "Hi Captain Briarthorn!"

Lockwood turned and saw the aforementioned pegasus stallion boarding the ship, carrying his own bag of luggage, albeit a smaller one. He was all smiles and waved at the princess with a foal-like glee.

"Hey, squirt!" he greeted, setting his luggage into an empty compartment with ease. "Excited for the big trip?"

"Yeah!" Bluebolt exclaimed. "I've never been up north before. You've been there though, right?"

"Many times, yeah. Never really explored the city much, mind, but I've paid a few visits back in the day," Briarthorn said in a recitative tone, as though he were in a school play. 

He stepped forward like a robot and theatrically clapped Lockwood on the shoulder, his grin that particular mania just a few hairs shy from where Lockwood could tell at which point Briar both started and stopped being serious. Lockwood suspected he was one of the few who would acknowledge just how clever the lust-lived smuggler could be, so how ironic was he trying to be here? 

Briarthorn went on: "If anypony knows more about the city, though, it's your pop. He lived there all his life until he and your mom got married, y'know?" 

Then Briar winked at Lockwood, and Lockwood sighed theatrically and arched his eyebrows back at Briarthorn, communicating and conceding without words, "Yes, I get what you're doing" and went on into "Fine, it was a neat trick" and finished with a mostly-serious, "Now, could we please move it along?"

Briarthorn bowed graciously; both he and Lockwood began to chuckle, but quickly stopped when Bluebolt, in a quiet and fidgety voice, said,  "Daddy says the city's a lot like ours, just dirtier in some places but nicer in others. We're only gonna see the nicer ones, right Daddy?"

Lockwood smiled. "That's right, sweetheart. Our hosts live in one of the nicest parts of the city you could imagine. But remember, just because the other parts don't look as nice doesn't mean the ponies aren't just as nice. You know Daddy's friend, Keeneye?"

Bluebolt nodded rapidly. "Yeah, she's the one with those weird glasses that helps Chief Storm with spotting fake ID cards."

"That's right, and she used to live in one of the dirtiest parts of the city. So did I, when I was very young." He set his hoof on his daughter's shoulder. "Remember, never judge a pony based on the circumstances of their birth, their living conditions, or their careers. Judge them by their character and the way they treat others around them, especially the way they treat strangers."

"Okay, Daddy."

Lockwood then turned to Briarthorn and grasped his hoof to shake. "Well, Briarthorn, you old pirate, are you ready to finally be able to say you've officially gone legit? I know it's been years since anypony's been doing anything pirate-y, but after tonight, everypony in Hope's Point will officially be 'just' a citizen of the north."

"Hmm…" Briarthorn tilted his head side to side, making a show of biting his tongue in thought. "I dunno, just being a pilot by itself seems pretty boring if you ask me. I kind of liked being a pirate pilot. Pirate Captain Briarthorn just has a nice ring to it, y'know? Yarr. Avast." 

He paused, really making a show of biting his tongue now. "Same with Scandalous Scoundrel; Smoldering Love Smuggler; Top-Class Rapscallion; Roguish, Rakish, Raucous, and Thrilling Ne'er-Do-Well; and especially The Loudest Prick In the Open Skies."

"Are… are those actual names ponies call you, or did you make those up?" Lockwood asked, genuinely unsure.

"It just won't feel the same being… legit. I mean, it's gonna be pretty much the same work, sure, but there's a special je ne sais quoi, that somma-somma magical mystery missing that you just can't replace."

"Hmm…"

Briarthorn shrugged. "Oh, I'm sure I'll enjoy parts of it—the flying, for example—but there's just a piece of me deep down in the deepest part of my deep, deep gut that's gonna miss the thrill of it all. I'm bracing myself for the grief-pangs."

"I'm sure that bein' able to fly safely back 'n' forth between our two cities wit'out crossin' pass the Belt o' Tranquility's gotta be a pretty good motivator though, ain't it?" asked Crossfire, who was adjusting the harness keeping Fireglow in his seat; the tyke was playing with the buckle and had loosened it. "Think about it: y'all ain't gonna have to ever operate the Diffusion system ever again."

"After this trip, that is," Briarthorn grunted. "I mean, yeah, that'll be nice, I guess." 

Lockwood could hear a very soft bitterness in his friend's voice; he quietly thanked the stars that with the new peace treaty in place, pegasi like Briarthorn would never have to fly and operate their airships' Diffusion shielding systems ever again. 

It was a desperately-kept secret among only the highest-level members of Hope's Point's fleet and medical hierarchy that the Diffusion system took a bodily toll on its flyers; most flyers didn't last more than ten years operating it before their organs just stopped working properly.

Briarthorn continued with an uncharacteristic quietness. "Family legacy, remember? Going out and flying Diffusion's been my life for like a decade now."

"I'm not sure what you want from me here, Briar," Lockwood said, projecting confusion while he considered the fortunate, if unspoken truth. 

The situation had changed for the better lately, sure. Gadget had managed to work out a flaw in the system after some time—the solution came about roughly three years ago—that significantly lessened the damage done to the bodies of the flyers. A flyer that normally would last about ten years could now reasonably fly for twenty under the same conditions.

Gadget identifying the harmful magical signature made it possible to develop a new system of treatment; it wasn't a cure by any means, but pegasi like Briarthorn had made huge strides in recovering from the sickness that they didn't know they had. Combined with the lowered flight volume thanks to the upcoming peace, things were looking up for the city's fleet personnel.

Briarthorn sighed. "It's not gone altogether, but… the way my dad, my grandma, my great-grandfather? The way they went out?" 

Lockwood didn't have anything he could say at the moment. Not safely at least. So he gave Briarthorn a genuine look of deep sympathy

Briarthorn shook his head. "It just feels like giving up a part of who I am if I give up on the pain they suffered to get us this far."

Despite his concern, Lockwood couldn't exactly talk to Briarthorn about it. Briarthorn didn't know that he should have died because of Diffusion sickness by now. At the old rate of flights, he'd have likely been dead about two years ago; with the lesser volume, he'd have lasted another year, maybe a year and six months. But combined with Gadget's new treatment system, he was likely to live another ten years in relatively good health, maybe more. 

"Even with the city shields," Briar continued. "Even with the bigger accomplishments."

He was already showing the signs, even, such as no longer slurring his speech—when sober, of course—and being able to focus himself consistently. He'd even cut back on his drinking, if you could believe that.

"Diffusion was me."

Lockwood firmly set a hoof on Briarthorn's shoulder, though; the less talked about with the Diffusion system, the better. Blackburn wanted to put the whole thing behind them; they were developing a replacement system based on New Pandemonium's fully-electronic mechanics, so there would never be a need for the system's use ever again. 

Briarthorn's final Diffusion flight when they headed south was intended to be the last hurrah before the system was retired for good, and the flight crew position with it.

"Being a Diffusion flyer doesn't define who you are, Briar," he said. "You're a pilot, first and foremost. And one of the best at that!" 

"I carved out a piece of myself, by myself, for myself, and I so honored my family. My city... My Queen. My King?" He blinked once, then twice, then wiggled his eyebrows at Lockwood.

Lockwood nudged Briar's chin. "Just think: you can fly freely up to New Pandemonium now. A city with millions of ponies. Think of how many beautiful new faces you can meet up there."

Briarthorn tapped Lockwood's hoof over his own chin. "That, my friend, that… is a good point. A great point, the best point, dare I say it, the pointiest of points there is. I have it under good authority that there's quite an active scene up there if I know where to look."

"Yeah, that's right. I'm absolutely certain that Velvet would be happy to show you around town," Lockwood chuckled.

"Hmm, yes." Briarthorn nodded sagely. "I can work with that. My sweet velveteen rabbit says she's got a little black book of gifted stallions we could share, and to be honest I'm sort of curious how they measure up. Eh? Eh?"

He then clapped his hooves together in a prayer-like gesture. "And I promise not to embarrass ol' Queenie. Not any more than usual, anyway. I have to thank you guys again for inviting me along on this lil' holiday, even if I technically have to work once we head past the Belt after we finish with all the diplomatic malarky."

"Of course! Circumstances made it so that you were the first face from Hope's Point that the northerners' most esteemed leader got to meet, and apparently you made a good impression." Lockwood laughed and clapped Briarthorn on the back. "Consider this a reward for putting the right hoof forward. I knew I was right in calling you up that day."

Briarthorn saluted with his wing. "Always happy to serve! Now, since I don't think anypony needs me until we get to New Pandemonium, I'm gonna head into the engine room and take a nap." Wistfully, he added, "The Wyvern's engineering is just so oddly soothing, y'know? Purrs like a kitten."

"Off you go then, you old pirate," Lockwood said, shooing the flighty pegasus off. 

"Attention, everypony, this is your co-pilot speaking," came Gadget's voice over the announcement system. "Flight preparations have all cleared, and we will be— yes, Blackburn, I have to do it this way! You know how often I get to play co-pilot? What? Don't get smart with me, I know you— just let me have this!"

Lockwood blinked, staring at the speakers with an amused smile.

Gadget cleared her throat. "Ahem. As I was saying. Passengers, please take your seats if you are unaccustomed to take-off and flight procedures, make sure your harnesses are properly fastened, and ensure that your luggage is secured. Thank you for flying with us today, and enjoy your flight."

Lockwood heard the hangar doors seal up tight, and watched through the port window as the bay filled with seawater so that the ship could begin its departure. While the ship was lifting off the hangar floor and making its way out through the undersea tunnel, he shook his head and turned to Crossfire, who stood dutifully at Fireglow's side to make sure the colt was kept occupied with a small toy—an action figure of a superhero pony—instead of fidgeting with his harness again.

He let out a sigh of relief and moved to the port window to watch as the ship moved out into the ocean, where they passed by several of the new structural adjustments the city was finishing up near the old hangars, which were technically little more than new hangars but were actually much more than that.

The new hangars were built underwater to accommodate the exploratory vessels Hope's Point would be sending out in the coming month. The first expedition was already scheduled for the day after the construction was complete; Captain Ember Heart and the crew of the Comet Chaser were reportedly "stoked" to have the opportunity.

It still amazed him that soon enough, Hope's Point would be scouting out the deepest reaches of the sea; what lost undersea marvels would they discover? For a city of self-proclaimed "pirates", he had to wonder if they were hoping to find sunken treasure. The thought amused him greatly.

Once the Wyvern surfaced, Lockwood knew it would only take two hours or so at most before they arrived at New Pandemonium City; the Wyvern was one of the fastest ships in the fleet, and Blackburn had made adjustments to increase its speed for this journey in particular, if for nothing else than to impress the northerners with her flight skills. 

In the meantime, an in-flight movie was put on to entertain the kids and keep their attention for the trip. It was one of Fireglow's favorites—and Bluebolt's too—focused around sentient, cartoon airships that had formed some sort of racing league, starring a rookie racing ship that was trying to win the big championship. It was a blatantly merchandise-driven movie—Bluebolt and Fireglow had toys for all of the main characters—but the kids loved it and it had a good message about sportsmanship, so Lockwood didn't have a problem with it.

A little under two hours later, the movie was over, and Gadget's voice came over the announcement system again:

"Attention passengers! New Pandemonium City's airspace is approximately two hundred miles out; we should arrive within the next five minutes at our current airspeed. Please ensure that all passengers and belongings are secured, as Her Majesty has opted to put on a show for these northern yokels."

Bluebolt looked swiftly at Lockwood, eyes wide. "Go tell Momma about the loop, Daddy! Quick quick quick!"

Lockwood chuckled. "Okay, okay, I'll tell her. You just sit tight, okay?"

He made his way up from the passenger cabin into the cockpit, which was only separated from the passengers by a short, narrow hallway. Like all airships in the fleet, the cockpit had an easily-recognizable layout so that any pilot and co-pilot could adjust to the environment. 

As such, Blackburn herself was locked away in a glass-like tube in the center of the arrangement, her wings coated in a black substance that mimicked her movements to control the Wyvern's flight mechanisms. She otherwise wore her customary flight suit—red and gold, the royal colors—and would be changing into something more presentable when they landed. 

Gadget sat at the co-pilot station, monitoring the equipment and making minor adjustments as they went; the two were a practiced pair that operated almost automatically.

Blackburn's eyes drifted to him very briefly, then back forward. "Come to watch final approach from better angle?"

"Sort of. Mostly I'm here because our daughter wanted me to pass along a request," he said with a formal tone. "Her Royal Highness Princess Bluebolt has issued a royal decree that the Wyvern's pilot should perform a loopdeloop."

Blackburn's expression soured slightly.

Lockwood tilted his head. That was unexpected. "Something wrong?"

"No… nothing. Just a… bad memory," Blackburn muttered.

"A bad—" Lockwood's hoof instantly went to his mouth. "Oh. Oh. I'm so sorry, I didn't even realize—"

"It's alright," Blackburn said softly. "Never told her the story, couldn't have known. Such a specific detail, never made much of it, so couldn't have expected you to recall it."

"That's no excuse for me and you know it. I should've thought about what I was saying, especially given the circumstances, and I apologize." He wanted to hug his wife right now, chastising himself for even daring to bring the final memory of her mother up, but that damnable glass was in the way.

"It's alright," she repeated, nodding firmly. "If my daughter wants a loopdeloop, she'll get one. More than one. Big ones, too." She then glanced out the viewport towards the approaching city before turning her attention briefly to Gadget. "No contact yet from Commander Havoc yet?"

"Not yet," Gadget replied as she scanned through her monitors. "Should be getting something in the next minute or—" She suddenly paused; one of the monitors' readings had changed, even Lockwood could see that from here. "Huh… what the hell?"

Blackburn raised an eyebrow. "Gadget? Something wrong?"

"I dunno. I'm reading a huge energy spike off to the starboard—"

There was a blinding flash, and Lockwood utterly lost his balance as the entire ship rocked violently as though hit by something large. Even Gadget had been knocked out of her seat, though she quickly reasserted herself in her co-pilot's chair. Blackburn, meanwhile, was busy trying to keep the ship level; whatever had hit the Wyvern had knocked her off kilter, and the ship along with her.

"Report!" Blackburn snapped as she hastily lowered her goggles over her eyes and prepared to adjust her trajectory.

"Something just hit us!" Gadget blurted, rapidly sorting through her data monitors. "An energy blast, and a big one!"

"From where? There's nothing on the viewport," Blackburn said, moving her head so that she—and the ship's exterior cameras—could see with a full range of vision.

"I don't know, there's nothing on our scanners— wait, what's that?" Gadget asked, pointing ahead and off to the starboard side.

Lockwood, just getting back to his hooves, saw it too: a translucent glimmer in the distance, far, far larger than the Wyvern was by roughly fifty-to-one. The glimmering ceased after only a few seconds, and the trio's eyes widened in shock and, at least in Blackburn's case, anger: it was an NPAF airship, one that Lockwood certainly didn't recognize.

"Is that an NPAF cruiser?" Gadget muttered, glancing at Blackburn in between checking her readouts. "I don't recognize the design, do you?"

"No. New design, unknown to me." She gave Lockwood a hard glance. "Seems we were misinformed."

Lockwood fumbled his words. "There… there has to be some mistake here. Are we sure it's the NPAF?"

"Could be that rogue faction Havoc mentioned," Gadget pointed out; Lockwood was grateful for the vote of confidence.

"Havoc said they'd cleared them all out, though."

"Havoc lied or was likewise misinformed," Blackburn snorted. "Sincerely hope not the former."

"The hell's goin' on up there?" came Crossfire's voice over the ship's internal intercom.

"We were hit by an NPAF cruiser shot," Gadget answered. "We're trying to figure out just what's going on. The hostile ship's like nothing we've seen before, had some kind of cloaking technology."

"An NPAF cruiser? The hell? I thought we had a ceasefire?"

Gadget huffed indignantly. "Golly, Crossfire, ya think?"

"Open a channel," Blackburn commanded, not looking at Gadget as she did so.

Gadget did just that, placing a set of headphones over her ears. "Attention unidentified NPAF cruiser, this is the Wyvern of Hope's Point, personal craft of Her Majesty Queen Blackburn. You are in direct—" She then abruptly flung the headphones off, clutching her ears. "Motherf—"

"Gadget, report."

"That's a jamming frequency," Gadget said, twisting her hoof in her ear. "They cut off communications between us and them." With a brief flip of a switch, she grunted, "And our own personal transmitters, too, looks like. The Wyvern's internal speakers still work, but all our wireless systems are completely down."

"Likely with the city too, then. Can't call for help," Blackburn noted, narrowing her eyes and looking forward. "Are they preparing to fire again?"

"I'm not picking up any energy readings at the moment," Gadget noted, shaking her head. "That was a pretty decently-powered shot, though, so maybe it takes time to recharge. I can't get a read on their armaments from this distance."

"Damage report."

Gadget scanned through the data with all the speed of an expertly-practiced co-pilot. "That shot blasted our starboard bow, but no critical systems were damaged, just a structural breach—heavy, but inconsequential—to the boarding hatch."

"From that distance, shot should've hit something more important," Blackburn muttered. "We didn't even see it coming."

"Other than that, the shot did send an electrical surge through the ship's maneuvering controls. The engines are stuck at the minimal power needed to keep us aloft, and all other controls are registering as unresponsive. I'm sending a reset pulse through the system, but it'll take a minute or so to get everything resituated."

Blackburn paused. Lockwood couldn't see her eyes but knew that they were likely darting along the viewport screen for any sort of information she could find, but if she was seeing the same things Lockwood was, then there was nothing out there but open skies and the assailing cruiser.

"Something's off," she muttered. "Why waste sneak attack on inconsequential damage but not prepare follow-up?"

A clunk on the top of the ship drew her attention, and Gadget's and Lockwood's too. It was followed by another, and another, and another.

"What was that?" Lockwood asked.

"Distinct sound of AMP Trooper magnetic hooves making contact. Boarding hatch critically damaged; ship locked down, immobile. Only possibility: we're being boarded," Blackburn said matter-of-factly.

"We didn't pick up any AMPs on the scanners, visual or otherwise," Gadget said, though she was still drawing her sidearm as a precaution. "Don't tell me they've got cloaking tech too?"

"Only possibility. New developments? Or just unused before?"

Gadget nodded, then activated the intercom. "Crossfire, we're being boarded. Lock and load."

"Roger that, weapons ready."

Lockwood nervously looked between Gadget and Blackburn. "I'll… I'll head back to keep the kids calm. Probably easier to keep an eye on just one of us while trying to fly, right Gadget?"

"And makes it easier on Crossfire to protect you if you're in his line of sight, yeah. You might wanna grab that taser I gave you, too, just in case," Gadget said, her eyes still watching the ceiling as if expecting the intruders to bore into the ship. "I'll keep Blackburn covered, you just watch your ass, got it featherbrain?"

"Be careful," Blackburn said firmly.

"You too," Lockwood replied. "Both of you."

Lockwood hustled back into the passenger cabin, where Crossfire was dutifully keeping himself between Bluebolt and Fireglow and the only point of entry in the cabin: the heavily damaged boarding hatch, which even from the inside was showing signs of weakened integrity. The ramp certainly wasn't going to open properly anytime soon.

"Your Majesty," Crossfire said with a short bow, not turning to look at Lockwood. "Ya might wanna get yourself set up behind me. These varmints ain't gonna give ya long."

"We're setting up in here, then?"

"Yessir. This here's the main point o' entry, and I can't rightly lead 'em anywhere else without riskin' damage to the ship." The burly stallion rolled his shoulders. "Them comin' through the choke point here'll be like shootin' fish in a barrel, anyhow."

This was the first time Lockwood had seen Crossfire's full defensive deployments, which had been steadily improved upon by Gadget over the years to account for changes in the royal family. His armor carried a pair of shoulder-mounted heavy rifles, each more than capable of firing rounds that could tear through AMP Troopers with ease, but that was relatively standard-issue stuff for even the militia at home. 

What made Crossfire's armor unique was a deployable shield, not made of metal but of magical energy; it was one of Gadget's inventions that simulated unicorn magic, in this case a defensive barrier. It worked similarly to the shield that protected their city, but on a smaller scale and not quite as universally effective; Crossfire's shield couldn't tank airship-grade weaponry.

Lockwood opened up his luggage compartment and fished a small stun gun out of the side pocket of his suitcase, where he'd placed it for safe-keeping; he rarely kept it on his person, arguing that he didn't really need it, but he was at least willing to bring it with him just in case. The weapon wasn't particularly big, and it strapped to his hoof and forelimb easily.

Normally it worked like a regular taser, shocking a would-be assailant for long enough that Lockwood could retreat elsewhere. But Gadget had also given it a special setting for AMP Troopers that would launch a tiny "dart" that could shut them down quickly, easily, and without endangering ponies nearby with an electrical discharge. "It always pays to be prepared," she'd said.

He then situated himself behind Crossfire as well, using the shield as cover so that he could defend his children as best he could.

And then, they waited.

It only took about twenty seconds after Lockwood had armed himself that the boarding party made their move. In the span of a few seconds, the AMPs sliced open the entryway by superheating the metal and tearing it straight off.

Crossfire opened fire as soon as the entryway was open, letting loose dozens of rounds into the fray in just over a second; the defensive shield was configured to allow his shots to go through to his targets, but not vice versa. Lockwood caught sight of AMP Troopers—Automated Mechanical Ponies—just outside, hanging off of the sides of the ship and under the wings with magnetic attachments on their mechanical hooves.

Several fell from the initial volley; the others took cover just outside the edges of the entry frame. Lockwood could hear more impacts on the structure above them; more of them were coming. How many, he didn't know, but he was confident that Crossfire could take care of them.

The few that had vision on Crossfire before being ripped to shreds fired flechette rounds from their own shoulder-mounted launchers, but they impacted Crossfire's defense shield and harmlessly plinked off it. Crossfire didn't even need to adjust his posture to shift the shield's position; they just let loose and didn't bother with intricate strategy.

The robotic enemies attempted to get through again, and again Crossfire mowed them down. The loud whirring of his fully-automatic rifles was dulled by the silencing mechanisms of his armor; without them, Crossfire would likely be deaf by the end of the afternoon. The AMPs fired back in turn, but never seemed to make any impact.

Lockwood had never really seen Crossfire in action before. Training exercises were one thing, but seeing him facing off against real AMP Troopers instead of the mock-up versions they used for training back home was something else entirely. 

Despite how fast his shots fired, he never missed a single round. Every single bullet struck its mark, and this was all his doing—there were no targeting mechanisms in his armor's visor other than to highlight enemies for him. Just an example of his special talent, Lockwood figured; he might as well have been named Bullseye.

All the while, Lockwood ensured that his children stayed safely behind Crossfire's shield and near himself. Bluebolt was watching the display with rapt attention, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and awe; Fireglow, meanwhile, was bawling and quite loudly at that, assuredly terrified of all the noise and violence. Lockwood wanted to take them both far away from here, and would do so as soon as he could.

For the moment, Lockwood felt assured that this would continue for quite a while. The AMPs were cheap cannon fodder for all intents and purposes from how Blackburn described them, and were used as such. If a single one of them made it past the doorway, it would be considered worth losing dozens more.

Even so, the tactic didn't seem to be working. Were they just hoping to exhaust Crossfire's ammunition supply? That would take several minutes of non-stop firing, but they probably didn't know that. Lockwood was no tactical mastermind, but even he figured this plan wasn't working and wondered why they were keeping it up.

Then, something different happened. Another wave attempted to make their way inside the ship, and again Crossfire held them off. This time, though, one of them fired something besides flechette rounds, which looked like a little canister. It tumbled through the air above the spray of bullets and flechettes, striking the ceiling above Crossfire's head.

There was a flash of light, and a shrill piercing sound filled the air. Lockwood shut his eyes; the flash was downright painful, like staring at the southern sun for too long. He could just barely hear Fireglow's bawling and Bluebolt's sudden screaming over the intense ringing in his ears.

Without the ability to see, Lockwood did what he could to ensure his son and daughter stayed close, grabbing them both up as best as he could while they were still in their seats and hugging them closely to himself.

It took several seconds before the ringing in his ears died down enough that Lockwood could hear the whirring of Crossfire's rifles again, accompanied by the stallion's frenzied shouting. He still couldn't see anything, though, and assumed Crossfire couldn't either; if he was shooting blind, that wasn't a good sign for his accuracy.

Then Lockwood felt something strike his jaw, hard. It felt like metal. The sudden hit was enough to disorient him further, and he briefly loosened his grip on his kids. In that instant, he felt them both be violently yanked away from him.

His vision was returning now. He could see the vague outlines of the mechanical ponies filing into the passenger cabin; Crossfire's shots were still hitting a few and knocking them back out of the entryway, but a few had made it past the barrage. 

A few Troopers made their way towards the hall leading towards the cockpit; two others had grabbed Fireglow and Bluebolt—the latter was struggling to get away—by tearing apart their seat harnesses; two more moved towards Crossfire, flanking him and attempting to move him aside. 

The burly stallion squared up and slammed one of them in the face with his metal-clad hoof, hard enough to it shattered the thing's helmet and the mechanisms underneath. The other of the two charged a hoof with electricity and jabbed it into Crossfire's left shoulder; the mechanisms underneath violently shorted out, creating a small, impactful explosion that ripped part of Crossfire's armor apart, but also blew up the Trooper's faceplate.

But that had been enough to get Crossfire to stop firing his guns, which gave the two Troopers holding Fireglow and Bluebolt ample room to maneuver around him without getting hit.

"I don't know what's going on back there!" came Gadget's voice over the intercom system. "But you'd all better hang onto something, because we've got maneuvering systems coming online and we're gonna get out of here!"

Not even a second later, the entire ship violently lurched, and everypony in the passenger cabin—flesh and machine both—lurched with it. The AMPs were better balanced thanks to their magnetic hooves and mostly maintained their positioning in the room, while Lockwood tumbled towards the rear of the cabin, and Crossfire remained firmly in place, the magnetics in his own armor activating automatically with the sudden, violent motion.

Lockwood shook off the shock of the blow to his jaw and the remaining disorientation from the flash—since when did the NPAF use flashbangs?—then aimed his taser at the closer of the two AMPs, who was holding Fireglow. 

As intended, the taser dart impacted and instantly sent out an electronic signal that shorted out the internal systems of the Trooper without endangering its cargo in the process. It froze in place, still holding a wailing Fireglow out in front of it like an offering rather than a prisoner. Lockwood then moved as quickly as he could to grab up his son before any other AMPs could do the same.

He then turned towards Bluebolt, who was still in the grip of another one of the Troopers, loudly screaming as she tried to get away. He took aim again with his taser and stunned that AMP too, shorting it out just as it got to the entryway.

With a sigh of relief, he then looked to Crossfire, who was meanwhile in a frenzy, literally ripping apart the few Troopers left in the cabin with them with his hooves. They were too close for him to use his guns on anyway, but he was more than strong enough to make due without them.

The large stallion was definitely hurt, though, Lockwood could tell from the way he was moving; the leg attached to his left shoulder was not moving as quickly or precisely, and hobbled slightly when he put his weight on it. He could see traces of burnt skin there; hopefully it wasn't serious.

Once Crossfire had dealt with the last of the robots, Lockwood hustled over to him and wordlessly handed Fireglow over; Crossfire wordlessly took the colt in turn, giving Lockwood a nod of affirmation. He'd keep the prince safe with him and get him situated in a new seat.

"Daddy!" Bluebolt shouted. "Help!"

Lockwood wheeled around to see that another AMP Trooper had clamored over and grabbed his daughter out of the disabled AMP's grip. "Bluebolt!" he shouted, moving as quickly as he could.

The AMP turned towards the entryway, its rocket-powered hooves lighting up as it readied itself for flight. Crossfire fired a pair of quick shots out of his working rifle into the thing's rear legs; thus, instead of leaping gracefully out of the ship, the machine simply tumbled out like a sack of bricks.

Lockwood leapt after it without a second thought.

He knew he wasn't a great flyer by any means, and that even in the most ideal circumstances he'd never manage to keep up with an AMP Trooper's rocket-assisted flight capabilities, which made them faster than any but the fastest of pegasi.

This AMP, however, had thankfully been completely disabled; its rocket thrusters weren't operating whatsoever, leaving it in total freefall, and it didn't even seem to be trying to counteract that fact at all. It was now plummeting ten thousand feet towards the Wasteland below without any deviation in its course whatsoever.

This made it easy to catch up to it, of course, whereupon he grabbed hold of Bluebolt as tightly as he could. "Hang on, sweetie, I've got you!" he shouted over the din of air rushing past them.

Bluebolt clung onto Lockwood just as tightly, and he tried to get her out of the robot's grip, but its hooves were locked around her tight, like robotic rigor mortis. The ground was racing towards them; he had seconds to work with. He gave the forelimb of the machine a fierce kick, tugging at his daughter in the process. Then another, then another, then—

He managed to free her, and a second later the machine impacted with the ground below, shattering into thousands of pieces.

Lockwood breathed a sigh of relief, then held his daughter up so he could look at her; she was absolutely terrified, shaking uncontrollably. "Are you okay, honey? You're not hurt are you?"

She shook her head, looking like she was about to cry. "Daddy, what's going on?! What's happening?!"

"I'm not sure yet, sweetheart, but I'm gonna get you to safety, okay?" 

He glanced back up towards where the Wyvern had been as he leapt out of it, but he saw that it had moved. It was still moving, in fact, sweeping about the air with evasive maneuvers as it tried to avoid getting hit by the energy blasts radiating from the massive NPAF cruiser; apparently it had been waiting for something before it resumed firing, but Lockwood knew just a single shot might shut down the Wyvern again.

Seeing them both from this angle made Lockwood realize just how big the size difference between the ships was. It wasn't quite fifty-to-one, but closer to forty. Still, it was bigger than anything in Hope's Point's fleet by a long shot.

His eyes widened when he saw that there was another squadron of AMPs coming his way, though; he wasn't out of trouble yet. "Oh dear. Hang on tight, honey, okay?"

Bluebolt whimpered and did just that as Lockwood flew in the opposite direction of the battle.

The Wasteland was a wide open, flat, featureless expanse of dusty fields, with the nearest changes to the terrain being the Goldridge Mountains a few dozen miles east of here, and the Redblade Mountains a hundred or so miles west. Neither of which would serve as cover for a fleeing pegasus, so as the AMPs gave chase, it came entirely down to Lockwood's speed and ability to avoid them.

Or rather, his lack thereof.

Lockwood desperately did everything he could to keep himself away from the pursuing machines, which true to his expectations was proving exceedingly difficult. He didn't know why they weren't firing their flechette rounds at him, but he wasn't about to question his good fortune; if they were firing, he knew he definitely wasn't agile enough to avoid them.

As it was, the AMPs seemed intent on forcing him to move the way they wanted him to move. He would swoop left only to be forced to immediately swoop back to the right; he would try to dive only to be forced to rise back up; he'd attempt to loop back around the way they'd come only to be forced to reverse course yet again.

And then Lockwood saw where they were leading him: right into yet another squadron of AMPs. He was outnumbered roughly twenty-to-one. Rather, forty-to-one; he couldn't count Bluebolt.

That is, until he heard a shot from above him. The AMP immediately to Lockwood's left, which was just now reaching out towards him—or more specifically towards Bluebolt—violently veered off-course as its head exploded in a shower of metal.

Lockwood glanced up to see a most welcome sight: Briarthorn diving down towards him, a huge cannon-like gun gripped in his hooves.

"Yeehaw, you rusty tin cans!" the pegasus captain shouted, firing another shot; the gun's muzzle flared, and another AMP immediately fell as its entire chest cavity was ripped open. "Eat my sweet, sweet lead!" Another shot; another ruptured AMP. "Boom! How d'ya like them oranges?!"

Lockwood wasn't sure if he could call the odds "even" now, but they were certainly better in his favor than they had been a moment ago. Besides Briarthorn's shots ripping apart AMPs with relative ease, he was also drawing their attention his way, and since Briarthorn was a much better flyer than Lockwood he was able to both avoid them and their counterfire—they seemed more than happy to use their weapons on him—as well as continue his own attack.

It was easier now for Lockwood to evade the attempts by the robotic ponies to corral him and Bluebolt in the direction that they wanted. He would swoop left, but the AMP that attempted to force him back to the right would suddenly turn into so much shrapnel; he would dive down, only there wouldn't be an AMP there to make him rise back up; he looped around back the way he'd come only for the AMPs to keep moving past him and chase after Briarthorn instead.

But once the next squadron of AMPs had caught up, the odds turned yet again. There were now enough Troopers to maintain the chase of Lockwood and Bluebolt and deal with Briarthorn, and so Lockwood found himself being forced to fly back towards the battle, where he could see the Wyvern still desperately avoiding energy blasts and flak cannon fire. 

The Wyvern was doing a good job of it—his wife had the reputation as the best pilot in the fleet for a reason—but still struggling and utterly incapable of fighting back. Lockwood wasn't sure what anypony could do in this situation at all other than desperately wait for help to arrive. Somepony. Anypony. There was no way Havoc would let this happen if she were here.

Curiously, some of the flak cannons weren't firing at the Wyvern at all, but at something off in the distance. But Lockwood had neither the time nor the inclination to try to figure out what and why that was. All that mattered was that he and his daughter were getting closer to danger rather than further from it.

Worse, because there were enough AMPs to pursue Lockwood again, that meant there were more than enough to give Briarthorn a hard time. Though they were far enough apart that Lockwood was in no danger of getting hit by a stray shot from either party, they were close enough that he could still hear Briar shouting over the rushing air and wind at his opponents.

"Your Majesty!" the boisterous captain shouted as he bobbed and weaved between hostile machines still firing at him. "We gotta go!"

Said filly clinging to his neck, Lockwood shouted, "They're after Bluebolt for some reason!" He pulled backwards, just barely avoiding another AMP as it tried to slam into him and divert his course. "We have to make it back to the Wyvern!"

Briarthorn grimaced as he shot forward and swept between two AMPs in such a way that they hit each other with their own flechette rounds. As he circled back around, he said, "Thought you might want to do that. No can do, buckaroo. Out of ammo. Her Majesty didn't keep a stock lying around."

"Then I don't exactly have a plan!"

Lockwood continued to fly and try his best to evade the mechanical ponies, but he could see yet another squadron approaching in the distance. Even if he was as good of a flyer as Briarthorn or Blackburn, he doubted he'd be able to escape. There were too many of them, and eventually he'd have nowhere to fly to.

He shouted out to Briarthorn: "Briar! You take Bluebolt and fly back to the Wyvern! You can make it while I'll keep them distracted!"

Briarthorn didn't respond for a moment. Then: "Lockwood, buddy. Mister Nice Guy. You trust me?"

Lockwood looked at him bizarrely for a moment, not hiding his confusion even in the chaos. "Briar, I am actively trusting you with my life!"

Briarthorn chewed on nothing, hard. "Sorry." He shot backwards, dodging a salvo of flechettes. "Well, okay, that's great! You do, so just… don't get too mad at me."

Lockwood grunted, uncertain but determined, and kept on flying as best he could; Briarthorn tended to have crackpot ideas most of the time, but when it came to flying he was a genius.

Still, it unnerved him when Briar looked at him, quite seriously, and solemnly said, "Lockwood. When I say this to you, please take it with utmost sincerity and with utter literal factual truth: Do not stop flying towards the Wyvern for anything. Promise me."

Lockwood paused. "Cross my heart," he replied.

And so Lockwood flew, keeping his eyes darting in every direction to watch for movement, to try and keep an eye on the battlefield ahead of him. Some of the flak cannons were firing at something low to the ground now, something that definitely wasn't the Wyvern, but they stopped after a minute or so, and Lockwood didn't have the time to think about what that was all about.

The AMPs were relentless, though, and did not give Lockwood any room to breathe or maneuver. Whatever Briar was doing wasn't keeping them occupied enough to divert their attention from their prize. Lockwood felt his wings beating slower, his speed dropping by the minute, as he attempted to escape; nothing he tried seemed to be working. The AMPs predicted his every move and compensated even for his attempts to feint.

Then, as one of the mechanical ponies lunged forward to strike at Lockwood, it instead collided with a barely-visible field of translucent gold, tumbling downwards as its systems shorted out.

"And for my next trick," came Briarthorn's voice, "the greatest of all my wonders!"

Hearing this, Lockwood glanced about quickly, trying to find Briarthorn as he belted out words like a carnival barker in the chaos, shifting about oddly to sound like it was coming from multiple directions at once. 

Then… there! 

He spotted the captain just a few dozen feet below him, swiftly flying tight circles around Lockwood in a spherical pattern. That was why his voice kept moving in and out: he was moving so fast that he was on a different side of Lockwood with every word. A trail of translucent gold followed behind him; he was moving swiftly enough to activate his latent pegasus magic, a difficult feat.

But that was not what concerned Lockwood. 

What concerned him was the unmistakable signature golden glow of the Diffusion field that all of Hope's Point's airships used to protect them from harm. Diffusion flyers like Briarthorn were trained to encircle their ships to create these fields, and were so skilled that they could do so even while their ships were in motion at nearly supersonic speeds.

The only thing was, the airships provided these flyers with technomagic equipment to generate the field, keeping it locked to the ship in-flight. Generating a field without the equipment was considered nearly impossible, except…

Briarthorn spoke as if he could hear Lockwood's objection before he even said it. Maybe he saw it on his face. 

"You gotta feel it, Lockwood," the captain said. "You have to know the system outright. Intimately. Like a lover, bud. The way the air and the magic mix, it's… it's amazing."

Lockwood was by no means an expert. Just understanding the technomagical functionality of the shields, on an intuitive level, would be something rare indeed. Briarthorn clearly knew it; his family—his great-grandfather in fact—had invented it. This must have been how.

But then he considered that Briarthorn was generating the field entirely himself. He could see the golden trail following his friend begin to solidify in the air like a faintly translucent gold curtain. And Briarthorn's great-grandfather had died developing the system; by the time he'd perfected it, his inner organs had supposedly been pretty much liquid.

"Briar! Are you crazy?!" Lockwood shouted. "You can't! Not without the anchors! You know how to do it; you know it's not safe!" 

"Got no choice, Kingarino!" Briarthorn shouted back. "If I get this shield around you, those rust buckets won't even get close!" His voice spiralled around Lockwood, feeling like a strange, whirling echo.

Bluebolt, her fear if not diminished then plateaued, faintly murmured into Lockwood's neck: "He sounds scary, Daddy…"

More and more Troopers converged as Lockwood continued to fly all-out in the direction of the Wyvern. Briarthorn's orbit effortlessly matched his pace in a way that felt seamless. 

Lockwood watched as Briarthorn increased his speed and torque, spinning wildly, the shield now essentially a sparkling white-gold fireworks display as countless AMPs impacted uselessly against the power of Diffusion and were torn apart. In seconds there were so many sparks and small explosions that Lockwood had to shield his eyes, temporarily blinded from the sheer brightness of it all. 

But he kept flying, remembering Briarthorn's instructions. The sounds did not fade. The lights did, though, and Lockwood had to focus intently on where he'd been going last; the feeling of flying blind was inherently terrifying. 

Because from his eyes, the whole world had gone golden. 

Slowly, the plinking became more distant as well. Lockwood and Bluebolt became encased in a solid golden bubble. Outside, more and more troopers blotted out the sky, and he could see more and more of them trying to force their way through. But the impacts felt distant and muffled, muted even. 

Bluebolt opened her eyes and gasped in wonder, and then fright. "Wh-what is this, Daddy?" she asked.

Spinning faster than ever in orbiting spirals around them, Briarthorn was little more than a blur with wings that glowed with streaks of white and orange from every feather. He'd taken off his goggles as well; his eyes were wide open and wild, and there was a cocksure grin on his face.

"Briar, don't be stupid," Lockwood said desperately, hoping to talk Briarthorn down despite knowing that there was no going back from where Briarthorn already was.

"What, and let the king get dogpiled by a billion-jillion robots?" said the glowing pony-like buzz that retained Briarthorn's wobbling, echoing voice. "No thank you. I'm not about to fail now."

Lockwood's eyes darted about frantically, trying to find a place both where his eyes wouldn't cross and still looking straight ahead where, distantly through the gold and the rain of robots, he could see the Wyvern drawing closer.

"Did Blackburn put you up to this?" he asked.

Briarthorn actually laughed. It sounded like a small chorus from all around the pair inside the bubble. "Lockwood, buddy, I don't even know anymore. Did she tell me to guard you with my life? No. She does that with most people. She didn't with me. Now, she noticed that I noticed that. What do you think that means, huh?"

Lockwood groaned loudly, the sound strangely dying close to his body as he sat in the eye of a golden whirlwind. "Briar, please! Don't play her games now! Come on, drop the field. We can just fly back the rest of the way!" 

There was a quiet chuckle that rang throughout the gold of the shield. Briarthorn's body was beginning to turn completely white, the only thing in the barrier that wasn't glowing with golden energy. 

"The moment there's no anchor, the Diffusion shield pops like a bubble. Tissue paper, bud. The coefficients for a shield this small while retaining rigidity and energy dispersal require a tight, strong engine, and brother, you've got me. I can go all night, baby!"

"Briar," Lockwood pleaded as the loops became so quick that Briarthorn's image became more stable, like an animation of the fuzzy afterimage of a brilliantly glowing pegasus. Lockwood began to slow down, trying to reach out to the glow. "Please don't do this."

"Ah ah!" Briarthorn said in a buzzing tone. "You keep flying. Right towards the Wyvern. You promised."

Lockwood course-corrected. "Okay, but you don't have to do this!" he sharply replied.

The buzzing light-pony, whose face was now upside down and facing away, leaned "up" to look "down" at Lockwood in the center. 

"Lockwood." Briar's voice was becoming more resonant. Jostled, but with nowhere to go. "I know, buddy. We don't have to do anything. Hope's Point's founders didn't have to leave New Pandemonium. They did. They chose that. Freely. Blackburn didn't have to be a force of nature. But she is."

"Stop. Just stop this!" Lockwood's vision was becoming blurry, and he suspected through the blood rushing in his ears that it was because of tears. It could've been the wind shear, but he knew it wasn't.

"You know when I said I didn't know? I do now. Moving this fast? It's like flying. Or running. Or walking. Or, uh…" For just a moment in that glow, there was this self-deprecating laugh as the glow distinctly considered the filly in Lockwood's grip. "Loving. And, well. I love you guys. It's weird how that's true, huh?"

Lockwood felt dampness on his chest. His daughter seemed to realize what was happening too as she peeked out into the golden bubble, still on an intercept course with a ship that was both moments and yet an eternity away. She sniffled, and buried her eyes in her father's chest.

"In a little bit, Lockwood, I'm gonna…  need to really concentrate. I won't be able to waste time talking, y'know?" Briarthorn said, his voice deceptively light and gentle. He paused, and then some of the old wickedness returned in his voice. "Oh, and tell Blackburn, 'Briar says he forgives you', 'cause she'll know it's true if you say it."

Lockwood's eyes widened, despite everything. "Briar—"

"There's my proof, buddy. See? I hang around her enough. The Diffusion's been killing me this whole time, hasn't it? I bet she even had the doctors lie to me."

Lockwood felt a lump in his throat. "Please, Briar, it's-"

"I told you what to say! And you know why? 'Cause that'll be our little secret. How I finally got ahead of her. Because I know that she's going to blame herself at some point. And that she's going to get upset. And that it's going to be able to hurt you." A pause. "We both know I'm right."

What could Lockwood say? He began a stammering reply, but his friend went on uninterrupted. 

"So, the only way to break that is to give her some closure from a trusted position. That is, tell her that I said I forgive her."

Lockwood lifted his gaze to the rotating image, now glowing white, and somehow, knew he was looking at him right between the eyes. "Do you?"

What Briarthorn said next, Lockwood could only describe as infinitely sad, something that made him want to give Briarthorn a hug and tell him it would be alright… and yet simultaneously no one would blame him if he punched the smugness off Briar's face: 

"That's up to you, Lockwood."

They said nothing for a moment. Briarthorn was now shining like a spotlight on a stage.

"Lockwood?"

Lockwood's reply was quiet. "Briar?"

"Thanks for letting me grandstand one last time. Can't really brag about this one later."

"Of course." Lockwood didn't bother to hold back his tears. Briarthorn was impossible to look at, brighter and brighter with every moment.

"It's a big day for me, you know? Doing a shipless Diffusion, outwitting Blackburn even for an instant? It's nice. Doesn't happen often." 

Briar's voice began to ever so slightly shift, becoming more and more resonant to the point of intermingling with the wind. Lockwood was starting to have trouble hearing every word.

"One thing I'll say: it's really pretty. Dad talked about this too, you know? Said it was how his grandad described Diffusion at its best. Said that he sounded relaxed. Now I get why. It's not… it's not about moving faster. It's about rhythm, Lockwood. Watch, I bet now I can even try the spiral again, way easier this time. Because I get it."

As his voice began to stretch, growing colder and wispy, the light began to spin, and the constant ribbon behind it became a thickened tube. It became utterly silent except for the wind of Briarthorn's orbit, the gold thickening until Bluebolt and Lockwood could barely see through both it and the bright light circling around them impossibly fast.

"It's gorgeous, you know. It's like… I can see deeper or something." Briarthorn's voice sounded like it was coming down the far and distant end of a very long tunnel.

Lockwood watched as the light flowed around him, liquid and… laughing? He could swear he could hear Briarthorn's voice at the edge of his hearing, like from inside a tin can. His voice was mild. Pleasantly surprised, even.

"The thing that gets me is… it doesn't hurt."

Then there was silence, with nothing but the wind of the loops. Lockwood kept flying. The light that his friend had become kept circling. But Briarthorn had just slipped beyond words.

Bluebolt's voice was solemn, and cut through the silence like a knife: "We won't forget you."

Lockwood sagged, feeling more defeated than he'd ever felt before.

"I'm sorry, Daddy..." Bluebolt whispered.

Lockwood smiled at her through his tears. "He's a weird guy, right?"

She smiled softly back at him. "Yeah… but he's a good pony, too."

Then, an enormous, roaring explosion resounded from the direction of the NPAF cruiser, so loud and powerful that Lockwood could feel the faintest hint of a shockwave passing through even the Diffusion field. The AMPs clearly felt it too, because he saw each and every one that remained around him tumbled about before plummeting motionlessly towards the ground below.

"What just happened?" he asked nopony in particular.


*****



Moments Earlier…


Havoc flew at a leisurely pace through the open sky of the Wastelands, deciding it would be a better use of her time than just standing around and waiting for a proper signal to get moving. 

She was restless; today was the "big day" as everypony at home was calling it, and she really couldn't deny that this was a truly special occasion. Her Majesty Queen Blackburn would be arriving in New Pandemonium's airspace any minute now, the first time she—or any of her family—had done so "officially" since Hope's Point was founded.

A red letter day, as Dawn had called it. The treaty was ready to sign, and by the time everypony went to sleep tonight, the two cities would be at peace. There would be open trade and communication between them, and they could ensure better modes of transportation between them, and best of all, they could work together to cultivate the land of the Wastelands into something more.

Within the next few decades, the entire northern continent would be a better place, just like Pops wanted. Havoc took no small amount of pride in knowing she'd had a big hoof in making it happen.

So yeah, she was a little restless and couldn't just sit around. No, she had to fly, to give her wings something to do while she waited for communication that Her Majesty's personal airship, the Wyvern, was arriving. She'd already arranged things with Blackburn and Lockwood to meet their ship before they made their docking procedures at the city's airport; Dawn had argued against it at first, but the case had been made that the royal family wanted the NPAF to send a representative, and she was their choice.

It meant the world to her that the royal family respected her so much that they were giving her the opportunity to be the official "face" of New Pandemonium, at least for this one occasion. After the pomp and circumstance of the greeting, it was all Dawn's show, but for the next hour—probably less, actually—it was Havoc that got to show off to the north all that she'd accomplished, even if most of those accomplishments weren't public knowledge.

She was, in a word, stoked.

When her earpiece buzzed, she found it hard to keep the excitement out of her voice. This is it, she thought. "This is Commander Havoc," she said, speaking loudly and clearly so her transmitter would pick up her voice against the wind's interference.

"Commander Havoc, this is Commander Jetstream," came the voice on the other end. Havoc hadn't been expecting the Admiral's son to contact her, but she figured that if somepony important would be giving her her cue, he was perfectly suitable. He sounded anxious, actually. "What is your current position?"

"I'm in New Pandemonium airspace at the moment, roughly a mile south of the city walls. Everything is a go for Operation Welcome Wagon."

"Are you alone at the moment?"

Havoc tilted her head, even though she knew he couldn't see her. "Uh… affirmative." It was a stupid question. Who would be with her anyway?

"Good. This is on the private channel, and is an off-the-record communication. Everything is just between you and me. Are we clear?"

"Off the record, huh?" She smirked at nopony in particular. "Sure thing, Motherfucker, what can I do for ya?"

She heard Jetstream grumble on the other end. "I told you, that was just in a dream, and I was on a bad trip at the time that I had it, and I'll remind you that I was drinking when I shared it. It… it doesn't mean anything."

"Suurre it doesn't. So, what'd your mom have to say when you told her about your little fever dream, then? Or were you too chickenshit?"

"Fuck off, Havoc."

"Hey hey hey, you kiss your mother with that mouth?" Havoc snickered. "I mean I know you want to—"

"Look! Nevermind! We've got a situation here at the NPAF airfield, and you need to be kept in the loop on this."

She blinked. "Huh? Why, what's going on?"

"It's the Chameleon-class cruiser. She's gone missing."

"The hell do you mean, 'missing'? I thought you guys were setting up the decommissioning for it this morning?"

Jetstream grunted. "That's exactly the problem. The entire decommissioning process was moving along just fine under the supervision of Commander Skyfall, but after doing a routine test of the cloaking equipment, we haven't heard anything else from the docking platform."

"So? The ship turns invisible, no shit. It's not like it actually disappeared."

"We physically checked out the platform five minutes ago. The cruiser isn't there. It's been missing for roughly an hour by our estimates, but… those might be inaccurate. All of the tracking equipment at the docking platform suffered from a malfunction last night and we haven't gotten the software readjusted yet."

Havoc grumbled and ran a hoof over her face. "So you're calling me because you guys somehow lost a cruiser? Tell me again how that's my problem?"

"Doesn't it seem odd to you? The timing, the particular ship that's missing?"

Havoc paused, then her eyes widened. "Wait, you don't think—"

"I do think. So does my father. Apparently the seditious elements in our ranks haven't quite been purged, yet."

"I thought Skyfall was loyal to us, though? Your dad cleared him and everything."

"Well, either Skyfall played my father for a fool, or the Chameleon's crew mutinied against him and are taking this into their own hooves. Assuming this is an attempt at an insurrection."

"Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck." Havoc ran her hooves through her mane to calm her nerves; this was bad. Bad bad bad bad bad. "Okay, so, what's the deal here? What can I do?"

"You're the only asset we have in the field at the moment; it'll take another hour or so to launch a proper search party since we're trying to keep this under wraps. If word got out that we lost a cruiser, that would not make the NPAF look good, especially to any visiting diplomats, hmm?"

"Shit, so I've gotta find an invisible ship out in the fucking Wastelands, all by myself. Wonderful. I'm on it, but keep me posted."

"Will do, and you do the same. Good luck."

Havoc bolted off further into the Wastelands, not knowing exactly what she was supposed to do but knowing that she needed to do something. Her first thought was finding the Wyvern and intercepting it, letting Blackburn know there was a… technical problem or something. Turn them around, then call them back after Jetstream gave her the all-clear. 

Piece of cake.

She took off with all the speed she could manage, knowing how far-fetched that plan sounded. The Wyvern had to be a few minutes out from New Pandemonium airspace and that was at that ship's supersonic speeds. Havoc still wasn't that fast, and knew she likely never would be. Rainbow Dash might've been able to do it, but she wasn't here and she'd never passed on the real secret to that Sonic Rainboom at any rate.

The second option was just as far-fetched, of course: finding the invisible cruiser before something happened, whatever that might be. Best case scenario, the ship's crew was just taking a joyride around before the cruiser got decommissioned for good. Stupid and irresponsible, sure, but not necessarily seditious despite how dangerous it was.

Unfortunately, Havoc found out within a few minutes that she was not only not fast enough to get to the Wyvern before it reached New Pandemonium airspace, but that the worst possible situation had arisen from it. 

The huge NPAF cruiser was currently firing on the Wyvern, which was in the midst of performing evasive maneuvers to avoid the Chameleon's high-powered energy blasts and flak rounds. Worse, the Wyvern looked like it might've already been hit: it was trailing smoke from its starboard side.

As she flew in the direction of the battle, she activated her transmitter to broadcast on an open channel, that way the Wyvern would hear her too. "Attention NPAF Chameleon-class cruiser, this is NPAF Commander Havoc! Cease fire immediately! Repeat, cease fire immediately! You are in direct violation of the ceasefire agreements between New Pandemonium and Hope's Point!"

There was no response on the other end, just static. The fact that the Wyvern wasn't responding either worried her; obviously the ship was operational if it was flying so well—Blackburn was as impressive a pilot as she claimed to be, it seemed—so why wouldn't they be responding to her communication?

She cleared her throat and tried again. "Repeat, this is NPAF Commander Havoc! Chameleon-class, stand down and cease fire immediately! You are firing on the Wyvern! That's Queen Blackburn's personal airship! Do you copy?!"

Again, no response.

Havoc snarled, then snapped into her communicator. "Answer me, dammit! This is NPAF Commander Havoc! Stand the fuck down! There are foals aboard that ship! Stand! Down!" 

Nothing. 

"Fuck," she huffed to herself. "Queen Blackburn, come in, this is NPAF Commander Havoc, do you copy?! Anypony aboard the Wyvern, if you can hear me, please respond!"

And once again, no response.

That was, at least, until she heard and saw one of the Chameleon's portside flak cannons fire. Then, a flak shot whizzed by her and exploded only a few dozen feet out. She just stared at the puff of black smoke left behind by the explosive for a second before directing her glare towards the cruiser.

"Chameleon… did you just fire at me?!" she spat into the communicator.

The only response was the sight and sound of the other portside flak cannons firing, but Havoc did not wait to see if they'd been fired at her. Which, of course, they were; if she hadn't moved, she'd have absolutely been hit by at least one shot.

She dove towards the ground first, then swept to the side to avoid another salvo of fire directed her way. She was a smaller target than even the smallest airships, so the heavy, physical ammunition weapons had a significantly harder time hitting her. She moved too fast and too unpredictably for them to get a bead on her. 

She'd never flown as a striker in a skyball game before, but she knew the techniques, and this was the same concept: quick, sudden movements and feints to avoid your opponent.

But beyond just avoiding their shots, Havoc was at a loss for what to do. They weren't responding to her messages the way she wanted, and since the Wyvern was almost guaranteed to not be armed—convincing Blackburn to do so as a sign of good faith seemed like a foolish notion now—there was no way anypony could do anything to the Chameleon, not until reinforcements arrived.

Reinforcements! That was the key. She leaned into her communicator. "Commander Jetstream! Come in! This is—"

She then winced as a loud, shrill screech filled her ears; she frantically tore her communicator out of her ear to stop the noise. Now she knew why the Wyvern wasn't responding to her: a jamming frequency. The Chameleon was doing everything it possibly could to buy all the time it needed to do what it came here to do.

Which meant that Havoc needed to physically make her way back to New Pandemonium to report in and drum up reinforcements, and fast, but fast enough was hardly something that felt possible. Was Blackburn capable of evading fire for an hour? Even the most fit pegasi needed to take breaks if they were flying so strenuously for more than twenty minutes.

Havoc continued to evade the fire coming her way—she didn't have time to focus on what was being directed at the Wyvern—but found that whoever was in charge of aiming was getting better and better with every shot. There was no doubt that the AI-directed system had been given additional control now, and a computer was far more accurate than any pony.

She had to sweep left and right at random, quickly and with as little giveaway as possible so that her movements wouldn't give her away, but even still, she found herself being forced to move the way that the Chameleon wanted her to move so that she wouldn't run right into a full salvo.

For now, that meant diving lower to the ground than she would've liked. She could hear the explosives ripping apart the ground just behind her, and with every other shot she could even feel dirt and rock just barely spraying against her back. She swept down and left at the last second, knowing that the next shot was going right; if she wasn't careful she—

The flak round exploded in the dirt just feet underneath her hooves.

Havoc tumbled through the air and slammed hard into the dirt, rolling along for several feet before another flak round impacted just a few feet away from her, blasting her with rock, dirt, and shrapnel.

Her entire world was pain. 

There was a ringing in her ears that wouldn't stop; she couldn't feel most of the left side of her body, nor could she even see well out of that eye; everything was spinning uncontrollably; it was hard to breathe because of all the dust and smoke around her. All she could see was black, and blood.


~~~~~


There was a sort of cliché about seeing one's life flash before your eyes before death. Havoc had always believed that the saying was just that: a cliché.

But as images and sounds rapidly played out in her mind, she realized that maybe there was something to it.

These weren't her false foalhood memories either, these were the real ones she'd experienced, the ones that had carried her forward from being just an antithetical clone of Fluttershy to being her, to being Havoc.

She remembered ripping apart AMP Troopers with hooves and flames to impress her father.

She remembered her first meeting with Rainbow Dash, how the pair of them had hit it off so well just by being a pair of competitive jocks with a love for trash-talk.

She remembered when she nearly fucked that friendship up by calling Dash a dyke, not realizing how hurtful that was. She remembered barely reigning herself in to apologize instead of blowing up.

She remembered the day her father had tricked Nihila and, with the help of Havoc, her sisters, and her friends, destroyed the so-called goddess of evil and took her power for himself. 

She remembered that her best friend had turned out to be an alien pony from another planet that needed to be sent home, and how her dad had helped Rainbow's friends do just that. 

She remembered that later that same morning, her father had left them behind to become a literal god.

She remembered flying south with Lockwood's family and Dawn, meeting Briarthorn, meeting Blackburn, and Gadget, and Crossfire, learning that Lockwood was to be the king of Hope's Point itself some day, and how the sheer surprise had shocked the unflappable Curaçao into silence.

She remembered meeting Cotton Rose just a couple of nights after that after a fight with Dawn—another fight with Dawn, since they were always arguing by that point. She remembered how poorly she'd started things and how she'd nearly chased the other mare off because she didn't understand.

She definitely remembered the end of that night. Cotton was a generous, open-minded lover, eager to please and with no qualms about letting Havoc do whatever she wanted that night, or the next few nights they met up, or any night they had together for all these years afterwards.

She remembered the royal wedding, how she'd finally had the courage to confirm to Lockwood's face that she'd had a crush on him for a long time, and how she'd gotten over it. 

She remembered how happy she and Cotton were that day too, since the latter hadn't expected to have been invited to a royal wedding. 

She especially remembered how happy Curaçao was when she made the announcement—in private, family only—the next day that she and Shroud were engaged.

She remembered every single trip she made to Hope's Point over the intervening years. Every single face of every single pony she ensured made it safely between the two cities stuck out in her mind, no matter how uneventful the journey was. 

She remembered how good Pewter's cooking was whenever she'd visit the Checkpoint. His spicy black bean soup was the best.

She remembered when Princess Bluebolt was born, remembered holding her for the first time, remembered how good she'd felt to be trusted like that, and remembered how it had taken no time at all for Havoc to realize that the peace between the two cities meant more than just making sure a few ponies could make it between them safely. It meant no more fear, no more heartache; it meant happiness and hope for ponies all through the north, especially for those who hadn't even been born yet.

She remembered Curaçao's wedding and how it had been a small affair with only friends and family who lived at the tower invited. It was still a pretty big turnout. Except for Dawn. Havoc remembered that Dawn hadn't been there, not until much, much later, after the wedding cake had been cut and everything.

She remembered every evening she shared with Cotton over the years, every meeting with her new friend Blackburn and old friend Lockwood, every visit to her sister Gray when she finally made the move down south. 

She remembered being there for Velvet when she'd found out she was infertile, how much she'd approved of the adoption of Caramel Rye.

She remembered Gray's wedding, too. That had been in Hope's Point and was harder for the others to make arrangements for, but everypony did what they needed to do to attend. Again, except Dawn. Work always came first.

She remembered everything, all the way up to what she ate for breakfast this morning as she made herself ready to set out for one of the biggest days of her life. How she'd styled her mane perfectly so that she'd look good on camera, how she'd cleaned up her military uniform so that it would gleam in the spotlight, how she'd burned through half a pack of cigarettes to calm her nerves.

A part of her was ready just to remember it all and let what came next take its course.

Every other part of her told that part of her to shut the fuck up, because watching her life flash before her eyes was one thing. Dying was another.

And dammit, Havoc knew she was too cool to die. She was too angry to die; the rage was bubbling up inside her like an inferno, and she would not let it be contained.


~~~~~


Havoc stumbled to her hooves, barely even able to register the ground beneath her. The eye she could still see out of drifted up to see the Chameleon redirecting all of its fire back at the Wyvern.

Blackburn. Lockwood. Bluebolt. Fireglow. Gadget. Crossfire. Briarthorn. They were all in danger. All because somepony couldn't get over their old, stupid hatreds and anger. 

If somepony like Blackburn, who had every justifiable right to never want peace and to just stay angry and bitter forever, could overcome her grudges, then anypony else who held onto them was just stupid and wrong.

She clenched her teeth so tightly that they should've cracked, her body shaking with unfathomable rage. Her father had once told her that there was no sense in giving less than one hundred percent in battle, and she was done playing softball with these fuckers.

Hatred. Anger. She'd show them what those things meant. She'd burn the concepts into their skulls so that they'd never forget.

She took to the air again, ignoring the excruciating pain in her side and how hard it was to breathe; her entire left side felt limp and lifeless. Her wings still worked, thankfully, so with a snarl, she pushed off and flew straight at the Chameleon, igniting all of her hooves in flame and directing them back to propel her forward and upward.

The Chameleon's portside flak guns shifted towards her—she could see them do so from here now—and opened fire. She was too small and now she was moving too fast; the explosions burst behind her every single time.

She didn't care, though. All that mattered was the sheer, furious anger she felt, the incomparable hatred for the ponies that dared to do this to the ponies she cared about, to her. 

She felt nothing but unadulterated rage; nothing else mattered now. Not her love for her friends, for Cotton, for her sisters; laughter and joy were foreign concepts and her mind burned them away. All she wanted was to do was burn.

And so she went faster, the flames at her back more intense than anything she'd ever output before, so fierce that she could feel the air around her grow hot around her. And still the enemy fired, and still they could not catch her; she was too fast.

A split-second before she impacted the side of the cruiser, Havoc's world went white hot. The explosion in her ears was familiar, satisfying beyond compare, like a memory of happier times. She didn't even feel the metal of the Chameleon as her hooves made contact. It just melted right before her eyes, and she passed straight through like it wasn't even there.

Layer after layer of the ship's innards turned into liquid metal as Havoc passed through them, and behind her there was nothing left. She melted a hole straight through the ship all the way through to the other side, and once her body touched the open air again, there came another resounding explosion as she superheated the oxygen around her.

But she couldn't stop, wouldn't stop, until her work was done. She moved at supersonic speeds, sweeping around and drilling straight through another section of the ship with the heat of a star. She was moving too quickly to even register what she was moving through, what systems she was hitting, if there were crew members in the way or nearby.

And she didn't care. All that mattered was her rage. They would pay for what they did. They'd never do it again, to her, to anypony. There was no room to allow them a last chance to escape, to make a defiant last stand against her unbridled fury, to even hope that they could make one last shot. 

They would all burn.

She struck through the cruiser again, and again, and again. It listed off to its side after the first impact, shuddered uncontrollably after the second, and completely sundered in half by the third, but Havoc just kept going, and going, and going, until the ship hit the ground and was absolutely, without a doubt, no longer a threat.

And when she was done, she landed a safe distance away, feeling the anger begin to slowly dissipate as she looked upon her handiwork. She could breathe again, though it was hard to do. The pain was still there across her side and in her eye, but less severe, more of a lingering sensation. She still couldn't see out of her left eye at all, but her vision had cleared up in the right.

"Havoc?" came the voice of Lockwood from somewhere behind her.

She turned and saw the King of Hope's Point standing there, his daughter fearfully just behind him staring at her with… awe? They were surrounded by AMP Troopers, or at least the remains of them. Havoc was certain she saw Briarthorn there, too, but he didn't acknowledge her presence yet and looked like he was sleeping, motionlessly slumped against a teary-eyed Lockwood. 

What a weirdo.

She gave Lockwood a weak smile and took a step towards him. "Hey Dream—"

And then everything went black.
> Chapter Sixteen: Tarry
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gray wasn't exactly sure what to make of the situation today. Everything had started off so simple and the plan was to keep being simple. Breakfast with the family first, both immediate and extended; meet the royal family and give an official ambassadorial farewell as expected of her, plus inform Dawn and Havoc that they were leaving; head to lunch with Flathoof while Green and Rose were at school, maybe snuggle together for a nap; pick up the kids from school, grab some groceries since Flathoof wanted to cook dinner tonight; stay up late with Flathoof to watch a movie on TV, fall asleep together on the couch. 

Easy peasy.

Instead, around the time that she and Flathoof were supposed to be eating lunch, she found herself pacing in a hospital waiting room with her husband, Lockwood, and Blackburn, waiting for the go-ahead from the staff that it was okay for their patient to receive visitors. Blackburn had apparently been excessively clear that she wanted to have a conversation sooner rather than later, and nopony questioned it; if their queen wanted something done, they'd do it, unless there was a legitimate danger if they did. They'd assured her that there wouldn't be.

Crossfire was currently in the next wing over finishing up his recovery, and apart from an injured shoulder that would recover in about a day or two, the thing of his that was wounded was his pride. Pattycake was more of a mess than he was, having never figured that being Lockwood's bodyguard would ever actually be dangerous. Gray was glad he was okay; he was her brother-in-law, after all, but that would hardly be the only reason.

Gadget, meanwhile, was with the Princess and Prince and their grandparents, ensuring that the youngsters were consoled and comforted as best they could while their parents attended to necessary business first. Gray would visit them herself later, but imagined they were pretty shaken up about the whole ordeal.

For now, Blackburn's focus was entirely on Gray, and this was a side of the queen that Gray had never seen before, only heard of through reputation. This was the Iron Queen of Hope's Point, the mare that stood up to the NPAF for years and laughed in their faces about it, who gave her citizens every reason to believe it was Hope's Point that should be feared, not the other way around.

"Attack was sudden," Blackburn said simply, her gaze fierce, her posture straight; even though she was shorter than Gray by a fair bit—all mares and even most stallions were—she still had a commanding presence. "Enemy ship possessed cloaking technology; struck without warning from unknown angle. Purpose: disable the Wyvern for a few moments.

"AMP Troopers boarded immediately after, also possessed cloaking technology. Accounts from Crossfire and Lockwood indicate intent to foalnap our children. Inflicted injuries on Crossfire in process, also… responsible for Briarthorn's death." Blackburn took a breath, and Gray could see the sheer sorrow and anger in her eyes. "Killed one of my closest friends."

Gray gave a short nod. "Again… my condolences, Your Majesty."

She and Briarthorn had never exactly been friends, so to speak, but she knew him and liked him well enough when he wasn't acting like a scoundrel. She knew Velvet liked him a lot, and that was good enough for her, too. She couldn't imagine what Blackburn was going through; the only pony Gray knew that had died was technically her father, but that was a big technicality.

Blackburn grunted, then began pacing. "Commander Havoc arrived moments after attack began. Was unsure of it at first, saw enemy ship firing at something else. Then saw what—who—they were firing at: your sister."

"They really fired on her?" Gray muttered, not quite believing just how close Havoc had come to dying. "Airship-grade weapons against a single mare?"

"Indeed. Must have considered her a threat." Blackburn shook her head. "She was… hmm. Best I can describe her, encased by—no, she was fire. Not on fire; she was fire. Destroyed enemy ship in seconds. Alone. Created explosions and flew at supersonic speed through it."

"Supersonic speed?" Gray felt a small smile creep to her lips, her heart swelling with pride in her sister. "Wow. She finally did it."

"Yes. Has made mention of desire in the past, claimed it was possible after witnessing friend 'Rainbow Dash' do it. Always figured it was exaggeration; can see that I was wrong." Blackburn cleared her throat and leveled her glare at Gray again. "Gray Skies, asking this not from diplomatic position, but familial one: did you know?"

The question hurt, though Gray didn't blame Blackburn for it one bit. It was a logical step: figure out if anypony with intimate knowledge of the situation had sold them out. From a purely diplomatic perspective, she shouldn't have minded at all. 

Coming from her sister-in-law though, yeah, it hurt quite a bit. But nopony needed to step to her defense; a look to Flathoof told Gray that he'd expected the question the second the attack had been described, and they both knew that it was entirely on Gray to defend herself. Blackburn would never suspect him, naturally.

"About this attack on you?" Gray repeated for clarification's sake. "No, of course not. If I'd even heard a rumor that somepony was maybe going to make an attempt on you like that, you'd have known about it immediately. I'm just as shocked as you are."

Blackburn stared right at Gray for a solid five seconds, then let out a breath and nodded, her expression softening; gone was Blackburn the Iron Queen, and back again was Blackburn the sister-in-law. "Of course. Never believed you knew, had to ask anyway. Just to be certain beyond a doubt. You understand."

"No, I get it. This is serious, and if anypony would know more about it, it would be me and my sisters. I haven't spoken with them about this either, yet. I assume they already know about what happened, but not what's going on."

"Appreciate your cooperation," Blackburn said, standing tall and straight. "No offense meant, but situation raises questions, not sure who to trust. Trust you implicitly: married to my brother-in-law," she said with a slight nod towards Flathoof. "Have family with him, been family to me for years. But not all families are on same page, hmm?"

Gray raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting that one of my sisters had something to do with this?"

She didn't take offense, of course—again, it was a logical course of questioning—but that didn't mean she wasn't entirely surprised. If this had been an officially-sanctioned NPAF deployment, that would mean either Admiral Hotstreak was going behind Dawn's back or that Dawn herself had authorized it.

Blackburn tapped her chin. "Can never eliminate all probabilities until disproved. Won't assume Shadow Associate Dawn or 'Spymaster' Curaçao ordered attack, but can't assume they weren't aware." She grunted, her mouth curling into a sneer. "Either way, peace talks no longer an option—"

Lockwood cut in by clearing his throat; his eyes were red. Had he been crying? Yes, of course he had been; supposedly Briarthorn had died right in front of him, though she was still iffy on the exact circumstances. He himself had suffered a minor bruise to his temple from where an AMP had struck him, but it was already healing thanks to restorative magics.

"BB, honey?" he interjected. "We talked about this. Until we have proof that Dawn or Curaçao or anypony they knew ordered the attack or kept it from us and those who could have warned us, we have to assume that this is just as much of a surprise to them. Peace is still a top priority—"

"They attempted to kill us," Blackburn snapped, approaching him with fire in her eyes. "To steal away our children. Peace is the last thing on my mind."

"I understand that, and I won't tell you to just leap back into the swing of things just yet," Lockwood said, utterly calm and collected. "But this peace still needs to happen, if not for us then for our kids, and their kids, and so on. Whoever's responsible for this wants us to fight, to keep fighting like we always have. We can't let them win."

Blackburn paused, taking a deep breath. "Peace talks no longer an option… at present. Will postpone indefinitely, until situation reaches point where I possess absolute confidence in its success. Too many variables to proceed in current state anyway, too much damage dealt to move forward without fixing first, including practical, such as fixing my Wyvern."

Lockwood's shoulders slumped; he didn't look entirely satisfied, but it was apparently good enough. "That's fine and fair. So long as we're still in agreement that we can make peace between our cities. I think now more than ever, we need it. If we work together more closely, we might be able to root out whoever it was that's responsible for this."

"I can guarantee that my sisters are already on the case, even without me telling them all the details," Gray chimed in, hoping to curtail any further argument. "Once I talk to them, I'll be able to give them a clearer picture that might help them figure out what's going on and who's responsible for this attack on our friends and family, and why." 

She then tilted her head towards the hospital room door. "As soon as I get more information from Havoc, of course. She's got to know more than I do, or anypony else for that matter."

"Would very much like to hear her account myself," Blackburn agreed.

As if on cue, the doctor exited the hospital room, adjusting his glasses as he went. He immediately turned to Blackburn, who was closest, without even needing prompting. "She's ready for you now, Your Majesty. A fair bit of warning, though: we administered a lot of pain medication to put her at ease for now, so she might not be as lucid as you'd like. Depends on her tolerance for the drugs and for the pain."

Blackburn nodded. "Understandable. Prognosis?" She tilted her head towards Gray. "Family is present, to put at ease concerns of medical ethics."

"Of course, I wouldn't expect anything less," the doctor said with a small smirk. He gave his attention to Gray now, looking particularly sober about the whole ordeal. "Ma'am, let me be perfectly blunt: her injuries are… severe. The initial surgery went well and we removed all of the shrapnel, but we can't repair all of the damage just yet."

Gray took a deep breath. She was afraid of this. "Spare me the details, Doc. Is she gonna be okay?"

The doctor thought this over for a moment, then gave a slow nod. "The important things are that she'll live, and she'll still be able to fly normally without braces or prosthetics; luckily, none of the shrapnel clipped through her wings apart from some minor feather damage. The wounds she suffered were apparently cauterized, so she wasn't at risk of infection or bleeding out, either.

"However, as a result, the scars along her left side are most definitely permanent. Restomancy doesn't actually heal, merely accelerates the natural healing process, you see. The entire area will feel a tightness to it for years or longer, most likely. I'm not a plastic surgeon so I can't give you or her a concrete idea of whether or not she may be able to 'touch up' the area, but that's up to her to decide on.

"Most importantly, though, is her left eye," the doctor continued, tapping at the left lens of his glasses. "The shrapnel and the cauterization utterly destroyed any chance of saving it. She'll be without vision on that side for the rest of her life. For now she has gauze wrapped over the area to prevent her from touching it and to keep it from becoming infected, but she will need to consider options once her recovery is over."

Gray blinked, her heart feeling like it suddenly weighed an extra ton. "She… she lost an eye from all of this?"

"Correct. If I may put your mind at ease, though, our medical staff can offer a variety of different options for her to consider, whether she'd prefer to leave it as-is, to procure an eye patch, or to opt for a simple prosthetic. She may even wish to consider a more advanced prosthetic as part of our technomagic development."

"That's… a lot to take in. And you haven't talked with her about any of this yet, I take it?"

"Not until she's finished her recovery process and can handle the information," the doctor said with a nod. "It's a big decision to make, and she may require guidance from loved ones."

Blackburn chimed in with, "Anything she decides will be covered by the royal treasury, of course."

"Thanks, Blackburn," Gray said, still lost in the moment. She turned to the doctor briefly, then shook her head. "And thanks, Doc. I'll… I'll talk with her about it. I'm the only immediate family she has here, so I guess this'll fall to me." She glanced at Lockwood, Flathoof, and Blackburn. "I mean, I'm sure she'll listen to any of you, too."

"And she'll have all the support she needs from us and more," Lockwood said.

"Absolutely," agreed Flathoof.

"Shall we see her now?" Blackburn asked, gesturing towards the door.

Gray nodded. "Yeah, let's do that. She's probably confused as all hell about what's happening."

The doctor nodded to them both, then turned to Lockwood and Flathoof, holding up a hoof briefly as they started to get up from their seats. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, Captain Flathoof, but I'm skirting around enough rules as it is. Could we limit visitors to two at a time until after her recovery is finished?"

Lockwood and Flathoof each nodded and retook their seats.

Gray and Blackburn entered the hospital room to find Havoc resting, as the doctor had noted, hooked up to a metric ton of monitors and an IV bag. Gray barely suppressed her anger and surprise; Havoc's entire left side was covered with bandages and gauze, particularly her left eye. The doctors had had to shave bits of her coat and mane away on that side to perform the surgery, it looked like.

If Blackburn hadn't been clear that Havoc had annihilated the ones responsible for this, Gray would've volunteered immediately to seek them out and crush every last one of them.

Havoc's head lazily tilted in their direction, and her mouth curled in a dumb little smile. "Heyyy. What's up guys? Guess I really am in Hope's Point if my big little sister's here. Hey Gray. Are you taller than I remember? You look taller." She glanced down at herself. "Oh wait, I'm lying down. Laying down? Which one is it again?"

"Painkillers are working," Blackburn grunted, allowing her mouth to curl in a tiny grin. "Reminds me of when she's drunk."

"Minus the shouting," Gray added. She stepped forward, looking down on her sister with a sympathetic smile. "How're you feeling, sis?"

"Numb as fuuuck," Havoc muttered, her head shifting to look the other direction. "I can't feel most of the left side of me. Doesn't feel like I can see so good. What happened? Last thing I remember, I was super pissed about something, and… an airship? I'm pretty sure there was an airship blowing up. Did I blow up an airship?"

Blackburn stepped forward now, her expression firm. "Commander Havoc, have a question to ask of you."

"Oh, yeah, sure thing Queen Bee."

"Earlier today, while we were en route to New Pandemonium City, an unidentified, unknown NPAF airship equipped with cloaking technology attacked the Wyvern, damaged it; we flew back to Hope's Point for repairs and to regroup."

"Ah. So I do remember right." Havoc nodded to herself with her usual self-assurance. "Yeah, I guess I was pretty awesome out there…"

Blackburn cleared her throat to retake Havoc's attention. "During attack, cloaked AMP Troopers boarded Wyvern, attempted to foalnap Bluebolt and Fireglow, injured Crossfire. Indirectly responsible for Briarthorn's death."

Havoc stared at her and blinked her one good eye several times, clearly in shock. "Briarthorn's dead? And they tried to do what with the kids?!"

Blackburn nodded, her eyes that mix of sheer sorrow and anger again. "Yes. Will be making funeral arrangements following our conversation." She shook her head, her firmness returning. "Need answers; have questions. First, for you: did you know?"

"Know what?"

"About the attack. Did you know it was going to happen? Do you know who planned it?"

Havoc stared up at the ceiling now, her expression tired and sad. "I found out something was happening minutes before it did. Somepony stole the Chameleon-class cruiser during its supposed decommissioning."

"Enemy ship was a 'Chameleon-class'?" Blackburn asked, legitimately confused. "Unfamiliar with designation."

"Huh? What do you mean? I thought you knew the NPAF fleet's whole spread?"

Pure anger was returning to Blackburn's expression slowly but surely. "Apparently not, both officially and unofficially. Never heard of Chameleon-class; designation understandable with cloaking technology. Unaware NPAF had even developed cloaking technology; did not see listed in any manifests shared with me."

Havoc stared, slack-jawed. "Shit, are you serious?"

"Very serious. Implies that somepony has been keeping secrets somewhere in line of communication. Shadow Associate Dawn provided me with NPAF fleet manifest to come to agreements on decommissioning; shared Hope's Point fleet manifests with her. NPAF Admiral Hotstreak provides her with information."

Blackburn took a sharp breath. "Either your sister has been lying to me, or Admiral Hotstreak is lying to her." She then turned to Gray, her gaze fierce. "Did you know about this? The concealing of information?"

Gray shook her head, her own anger starting to rise up. "No, I didn't. Dawn provided you with that fleet manifest herself, and she never told me that there was anything missing from it. So yeah, either she knew about it and kept it from you and everypony else, or she didn't know at all."

"Both are damning." Blackburn turned back to Havoc. "But you knew about this Chameleon-class. Commander within NPAF, privy to that sort of information. Under impression I knew, though… obviously implies you were also misinformed. Thoughts: your sister, or your admiral?"

"I… I don't know," Havoc muttered, her expression sullen and posture heartbroken. "Admiral Hotstreak has always been upfront with me about everything. It was his son, Commander Jetstream, that warned me about the attack before it happened."

"Oh? Explain."

"Yeah, uh, they both think the commander in charge of the Chameleon, Skyfall, was either a seditionist or that his crew were and they mutinied against him. Either way, the admiral didn't order any attack on you."

Blackburn tilted her head slightly. "Have mentioned 'seditious' element before, seemed assured it had been 'dealt with'."

"Because we were sure!" Havoc blurted, barely able to rise up from her position. "This came completely out of the blue even to us!"

"And I assume you do not suspect Dawn?"

Havoc's eyes narrowed. "Listen, Queen Bee, my little sister is a lot of things—a bitch most of the time—but she's not evil. She's been banking on this peace for years. It was our dad's idea, and she'd do absolutely anything to make him happy." She tilted her head towards Gray. "Gray'll confirm that. Dawn couldn't have ordered this or known about it. There's no way."

"I agree entirely," Gray said with a confident nod. "Both about our sister being a bitch and her not being evil. I know we don't get along personally, but I don't think she'd have it in her to plan to secretly kill you and your family all this time and fool all of us into thinking otherwise. That's too underhoofed for her, not her style. She's really the 'go big or go home' type, trust me."

"And Curaçao?" asked Blackburn.

"Oh, Curie's underhoofed as fuck," Havoc chortled, her eyes galzing over just a little; the pain meds must've kicked back in. "But she's not evil either. She's a softie through-and-through, and she'd never do anything like this. She knew your kids were there, and she's been looking forward to introducing them to her little Jellybean for weeks. She's been teaching her how to talk all fancy-like so she can impress you."

Blackburn glanced between the two for a moment, then firmly nodded. "Again, trust both of you implicitly; have come to know you both, understand your character, welcomed you into family openly. If you vouch for Dawn and Curaçao, will trust your judgment." She took a breath. "Peace treaty still on 'backburner', so to speak. Clear that NPAF is not under control."

Havoc groaned lightly. "Yeah, I guess not."

"Inform your sisters of details of today's events," Blackburn said to Gray. She then turned back to Havoc. "Will have other questions for you, but are irrelevant to current concerns. Specifically, how you did what you did, with the explosions and speed."

"I'm still trying to figure that all out myself," Havoc noted. She looked contemplative for a long moment before continuing, "I remember feeling more angry than I've ever felt before, all because my friends were in danger. I wanted nothing more than to just…  burn everything responsible for it. Then I just kind of, uh, exploded, I guess? That's the best I can describe it to you right now.

"And, um… I'm sorry. For being so slow." Havoc hung her head, her expression souring. "If I'd gotten there a little sooner, maybe Briarthorn—"

"Do not blame yourself; fault lies with those responsible," Blackburn swiftly interjected. "Thank you, Havoc. For saving me, my family. Owe you a debt of gratitude."

"Are the kids okay? Gadget? Crossfire?"

"Kids are shaken, but physically unhurt. Gadget furious, but also unhurt. Crossfire suffered only minor shoulder injury, body armor protected him. Otherwise well, but blames self, same as you. Pride hurt more than body."

Havoc grumbled; she didn't seem to be put at ease all that much. "Well… good, I guess…"

"Hmm. Will leave you two alone to talk. Have funeral arrangements to make, discussion with Council to conduct, children to console." Blackburn sighed and shook her head. "Own wits to soothe. Entire day has been stressful, made paranoia seem justified. Let guard down, lost much because of it…"

She then left the room without another word, leaving Gray and Havoc alone.

Havoc sighed, bringing her right hoof to her temple. "This whole thing is fucked, sis. I wish I'd have gotten there sooner…"

"You did what you could," Gray said, setting her hoof on Havoc's good shoulder. "I know things could've gone better, but it's not your fault. Blackburn's right: somepony's been keeping secrets, and that allowed this whole thing to happen. I've got a feeling Dawn purposefully left things out of that manifest that Blackburn didn't already know about."

"I hope she's not that stupid," Havoc grunted through clenched teeth.

"I have no idea what's going through her head. It's not like she ever talked to me much before, anyway, and now it's just all business."

"The kids are okay though, right? Bluebolt and Fireglow? I know Blackburn said they were but—"

"Yeah, they're fine, last I saw them. They're hanging out with Shortcake and Stouthoof right now. Grandma and grandpa oughta keep them placated for a little while. Why?"

"I think I remember seeing Bluebolt before I passed out, and she looked extra freaked out. Lockwood, too, come to think of it." Havoc turned to look at Gray briefly, holding out her good hoof. "Is there a mirror around or something? I know I got fucked up, but I can't exactly see myself."

Gray paused. "Are you sure you want to do that now?"

"Yes, I'm sure. C'mon, pass me a mirror."

Gray sighed, nodded, then glanced around and looked for a mirror. Not finding one in the open, she got up and searched through some of the supply drawers; the hospital staff would have to deal with her not caring if everything was where she found it. She found one after a minute of searching, a square one that she had to hold with two hooves because it lacked a proper grip, probably meant for unicorns.

She held it up for Havoc to see, and her sister's face fell immediately, her good hoof moving to her injured eye first before trailing down the side of her face, her neck, and her exposed shoulder. She seemed legitimately horrified by it all; her body language slowed down significantly, her mouth hanging open just slightly in shock.

"What the fuck happened to me?" Havoc muttered, her voice deathly quiet.

"I don't know the whole deal, but you took a lot of shrapnel to the side," Gray said softly, setting the mirror down and taking hold of Havoc's good hoof. 

She noted that Havoc held it readily, tightly at that; the shock of the situation must have really done a number on her to not even hesitate.

Havoc gulped. "Am I gonna be okay?" she croaked.

"You'll make a full recovery from it all, and your wing didn't get hit, but… the doctor said there's gonna be a lot of scarring. And… your eye's completely gone. I'm no good at this bedside manner stuff, so I just have to come out and tell it like it is."

Havoc's hoof went back to her eye. "My eye, huh? Fuck, that's why I can't see…"

"The doctor said you've got a few options on that front, and Blackburn's offered to pay for whatever treatments you need. So y'know, you don't even need our cushy trust fund, turns out," Gray added with a grin to try and lighten the mood.

It seemed to work, judging from Havoc's half smile. "Heh, sounds about right. So what, I can get like a gnarly pirate eye patch or something?"

"That's an option, sure. I'll go over them with you when you've recovered more and aren't hopped up on painkillers."

Havoc set her head back against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. "Guess this is what happens to ya when you try to play the hero, huh? Fuck me." She tilted her head to look right at Gray. "Do me a favor and don't mention how bad this is to Curie and Dawn when you talk to 'em, okay?" she said firmly. "I'll let them see for themselves when I get out of here."

Gray nodded. "Sure, that's your call. I'm just glad it's not worse. You got lucky, sis. Real lucky."

"I guess so." Havoc then smirked, laughing briefly to herself. "And here I thought Velvet had it bad last week. If I was lucky, I'd be able to heal like she did. Guess I gotta settle for keeping my scars. You know she healed hers like immediately afterwards? Just happened automatically."

Gray tilted her head, suddenly lost. "What are you talking about?"

"Huh?"

"You just said something about Velvet. What was that about?"

Havoc gave Gray a dumb grin; maybe the painkillers were hitting again. "Uh, what are you talking about? I mean that Velvet's able to heal herself when she gets hurt. You know that."

"That's not what I meant. I meant about the 'last week' comment, that she 'had it bad'. What does that mean?"

Now it was Havoc who looked lost. "Wait… you mean you don't know?"

Gray grunted, annoyed that apparently there was something she was missing. Again. "Know what?"

"Velvet got attacked last week while she was at an arcade with Caramel and Marée. Caramel's woke up but is still recovering last I checked, but Velvet and Marée are fine now. Velvet got her throat and stomach torn open, but she healed up, no scars or anything." Havoc shook her head in disbelief. "You didn't know?"

"This is the first I'm hearing about it."

"Velvet said Dawn was gonna tell—" Havoc paused, and her mouth curled into a snarl. "Dawn, you colossal bitch. She was supposed to tell you!"

"Well, she didn't," Gray sighed, holding the bridge of her nose. "Why am I not even surprised? You said that Velvet and Marée are okay, but Caramel woke up but is recovering? He got hurt, I take it?"

"Yeah… he got shot, and, um… look, it's not as bad as it could've been. I think it's just like some complications because of his powers. Hypothermia or something. Velvet should be the one to talk to you about it, she knows more than me."

"I'll do that."

Havoc groaned, pressing her hoof to her temple again. "Shit, Dawn was supposed to tell Insipid too, and now I've gotta ask her if she even knows! Fuck me with a rake, I'm tired of this shit."

"See? This is why I stopped bothering with Dawn altogether outside of business matters," Gray said, gesturing about the room with a hoof. "I don't know why you and Curaçao even tolerate this shit. Or why you don't just handle things yourselves instead of trusting her to do it, for that matter."

Havoc steeled her gaze on the ceiling. "After everything that's happened today, yeah, I think I'm gonna handle things a little differently. As soon as I'm out of this fucking hospital bed, I'm gonna go to Blackburn and tell her everything." She looked to Gray with all seriousness. "Everything. About Pops, about us being clones, about our superpowers, all of it. Keeping secrets is just hurting us at this point."

"I'll go with you. We can do it together."

"Thanks sis." Havoc sighed and relaxed back into the pillow. "You should let Curie know about what's happened here, though. And Dawn too, if you care to. I wouldn't bother. Let Curie tell her all about it. She's the only one who actually tolerates Dawn's bullshit."

"She's got more patience for her than anypony else in this family does," Gray snickered, though she wasn't really amused to be admitting it.

Havoc paused, then grumbled. "It should've been her…"

"Huh?"

"Dad's Warden. It should've been her, Curaçao. Dawn might be a powerful unicorn and have a lot of book smarts, but Curaçao's the one who knows how to do the kind of stuff Dad did, and she's good at it, and she actually gives a flying fuck about us." Havoc snorted derisively. "And she's the oldest. It should've been her."

"And here I thought you'd want to be in charge. You're a great leader, if your skyball team's anything to go by."

Havoc rolled her eyes. "Maybe if we were a little assault team or something. I'm great at commanding troops and shit, but I'm awful at all this political garbage. Rainslick practically runs everything on the team, y'know? I just make sure he has the funds to do whatever he needs in order to improve the team, and that he makes our vision work."

"Fair enough." Gray sighed and shook her head. "Dad always seemed so confident in Dawn, though. What happened? What went wrong?"

"I don't know. But whatever it is, I'm tired of it. I'm tired of her."

"I'm with you on that, sis…"

"Y'know, Velvet's not in a good place right now. After what happened to her, she's been… distant. She blames herself for Caramel getting hurt. So, uh, I feel bad asking this but… you're probably gonna have to tell her about Briarthorn, too. We can't rely on Dawn to pass shit along anymore, and I'm not in any shape for a heart-to-heart."

Gray stared up at the ceiling, realizing that she was going to be responsible for a lot over the next week. "Yeah, I probably should mention that, huh? Damn, she's not gonna be happy about it. She liked him a lot."

"Considering she asked him to knock her up way back when, yeah, I'd say she liked him," Havoc snickered. She then sobered a little. "He wasn't in bad shape, was he? I thought I saw him before I passed out, but it was pretty brief. He… he didn't look dead."

"Lockwood said something about performing Diffusion loops to protect him, without the sanctioned equipment. I won't pretend to understand how he did it—something about family legacy?—but he did."

"Whoa, seriously? I thought that shit was, like, dangerous? Impossible, even."

"Yeah… dangerous is right. He undid years of therapy and treatments in minutes. Complete and catastrophic organ failure. Lockwood said he was dead before the Wyvern even picked them up."

"So he died doing what he loved. Damn…" Havoc then groaned and held her side. "Fuck fuck fuck, fuck me that stings, augh. I think the painkillers are wearing off. Send the doc in, would ya? I don't think I should keep flapping gums with ya."

Gray frowned, but nodded; she wanted to keep the conversation going, to make sure her sister was at ease, but if Havoc needed some space, she'd get it. "Sure thing. I'll get out of your mane and let you rest, okay?"

"Yeah, thanks sis. Sorry. It's been nice talking with ya. Love ya."

"Love you too, sis…"

Gray patted Havoc's good shoulder reassuringly, then headed out the door and let the doctor know about the painkillers; he seemed ready for it and was already moving inside with a nurse to get to work. Gray also noticed that Lockwood and Blackburn had already left, and didn't blame them for not waiting around; they had family matters to attend to as well, and other important business. Flathoof was still here, of course, and stood to greet her.

"Everything okay in there?" he asked, a concerned smile on his lips.

Gray nodded and approached him. "She's been better, but she's strong. She'll get through this. I'll visit her again tomorrow, though, if just to talk with her about what she wants to do once she recovers. It's a bit too much right now." 

Flathoof pulled her in for a hug. "If there's anything either of you need, I'm here for you."

She let out a breath and turned the hug; she needed this right now, more than she wanted to admit. "A lot of this is too much right now…"

She was glad to have somepony in her life who cared about her so much. She didn't even need to ask him how much he cared; she knew that he did. She knew that he'd tell her immediately if anything happened to anypony important to her. He didn't keep secrets from her, and neither did she from him. 

This was what family was supposed to be like.


*****


Dawn sat impatiently at her desk, gazing out the window of her office in anticipation for what was supposed to be the event of the century. Even from here she could tell that the winds were starting to pick up, based on how the distant smog was moving through the air more swiftly and haphazardly than was typical. It would be less than a week before the winds out in the Wasteland picked up so much that they sent a veritable hurricane throughout the continent, bathing it all in dust that no sane pony would dare travel in.

A part of her hoped that Winter would know to either shelter up at the Checkpoint before the dust storm hit, or would be done with her business by then and already be someplace safe, preferably safer than the Checkpoint was. 

The main reason the weather was bothering her so much was the tightness of the schedule. The royal family of Hope's Point would be departing just a day or so before the dust storm hit and would be spending the following week or more on the southern continent; Queen Blackburn had meticulously planned out the schedule so that they would have the optimal amount of time to spend on peace talks and superfluous "family time" here in New Pandemonium before leaving.

Of course, they had to be here first before they could leave.

Hence, the fact that Blackburn was late was most bothersome. Either she was delaying her arrival on purpose for some reason that Dawn just didn't understand, or Gray had jumped the gun when she'd informed her of the departure time. Dawn would rather chalk it up to her sister's irresponsibility rather than assume this was some petty attempt by the queen to get a rise out of her.

Then, Curaçao burst into the office. Without knocking first, mind; very rude. She looked like she'd been in a rush getting here too.

"Curaçao, what in the world is the meaning of this intrusion?" Dawn asked, her building aggravation slipping into her tone. "I was under the impression that you were more observant of social norms such as privacy and politely knocking before entering a room. Was I mistak—"

"Nous avons un problème," Curaçao interrupted, eyes wide.

Dawn translated her sister's words in her head. A problem? "I would be inclined to agree. Her Majesty Queen Blackburn is has tarried far too long—"

"Yes, exactly, that's the prob—"

Dawn snorted loudly, adjusting her glasses to get a better look at her sister if only to ensure it was her sister; this behavior was so unlike her. "Curaçao, what manner of malady has afflicted you that you are behaving so erratically? That is twice now that you have unnecessarily interrupted me. My patience is already thin this afternoon—"

"Tais-toi!" Curaçao snapped, looking angrier than Dawn had ever seen her. "Shut up, and listen. Her Majesty's personal airship, the Wyvern, was attacked on its way towards the city, just inside our airspace."

Dawn's eyes widened. "What?"

"I received a report from Commander Jetstream that one of the cruisers slated for decommissioning, the Chameleon-class, went missing. He reported it to Havoc as well, and she apparently found the cruiser openly attacking the Wyvern, though he was only able to piece that together based on circumstantial evidence; he lost contact with her.

"I also haven't heard anything from Havoc all afternoon, but then Gray contacted me just moments ago." Curaçao let out a relieved sigh. "The Wyvern returned to Hope's Point, intact but heavily damaged. Havoc destroyed the Chameleon-class herself and rescued the royal family. Regrettably, Queen Blackburn's friend, Captain Briarthorn, was indirectly killed in the attack due to AMP Troopers that were attempting to foalnap the Prince and Princess."

Dawn froze for a moment, then sharply rose from her seat, hooves slamming on her desk and glasses dislodging from her nose. "What?!"

"Havoc was critically injured as well during the attack, though Gray says she'll recover; she neglected to give me details on the extent of our sister's injuries, claiming that was Havoc's decision to let us see for ourselves when the time comes. I've respected Havoc's wishes and not made contact with her."

Dawn's eye twitched; she hated being left out of the loop like this. "Gray contacted you, but not me?"

"Yes."

"Would you happen to know why?"

Curaçao gave Dawn a scathing look of disapproval; never before had Curaçao ever looked like the eldest sister she actually was. "It would seem that our sister is incredibly upset with you at the moment. Something about not knowing that Velvet was attacked last week? Havoc had to tell her because apparently you didn't?"

Dawn snorted. "Is that all? Velvet made a complete recovery. It was inconsequential—"

"She deserved to know, Dawn!" Curaçao snapped again. She then let out a breath and held out a hoof as if to calm herself. "That is besides the point. The point is that Gray informed me, so this is the situation we find ourselves in. We need to fix this, immédiatement."

"On that, I agree. Contact Director Underhoof and Admiral Hostreak, enlighten them to our situation and have them prepare for a conference call with me exactly one hour from now. And inform Hotstreak that he had better have an explanation for this fracas."

"And what will you do in the meantime?"

Dawn straightened her glasses and lit up her horn. "There are some additional ponies that should be made aware of the situation that I feel require a more… personal touch. One hour, Curaçao."

With that, she disappeared with a flash and a pop, reappearing a split-second later in a room in a home that she had never been to before, but that she had seen many, many times via the Committee conference calls. 

In person, Taskmaster Concrete's penthouse didn't look any more or less impressive than over the calls; for somepony who didn't take care of himself, he at least wasn't a messy slob, but he wasn't exactly classy, either. The decorations were plain and dull; no substance or taste. Dawn never really cared much for such things herself but knew that appearances were everything.

Normally, teleporting to a location that she couldn't see was incredibly dangerous; she could end up accidentally teleporting into the same space that another pony occupied at that precise instant, and the effect was supposedly… messy. She'd never witnessed it with her own eyes, naturally, but had seen video and photographic evidence of the event—using dummies, of course—and didn't have any desire to experience it for herself.

Concrete Girder was nothing if not predictable though, and she knew that at this time of day, he was taking his lunch in this very room; a number of Committee meetings over the years had taken place during meal times so that the Committee could make expedient use of their time, a fine idea that she'd been enlightened to due to Vendetta's otherwise misfortunate dinner meeting all those years ago.

Sure enough, Taskmaster Concrete was seated at the back of the room at his dining table scarfing down a meal more fit for three ponies than just one and more for a scrumptious dinner rather than a light lunch. Whatever program he was watching on his humongous television set was unimportant, and so Dawn paid it no heed.

"Taskmaster Concrete!" Dawn snapped the instant she materialized. "We must have words!"

Concrete's eyes widened and he stared at her in stunned surprise, his fatty hoof reaching up to clutch at his chest. He didn't say anything, just sputtered and coughed up some of his latest mouthful of food.

"Her Majesty's private airship was attacked en route to New Pandemonium this afternoon, no more than two or three hours ago," she said, approaching him with the most intense glare she could manage. 

The calculation was inexact, of course. She based it off of when Gray had contacted her and when Gray had contacted Curaçao, accounting for travel time based on how fast she'd been told the Wyvern could fly at an average pace, but didn't know any other factors that might have contributed to a delay. Havoc had supposedly been injured, so perhaps a few minutes had been spared to attend to her wounds, but that was unlikely to take too much time.

"While the details are currently still in development, it is clear that whoever is responsible for this fiasco possessed the motivation of spoiling my lauded peace treaty. You, Taskmaster, have been opposed to this peace from its inception! I demand that you provide evidence that you are not responsible. Now!"

Concrete gasped and tumbled out of his seat, both forehooves now clutching at his chest.

"Taskmaster?" Dawn watched him writhe and convulse on the floor for a few seconds before going stiff, then she let out an aggravated sigh.

Opening up her mind, she contacted Curaçao. "Sister, if you would also summon emergency medical personnel to Taskmaster Concrete's abode?" 

"Ah, oui?" came Curaçao's swift reply. "Should I ask why?"

"Apparently my interrogation technique provoked cardiac arrest. Leave that out of your dispatch report, of course."

"Oui, of course."

With a glance towards the overweight stallion, Dawn added, "Also, I would not be entirely opposed to the medical personnel embarking on a more scenic route here, if you catch my meaning? A less slovenly Taskmaster might be an improvement."

"Hmm. I will handle it." Curaçao didn't sound like she necessarily approved, but that was irrelevant; she'd do it because Dawn asked her to.

"Thank you, Curaçao."

Dawn then lit up her horn again, and without so much as another glance at Concrete, she disappeared again with another flash and a pop.

She reappeared in yet another familiar-yet-new place from the conference calls, the private communication study of Treasurer Vendetta. She knew he only used this particular room for Committee business, so it was empty when he wasn't taking conference calls or otherwise contacting Committee members, and since she was the only one he apparently ever talked to in private, she was firm in her belief that he wouldn't be in here.

She was right, of course, because she was never wrong.

She wasted no time in throwing open the door to the study to move into the room beyond, which if the layout of his penthouse estate was accurate to what Curaçao had provided her, meant that she'd now be in his bedchambers. That much she expected, and she also expected him to be nearby, since Vendetta almost exclusively did all of his business from his own estate and rarely if ever left except for matters that required his physical presence, of which he didn't have anything scheduled that she was aware of.

"Treasurer Vendetta! We must have words!"

To her luck, he was indeed in his bedroom, and she'd apparently caught him just as he was coming from the bathroom and taking a shower, since he was very much nude with a towel wrapped around his neck and nothing else. Normally Dawn would have averted her eyes instantly and waited for him to dress, as was appropriate behavior in such a social situation as far as she knew, but this was hardly the time for manners.

Vendetta was, of course, genuinely surprised to see her, his eyes wide and mouth agape. "Shadow Associate Dawn? Well now, this is a surprise. A pleasant one, at that." He made zero attempt to hide or otherwise cover his shame; if anything, he seemed…  emboldened? "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"The intention of this visit is as far from pleasurable as could be, Treasurer," she snorted. "Her Majesty's private airship was attacked en route to New Pandemonium this afternoon, no more than two or three hours ago. While the details are currently still in development, it is clear that whoever is responsible for this fiasco possessed the motivation of spoiling my lauded peace treaty."

He nonchalantly moved over to his liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of brown liquid—Dawn wasn't adept at identifying liquors, but remembered that he preferred a certain liqueur, amaretto?—as well as a pair of glasses.

"And this concerns me because…?" he asked, his tone as nonchalant as his movements.

She stamped her hoof on his carpeted floor. It wasn't as imposed as she'd hoped it would be thanks to how well the carpeting cushioned the blow. "You, Treasurer, have been opposed to this peace from its inception! I demand that you provide evidence that you are not responsible. Now!"

He raised an eyebrow, not so much curious as intrigued. "Hmm. Yes, I can see why this would concern you. My heart doesn't exactly ache for Her Majesty Queen Blackburn—long may she reign—but I do know how important this peace is to you."

"Quite. So—"

He tilted his head towards his bottle of amaretto. "Drink?"

"What?"

"Would you like a drink? I always like to drink while talking business. I know it's not wine, as you prefer—magmaberry was your favorite, if I remember correctly—but I find that a good amaretto is more than suitable."

She rolled her eyes. "No thank you. Now, if you would please cease these attempts at distracting me?"

He smirked and poured himself a glass of his liqueur over some ice that he procured from a refrigerator inside the cabinet, then sat on the edge of his bed with almost calculated positioning so that Dawn would get a good look at… all of him even though she was trying not to, swirling his drink casually all the while. By the stars, was he becoming arroused?

"Is that what I am, Miss Dawn? Distracting?" he asked, taking a slow sip. "I know you made it clear that you weren't una creatura sessuale, but five years can certainly change a mare's mind and body, can't it." He traced a hoof over his chest. "Go on, bevilo—drink it in. This is what a real stallion looks like. Maybe you've just never seen one before?"

Her eye twitched. "Enough games, Treasurer. Provide me with the information I seek, or—"

He sharply rose up. "Or what? You come into my home, barge into my room, and demand anything of me while giving nothing in return? Sei deluso." He chuckled, sitting back down and setting a hoof down in his lap and patting it invitingly. "But I'll tell you what: I'll give you the evidence you want, if you give me a taste—"

Dawn, teeth clenched in anger, ignited her horn and grabbed Vendetta by the throat, then slammed him into the nearest wall hard enough to shake the room and knock loose several picture frames. There was an absolute seething anger welling up inside her that barely compared to how she normally felt about him and his deviant nature, which was saying quite a lot.

Her magical field flickered around the room with furious, violent purpose. She cared little for what was damaged or destroyed in the process as tendrils of black lightning snaked about, disintegrating anything and everything they touched: a vase, most of the nearby wall, half of his bed, portions of the ceiling. His bedchambers became a literal warzone; anypony or anything that got in the way of what she wanted right this moment wouldn't survive.

"You incomparably repugnant degenerate!" she spat, stepping forward so that they were almost face-to-face. "I approach you in the interest of protecting our city, in fostering peace with Hope's Point, and you dare to proposition me?! The ones responsible for this attack are a threat! Not just to Her Majesty, but to us! Now, answer me! Are you accountable one way or the other?!"

His hooves went up to her magical field around his neck; there was nothing for him to grab in order to relieve the pressure, no hooves or binds or anything physical, so it was a reflex. "Sei bello quando sei arrabbiato," he choked, somehow managing a cocksure grin.

"What? Speak Common Equish, you abhorrent cretin."

"You're beautiful when you're angry."

She tightened her hold on his throat, barely holding herself back from cutting straight through and decapitating him right then and there. "Answer my question!"

"Go on, girasole. Do it," he replied, barely getting the words out. There was fear in his eyes, absolutely, but also a flicker of something else that Dawn didn't recognize. "If you think that I had anything to do with this attack, then do it. Kill me."

She clenched her teeth and stepped forward so they were nose-to-nose. "Vendetta, you are playing a dangerous game—"

"Am I? We both know that I didn't have anything to do with any attack on Her Glorious Majesty. Sure, I wouldn't shed a tear if she and her two-bit husband crashed and burned, but I'd be a fool for trying to bring that about myself. Not just because it puts me in danger of being discovered, of course, but because I'd never do anything like that to you."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

He chuckled, which seemed difficult to do considered he was being choked, but he somehow managed to do it and sound confident. "My dear Miss Dawn, why would I ever do anything to jeopardize my chances of earning your forgiveness and drawing you into my bed, hmm?"

"You are delusional if you think—"

"You can choose to believe me, or choose not to. I don't care which. Either kill me and be done with it, or release me and I'll forget that you broke into my home and threatened my life. What's it gonna be?"

Dawn tightened her grip further for an instant, then released it all at once so that Vendetta fell to the floor, coughing and clutching at his throat as if it would help him breathe better now. 

"You disgust me, Vendetta," she hissed. "But, there is a certain undeniable wisdom to your claims. It would be foolhardy to arrange such an impetuous act of aggression when you are aware that I would immediately suspect your involvement. You are both impulsive and repulsive, but you are no simpleton."

"See? Was that so hard?" he chortled as he rose back up to his hooves, still rubbing his neck tenderly. "So, Miss Dawn, it would seem as if we're finally even, wouldn't you agree?"

"What? 'Even'?"

"Yes, 'even'," he said with that trademark cocksure smile as he picked up his spilled glass—miraculously it hadn't even been chipped—and moved to his cabinet to refill it. "You threatened me once before because I'd made the ill-advised mistake of messing with the wrong mare—your sister. This time though, you've broken into my home and threatened my life for something I'm utterly innocent of."

She raised an eyebrow, not following along with his train of thought. What was he getting at? "And that makes us 'even' how, exactly?"

He took a sip of his amaretto, stepping back over so that they were face-to-face again. "Simple. Now things can go back to the way they were before that unfortunate revelation. You no longer hold anything over my head." His hoof went up to gently cup her chin and very nearly press his nose against hers. "Actually, better than before. I didn't know you were so… dangerously attractive."

She paused a long moment, his words utterly befuddling her to no end, then snorted derisively, pushing his hoof away. "Treasurer Vendetta, if I have not been clear over these past several years, allow me to—"

"No no, have been clear, Dawn, very clear," he said, sitting back down on the bed and going right back to displaying himself; by the stars, he was aroused. Disgusting. "But those are just meaningless words in the end. There will come a time when you change your mind, when your body can no longer resist my masculine charm, when you crave what i can give to you. And I'll be eagerly waiting for when you do.

"Why, you even know how to come to my bedroom without anypony knowing about it. A handy skill for a mare to have if she's looking to capture my attention. Not to mention you know just what I like: a sharp, professional mare who isn't afraid to get a little… violent." With a wink, he added, "Maybe next time, girasole, you'll use your hooves to choke me, hmm?"

Her eye twitched again. "You… atrocious individual. Have you no shame whatsoever?"

"Careful, Miss Dawn. Flattery will get you everywhere."

As he laughed, Dawn seethed in place, then lit up her horn and with a flash and a pop, she was back in her office.


*****


By the time Dawn was ready to meet with Admiral Hotstreak and Director Underhoof, she had calmed down considerably. A shower, a cup of her favorite coffee, a cinnamon sugar donut, and some pleasant operatic music did wonders for her nerves, bringing her back down to earth with all due speed.

She sat at her desk and started up the conference call at the appointed time, greeted by the faces of Hotstreak and Underhoof as expected. The latter appeared to be her usual calm, composed self with nary a hair out of place in her mane, and as always was dressed for the occasion. The former, however, while groomed and dressed appropriately, was the picture perfect definition of stressed, his eyes belying the sheer anxiety he must have been under. And deservedly so.

"Director Underhoof, Admiral Hotstreak, I appreciate the punctuality, as always," Dawn said with a firm nod. "I have summoned you both to discuss the urgent matter in regards to the attack on the royal family of Hope's Point earlier this afternoon. I assume you each have been provided with the basics?"

Underhoof nodded first. "This attack is news to me, but Miss Curaçao provided me with a rundown. The CIA stands ready to investigate this matter with all of its resources."

"I, too, have been informed of the situation in full," Hostreak said, his mustache bristling. "And, as requested, I've brought with me all of the new information I can provide. Tangible information, of course, not simply eyewitness reports. I trust Commander Havoc's judgment of the situation but this requires more than just her say-so."

"Agreed," Dawn said, straightening her glasses and leaning back in her seat. "Admiral, if you would present your new information now, it would be greatly appreciated."

Hotstreak pressed a few dozen keys on his keyboard, and a new display window opened up in the call, which appeared to be little more than a collection of data packets. He opened the first one in the sequence, which then displayed a video feed—a live one, if the information on the screen was accurate.

It showed the wreckage of the Chameleon-class cruiser in the Wastelands, little more now than a smoldering hunk of metal. Beyond the clear explosive damage dealt to the hull, all of which appeared to have come from inside the ship, there were a number of smaller, almost pony-sized holes in the sides that appeared as if something had literally bored its way into and out of the ship's exterior.

Several smaller NPAF ships—search and rescue teams formed of Angel-class and Spirit-class light transports and emergency vessels—hovered about the wreckage. Some were dousing the derelict with water to put out the fires, others were scanning the remains with lights and data-retrieval devices, while some still were sweeping the nearby dusty plains for signs of life.

"This is the crew I've sent to investigate the site of the attack," Hotstreak explained. "Preliminary estimates suggest the first team arrived forty-five minutes after the attack occurred, and other teams arrived within the following ten minutes. Combat-ready cruisers have already pulled back from the scene, as there seems to be no further threat in the area.

"Initial scans indicate that the Chameleon-class was struck multiple times by some sort of new weapon that, in the words of the investigation team, melted straight through the ship's hull to the other side and vaporized every single internal system it came into contact with." He shook his head. "Worth noting is that the heat required to melt military-grade durasteel is roughly two thousand degrees Kelvin."

Dawn hummed to herself quietly, frankly a little impressed. Curaçao had said Havoc destroyed the ship entirely herself, and while she wanted to assume this was just Havoc exaggerating and boasting in a pathetic display of machismo from a mare, she knew there was no use denying it. The only other option would be that Queen Blackburn had secretly armed the Wyvern with powerful weaponry, which Dawn knew wasn't the case.

Speaking of which: "I have it under good authority that Her Majesty's airship was not equipped with any such armaments," she said, her eyes darting between both Underhoof and Hotstreak. "Ambassador Gray Skies communicated with me moments prior to the Wyvern's departure, and I trust her familiarity with the ship."

Underhoof raised an eyebrow. "Then what's responsible for the damage to the Chameleon? Commander Havoc? I wasn't under the impression that her flamethrower weaponry was capable of that level of destruction."

"For the moment, let us assume that there was a malfunction with the Chameleon's internal systems that caused a readout error in their damage reports," Hotstreak said, tilting his head and steepling his hooves. "Considering all of the hardware malfunctions within the NPAF airfield and shipyards related to the Chameleon over the past twenty-four hours, I must assume that the cruiser itself suffered similar issues."

"Of course," Underhoof said with a nod, clearly taking the hint that the issue was to be dropped; it was unimportant to the matter at hoof and made little difference otherwise.

"At any rate, all of our scans thus far have indicated there were no survivors on the Chameleon-class. The ship's entire internal infrastructure suffered massive damage. I was not exaggerating when I said that the innards of the ship were vaporized. That includes the crew."

Dawn hummed. "How many casualties would you estimate were suffered?"

"Assuming a full operating structure, that would be one hundred casualties. We're unsure if the cruiser was operating with a full crew, however, or utilizing automated AMP systems to fill the necessary positions."

"Either way, this indicates a lack of any potential witnesses from our perspective apart from Commander Havoc," Dawn said simply, finishing with a sigh of annoyance. "You are absolutely certain that there are no culprits to which we can assign blame or suspects that we can interrogate?"

"Unfortunately, Miss Dawn, no." Hostreak sighed, removed his hat, and ran a hoof through his sweaty mane. "Until the attack occurred—or rather, the disappearance of the Chameleon—I was under the assumption that the seditious elements within the NPAF had been dealt with accordingly. Not only does it seem that I was mistaken, but I have no way of knowing if there are more."

Dawn instantly snapped her gaze to Underhoof. "Director, I am entrusting you with the responsibility of uncovering any further NPAF corruption, effective immediately."

"Are you sure about that?" Underhoof asked, raising an eyebrow. "If I get involved with what seems to be an NPAF internal affair, word is going to get out. It could sour the reputation—"

"The reputation of the NPAF is the least of my concerns presently, Director," Dawn hissed. "It has been made abundantly clear that this seditionist movement is far more resourceful and secretive than we were initially led to believe. I will not have the peace efforts that I have endeavored to make a reality for years spoiled by some pathetic warmongering buffoons operating under our noses."

Hotstreak's mustache bristled angrily. "Miss Dawn, with all due respect—"

"No. Do not attempt to finagle yourself out of this, Admiral. I have spoken, and the CIA will be handling this investigation moving forward."

"Very well…" Hotstreak cleared his throat. "I have further data to present, of course." He tapped another key, and the next data packet opened, which displayed a series of lines of command code that Dawn had trouble parsing through at a glance. 

"What is this, Admiral?" Dawn asked, adjusting her glasses to read it more clearly.

"Looks like AMP command data to me," said Underhoof, rubbing her chin. "Complicated command data, too. Lots of complex functions not included in standard-issue orders. Coded orders too, to make it more difficult to interpret at a glance."

"My crews recovered some of the Chameleon's AMP Trooper data cores that weren't destroyed in the battle," Hotstreak explained. "Most of them were found around the site, destroyed by small arms fire, not by any airship-mounted weaponry. This indicates that the royal family's bodyguards were involved in combat, likely defending the interior of the Wyvern from a boarding party."

"A perfectly justifiable action," Dawn said with a firm nod. "We cannot fault them for engaging in self-defense. All evidence thus far suggests the attack was completely unprovoked."

"What's interesting in the command data is that there were lots of complicated orders being issued, as Director Underhoof keenly observed, and which my technicians have managed to decipher. The AMPs were not set to simple 'board and neutralize' commands as is typical of our pre-ceasefire operations."

"Oh?"

"From what I've been told, the command orders suggest that…" Hotstreak leaned back and sighed. "The command orders suggest that the AMPs were attempting to abduct the children of Queen Blackburn and King Lockwood, to leave the Queen and King alive, and to kill or incapacitate any other resistance."

"What? Why?" asked a shocked Underhoof. "Wasn't the Chameleon trying to shoot down the Wyvern in the first place?"

"Without any survivors to interrogate, I don't have an answer to that. I can speculate, certainly, but I don't see what good that would do. Without a detailed report from Commander Havoc, I don't know the particulars of the attack." 

Dawn nodded. "Then I shall ensure that such a report is delivered posthaste."

Hotstreak replaced his hat on his head. "In any case, I managed to keep the entire situation under wraps, as it should be. A 'routine training exercise' for the search-and-rescue teams, and a little manipulation of the scheduling so that Her Majesty's visit was delayed due to the upcoming dust storm. Nopony will question it."

"Exemplary foresight, Admiral," Dawn snorted derisively. "If only I could claim the same to be true of your handling of internal affairs."

Hotstreak paused a moment, clearly struck by the weight of those words. "With Director Underhoof's support, I don't foresee any further issues on that front. As I said, all of the evidence I had at hoof suggested that we'd quashed the insurrection completely over the past few years."

"Evidently not." 

Dawn then steepled her hooves and stared right at Hostreak's image, barely keeping her aggravation in check. The admiral was supposed to be one of her most loyal allies, and her father had spoken highly of him and his capabilities in his personnel reports. She'd expected so much more, and yet here they were with enough disappointment to share.

"Admiral," she said after a moment's thought, "I am of the opinion that in the wake of this catastrophic turn of events, it would be unwise of me to permit such ineptitude to continue."

He raised an eyebrow. "Miss Dawn?"

"I am invoking Committee Guideline Article Two and exerting my authority insofar as the constitution of this Committee is concerned, namely the authorization of power to designate when a sitting member requires dismissal due to gross dereliction of duties.

"There will be a priority Committee meeting scheduled for dawn tomorrow—no delays will be accepted. You will formally announce your resignation as Admiral of the NPAF at said meeting, and you will recommend that I appoint your replacement rather than you appointing your own. For justification, there was an… unfortunate accident during the training exercise."

Hotstreak slumped back in his seat, his expression faltering. "I can't say that this surprises me, but… I'm still stunned by it." He shook his head. "Miss Dawn, if I might ask you to reconsider the matter of appointing my replacement. I have been grooming my son, Jetstream, for the position—"

Dawn huffed, narrowing her eyes. "And if he shares in his father's ineptitude, then he would be an ill-advised choice for the role."

"Please, Miss Dawn. He's worked together with Commander Havoc on many occasions, and the two are good friends. She will vouch for his capabilities."

"If you are so insistent, then perhaps I will consider including him in the potential pool of candidates that I will organize."

Hotstreak, looking quite defeated and not at all satisfied, merely nodded once. "That… is the most I can ask for, I suppose, given the circumstances. Is this a full retirement from the NPAF, or just from the Committee posting?"

"I believe that in your advanced age, Admiral, your commanding capabilities have diminished sufficiently enough that I would suggest a full retirement, just to ensure no further incidents."

"I see. Very well… I will make the announcement tomorrow morning."

"Excellent." She swiftly turned to Underhoof. "Director, you have your assignment. I expect prompt results. I will not tolerate similar ineptitude from your department. Understood?"

Underhoof's eyes were on Hotstreak at the moment, but she nodded. "Yes, Miss Dawn. I'll take care of everything."

"Then we are adjourned. I must prepare statements and apologies to deliver to the royal family, appoint a new NPAF Admiral, and collaborate with them on how best to approach our next attempt at a peace summit. Until tomorrow's meeting Director Underhoof, Admiral Hotstreak."

With that, she shut off the conference call, removed her glasses, and slumped back into her seat, feeling utterly exhausted.

No, today had not been a good day.


*****


Late that night, Havoc stared up at the ceiling of her hospital room, feeling as relaxed as she imagined was possible given the circumstances, and just let her mind wander. It had been difficult to keep her thoughts coherent over the past several hours; the painkillers drained her of her lucidity so much sometimes that she felt as though her mind and body were on different planets, let alone part of the same mare. It took a lot of effort just to focus her eye on a single ceiling tile.

Today was supposed to have been awesome. Instead, it had been awful, and that was in every sense of the word. She felt worse than she'd ever felt before. Angry. Sad. Disappointed. Confused. Every negative emotion she could think of just described how she felt so perfectly that there was no sense in picking just one, and then there was the physical pain and discomfort on top of it all.

No, today had not been a good day.

A light knock at the door indicated that she had company, though, which was odd. The nurse wasn't supposed to be back for another hour to check up on her and maybe administer another heaping helping of pain medication, and the doctor wasn't on duty again until morning unless there was an emergency. Visiting hours were long over, too.

Then the door cracked open a smidge, and Havoc saw the familiar face of Cotton Rose tentatively poke her head into the room. Cotton smiled immediately when she saw that Havoc was awake, then entered the room quietly and closed the door behind her. She was wearing a cute polyester blouse and a long, ruffled skirt that both matched the colors of the medical staff: dull green.

"Cotton?" Havoc muttered, rising up in bed just a little. "What are you doing here?"

"Coming to visit you, dummy," Cotton said with a grin as she approached the right side of the bed.

Havoc immediately tugged the bedsheets up so that her entire body was covered, save for her head and bits of her neck. She did it without even thinking, actually; it just happened automatically, as if on instinct. She even found herself tilting her head to the left so that her bandaged eye socket was against the pillow as much as possible, hidden from view.

As if noticing Havoc's turn, Cotton shifted around the left of the bed instead, pulling a little chair over in the process so that she could sit. "How are you feeling?"

"I've been better," Havoc grunted, barely containing the frustration in her tone; not frustration with Cotton, mind, but the whole situation.

Cotton frowned, but nodded slowly. "Sorry. I didn't mean that to sound insensitive. I know you're not feeling good, being in the hospital and all. It's just that the nurses wouldn't tell me anything when I tried to visit earlier, since we're not related or anything."

Havoc's good eye drifted up to Cotton, curious. "You tried to visit earlier?"

"Yeah, but like I said, we're not related, so they're not taking just anypony as visitors yet." Cotton smiled again and gestured proudly at her clothes. "Sooo, I went back home and put together this little ensemble. I look enough like a nurse that nopony stopped me on my way through the hall. I had to be pretty sneaky, though."

"You snuck in here? To visit me?"

"Of course I did," Cotton said, tilting her head and looking as if the question Havoc had asked had been incredibly stupid. "I mean, I heard on the news that you got hurt saving Her Majesty and the royal family. The whole city knows what you did. You're a hero. More than ever before."

"Oh. I guess that makes sense, yeah. I didn't really expect anypony to tell you anything." Havoc sighed, shaking her head softly. "Sorry if I don't seem like it, but I am glad to see you. I guess I just wasn't expecting you so soon. Or to sneak in to see me. You couldn't wait until regular visiting hours?"

"Psh, no. I had to see you, sooner rather than later." Cotton shook her head, and her expression turned angry. "I had to tell you how stupid I think you are, you idiot. You almost got yourself killed today."

Havoc blinked, surprised and confused; why was Cotton so angry about this? She'd never been angry before about Havoc risking her life. "I mean… yeah, but nopony else could've done what I did."

"I know that, but that doesn't mean I'm not upset with you about getting hurt." Cotton reached her hoof out towards Havoc's covers. "How bad is it, anyway? Nopony knows except the ponies they'll tell, but you can tell me—"

Havoc instinctively shied away from Cotton's hoof, tugging the covers close. "It's not that bad, but Doc says I gotta keep it covered up."

"Oh, yeah, I imagine you've got a few bandages under there," Cotton said with a sagely nod. She reached her hoof out again. "But I'm gonna make you a new jacket to wear over it while you're recovering, so I need to have an idea about where—"

Havoc tugged the covers closer. "No, that's okay. Any old jacket oughta do. Whatever you make will be fine, I'm sure of it. I love all the jackets you make for me, you know that. I wear them all the time. Warm in the winter, airy in the summer, and they look boss. Yup."

Cotton tilted her head. "I know I make good clothes, bunbun, but I want to make sure it breathes in all the right areas and covers you up so that you'll feel comfortable. I need to know where I have to pay the most attention to. Why are you acting so weird?"

"What? I'm not acting weird," Havoc scoffed. "You're the one who's acting weird, babe."

"No, you're acting weird. Why are you trying to hide from me?" Cotton frowned. "Is it bad? Oh no, did… did your wing get hurt? I'm so sorry, I should've thought about that."

"No, it's not like that. I mean, yeah, I got pretty banged up, but my wing's fine. I just, uh, don't want you to see anything until I'm all patched up. Wouldn't want you to get squeamish, y'know?"

Cotton gave Havoc a half-lidded stare. "Havoc. You know I'm not the squeamish type. I watched you slice yourself open trying to cut limes for tequila shots just two months ago. I took you to the emergency room and everything. And it wasn't the first time either, 'cause you're a klutz-and-a-half in the kitchen."

"Oh. Oh, right. This is, uh… different. Yeah. And I, uh… don't want you to see it."

"Bunbun, you're never like this. So… shy. It's totally unlike you, and it's scaring me." Cotton set her hoof on Havoc's good one, the one on top of the covers. "Please, just tell me what's wrong?"

Havoc paused, staring into Cotton's eyes, then sighed and muttered so quietly that she was surprised anypony could hear: "I don't want you to see me like this…"

"What? I've seen you hurt before—"

"Not like this you haven't. And… and it's not going to get better. Doc says a lot of the damage is permanent. I'm gonna have these scars for the rest of life, most likely. And worse."

Cotton froze, then gulped quietly, her expression soft and gentle. "You don't have to hide it from me, Havoc."

Havoc considered Cotton for a moment, then closed her good eye, nodded slowly, and turned her head so that Cotton could see the bandaged eye socket clearly. She also tugged her sheets down and lifted up her hospital gown so that Cotton could see the extent of the injuries. Her Restomancy treatments had finished their healing process by now, so the nurses had removed all of the gauze.

Havoc's entire left side, from her face all the way down to her flank, was covered in ghastly scarring. Shrapnel impacts had torn into her, and the surgery required to remove them so that they didn't kill her had apparently been neither noninvasive nor gentle. Havoc had unknowingly cauterized most to the wounds herself before she even got to the hospital. What remained were nothing but burn scars, including one that almost completely obscured her cutie mark on that side of her body.

Cotton's hooves rose to her mouth as she gasped. "Oh my stars! Havoc, what the hell happened? This isn't 'pretty bad', this is terrible." A glance at Havoc's eye made her frown. "Oh no, don't tell me your eye, too… oh, Havoc…"

"I know…" Havoc sighed, setting her gown back down to hide herself away again. "That's why I didn't want you to see it. I got fucked up, and you shouldn't have to see me like this." She rolled back onto her side, this time facing away from Cotton. "I'd understand completely if you don't want to see it again."

"What?"

"You heard me. With all this shit all over me, I'd get it. Plus I still have no idea what I'm gonna do about my eye," she said, tapping the bandage there. "So, y'know… if you don't want to see it or me again, I'd get it."

Cotton was silent for a long moment. "You think that just because you got hurt and have a few scars that I'd never want to see you again?" she asked, almost incredulous.

Havoc turned slightly. "I mean, yeah? You wanted to see how bad it was so you'd know if I still looked good, didn't you?"

"Bunbun… Havoc… I don't care about any of that. I didn't want to see how it looked because I care if you're still attractive. It's because I worry about you. I'm always worried about you."

"Huh?" Havoc asked, rolling all the way onto her back so that she could look at Cotton again.

Cotton got up from her seat and sat on the edge of the hospital bed. "You go out into the Wasteland all the time to fight against big, scary bugs that frequently used to kill ponies. You're always putting yourself in harm's way, and I'm always worried that you're gonna come back hurt, or… or that you won't come back at all."

Havoc let a little smirk come to her lips. "Why would you be worried about that? I'm awesome."

Cotton scowled. "Why wouldn't I be worried that the mare that I love is in danger?!" she snapped, her hooves coming down onto the pillow on either side of Havoc's head.

Havoc blinked, frozen in place for a long moment as she tried to process what was said. Had she misheard Cotton because of the pain meds? "Did… did you just—"

Cotton paused, then gave a little nervous smile, her face redder than Havoc's coat. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I did."

"I, uh… I thought we were just, y'know, fuck buddies, or dating at best?"

"And if that's how you want things to keep going, then that's fine with me." Cotton said, giving Havoc another gentle smile. "But after seeing you like this and knowing how close I came to losing you? I needed you to know that I love you. I have for a while, but… I wasn't ready to say it. I'll understand if you don't feel the same, but—"

Havoc grabbed Cotton and pulled her down onto the bed, kissing her gently, but only briefly. When she pulled away, she gave Cotton a dumb little smile, keeping their foreheads together and ignoring the returning pain in her side. She couldn't even stop herself from crying, something she never did in front of anypony, ever.

"I was so scared that you'd never want to see me again," Havoc breathed, sniffing and she tried to fight back the tears. "Nopony's ever made me feel like you do."

Cotton, also with a dumb little smile on her face, brushed Havoc's mane out of the way of her good eye. "So, does this mean you do feel the same?"

"I wouldn't be scared like that if I didn't want to be with you. I love you too, Cotton. More than anypony."

"That makes me so happy to hear that."

"I… I have for a long time, and… I kinda want to be with you for, uh… forever, I guess." Havoc loudly sniffed and took a deep breath; the tears were making this harder than it had to be. "Shit, I'm bad at this. I blame the pain meds. They've had me hopped up on some powerful shit. It's starting to wear off a bit, but uh… yeah."

Cotton looked absolutely stunned. "Are… are you asking me to—"

"Oh no no, marriage ain't my deal. I'm not wife material." Havoc paused, then hastily and nervously cleared her throat. "N-not that, I… I wouldn't want to marry you. It's just that marriage is… not my deal. I don't want to be anypony's 'wife' or walk down an aisle in a frou-frou white dress."

"There's more to being married than wearing a dress down an aisle, bunbun," Cotton said with a quirked grin. "Besides, I'd be wearing the dress. I could make you a snappy little tuxedo fit for a mare. Ooh, or, you could wear your dress uniform, the one you wore to your sister's wedding. In fact, yeah, wear that. You're extra hot in uniform," she added, biting her lip.

Havoc blushed, imagining Cotton walking down an aisle in a lovely white wedding dress. She shook that thought away though; she needed to focus. "Okay, so… maybe a little private ceremony sounds… nice. Really nice. I never thought of that. Just the two of us and like, an officiator or something?"

"That sums it up, yeah. Lots of couples do it like that these days."

"Good, 'cause like, you wanted to visit earlier right? But you couldn't, because you're not family? Well, if you and I were, uh… married, they wouldn't have a problem with it. So, let's do that. I'll get Queen Bee on it in the morning. She'll figure something out to get it done quick and easy-like."

"Wow, you're really gung-ho about this, aren't you?" Cotton snickered.

"Hell yes I am. I love you, and I want you to be… part of my family." Havoc gulped and took one of Cotton's hooves in her good one. "So, uh… let me try this again. The right way." She paused again. "Wait, shit, I don't have a ring or anything—"

"Just ask me the question, dummy," Cotton interjected,

"Oh. O-okay." 

Havoc took another deep, deep breath; her nerves were acting up something fierce, and the painkillers had long since worn off but she wasn't going to let a little pain get in the way of the most important moment of her life. 

"Cotton… will you m-marry me?"

Cotton stayed quiet for a moment, then grinned and booped Havoc's nose gently with her free hoof. "Absolutely. I love you, Havoc, and I would love to spend my life together with you."

Havoc let out a sigh of relief, feeling like the entire world had just done the same. "Cool. Cool cool cool, super cool." Another breath. "So, uh… now that this is kind of 'official', or whatever… what exactly do we call each other here? Like I said, I don't want to be a 'wife'. Is… is 'wife' good with you, or…?"

"You can call me your 'partner' and I'll do the same for you, if that's what you'd prefer. I know things sometimes get complicated with these sorts of marriages."

Havoc smirked. "'Partner'? What, like we're in fucking business together?"

Cotton waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Oh, there'll be fucking business, for sure." 

She leaned in and kissed Havoc again, though this time it wasn't quite a soft, gentle kiss, and it made Havoc's heart beat just a little faster. Havoc's left hoof—she didn't want to call it the "bad" hoof because it wasn't, but it wasn't "good" like her right—slid up Cotton's side and snaked its way under Cotton's skirt—

Somepony cleared their throat from the doorway. Havoc and Cotton looked to see that it was the nurse. "Ahem?" she said, expression disapproving but… intrigued?

"Oh, uh… I was just—" Cotton muttered, eyes wide with worry. 

Havoc realized that Cotton would get in trouble for sure; she wasn't supposed to be here, seeing as they were actually married yet. "It's my fault! I… I asked her to come here!" she blurted.

"I'm supposed to be administering Miss Havoc's pain medication soon," the nurse said flatly. She lifted her foreleg up to glance at her watch. "I'll be back in two minutes, so any unauthorized visitors had better not be here when I get back."

"Y-yeah, sure—" Cotton started.

"And they'd probably want to come to my nurse station to get themselves added to the permission list, which does allow for engaged partners to visit, by the way. Speaking of which, congratulations."

Cotton blinked, stunned. "Um… r-right." She glanced at Havoc briefly, then back to the nurse, biting her lip as she did. "Only two minutes?"

The nurse narrowed her eyes in disbelief. "Two. Minutes. Starting… now. My patient's in no condition for anything… strenuous. Understand?"

"Spoilsport," Havoc muttered under her breath.

"I can make it one minute if you'd like?" the nurse quipped.

Havoc slapped her right hoof over her mouth.

The nurse then left the room. Havoc and Cotton turned back to look at each other, chuckled and giggled respectively, then returned to their kissing and… well, a little light petting wouldn't hurt anypony.

Maybe today wasn't so terrible after all.
> Chapter Seventeen: Twist
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Winter was growing impatient. She'd expected it to take some time to find a way into the old ruins of the gryphon city buried deep in the Goldridge Mountains, but hadn't expected it to take this long. She grew more frustrated with every cavern complex she, Hourglass, and Sunspire explored whilst moving through the mountain range, if only because the shifts in the terrain forced them to take roundabout routes.

Passing through the caverns was never an unpleasant experience, at least. The winds and dust of the Wastelands in recent years didn't reach down here, nor was there ever a threat of Gargantuans, so this was the only place where one could travel without worry. Most traveling parties, as far as Winter knew, would either take a leisurely pace through the cavernous tunnels to relax, or rush through quickly knowing they didn't have to worry about dangers. It was only a problem if you were claustrophobic or nyctophobic.

The walls of the caves were dotted with various gemstones of disparate sizes, ranging from rubies the size of a raisin to emeralds the size of a pony's hoof. Different parts of the caves tended to have higher concentrations of different gems—the portion she and her wards were moving though now had an abundance of topaz—so most ponies who frequented the region used that as a sort of mapping mechanism.

Supposedly, even high-quality magic-conducting gems could be found in the deepest parts of the caves, though they were rare and thus difficult to find. Nopony knew exactly why, but the general assumption is that whatever magic the gryphons used to turn the entire mountain range into solid gold had something to do with it.

The interior of the mountains weren't well lit, of course, so the group required a light source, which Winter provided with a simple illumination spell. She relaxed her magic in areas where light from outside the caves poured in, but these areas were few and far between. The most recent one they'd been through had been hours ago, a gigantic cavern occupied by an underground lake and dozens of twisting, turning paths.

Now, Winter had never actually been to the ruins herself, but she was aware of where they were and aware of which cavern complexes led to the accessible entry points. It had taken the trio several days from the Checkpoint to reach the closest, most feasible entryway, which now stood before them. The only problem was that there was something wrong with it:

"A bloody cave-in? Really?" Hourglass blurted as she strode up to the rocks that were blocking the way forward. She set her hoof upon one and tried to move it, but it didn't budge an inch. "Wonderful! Just fantastic, this is."

Sunspire tilted his head as he examined the structure, removing his goggles in the process. "The cave-in appears completely natural. It isn't an illusion, I mean, and it wasn't caused by any magical means, at least not recently enough to leave a residue."

"Fat lot of help that is." Hourglass looked to Winter. "What are we supposed to do? I don't think we're strong enough to move all this rock, at least not quickly or easily, not even if we worked together."

"No, I don't think so either," Winter said, setting her hoof on the rock as well and attempting to budge something loose; nothing happened, of course, but she could at least say she’d tried. "The rock's been here a long while if it's in there so tight. Had time to settle, eh? Got lots of dirt and such in all the nooks and crannies."

"So we need to find another entrance, is that it? Isn't the nearest one on the opposite side of the mountains?"

"And then some, yup." Winter glanced off towards the southern exit of the big cavern. "If my memory serves, we could take the southern exit here and then hike through the eastern side of the mountains back up north. Might take us a few days." She then turned north. "Or, we head through the northern exit and see if we can skirt around that way. Could save us half a day."

"That doesn't sound ideal," Sunspire said, tapping his chin. "We don't know if we're under any sort of urgent time limit, certainly, but the sooner we find the source of the troubles, the better. Right?"

"The only other option is diggin' through the rock, but I can't tell how deep this cave-in goes, so I don't know how long that'll take. Hours? Days? Longer?"

"Are you sure there isn't another entrance that's closer, maybe?"

Hourglass grunted and poked Sunspire lightly in the side. "Don't be a wanker, Sunsy. Winter knows these caverns inside and out. If there was another entrance, she'd have suggested it already." With a sidelong look to Winter, she asked, "Right?"

"Myself and my predecessors mapped these caverns out long before now," Winter said with a nod. "The only entrances I know of—that any of them knew of—are the ones I've mentioned."

Sunspire nervously cleared his throat. "Wh-what I meant is, since there was a cave-in here that blocked one of the entrances, maybe something similar has happened elsewhere in the caverns and opened up a new entrance?"

Winter tapped her chin in thought; the kid was always quick with alternative ideas. Just a reminder of—

"Hmm. I won't rule out the possibility,” she said, kicking those thoughts out, “but we'd have to search for evidence of a new passage. That could take time, more time than just headin' out along the known paths towards the other entrances." After a pause, she muttered, "Then again, who's to say the other entrances aren't blocked too, eh?"

"So we're just supposed to wander around the bloody caves until we find something, or hope that the other passages aren't blocked?" Hourglass scoffed. "Well, that's just peachy. This just keeps getting better and better. What's next, are the caverns gonna flood?"

"Don't tempt fate, Hourglass," Winter tutted, giving Hourglass a hard look. "Chronomancer luck tends not to be the most stellar thing in the world, so I’d rather not jinx it."

"I mean, if you’d like, I could help us find another entrance," Sunspire tepidly suggested.

Hourglass raised an eyebrow. "What? How?"

"I can see the source of the magic we're supposed to be searching for, remember? It's been getting clearer by the day."

"And you’re sure it still hasn't moved from where we detected it initially?" asked Winter.

He shook his head. "No, it's still in the ruins as far as I can tell. I can't tell if the reason it's clearer is just because we're getting closer, or if because the source is getting stronger, or maybe a combination of the two. But it's definitely still in the same place." 

He then gestured towards the wall of rock. "More importantly, I can see traces of it filtering out through the cracks in the rock. They might be small traces because they’re small cracks, but I can still see them."

Hourglass blinked. "Huh. So you think you can find another route if we follow the source?"

"I believe so, yes."

Winter chuckled, then playfully tousled the colt's mane. "Well then, aren't we lucky to have you along? You're feelin' up to it, though? I know ya said usin' that vision of yours give ya headaches, so you’re sure your head's feelin' alright enough to move forward?"

Sunspire nodded, his expression determined. "I'll be fine."

"Well, if you're sure, then lead the way. Just watch your step, eh?"

It felt strange having somepony else leading her through the caves again. The last time that she'd been through here and not been in command of the situation had been when her predecessor, Early Riser, had been training her many, many years ago. 

That old pegasus was long retired now, and had opted to move somewhere on the southern continent, like his predecessor before him, and so on. Winter planned on retiring to Hope's Point instead and getting good and drunk; southern alcohol was good, but boring, and the Hope’s Point folk knew how to get good and rotten better than anypony.

Anyway, it was even stranger to not just be following somepony else, but for that somepony else to be a colt less than half her age, a colt just barely going through the early stages of puberty at that. Sunspire was a diligent young pony, though, and learned quickly enough that he knew even without Winter's warning to watch his step so that he didn't topple off the edge of a cavernous pit while trying to follow the magical trail that only he could see.

They wandered for hours, taking a break for a late dinner at one point, before they found anything of note. Sunspire had led them along a path that Winter knew well enough, then pointed out a fractured section of wall off to the side, which Winter was certain had been solid the last time she'd been through here. Then again, that had been years ago, before she started training Hourglass, even before Twilight and her friends had tumbled into the world.

"I can see lots of the magic’s signature trailing out of cracks in the wall here," the colt said with a confident grin. "That means there's an open path on the other side that leads towards the source, most likely unobstructed."

Winter stepped up to the wall and tapped it with her hoof a few times in different places. "Good find, kid. This'll do."

The rock seemed solid, but the structural damage was sufficient enough that she was confident that she could break it apart. The cracks were so wide that she could feel air moving through and could tell that the wall was relatively thin here. They'd passed by a few such damaged chunks of rock, but this was the only one so far that Sunspire said was important. If he was confident, then so was she.

She gestured for the younger ponies to stand back, then took her canteen from her satchel, splashed it over the weak spots in the wall, then lit up her horn and froze the water solid for a few seconds before immediately melting it back to water, then instantly freezing it again. Cryomancy—ice magic—was just a specialty of hers, and had a variety of uses beyond just defending herself in a fight.

In this case, the rapid freezing and thawing of the ice eroded the rock far faster than was natural, and expended far less magical energy than blasting it apart with brute force would. As such, though it took several minutes, the stone weakened enough that Winter was able to chip away at it with her hoof and a little bit of effort, using her magic in light bursts to clear away larger frozen chunks.

On the other side of the wall, it was clear that Sunspire's theory had been correct: another cave-in had occurred here, ripping out portions of rock and dumping them into another cavern below. Winter cast out a light to see that the cavern went on for quite a long way, and could see that the rest of the nearby rock had stabilized enough that there was no imminent danger of subsequent cave-ins.

"This cavern is new to me," Winter muttered, tilting her head to get a better viewpoint. "It doesn't lead in from any route that I know of, at any rate. Looks completely natural too, meanin' nopony's been through here often enough to make a proper passage."

She took out her Timekeeper and twisted the dials just so, displaying a three-dimensional image of her map, specifically of the Goldridge Mountains. She was able to find their current location and trace the path of the passage they were currently in as it twisted about from the central cavern complex and made its way up towards one of the smaller northern hubs. The path below them, though, was not included on the map whatsoever.

She turned to the younger ponies. "This entire cavern complex has been mapped out extensively over hundreds of years, but this passage isn't on it. That means nopony's been in it before, which means it's either new or has been completely undiscovered for centuries."

"But we’re sure it leads into the ruins?" asked Hourglass, looking a bit more curious than Winter ever remembered her being.

"If Sunspire's magic sight is accurate, it should," Winter replied. She glanced at her map, then gave a satisfied nod. "And we're not too far from our destination, either. Maybe another few hours or so of walkin' through, hopefully. If it's a straight shot through, which it probably isn't. Probably better than the alternatives in any case, though, eh?"

"Huh." Hourglass nudged Sunspire and gave him a friendly grin. "Good show, chap. Bravo."

Sunspire, having replaced his goggles now that they'd found the way forward, was practically beaming. "I'm glad I could help."

Winter lit up her horn to keep the light around the group, then gestured for them to follow. "Stay close to me goin' forward, yeah? If this cavern's new, we don't know what might be further in, and I don't want ya fallin' into some hole."

The two younger ponies gathered close, staying just a step behind Winter as she led them forward.

This new cavern was indeed not a straight shot through. It twisted about in ungainly curves and wasn't terribly easy to navigate through. Some parts of the path were narrower than the rest of the cave, and the group needed to squeeze or crawl through to move forward. Winter was never so glad that she was so small until now. Thankfully Hourglass and Sunspire, despite being half her age and younger, were also able to fit through, a benefit of their youth.

They had to skirt around pits on occasion, some wide enough to force them to shimmy along the walls at a snail's pace to avoid falling. Times like these were when Winter wished she were a pegasus instead of a unicorn, or that at least somepony in the group was. Shimmying along wasn't terribly difficult for her, but she was worried about Hourglass and Sunspire making it across safely. There weren't exactly any good anchors for a rope.

One thing Winter noticed about this part of the caves was that the amount of gemstones studding the walls was significantly lower. If not for the otherwise high concentration elsewhere, even just outside where they'd first entered, she'd have never given it much attention. There was hardly a topaz in sight, and not a single specimen of any other type of gem for that matter.

As the trio approached what appeared to be a larger section of the cavern, they all saw something very odd: a light source. It was faint, whatever it was, far dimmer than Winter's own light spell. She even dimmed her magic down to nothing just to make sure the light source ahead was actually generating its own light, not just reflecting hers; it wasn’t, so, it couldn't be water or crystal or anything of that sort.

As they drew closer, Winter found that the light source was some sort of bioluminescent… stuff. It certainly didn't resemble any type of moss or fungi that Winter knew of, and those sorts of things almost universally couldn’t survive in the Wastelands or elsewhere anyway; maybe here because of the moisture? It more closely resembled slime or mucus, at any rate.

"Gross," Hourglass muttered, making a visible gagging motion as she looked upon their discovery. "What the bloody hell is this stuff?"

"Can't say for sure,” Winter replied. “I've never encountered anythin' like it in all my years of travelin' these parts.”

She scooped a clump of the stuff off of the nearest wall with her magic to examine it more closely. The goop was certainly viscous, not unlike a particularly thick paste, and it was translucent like gelatin. Little particles inside it were the actual source the glow, it seemed. It smelled unpleasant, akin to the musk of a moldy old locker room shower that hadn't been cleaned in days.

"Eww!" Hourglass blanched as she watched Winter's examination. "Winter, gross! What are you doing? Don't touch it!"

Winter snorted in amusement, giving Hourglass a cheeky grin. "Oh don't be such a wuss, ya wuss. Can't exactly find out what this stuff is without given' it a little look-see, eh?"

"Empirical information is the foremost method for learning about an unfamiliar substance," Sunglass said in his most Dawn-like statement to date, though his wary, nauseous expression horribly contrasted with the sage wisdom of his words.

"So she can use her eyes! She doesn't need to touch it!" Hourglass sputtered, looking more and more like she was about to throw up.

Winter slopped the glob of goo she'd been examining back onto the wall, then gestured for the others to follow her forward. "Whatever it is, I’ll have to catalogue it as a new substance, but we'll worry about that after we deal with our little anomalous issue, eh? Let's get movin' on."

Hourglass shuddered. "Please and thank you." She then glanced down at the path ahead, eyes wide with terror. "Oh gross! It's all over the bloody floor too! Eww eww eww! Do we have to go this way?"

"Yes, we have to. Sometimes our line of work gets pretty gross, y'know? But ya can't wuss out just because ya don't want ta put your hoof in somethin' nasty." Winter shrugged, a cheeky grin on her lips. "If ya can't handle waded through a bit of grimey goo, then I don't know how ya expect to deal with everythin' else this job throws at ya."

"Look, there're some things that I can put with, yeah? I can stomach a bit of blood, I can handle pain and stress and exhaustion, and I'll put up with having to get violent sometimes. But this? This is nasty. It smells like rancid mold and looks like somepony didn't digest their gelatin dessert quite right."

"Does describing it make it better somehow?" Sunspire asked, grimacing at a nearby wall of slop. "Because you're just putting images in my head that aren't exactly pleasant, and now I’m grossed out. I was fine until you said that."

"This is our only way through the caves, you two," Winter grunted, losing patience by the second for these inexperienced youths and their aversions. "So put on your big pony pants and follow me. I know it's nasty and gross and disgustin', but sometimes ya gotta do things ya don't want to do in order to put things right, no matter how unpleasant-but-necessary those things might be."

Hourglass paused, clearly mulling this over for a second, then sighed and nodded. "Ugh, fine. But I'm using what's left of your canteen to wash my hooves after we're out of this mess."

"Can… can I share?" Sunspire asked.

"And Sunsy gets to share," Hourglass added.

Winter rolled her eyes. "Deal."

The trio proceeded to move cautiously through the goop, and Hourglass's little whines with every few steps let Winter know her apprentice was right behind her. Sunspire, despite his own misgivings, was quiet throughout, a fact that Winter found amusing. The tables certainly did have a way of turning at times, and she made a mental note that this was going to be something she'd rib Hourglass about as she grew older and took over the Chronomancer position. She could see it now:

"Hey remember that time you whined about having to walk through smelly goo, Little Miss Prissy-Pants?”

Yes, the goop was nasty and felt absolutely disgusting underneath her hooves, and yes everypony's short heights just put them that much closer to the source of that horrid odor, but all-in-all it wasn't the absolute nastiest thing in the world Winter had ever done for the sake of work. She'd waded through fresh, roach-infested garbage before when a Void rift had opened in the city dump, for example. This was cake compared to that. At least there weren’t any bugs.

When they rounded the corner, Winter immediately stopped the two younger ponies, because now Winter was concerned, and a little bit angry at herself for jinxing the situation. Concerned enough that she couldn't contain her typical colorful vocabulary from reasserting itself:

"What the fuck?"

The passage opened up into a much larger chamber, which had a noticeably higher ceiling. That wasn't terribly important, though, not compared to what was contained within the cavern:

Eggs.

Dozens upon dozens of large eggs. Egg sacs, more precisely, resembling those that belonged to spiders, though each sac appeared to only contain a single egg. The eggs themselves were translucent, like the goo upon which the trio currently walked upon, colored a sickly green that dimly glowed due to small particles of stuff that floated in the gel. They were attached firmly to the floor via the goo that covered the entire chamber from top to bottom, solidified at the base of the egg to prevent it from wobbling and potentially rupturing.

Because the eggs were translucent, the trio was given a clear view at what was inside each of the eggs as well. Winter was fairly certain they were Gargantuans developing into the first stage of their nymph cycle; once they hatched, these young creatures would slowly grow larger and moult their exoskeletons as they did so, until they reached their full adult stage in roughly ten years.

But there was something… off about them. The lifecycle of a Gargantuan, even at this stage of their lives, had been thoroughly documented, especially in the past twenty years when Hope's Point started getting involved in the studies. She'd seen the scientific journals and studied them intently, since she encountered the creatures frequently enough that she wanted all the information she could have.

What was off about these Gargantuans was their shape. For one thing, they were smaller than she expected; a Gargantuan at this stage was typically as large as an average adult pony, so that when they transitioned to their second nymph stage and started hunting, they were twice that size. The ones in the eggs here were a bit smaller, roughly the size of a teenage pony, maybe younger, which was easy to measure with Hourglass and Sunspire present.

Not only that, their limb arrangement was different. Only four legs? That definitely wasn't right. With only the four, they completely lacked the dangerous mantis-like scythes they normally possessed. The legs were also located directly underneath their bodies in a standard sort of quadrupedal arrangement, eerily close to a pony's, though they still possessed arachnid joints and shapes.

They otherwise were arranged with relatively familiar anatomy, though their stingers were much shorter than they should have been, just barely longer than the average pony's tail; there was no way they'd be able to use that as an effective weapon. Not only that, but the head was no longer hidden inside the thick carapace, but extended outwards just slightly at the end of a sort of stringy "neck". The heads also only had four eyes instead of the usual arrangement of eight, located on the sides of the head where a pony's would be.

"Um… Winter?" Hourglass whispered, no longer sounding grossed out but legitimately scared. "Are those Gargantuans? Is this a nest?"

"Crikey, it certainly seems that way, doesn't it?" Winter whispered back.

"But that should be impossible, right? The Gargantuans stay away from the Goldridge Mountains. Right? Right?"

"That should be the case, yeah, and I'd call ya crazy for sayin' otherwise, but if ya tell me ya don't see the same thing I'm seein' I'd definitely still call ya crazy, or at least blind."

She looked about the chamber, easy enough to do with the lighting present, and saw what was left of an adult male Gargantuan in the far corner of the room, looking like nothing more than just a shell. It was a little larger than the average male, sure, but there was nothing else a carapace that large could belong to; queens were even bigger so it wasn't a queen's remains.

"The nest’s queen must've dragged one of the males in here to mate with and then feed off of," Winter pointed out. "Looks like she's storin' what's left of it for the young when they hatch. Which is… new, actually. Usually the young just fend for themselves."

"Speaking of the young, they don't look like they're developing properly," Sunspire said, his voice tinged with curiosity and wonder, and maybe a little bit of fear. "Is this some sort of mutation?"

Winter nodded. "If it affected the entire batch like this, it's a pretty serious mutation, the first one anypony's seen in one of these things in over a century or so. It’s a smaller brood, too, by the looks of it. Most clutches number in the hundreds, but this one here has only a few dozen. Consequence of the mutation?"

"Can we not talk about this here and now?" Hourglass hissed desperately. "We've gotta get out of here, fast."

"There's no worry about them hatching, Hourglass," Sunspire said matter-of-factly, not even the slightest bit unsure. "At their current size, they likely have weeks left of development before hatching."

"That's all well and good, but where there's a clutch and a nest, there's a queen, like Winter said. Gargantuan queens are the worst of the worst sort of news, and you'll pardon me if I don't want firsthoof experience dealing with one."

"Which reminds me," Winter noted, "I'll have to let Pewter know about this nest when we get back to the Checkpoint. I don't know if it'll be a threat to him directly, but other travelers should at least be aware of it. He mentioned the little kerfuffle goin' on out east, so this seems like a result of all that, eh?"

Winter then tapped her chin in thought. "Hmm. There are five known queens, two of which are dead, two of which were last seen waging a huge territorial war in the eastern Wastelands. That would mean…" Her eyes widened, her mouth curling in a little grin. "Well now, how about that, eh? We can tell Hope's Point we found where the missing Aculeata went."

"Wonderful, yes, but we can only do that if we get out of here."

"Right, yeah, let's get movin'." Winter glanced about, then pointed off towards the nearby wall, where the egg sacs weren't as numerous. "We can shimmy along here and find our way through." She turned to Sunspire. "Ya still got a bead on where we're goin', mate?"

Sunspire lifted off his goggles briefly, then nodded and replaced them. "The magic trail is coming from the opposite side of the room, so there's an opening in that direction of some sort."

"Good enough for me." 

She gestured for the two to follow behind her, then made her way along the wall, squeezing herself as close to the slime-covered rock as she could. The smell was worse than ever; she had to keep her head practically touching the goo in order to maneuver herself, which meant her nostrils were right next to the stuff. Breathing with her mouth didn't help any; she wasn't sure it was possible to taste smells, but she found she'd rather smell it than taste it.

As they made their way around the room, the trio eventually began snaking their way past the egg sacs further from the wall once it became clear they couldn't keep along that path, since several of the sacs were fastened to the walls as well. Winter could hear Hourglass whimpering as they moved along, mostly because they had to get close enough to the eggs to touch them, and not only did they smell worse than the rest of the goo did, but they were sticky.

Roughly halfway through the room, just when Winter was ready to breathe a sigh of relief, she felt a slight tremble in the floor. She immediately froze, as did the two younger ponies behind her.

"What was that?" asked Hourglass in a panicked whisper.

In answer to her question, the room trembled again slightly, this time from a more certain direction: behind them. The trio turned to see a section of wall move, turning slightly in place until there was no doubt whatsoever that it wasn't the wall that was moving, but something that had been resting against it, something very, very big.

Winter had never seen a Gargantuan queen up close before, but she knew they were huge, even compared to the adult males. An adult male was roughly the size of a large house, and the queens were nearly twice that size. Well, typically they were, anyway. The queen that Winter was looking at now was smaller than that, roughly the same size as an adult male, but there was no mistaking it as anything other than a queen Gargantuan.

This was because queens had two distinct features that the males did not: 

First were the wings, which folded inside their back carapace similarly to a ladybug or beetle, and yet typically resembled that of a wasp. This queen was no different in that regard, only that parts of her carapace seemed to be missing, allowing the wings to be freely visible once she'd turned around. They reflected the light of the glowing slime just barely, giving a clear indication where they and the queen were even in the relative darkness of the room.

Second was the protrusion just above her head, from which a queen could "spew" the acidic venom that she contained within her body rather than utilizing her stinger to administer it directly. The general placement was similar to a stag beetle's, though its shape was more comparable to a rhinoceros. Or actually, a unicorn, come to think of it. A twisted, sharp unicorn horn.

Winter was terrified at first that the queen had felt her, Hourglass, and Sunspire moving through the nest, since Gargantuans had a potent capability for sensing vibrations in the earth. However, the way the queen was moving gave Winter no indication that she had noticed anything of the sort. Winter glanced down at the goo coating her hoof and wondered if it was dulling the vibrations caused by their steps.

The queen moved awkwardly away from the wall and into a section of the room where there were no eggs and very little slime yet, whereupon the first thing she did was open up her huge mandibles and gave a sort of heaving motion. She then proceeded to vomit up a tremendous volume of translucent goo all over the floor and the nearby walls, the exact same sort of goo that the pony trio had been moving through this whole time.

Hourglass retched behind Winter, quietly enough that hopefully the queen couldn't hear her. Winter couldn't blame the young mare, really, and had to suppress the urge to emulate her. It wasn't every day you were gifted with the unique opportunity to wade through Gargantuan queen vomit; for generations, ponies had wondered what the slimy substance found in Gargantuan nests was, and now, Winter had the answer. 

Oh, what a day, what a lovely day, today was turning out to be.

The way the queen walked as she spewed slime on the floor was, again, quite awkward. Though it sounded nonsensical in her head, the only way Winter could think to describe it was somepony—a very young colt or filly, perhaps—wearing clothes belonging to a much larger adult. The steps were wide and plodding, and two of her legs barely even seemed to be moving. Her carapace seemed to be colored oddly as well, as if in the process of moulting, which queens didn't do anymore once they reached maturity.

A quick glance towards the carcass in the other corner of the room, then back to the queen, made Winter's mind race. That wasn't a carcass in the corner at all; that was the queen's moulted carapace. It was the only explanation for the size. And the queen before her now was smaller even than that carapace and still in the process of moulting further. Was the queen… getting smaller? That didn’t make—

Then, to Winter's horror, the queen started moving towards them. She swiftly gestured for the other two to crouch down to avoid being seen.

The queen lumbered over the nest, and despite the awkwardness of her movements there was an inexplicable grace to how accurately she placed her limbs so that she didn't step on any of her eggs. She actually seemed to be testing the floor gently with the tips of her legs before firmly setting them down as she went. The ground trembled slightly with every step, causing the eggs' contents to jiggle slightly.

As the queen moved, she would occasionally stop, heave a little, then vomit more slime onto barren patches within the nest, even those that were close to the egg sacs. It didn't seem to disturb the eggs at all, and in fact the spillover coated them and gave them all a healthier glow, causing the room to illuminate just a little brighter with every dumping of goo.

The trio watched as the queen stepped over them, apparently not noticing them at all. Come to think of it, she didn't even seem to be looking around, especially since she was using her legs to test where she was walking rather than watching with her eyes. It was like watching somepony feel their way around in the dark, despite the fact that the room was lit well enough that Winter didn't even need her illumination spell to see.

Was the queen blind?

Winter wasn't sure whether she should panic or laugh when the queen stopped just above them and let a rather large upheaving of goo spew out just a few feet away from them; Hourglass's hooves on her tail and flank indicated the young mare was revolted more than ever. Thankfully, not too much of the stuff splashed in their direction, and Winter was glad the queen had taken that extra step; a little closer and they’d have all been slathered in the stuff.

The slime smelled worse fresh than it did stagnant; there was nothing Winter could compare it to, and this was as somepony who had literally waded through—and tripped in!—hot, wet garbage at one point in her life. By the time the queen reached the other side of the room, Winter was fairly certain that her nose wasn't going to work right for weeks.

And then, to Winter's surprise, the queen started making an odd chattering noise, clicking her mandibles, and even vibrating her wings, all in a pattern that sounded almost… soothing? Musical, maybe? Whatever it was, Winter had never heard anything like it before, but the circumstances reminded her of a mother singing a lullaby after feeding her foal. Was the Gargantuan queen singing a lullaby to her clutch?

What in the hell was going on?

Since the queen seemed distracted for now, and since she didn't want to risk being noticed when the queen returned to the other side of the nest to rest in her alcove, Winter decided this was as opportune a time as any to move. She turned to Hourglass and Sunspire, gestured for them to keep quiet and stay low, then motioned for them to follow.

The trio now literally crawled their way along the slime-coated floor towards their original destination, moving slowly, carefully, but with purpose. The only indication they had that they were safe was the queen's "song" filling the air and a lack of tremors from her movements; so long as the queen was staying where she was and doing whatever it was she was doing, it meant she hadn't noticed intruders in her nest.

This lasted until Winter could actually physically see the exit passage that Sunspire had indicated, which led up and out of the cavern and to freedom at last. She was ready to practically leap for joy—this had been the most grueling, disgusting, uncomfortable four minutes and twenty-seven seconds of her life—but naturally didn't out of fear of altering the queen to her presence.

Then, she and the others stopped moving when they felt the queen's movement tremors start up again.

The queen did not stop her song, though, just continued singing as she made her way back across the nest. This was mostly fine, at least until the queen's steps took her in the direction of the trio of ponies. Winter wanted to move to get out of the way, but wasn't sure they could do quickly enough or quietly enough to avoid detection, so despite Hourglass pushing her gently to try and move her forward, Winter stayed put and gestured for Hourglass to remain calm.

Winter froze up as the queen's gigantic limb made its way directly over not her, not Hourglass, but Sunspire, who froze in terror at the approach with nowhere to move to. Even with the queen's slightly smaller size, one of her legs was longer than a streetlamp and as wide as a couch at its thickest points. It was easily enough that it wouldn't take any effort at all to crush the young colt, so naturally Winter was in full panic mode as the tip gently touched his back, feeling about to make sure it didn't crush an egg sac.

The queen's leg then deftly lifted away, obviously surprised that her leg had touched something other than solid rock—slime-covered or not—or one of her eggs. She even stopped her song momentarily. Sunspire's expression, until this point relatively calm considering everything happening, was a picture perfect depiction of what fear looked like.

Winter was more surprised when the queen reached her leg back down to test again, poking Sunspire gently once, twice, three times, in different areas before lifting her leg away once more. Adding onto the surprise and confusion was that the queen's "horn" protrusion glowed a sickly black for a moment, not entirely unlike how a unicorn's horn did when using their magic.

The queen's next action was to let out an odd chattering sound that wasn't quite singing but more resembled speech, then to shudder in… disgust? Her whole body just sort of shook like she had felt something unpleasant. Her limb then came back down and, for some reason, tapped Sunspire's rear end as if she were a parent ushering him along like the young colt he was, then, she just kept walking, resuming her song as if nothing had happened at all.

Winter didn't know what to make of it, and from Hourglass and Sunspire's terrified, baffled expressions, neither did they.

So they just kept moving, confused—

No, confused wasn't the right word. Dawn would've been able to give the precise word that would be appropriate here, but Winter took a crack at it in her head and came up with "bewildered".

When they reached the other side of the nest and made their way into the passage beyond, the trio just kept moving and didn't stop doing so for several long, uncomfortable, quiet minutes to make sure they were completely safe, at least as far as they knew. When Winter finally stopped and gestured for the others to do the same, they all let out sighs of relief.

It was here that Hourglass then let out another heave that she'd clearly been holding in for some time, all over the floor and herself. The poor young mare needed a change of clothes immediately—they all did—so it was lucky they'd packed spares.

"What just happened?" Sunspire asked succinctly, staring right at Winter with wide, pleading eyes, looking so very desperate for answers.

Answers that Winter could not give. "I've got no clue, mate," she said just as succinctly. "Everything I've ever read, heard, and seen regardin' Gargantuans just completely got turned on its head, because that was nothing like anythin' that I know about 'em. There is somethin' definitely wrong with that queen and her clutch, though."

"I should tell Miss Dawn about this when we get back," he replied with a firm nod. "If there are important changes to the ecosystem of the Wastelands, she'll want to know about it. It might make a difference when the cities start expanding and cultivating the land eventually, right?"

"That it would. Hmm. I wonder if this has anythin' to do with the anomaly…" Winter shook her head. "No, no way these changes came about this fast. Bah, we'll figure that out another time. There are too many questions to consider and not enough information to answer them, and I sure as hell ain't goin' back there to find out, yeah? Not now, anyway. We've got bigger problems."

Hourglass, who'd finally finished puking, rose up and let out an exhausted groan. "That was the worst experience of my entire bloody life, Winter, and I hate you for making me go through it, and I hate that I'm gonna have to do this for a living in a couple of years. This job is utter shite."

Winter tapped Hourglass's ear hard enough to jostle the young mare. "Language, young lady. Not in front of the kid, eh?"

"You swore earlier!"

"That was in the heat of the moment and just sort of tumbled out," Winter said, nose in the air. "It's different. Besides, I'm an adult."

Hourglass threw her hooves in the air. "That's not fair! I'm supposed to be older than you!"

"Well, thanks to good old timey-wimey shenanigans, you're not, so tough luck. Listen to your elders like a good filly."

"You two don't need to worry about swearing in front of me, you know?" Sunspire interjected, puffing his chest out just a little. "I hear that sort of language on Botch-O-Rama all the time. There are swears in the end credits theme, for example. Even the F-word."

"It's the principle of the thing, yeah?" Winter chuckled as Hourglass gave her one hell of a stink-eye.

She then set down her saddlebag and fished out her spare clothes. "Come on, kids, find a rock to hide behind and get out of your filthy clothes. Just leave 'em where ya drop 'em, too, we're not gonna get those things cleaned up anytime soon. And grab a canteen, 'cause ya need to wash up your hooves and such too."

After getting changed into some fresh clothes and washing up, the trio made their way forward through the passage for another hour, thankfully not encountering any further troubles as they went. Winter took stock of the situation, though, and came to realize as they moved forward why this cavern was undiscovered: it was new.

Judging from the way the walls moving forward barely curved at all and how smooth and uniform parts of them were, Winter figured that Aculeata, the missing queen they'd found, had burrowed her way here with a combination of her claws and acid spit. It was difficult to tell how long ago it had been that the queen had made her way through, but Winter didn't imagine it was more than two weeks judging by the condition of those eggs.

This meant that the Gargantuan queen had dug through here fairly quickly, which, given her size and power, likely caused cave-ins throughout the mountains. Not likely the one that had blocked off the gryphon ruins, though, unless the queen had been through here earlier at some point, maybe to find a safe place to make a nest. Which also made a lot of sense given the state of her moutling.

But why? Because of the mutations in her young? Because of whatever was happening to her? Again, too many questions, not enough time to get answers. Winter wished she'd known about this situation before the anomaly; the amount of study she'd need to dedicate to the changes in this single brood would take weeks, weeks she just didn't have.

So it would have to wait for another time.


*****


Eventually, after a few more hours or so of travel and a long nap—everypony was too anxious and excited to get a full night's rest—the trio found their way to an entrance into the gryphon ruins. It wasn't a typical entrance, though, not like the one that had been blocked or the ones on the detour paths. No, this one had been made accidentally, no doubt by the Gargantuan queen's passage through the area, as an entire path had been dug right though a part of the ruined city's foundation.

Part of whatever building or structure had been above the cavern here had collapsed into the cavern itself and onto what was left of the foundation below it, stone walls crumbling apart with holes large enough for a pony to crawl into. Winter poked her head in through what was left of one of the walls and saw the floor above was mostly intact, but had fractured enough to let them in from below.

"Looks to me like we've got our way in, unorthodox as it is," Winter said as she pulled her head out to look at the younger ponies. "I'll head in first and make sure it's safe and that nothin' falls and hurts anypony, yeah? Stay here and wait for me to call ya."

The two nodded and sat in place, while Winter clamored through one of the holes and squeezed her way into the ruined structure beyond.

There was no telling what this establishment had once been, if anything, because it was all busted apart from the fall and crushed under the weight of at least one floor's worth of rubble from above. Winter climbed the piles of debris to reach a good perch from which to leap to a section of floor that was still intact, then made sure it would support her weight before leaping to another.

She repeated this a few times, nearly slipping on the next-to-last one as it gave way beneath her just as she was leaping away. She caught the final bit of flooring with just her hooves, then desperately scrambled her way up, taking a breath as soon as she was back on solid stone. The drop wasn't far, but that didn't mean it would seriously injure her or worse if she landed wrong.

Once satisfied with her position, she fished a long nylon rope out of her saddlebag and searched for the heaviest object in the room she was in. Her attention was drawn to what looked like a stone statue that was apparently built into the floor. It was definitely a gryphon, since it had the telltale beak, talons on its front legs, and a lion's hindquarters, hindlegs, and body. She threw the rope around its midsection and fastened it as tight as could be.

"Okay kids!" she shouted down, giving the rope a test tug. "I got the rope set up! One at a time! Hop to it!"

Hourglass squeezed into the chamber below first, followed by Sunspire, who she then helped tie the rope around. Winter then used her magic and her hooves together to haul Sunspire up one tug at a time, slow and steady so that he didn't swing about and bump into the walls. Once he was at the top, he untied himself, threw the rope down, and then they worked together to repeat the process with Hourglass.

Once the trio were back together, Winter put away her rope and took a moment to glance about to get some kind of idea as to where they were. Her original look around had just been to find something heavy, but now she gave everything a little more attention. 

The room was loaded with statues, though apart from the stone one built into the floor, none of them were particularly large or heavy, and in fact all of them were broken. This establishment might have been a statuemaker's business, perhaps, but anything of value had long since been looted by "archaeologists" in the past several centuries. All that remained were vaguely recognizable chunks that didn't belong to anything in particular.

There was a large stone door that led out of the room which had been busted open from the outside in, no doubt by whoever had raided this place before. Some of the damage here was likely not even the result of the Gargantuan queen's passage through, ironically. Winter was frankly amazed the stone statue was even still here, but then getting it out in one piece was assuredly impossible.

Winter gestured to the door, giving a look to Sunspire. "Well, I think you can take it from here, kid. You've got the magic eyes and all."

"Right," Sunspire replied, removing his goggles again. He winced as he did so, blinking away as though he'd just looked directly at the sun. "Oof! I was expecting the magical signature to be brighter and stronger once we got closer, but this is really bright.”

“Everything alright, though?” asked Hourglass, looking mildly concerned.

“Mmhmm. I've never seen a magical power like this before, even from Miss Dawn," he continued. "It's roughly the same kind of strength that I recognize from the light of the Beacon, the one at the center of Pandora Tower. Not the same kind of Dark magic, though. Like a… a different shade of the same color? Whatever it is, it's totally new to me."

"It would have to be extraordinarily powerful to have created that spike in the balance," Winter agreed. "Are you good to lead us towards it? Last thing I wanna do is 'cause ya any pain."

"I'm fine, Winter, thanks," he said with a confident smile, though he was squinting as he said it.

"Well then, what are we waiting for, a bloody invitation?" huffed Hourglass, throwing her hooves up as her prior concern evaporated. "Let's go!"


*****


Winter was actually more than a little glad to have Sunspire around to lead the way through the ruins. Her Timekeeper wasn’t precise with directions unless Void rifts were concerned—in which case it was astoundingly accurate—so it was nice having somepony that knew where they were going.

The old gryphon city was built in such a way that she was astounded that anypony could find their way around. Though, come to think of it, that made a certain amount of sense, since the gryphon architects likely didn't have ponies in mind when they built the place. But even a pegasus surely would've had trouble, though.

For one thing, there was a huge central hub area that led to all of the different locales within the city, most of which Winter had trouble identifying; she only had a rudimentary understanding of the gryphon written language, and honestly not enough to be of much use. As a trio of unicorns, reaching some of the pathways and tunnels would have been extraordinarily difficult if not outright impossible since they lacked wings with which to fly.

For another thing, because she didn't know what any of the signs or directories meant to any kind of meaningful degree, she was positive that she'd have gotten her and Hourglass alone lost by now. She certainly gave it her best attempt, but she decided it best not to waste their time trying to figure out what everything meant. There would be time enough for that eventually, just not now. 

It truly sucked being in a rush and not having the ability to take her time to study all of this new information. Twilight would be chastising her—

Nope, she shut that thought out right quick.

Anyway, the ruins weren't as creepy as some ponies would lead others to believe, though. They were certainly eerily quiet and dark, but there was just something about the place that made Winter feel at peace. Maybe it was the knowledge that there was literally nothing here to be a threat anymore? Not that the gryphons were a threat, but what was left after them might be.

The gryphons were utterly wiped out thanks to Silvertongue—sorry, Lord Silvertongue, as Dawn would insist—hundreds of years ago, and whatever means he'd done it with had left no trace of life in the entire city. Looters had then raided the ruins over the next few centuries, to the point that anything of value or importance was long gone, and it was clear that no security system was in place to stop them. This wasn’t some ancient, booby-trapped tomb.

Without any signs of life in the Wastelands, the ruins hadn't even been taken over by vermin, insects, or mold. It was more than a tomb, more than just ruins; it was a derelict monument to the extent one pony would go to in order to triumph over Nihila. Ironically, that meant it was now probably the safest place in the entirety of the northern continent to be.

As it stood, Sunspire led her and Hourglass along through tunnel after tunnel, passage after passage, his eyes glued to the magical residue that only he could see. It took over an hour of walking along through old, abandoned stone pathways before anything interesting happened, if only because they had taken so many twists and turns to find their way to the levels that Sunspire needed to go.

Sunspire led the two mares to a massive door deep within the bowels of the city. The signs marking the tunnel were, from Winter's best understanding, meant as a warning of sorts. Not of danger, but there was definitely a "keep out!" vibe to how they were portrayed. A few of the words she recognized seemed to indicate that only certain gryphons were allowed down here, probably those with proper permissions or authority.

"This is it," Sunspire said, replacing his goggles and rubbing his temples. "Whatever the source of the magic is, it's somewhere beyond this doorway. I can see it leaking out through the cracks in the frame, so it's not air tight at least."

Winter eyed the door curiously. "The writin' on the door itself isn't in the standard gryphon written script. It's runic language, meanin' the door has enchantments on it. I haven't seen anythin' like it on any other doors we've moved past so far." She turned to Hourglass and Sunspire. "Have you?"

"Sorry, I've been paying more attention to the trail of magic," Sunspire admitted sheepishly.

"All of the doors I've seen have been pretty normal-looking," Hourglass said with a shrug. "Just big slabs of stone, nothing too fancy. Definitely nothing like this, and not this big either."

"Well then, that makes this door unique," Winter said, tilting her head as she glanced over the runes. "What's more, these runic symbols are designed for protection, or more specifically, designed to protect whatever's inside from anythin' outside." She tilted her head the other way. "Or maybe the other way around, actually."

Hourglass grunted, annoyed. "Which is it? That seems like an important distinction."

"Hmm. See the way this spiral loops counterclockwise?" Winter pointed out the marking in question. "That means it's designed to prevent things from passin' through it. But I forget if counterclockwise keeps things from passin' through from the other side this way, or from this side to the other. Runes are very precise."

"If it's designed to keep things inside from getting out, it's not doing a very good job, then," Sunspire noted, adjusting his goggles. "After all, I can see the magic flowing out through the door."

"Maybe the magic's strong enough to overpower the rune?" Hourglass suggested.

"Or maybe it's just designed to keep gryphons who aren't allowed in from gettin' through," Winter said. To demonstrate, she pushed against the door with all her might, but it didn't budge. In fact, she felt as though it were pushing back, and the rune markings gave off a barely-noticeable glow. "See?"

"Maybe somepony stronger could force the door open?" Sunspire said, tapping his chin.

"Possibly. The runes are hundreds of years old and haven't been maintained, obviously. It should be easy for us to break through it, eh?"

"How do we do that?" asked Hourglass.

Winter tapped on the door with her hoof. "The door's made of the same kind of stone as the rest of the place, and like the rest of the place it certainly used to be cleaned and polished so that it looked presentable, yeah? I mean, unless anypony wants to suggest that the gryphons just lived in a dark, dusty city at the height of their civilization.

"Anyway, runes are usually applied with one of two methods: applyin' some sort of paint, or carvin' 'em directly into the material. Carvin' the rune has the advantage of makin' it more permanent, or rather more difficult to damage and disrupt. Takes a lot more effort to chip stone than to chip paint, eh?"

Hourglass nodded in understanding. "So this stone is so old and worn that it'll be easier to chip."

"Exactly." Winter then meaningfully pointed at the floor in front of the door. "And if I'm not mistaken, it looks like somepony else has already passed through here."

"What?" Hourglass and Sunspire said in unison.

They saw the same thing that Winter had noticed: a disturbance in the dust that suggested that the door had been opened within the past few days, a week at best, judging by the sheer disparity in the amount of dust. Not only that, but whoever had opened it had been wearing something on their hooves to make their hoofprints appear oddly-shaped. If Winter didn't know better, she'd say they were paw prints.

"But how'd they get through without breaking the seals?" Hourglass asked.

"Beats me. Maybe they're an expert in runes and know how to deactivate the magic temporarily. It's not exactly a common field to have expertise in, but I've seen stranger things."

Winter grabbed her canteen again, and as she'd done before with the rock wall back in the caverns, she splashed some water on one of the runic markings.

"No sense in waitin' around out here, though," she said as she worked. "Whoever's been through here never came back out through the doorway, so they're either still in there or they teleported out, meanin' we've gotta find out what's goin' on more than ever. Last thing we need is somepony messin' with things they don't understand, eh?"

She froze, thawed, and froze the water over and over again in rapid succession to weaken the stone around the rune, which didn't take long at all to do. From there, she was able to just chip away at the edge of the marking with her hoof, taking a large chunk out of it in the process. 

Once that was done, she pushed on the door again with all her might. Though the runic glow was significantly weaker, the door still did not budge, so she repeated the process on another rune, and another, and another, until finally the door gave way when she, Hourglass, and Sunspire all worked together to push open one of the heavy slabs. 

Stone ground against stone as the door slid open, revealing another dark, quiet, empty corridor beyond. Winter shuddered briefly as a feeling of cold dread washed over her; Hourglass and Sunspire did the same. The air beyond the doorway was so frigid that it chilled them to the bone, even before they started walking. Winter found herself tightening her scarf to keep out the cold.

The two younger ponies followed behind Winter as she moved through the doorway, guided only by the light of her horn. Sunspire again removed his goggles to keep his eyes out for the source of the magic, as there were a few doors strewn throughout the hall that could have led to their quarry, but so far didn't. Like the large door leading in, they each had their own runic seals that would take effort to break through, but they weren't what the trio was looking for.

Eventually, the hall took them to another large door, this one too marked with a runic seal, and like the main doorway into the corridor, there was evidence that the door had been opened by somepony else within the past week. Winter was beginning to mull over the facts she had thus far, and was fairly certain at this point that somepony had caused the anomaly somehow, though she didn't know who or why just yet.

Winter splashed a little water on the seal and damaged it as she had done before, allowing her to open the door by herself with just a bit of physical effort. The chamber on the other side of the door was much larger than she thought it had any right to be. The center of the room was dominated by a large obelisk made of some sort of black metal, which she recognized instantly.

"Crikey, would ya look at that?" she muttered with a grin as she approached the obelisk. "This thing's made of the same material and structured the same way as the northern Beacon is. This must be where the gryphons first developed it, and this must be the original prototype."

"Are you sure?" Hourglass asked, also approaching and studying the structure. "Looks a lot smaller than I thought it'd be."

"Trust me, I spent enough time studyin' the damn thing with Twilight and Dawn that I haven't got a doubt in my mind as to what it is." Winter nodded confidently. "Things are finally startin' to make a little more sense, eh? If there was a huge spike in Dark magic, then this must've been the source. Whoever wandered in here must've accidentally turned it on."

"It doesn't look like it's on," said Hourglass, tilting her head. "The real deal up north generates that huge magical field that everypony can see, not just Sunspire."

"Sunspire's just seeing what's left of the magic that was expelled, most likely. And since this Beacon wasn't powered by Nihila, that would explain why the magical signature is different." Winter clapped her hooves together in thought. "Now, we just have to figure out why the balance remained shifted and how to fix it."

"Um, I hate to break it to you, Winter, but that thing isn't the source of the magic I'm seeing," gulped Sunspire.

Winter blinked. "What? It's not? But you said the magic was comin' from this room?"

"It is. But not from that obelisk." He pointed over into a darkened corner of the room that neither Winter nor Hourglass had glanced at yet. "It's coming from that pony over there."

Winter's eyes widened in shock when she saw the pony in question. "What the fuck?"

The unconscious mare in the corner was tall, taller than almost any pony Winter had ever seen, her body thin and elegant. Her coat was a ghastly color, not quite purple but not quite black, and shimmered with luster under the layer of dust. Her mane and tail gleamed a brilliant, metallic silver, their shape and rigidity resembling blades. She was nude, making it easy to see her that her body's tone was incredibly lithe, leanly muscled and physically intimidating. Her long, sharp horn was longer than any unicorn's, and her great, long wings were of a greater wingspan than any pegasus.

"Does that mare have wings and a horn?" Hourglass asked in awe, stepping towards the mare in question.

Winter instantly leapt forward and put herself between the two. "Stay back!" she hissed. "Don't get any closer." She turned to Sunspire and gestured with her head for him to move behind her. "You too, kid. Stay close behind me."

"Um… sure thing?" Sunspire said, confused, as he did as he was asked.

"What's got you so worried?" Hourglass scoffed. "She's not even conscious, whoever she is. Maybe she's just asleep or in a coma or something?"

"You don't know who that is, kiddo, but I do. That's Nihila. As in the alicorn and former Goddess of Disparity? I know I told ya all about that story, eh? So just stay behind me while I try to figure out what to do."

Hourglass's eyes widened. "What? That's Nihila?" She glanced over at the mare, then back to Winter. "Are you having a giggle, Winter? That can't be Nihila. You told me she was destroyed like seven years ago. You saw it with your own eyes and everything."

"Hey, Miss Dawn told us that same story, about her father and her and her sisters and her friends defeating her," Sunspire chimed in with a knowing, confident grin. "Miss Dawn likes to talk about it a lot, actually. She says it was the proudest moment of her life."

Winter rolled her eyes. "Yes, I know, I was there and I saw the whole thing happen, but we're here now and I'm seein' with my own two eyes that Nihila is right there! And she's the source of the Dark anomaly that we've been followin' after all week! Now, if ya want to tell me that ain't a coincidence, please do so that I can know that you're either a nutter or an idiot."

"Well, it does make a certain degree of sense," Sunspire said, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. "Miss Dawn said that Nihila's Darkness was used to empower the northern Beacon in equal measure to the southern Beacon, which is empowered by her counterpart, Harmonia. That's what you say supposedly keeps this world's Light and Darkness in perfect balance, right?"

"Exactly. And it would be right up Nihila's alley to create a surge of Darkness to screw up that balance and cause destruction throughout the world."

"The only problem though is that the energy radiating off of her isn't the same signature as the magic that's radiating from the Beacon."

"Why is that a problem?" asked Hourglass.

Sunspire shook his head. "A pony can't just change their magical signature. I know we only ever think of it in terms of unicorns, but every pony has an innate, inner magic, typically tied to their special talents. Even ponies without cutie marks, like me, have a unique inner magic that eventually manifests when they get their marks. And I don't mean magic like the 'gift' I have, either."

"Similar to how every individual pony has their own unique DNA," Winter said. "Still, a bein’ as powerful as Nihila might have the capability of rewritin’ her own magical code, so to speak, so don’t go thinkin’ you’ve got all the answers yet."

Hourglass gawked at Winter. "Can she really do that?"

Winter shrugged. "Hell if I know, but as an alicorn her power is supposedly limitless. It might be possible. It's the only explanation for how she's here right now that makes any sense. Her physical body reformed after it was destroyed, and she attempted to empower this prototype Beacon with her new magical signature."

"And what, it was too much for her and she's been unconscious or dead ever since?" scoffed Hourglass. "So much for 'limitless' power, huh?"

"Then what's your idea for what's goin' on, eh? Seriously, I'd like to hear it, because the more ideas we have the better. Might help us figure out a solution here."

"I'm of the opinion that this isn't Nihila at all, even if it looks just like her," Hourglass suggested. "Maybe this is just some new alicorn that we've never seen before?"

Winter's eyes drooped. "That just happens to look exactly like Nihila?"

"Exactly. I know, it sounds outlandish, but unless we know for sure that Nihila can change her magical signature, we have to assume that that isn't Nihila, even if it looks just like her."

"Another possibility is that Nihila's body and spirit were separated," suggested Sunspire. "Her body is here but can't move or act, but her spirit is still trying to use her magic? I don't know why her body and spirit would have different magical signatures, but that's what I've got."

"Oh now you're just makin' stuff up," Winter huffed. With a sigh, she continued, "Look, whatever the situation is, there's no sense in arguin' about it here and now, eh? We've gotta address this situation, and fast. Maybe we should call—"

"I couldn't agree more," came a slightly metallic voice from the darkened opposite corner.

Winter's horn ignited in surprise, bright enough to illuminate the entire room. Her jaw, and those of Hourglass and Sunspire, dropped. "What. The. Fuck?"

There was an honest-to-goodness gryphon standing there!

He was much larger than them, easily twice their size. He was also incredibly old; his beard and hair were thin and they, along with his fur and feathers, were drained of color. While his natural body was frail, his…  unnatural body was not. His wings, left talon, both hind legs, and his tail were composed of complex metallic parts. A large portion of his chest was covered in similar mechanisms, a yellow light resting over his heart. The left side of his face was similarly covered, with a green telescoping lens in place of his eye. His other, natural eye was glassy and white. 

He also wore a purple robe made of silk; the robe, at least, looked brand new.

"Is that a bloody gryphon?!" Hourglass exclaimed, grabbing Winter's side and shaking her enthusiastically. "I thought you said they were extinct?!"

The gryphon solemnly shook his head. "I think you'll find, my dear young lady, that you're both absolutely correct, and sadly mistaken. I am the last of my kind, but there is only so much left to me that could be considered 'gryphon' anymore, hmm? I lack the means to propagate the species, shall we say?"

"Either that or you're full of shit and this is an incredibly fancy illusion spell," Winter snorted, keeping herself ready to defend herself and her wards from the new, very much awake intruder.

"It's not illusion magic, Winter," Sunspire said quickly, taking a tentative step towards the gryphon. "There's a lot of magic in all of those mechanical parts, but he's otherwise completely corporeal."

"Aptly put, young one, aptly put," the gryphon muttered. He then gave a heaving cough, and the yellow light on his chest blinked red. He pounded his good talon against his heart briefly, and the light flickered back to green. "Though the magic in these old parts isn't quite as proficient these days."

"So you're a real gryphon?" Winter asked, skeptical but willing to go along with it for now. "If that's true, then how come nopony's ever seen you before? These ruins have been explored and looted from top to bottom over the centuries, and nopony's ever come back saying they've seen ya before."

"Maybe he's been hiding in here?" Hourglass suggested as she gestured around the room. "We had to break a seal to get in—"

"Wait a tick, those were your prints comin' into the corridor!" Winter blurted, pointing an accusing hoof at the gryphon. She looked to Hourglass. "He wasn't hidin' out in here at all, so don't let him tell you otherwise. He'd have had to be here for centuries."

"Yeah, what would he have to eat if he did?" Sunspire asked sincerely.

"Exactly, there's no food or water down here, so there's no way this guy's been hidin' out in the ruins." Winter turned on the gryphon, preparing to cast a defensive spell at any second. "Start talkin', mate, 'cause my friend here might say you're the real deal but I ain't buyin' it."

The gryphon tilted his head, a little grin on his beak. "You seem well-versed in magic, my dear, so perhaps you are aware of the concept of 'pocket' dimensions?"

Winter blinked; the question came out of nowhere. "Yeah, I'm aware." She didn't need to tell him it was because she used one for her job, but she'd humor him a little bit.

"Well, the gryphon city of Aeropolis—that was our city's name, you see—contains within it one such pocket dimension, called the Sanctuary of Knowledge, in which I have resided for many, many years, for it is reserved for use by Lorekeepers like myself." 

With a sad smile, he added, "By chance, I was within the Sanctuary when tragedy struck Aeropolis. When the Red Death swept through our halls and reduced the rest of my kind down to dust. Within the Sanctuary, I was safe, and it was there that I remained. Time's effects upon living tissue slows within the Sanctuary, hence why I still live to stand before you… though I regrettably do so alone."

Winter scoffed. "So by sheer luck you were spared from the fate of the rest of the gryphons? Heh, likely story."

"What's your name, Mister Gryphon?" asked Hourglass, stepping forward, apparently more willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

The gryphon bowed slightly. "Ah, forgive me, I meant no offense by my lack of introduction. I am Lorekeeper Gilderoy, caretaker of all gryphon knowledge, be it our history, our discoveries and creations in the fields of magic and technomagic, or our developments in the various more mundane scientific fields."

"I'm Hourglass," the young mare said with a polite curtsy.

"I'm Sunspire!" greeted the colt with a little wave. "I must say it's an incredible experience to meet a real gryphon, even though the circumstances aren't exactly pleasant."

Gilderoy looked to Winter, who was remaining pointedly silent. "And you, Miss?"

Winter glanced at her two young wards, who looked to her expectantly, then rolled her eyes. "Winter Glow. I'd say it's a pleasure, but I'm stressin' out a bit on account of there not only bein' a livin', breathin' gryphon right in front of me, but I've got the Goddess of Evil right behind me too. So y'know. Big day."

"Oh, I can imagine," the gryphon said with a light nod. "Forgive me for the sudden intrusion, incidentally. I shrouded myself within the corner when I heard you coming, and then you and your young companions here got right into the midst of discussing the ramifications of your discovery. I didn't want to interrupt such lovely discourse."

"I'm not particularly fond of eavesdroppers," Winter grunted.

"My apologies, Miss Glow. I meant no offense, of course. But I will admit that your debate was simply fascinating, for I have spent the past few days coming to much the same conclusions as you.

"You see, like yourselves I detected a strange anomaly within the ruins of Aeropolis. While I studied it as best as I could within the confines of my Sanctuary, there soon reached a point where I realized that I couldn't make an accurate hypothesis without further empirical evidence; whatever was the cause of the sudden shift in our world's balance was perplexing, and troubling."

He gestured at the body of Nihila across the room from him. "You can imagine my surprise when I came across the body of a pony within this chamber, where I traced the magic's origin to. Not just any pony, but an alicorn, a living, breathing alicorn, with a physical form that I could see and touch." 

Winter gestured at the alicorn behind her. "You've been touchin' her? A little intrusive, don't you think?" She then paused, blinked, and shook her head. "Wait, why do I care? She's a goddess of evil and all that shit, she'd probably want you to get intrusive."

"Perhaps," he chuckled. "At first I believed that my body couldn't take the stress of leaving the Sanctuary and that I had died, and in my last moments I dreamed of a remarkable discovery. Naturally I needed to sate my curiosity, and it soon became clear to me that what I was seeing was genuine. I was truly seeing a real alicorn, in the flesh.

"Of course, I knew nothing of this creature that I saw before me. There was no record of an alicorn ever possessing a physical body before now, though a scholar of old once theorized on a potential method of summoning the alicorns Harmonia or Nihila to our material plane." He shook his head, disgusted. "Galdorhoff's methods were deplorable and he was exiled for his experiments, so I will say no more."

Winter recalled that name from somewhere. Galdorhoff. Didn't Silvertongue use that name when bragging to Nihila about the ritual he'd used to manifest her physically in the world? This story was starting to sound extremely—and frighteningly—legitimate.

"At any rate, I studied this alicorn mare's body and innate magical aura, but could come to no concrete conclusion." Gilderoy shrugged. "She is physically healthy as far as a typical pony is concerned, and yet she sleeps, comatose perhaps? Her magic is also unlike any on record, and certainly does not match with Nihila's, which is simple and easy to measure.

"So, like you three, I came to several conclusions. And I've since settled on the only one that makes sense in my mind, the only logical conclusion that could possibly be reached given the information I have, and this includes the new information that you've given me via your discussion."

"And that is?" Winter asked.

Gilderoy smiled. "That all three theories are both correct, and also incorrect."

Winter narrowed her eyes. "For fuck's sake."

"Oh, I understand the consternation," he laughed. "Believe me, nobody is more agitated by my hypothesis than myself."

"Try me, mate."

"You claim that Nihila's physical body was destroyed. First off, that implies to me that Galdorhoff's work ended up being successful, a fact that neither pleases me nor disgusts me presently, for it is an incredible feat of magic that deserves to be studied now that it's come to pass." He then gestured towards the alicorn. "And yet there she is in the flesh, healthy and whole.

"However, as has been noted, her magical signature is indeed different from that of the Nihila I know of, then one that powered the northern Beacon. I originally assumed that that meant Nihila still resided within the Dreaming and this was some new, as of yet undiscovered alicorn, and that theory could still potentially be true.

"But then again, it could be the possibility that Nihila's power is great enough that she could alter her magical signature. If she was still within the Dreaming, then that act could have potentially been so impactful that it shunted her into the material realm; if instead she was thought destroyed but somehow survived, then she is attempting to hide and recuperate, and what better place than the ruins of my once great city?"

"And while she's still asleep, we have no idea which of these theories is true or false, or if they all are or aren't, is that it?" Winter asked.

"Precisely. A real Grödinger's paradox."

Hourglass tilted her head, baffled. "A what?"

"Hmm? Oh." Gilderoy chuckled and shook his head. "Forgive me, I doubt many ponies know of him. Grödinger was a gryphon scholar who proposed a thought experiment that relies on some complicated quantum mechanics that I feel might be a touch too complicated for a quick and easy summary. Most gryphons simply boiled it down to the conclusion of the experiment, wherein a cat inside of a box was both simultaneously alive and dead so long as the box was closed."

Winter rolled her eyes. "Okay, well, if we're done talking about zombie cats—"

"Oh no, not a zombie, not undead. Simultaneously—”

"If we're done talking about zombie cats!" Winter interjected. "We have a serious situation here! Either this is or isn't Nihila who either did or didn't survive her supposed destruction seven years ago and who either can or cannot change her magical signature and who may or may not be doing so to avoid detection! Did I get all that right?"

Gilderoy nodded appreciatively. "That's a pretty succinct summary of the excessively complex situation, yes. Now, I have been devising a number of potential experiments that might lead to a conclusion, but sadly I require resources that I simply no longer possess, even within my Sanctuary. Fortuitous that you would arrive here when you did."

"Eh?"

"Well, perhaps you can aid me? I've come to understand that ponies have vastly improved on many of our old techomagic constructs, and I would require a great deal of such resources."

"I'm afraid that we don't have the precise means to do anythin' about this, either. We're just as stuck as you," Winter grunted. She then turned to Sunspire with a knowing grin. "But we know somepony who can help."
> Chapter Eighteen: Tribulation
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dawn woke early that morning, earlier than usual in fact, if only to make some headway on the day's rather large docket. Everything started off rather simple and went exactly as she expected it to, a wonderful feeling considering how absolutely turbulent yesterday had been. 

She began with a breakfast consisting of a variety of donuts, a comfort food if there ever was one, because she needed something relaxing today. A simple variety did the trick just fine: one sugar, one glazed, one maple, one magmaberry jelly-filled, and one with rainbow sprinkles. She complemented the donuts with a customary cup of coffee with extra cream. 

From there she attended a brief yet significant Committee meeting wherein Admiral Hotstreak formally resigned from his position and gave Dawn the proverbial blank check to choose his replacement. Only Quill Feather was surprised by the news, seeing as he was the only one not to be aware of the attack by the time the meeting was held. Vendetta seemed oddly enraptured by the proceedings.

Incidentally, Dawn also learned during from Doctor Blutsauger that Taskmaster Concrete had been admitted to the hospital the evening prior. As of this morning he was still in recovery, but his condition was so poor that retirement was a serious recommendation. Dawn had had to repress a smile, knowing that it was very likely that she'd be appointing his replacement if everything went well. There was just a matter of voting on the issue and Dawn knew she already had a number of votes in her corner.

Shortly after the meeting had concluded, Dawn opened her mind up to communicate with Curaçao to begin the next step in the day's itinerary. "Sister, we have important business to attend to, if you would rendezvous with me in my office. Immediately, if you would?"

"Oui," her sister instantly replied. "I will be there momentarily."

And so Dawn waited, leaning back in her seat and tapping her hooves on the rests. Curaçao was, as always, punctual and professional, and didn't keep her sister waiting for long at all. There was a knock at the door, and Dawn called out "Enter!", and then Curaçao did just that and the two greeted one another with a polite nod. Curaçao carried a datapad with her, which no doubt carried all of the pertinent information they needed for the tasks ahead of them.

Curaçao set the datapad onto Dawn's desk and connected it to her computer. "I've put together our list of potential candidates for the new Admiral position, as requested," she said, confirming Dawn's thoughts. "Their qualifications should meet the specifications you wanted as well, and I took the liberty of narrowing it down to the best possible options."

"Excellent, then this should be an expedient endeavor," Dawn said with a grin and a nod. She glanced through the names present, of which there was… one? She adjusted her glasses just to make sure, but yes, there was just the one. "Sister, would you be so kind as to enlighten me as to why only Commander Jetstream is present on this list of candidates?"

"Oui, c'est simple," Curaçao said. "Your list of qualifications was, shall we say, unnecessarily extensive? I looked through every single one of the candidates for promotion and, after a very thorough examination, determined that Commander Jetstream is the only candidate that meets the requirements of the position."

Dawn narrowed her eyes. "I find that answer woefully unsatisfactory."

"Oh? I apologize. Was I unclear?"

"No, you were perfectly clear, but the answer is nonetheless unsatisfactory," Dawn grunted; did she detect a hint of impudence in Curaçao's tone? "How is it possible that only Commander Jetstream qualifies for the position? There are a multitude of other candidates that I felt met the requirements far better than he does. I only added him to the list to humor the former Admiral."

Curaçao smirked. "Oui, I'm aware of that. C'est très chanceux that you did, or we would not have any suitable candidates."

"I ask again: how is it that only Jetstream qualifies? Answer me that. Now."

"Oh, Dawn, that is the most simple thing at all: he meets the only requirement on the list that actually matters."

Dawn raised an eyebrow. "Which is?"

"Fidélité. His loyalty to our father, and thus to us." Curaçao gave a half-hearted shrug. "We know for a fact that he can be trusted. That is the most important qualification at the moment, and he is the only candidate on the list that I trust without question."

Dawn clenched her teeth. "Sister, his father is an incompetent buffoon who allowed—"

"I think you will find, dear sister, that not every parent passes on all of their best or worst qualities to their offspring," Curaçao said, eyes narrowed. "Natural-born or not."

Dawn blinked, tilting her head at her sister's odd choice in words. This was new information to her. Was Curaçao suggesting that Jetstream was not Hotstreak's natural-born son? Did that mean that he was adopted? Or perhaps that Hotstreak's wife, Breezy Morning, had been unfaithful and thus Jetstream was a bastard?

"Are you… implying something, sister?" she asked, if only because she had to. If either of those situations were true, then there might be hope yet for Jetstream's promotion.

"Oh, non, I would not dream of implying anything. Périsse la pensée—perish the thought," Curaçao said, eyes locked with Dawn's. Dawn wondered why she had the feeling that Curaçao was hiding something. "My words were quite clear: Hotstreak may have made a mistake—a grave mistake, I will admit—but it does not mean that his son is guilty of the same. But again, that is irrelevant, because Jetstream is somepony we can trust."

"But—"

"If you are concerned with whether or not Jetstream is truly qualified for the position, then assert yourself over him so that he is aware that his title is only that of a figurehead, and that you are in command of the NPAF for all intents and purposes. Admiral Hotstreak knew this while he served under Papa, and Doctor Blutsauger and Chairpony Champagne do as well. Jetstream also knew it. I remind you again that he served our father loyally."

"Hmm." 

Dawn mulled Curaçao's assertions over for a moment. It was true that their father had trusted Jetstream with great responsibilities—he'd been present to test her and her sisters' abilities shortly after their "birth"—so there was some merit to the decision. Not only that, but he was a familiar face that could easily be kept in line and who indeed could be trusted.

"A valid point," she replied with a slow nod. "I will require a thorough interview with him so that I might gather a more poignant assessment of his character. We should—"

To Dawn's surprise, her intercom interrupted the conversation with a shrill beeping, indicating that there was an incoming emergency communication.

Curaçao raised an eyebrow and eyed the intercom suspiciously. "Quoi? Somepony in the tower is contacting you with an emergency?"

Dawn huffed. "Sometimes, dear sister, issues arise that require the immediate attention of the pony who holds the most authority, and unlike you and our sisters they lack the means to do so quietly. Is that so astonishing?"

"Oui, un petit peu," her sister said, leaning back in her seat and giving Dawn a curious look. "The Shadows are Velvet and Pedigree's responsibilities and would contact them, and the rest of the Pandora Tower staff reports directly to me. You know this because you wanted to ensure you weren't bothered with, quote, 'trivial pursuits'."

"And as such this must be an emergency worth my while," Dawn said, nose in the air. She smirked, pressed the button on her intercom, then spoke into it: "This is Shadow Associate Golden Dawn speaking."

There was a brief delay on the other end before she heard a reply. "Miss Dawn! Hello, and um, good morning? Is it still morning? I have no idea what time it is right now, actually. It's been a long day and we're only just getting started. Oh! This is Sunspire, by the way."

Dawn's cocksure smirk diminished slightly. "Sunspire? What drivel are you expounding now? And why are you utilizing the emergency channel? Surely there is nothing of issue at the library that requires my immediate attention."

"The… the library? Miss Dawn, I left a while ago with Winter Glow and Hourglass to assist them with their expedition into the Wastelands. Remember?"

Oh, Dawn thought. Right. 

She'd completely forgotten all about that, what with the fact that she hadn't heard from them since they'd left and with everything going on in the past day. It had utterly slipped her mind.

"Ah, yes, I remember now," she replied, ignoring the odd look Curaçao was giving her. "I had assumed you had already returned from the expedition and merely neglected your responsibility to provide me with a notification as to your success. Nevermind, that is irrelevant. I still require an explanation as to why you are utilizing the emergency channel."

"Well, um, because this is an emergency? We found something here in the old ruins of the gryphon city, and we require your input and assistance with it. Winter says we really just need your help teleporting our find elsewhere. Um… immediately?"

Dawn rubbed her temple, her aggravation swelling up. "Sunspire, at present I am overwhelmingly preoccupied with other matters of tremendous importance. Explain to Winter that I am not some glorified taxi service and that she, and you, can travel wherever it is you need to venture to without my aid."

"O-okay, I'll… I'll tell her?" he replied, sounding a little nervous.

There was a brief delay, then Dawn heard a slight commotion on the other end before Winter's voice suddenly came through. "Dawn, you listen here and listen good." She sounded angry. Very angry. "This isn't a fuckin' joke. I need ya here immediately to help with teleportin' somethin' important, because you're the only unicorn I know that can do it."

"I am aware of my prodigious talents with teleportation magic, yes, but I fail to see what is so crucial that you require my aid," Dawn huffed, indignant. "Nopony has yet provided me with a justifiable reason to otherwise shirk my duties here in order to provide you with this service, and I remind you that I am extraordinarily preoccupied at present."

"Dawn, I can't rightly tell ya what's goin' on over the phone, eh? I don't know who may or may not be listenin'—"

"This is a secure emergency channel, nopony is eavesdropping."

"Ya say that, and ya believe it, but I don't know that for sure and protocol dictates that I keep my yap shut," Winter grunted. "Now, this is a matter of extreme importance. I don't know if I've made it clear before but my work deals with, y'know, world-endin' catastrophes. So if ya don't mind?"

Dawn sighed. "I myself am occupied with potentially catastrophic circumstances, Winter. As you are no doubt unaware—"

"I don't give a flyin' fuck!" Winter snapped. "I don't care if your whole fuckin' city is on fire! This is more important!" There was a brief pause, then: "It has to do with your dad, yeah? Is that important enough to ya?"

Dawn's eyes widened. "With my father?"

"That's what I said. Now, are you comin' or not?"

Dawn looked to Curaçao, who merely sported the sort of curious, thoughtful look she always got when she was parsing through loads of information. "Curaçao," she said, straightening her glasses. "I believe that this situation indeed requires my immediate attention. I can rely upon you to attend to matters until I return, yes?"

Her sister rose and nodded. "Oui, of course. I'll begin immédiatement."

As Curaçao left, Dawn then spoke into the intercom: "I will arrive momentarily, Winter. Place Sunspire's communicator on the ground nearby and clear an area around it of at least ten feet. I possess the means to translocate its position and will utilize it as a beacon with which I shall accurately position my teleportation."

"You got it. Thanks, Dawn."

Dawn then shut off the intercom, opened up a program on her computer, and watched as a signal appeared on a map of the northern continent. It was the only such signal currently active outside of the city; she assumed that Havoc had misplaced her own communicator during yesterday's attack, and planned on reprimanding her later for it since the technomagic within it was valuable and difficult to produce even for them.

Once the signal was located and its position triangulated down to within a few inches of potential error, Dawn lit up her horn, focused herself intently on the precise latitude, longitude, and altitude of her destination, and with a bright flash and a loud pop, she vanished from her office.

She reappeared within less than half of an inch of her intended destination, which she found both laudable because of how extraordinarily difficult it was to teleport to an unknown location with any sort of worthwhile accuracy, but also disappointing because she wasn't exactly on her mark. Still, it was better than any other unicorn could ever hope to accomplish.

Dawn found herself in a dusty old room—part of the gryphon ruins, she assumed—looking right at Winter, Hourglass, and Sunspire. The trio were standing in front of an odd obelisk construct that, in the brief moment that she had to look it over, reminded her of the Beacon situated within the central confines of Pandora Tower, only lacking the odd orange glow that radiated from it on a constant basis.

Dawn's eyes then widened when she saw another figure standing not too far away from the trio of unicorns. A gryphon. A living, breathing gryphon. An old gryphon, to be sure, and one oddly covered with a multitude of technomagic constructs, prosthetics, and apparatuses. Her mind began racing as she tried to think of what would be the most proper response to seeing a tangible representative of a race thought to be extinct.

But she immediately forgot what she was going to say when she saw the familiar figure of an alicorn in the corner, unconscious. There was no mistaking the alicorn's coloration, no mistaking the shape of her mane and tail, no mistaking the thin, elegant build, and certainly no mistaking the fact that she was an alicorn. Dawn would never forget what Nihila looked like for as long as she lived.

"Mornin', mate," Winter said with a cocksure smirk and a wave. "Welcome to the pickle I'm in now. Y'know, I imagine I looked exactly like you look right now when I first realized what kind of a situation I was in, too. Hurts your brain a little bit, doesn't it?"

Dawn merely turned to Winter, teeth clenched, and snarled, "Explain. Now."


*****


"So that's basically the conclusion we've come to at the moment," Winter finished with a shrug. "We have no idea if this is or isn't Nihila until she wakes up, and we didn't exactly want to try doin' that until we had a bit of insurance, so to speak. Namely a unicorn that I've seen with my own two eyes withstand that kind of power."

Dawn grunted and rubbed her temple. "The compliment is appreciated, and now at least I can comprehend your insistence earlier. This is more than just a mere 'pickle', I fear. I should commune with my father to ascertain his opinion on the matter. He may possess insight that I lack."

"Your father, the one who summoned and defeated Nihila with Galdorhoff's ritual?" Gilderoy asked, clearly for clarification; he was just as… "lost" wasn't the proper term here. Disoriented. He was clearly just as disoriented as the others present were, hence the questions.

"Correct," she answered with a respectful nod. "In doing so, he absorbed her powers for himself. No doubt that was Galdorhoff's intention with the spell."

"All the more reason I'm relieved he was exiled from our society," the old gryphon scoffed. "I will reserve judgment on whether or not the success of this ritual of his is of a benefit to the world once I've had the opportunity to speak with your father, whomever he might be. I imagine that that is very much unlikely, given his nature as an alicorn within the Dreaming."

Dawn paused in consideration, recalling that her father had admitted to his role in the genocide of Gilderoy's kind. She didn't imagine that being a pleasant revelation for the old gryphon, and decided then and there not to speak further on it. The fact that Winter had yet to reveal the identity of the pony who destroyed Nihila put Dawn at ease; it meant that Winter also felt it would be of no benefit to share that information just yet.

"It should be impossible for the time being, yes," Dawn agreed with a nod. "However, my father's will and means know no bounds, so if there comes a time where he wishes to commune with others on this plane, I am certain he could perform such a feat. At any rate, I cannot communicate with him at present, not in our immediate location."

"You can't? Why not?" asked Hourglass.

"There is something here in the ruins of… Aeropolis, yes?"

Gilderoy nodded in confirmation.

"There is something in these ruins that has temporarily stymied my connection to my father," Dawn stated, shaking her head. "I am always aware of my father's presence within my very being. I will compare it to a sensation of warmth deep within one's heart, but it is a more complex feeling than that. I have not felt that sensation since arriving here within the ruins."

Gilderoy hummed, stroking his beard. "Long ago, before the war with Nihila here in the north, the gryphons who constructed Aeropolis were under no delusion that our grand city would be a target for the Goddess of Evil and her legions of loyal, sadistic followers. They built the city in such a way that invaders could be easily repelled and that we would possess the resources needed to withstand a siege of many years.

"As for Nihila herself, however, there was no telling what she was capable of inflicting upon the mortal plane directly. The city was built upon a number of specific points that, together, serve as what is essentially a massive runic circle. It effectively shields us from an alicorn's power."

"If that's the case, then how did she manage to, um… do what she did to the other gryphons?" Sunspire asked. "Details on the event are scarce in the history books."

Gilderoy sneered slightly. "Her Warden at the time, a treacherous schemer by the name of Lord Silvertongue, unleashed a blight upon our city that reduced every living thing inside to dust. He had formerly been a Warden of Harmonia and had earned our trust, and so we opened ourselves—our city—to his later betrayal.

"The plague was of unique design, alien to some degree—I have never seen anything like it before or since—and with disastrous results. It affects different races differently as well. For a pony, it necrotizes the living tissue and cellular structure and… well, the effects are rather horrific from there. I won't scar you with the details.

"For gryphons, however, the plague rapidly disintegrates the entirety of their biomass, from skin and muscle down to even the bone." He shook his head, disgusted. "It was not quick, nor painless. Each and every gryphon in this city died an agonizing death within only minutes of exposure. I can only hope that it was quick enough that Nihila did not consume their souls."

"Wow, that's… terrible. This Silvertongue sounds like he was a monster."

"As devious and cruel as they come, it turns out," Gilderoy scoffed. "And none of us saw him for what he was until it was too late."

Dawn fidgeted uncomfortably, and she ignored the self-righteous look that Winter seemed to be giving her. She was aware of her father's role in the matter, yes, absolutely, but he had spared her the details of what exactly had transpired. She'd assumed that a single spell had perhaps painlessly done the job. Did he even know the full extent of what the Red Death had done?

She nervously cleared her throat. "A tragedy of the highest caliber, indeed." She then gestured towards the alicorn that was or wasn't Nihila. "At any rate, without my father's guidance, I cannot in good faith provide an answer as to what actions should be taken in regards to our newfound… discovery."

"Another reason for why I called ya. We need to get her someplace else, and you're the best taxi service a pony could ask for," Winter said with a cheeky grin. "So, back to Pandora Tower we go. Just don't expect a tip."

Dawn paused, then shook her head. "No, that would be an unwise option, given the circumstances."

"Huh?"

"Ah, forgive me, I had forgotten that you three have not been kept abreast of the recent news. I will spare you the precise details and instead provide a short summary: yesterday afternoon, Her Majesty Queen Blackburn and her family were en route to New Pandemonium City to sign the peace treaty, and they were attacked by a seditious element within the NPAF."

Winter's jaw dropped. "Crikey, are you for real? Is everypony okay?"

"Her Majesty's friend, Captain Briarthorn, perished in battle, and my sister Havoc sustained injuries as well defending the royal family."

"Bloody hell, that could set back the entire peace process you've been working towards," Hourglass muttered. "I mean, the whole thing is terrible news, but that's gotta be a big blow to your hopes for peace."

Dawn nodded; she'd come to the same conclusion during a restless sleep the night, but hated to admit it. "Precisely, hence my initial resistance to lending my assistance here. I have been in the process of addressing the potential political fallout of the situation."

"Of which I imagine there's quite a lot," Winter noted. "I've only ever met Queen Blackburn once, but I know her reputation and she doesn't seem the sort to live and let live so easily, eh?"

"An astute observation, yes. It is also why we cannot deliver our new discovery up north. Until I have ascertained the extent of the sedition within my city's military and if it potentially runs deeper, New Pandemonium is not a safe place to bring this alicorn. The sort of power such an asset could provide is troubling."

"Not to mention, if this is Nihila, I would believe it unwise to place her in any sort of proximity to the Beacon," Gilderoy added with a sagely nod. "There is no telling what could potentially occur if that were to come to pass. All of the research data I've accumulated over the years pertains to Nihila as we knew her, not whomever this alicorn is or isn't."

"A worthwhile consideration, yes." Dawn sighed and shook her head. "Our only viable option is Hope's Point, but naturally that presents its own considerably awkward circumstances. I cannot simply teleport beyond the protective barrier with such a group, so we will need to enter through the main foyer.

"However… I consider this a potential opportunity. If I am present when we present this discovery, this alicorn, to Hope's Point, it will not only expedite the process but will grant me the capability of interacting with Queen Blackburn in person, to attempt to make amends for what has happened."

"Great, two birds with one stone and all that," Winter said, rolling her eyes. "Well then, we should get a move on, eh? That sandstorm'll be here within the next few days and we don't know how that might affect things movin' forward."

"Indeed." Dawn took a breath, then looked about the group as she walked over to the unconscious alicorn. "Well then, everypony, gather around and we may depart." She paused, then turned to Gilderoy. "And you as well, Lorekeeper Gilderoy. I daresay that you could lend some insight into any potential discourse."

Gilderoy tilted his head and gave a slight smile. "Me? My dear Miss Dawn, I haven't departed from Aeropolis since well before the destruction of my kind. I have spent hundreds of years confined within the Sanctuary of Knowledge, and I fear that even this brief period spent outside of it will have advanced my aging so substantially that I may not be long for this world."

"Didn't you say it was all of that technomagic that was keepin' you alive?" Winter asked, gesturing at the mechanisms around the gryphon's chest.

"Indeed it is, but I have been unable to properly maintain them in recent years." Punctuating this point—unintentionally, Dawn hoped—he let out a series of coughs, and the light on his chest turned red. He thumped his good talon against it, turning the light green again. "Excuse me."

"You've been doing that an awful lot," Hourglass murmured. "Is everything alright?"

"You must understand that my resources, while great, are not limitless or optimal for every situation. I am well-versed in technomagic engineering but I am no prodigy. Try as I might, I cannot stop time's flow upon me forever." Gilderoy hung his head and sighed, despondent. "As the last of my kind, and the only one with access to our Sanctuary of Knowledge, I fear that with my death, our history will be lost forever…"

"Well, Hope's Point happens to have a veritable motherlode of technomagic know-how," Winter explained with a grin. "Hell, if we're lucky ya might be able to get Queen Blackburn's friend Gadget to take a look at your gizmos. From what I hear she's a wizard with the stuff. A prodigy, like ya said."

Dawn grunted, giving Winter a pointed look. "I would rather offer the Lorekeeper the assistance of New Pandemonium's technomagic scientists. Our Overseer Pedigree possesses equally as much capability as anypony from Hope's Point does, more so in fact." She glanced at Sunspire briefly. "Sunspire, your goggles are an invention of the Overseer's design, are they not?"

Sunspire adjusted his goggles slightly. "Yes, ma'am, they are."

"And they are a marvel of technomagic engineering. Filtering out magical signatures within one's vision is no easy feat—"

"Dawn, ya said yourself that we ain't bringin' anypony to New Pandemonium right now, eh?" huffed Winter. "So shut your trap and get us to Hope's Point already. Their tech gurus or whatever they've got can take a look at Gilderoy's gear and get him all fixed up. I know you're lookin' ta have him in your debt rather than Blackburn's, but tough luck, try again."

Dawn grunted, barely resisting the urge to retort, then turned to Gilderoy. "Very well. Lorekeeper Gilderoy, you are welcome to come along with us as well, and perhaps besides lending us your insight into the situation you would also surely be granted the assistance of Hope's Point—and New Pandemonium—in maintaining your technomagic prosthetics."

"Maybe even an upgrade!" Hourglass suggested with an ecstatic grin. "I mean, hundreds of years have passed, so somepony's bound to have invented better gear by now, right?"

Gilderoy smiled gently. "You are all very kind. Hmm." With a nod and a sigh, he said, "I will accept your offer, knowing well that should your technicians be incapable of helping me, that I will surely lose most of what precious little time I have left in this world. The need for my input in these world-changing matters trumps any sense of self-preservation I might have had, hmm hmm."

"Indeed," Dawn said, lighting up her horn. "Well then, everypony, Lorekeeper, take a deep breath. I have been informed that those unaccustomed to teleportation magic tend to experience nausea, with more severe cases based on the distance and strain, and Hope's Point is a great distance from here and our traveling party is quite large."

As everypony gathered around, Dawn focused her mind on the entryway into Hope's Point, a small building constructed so that it straddled the city's protective barrier and interrupted it, allowing ponies to pass through via the land route. She had never been there herself, but had seen images of it and knew its latitude and longitude by heart, so it was easier than an unknown location was.

Thus, after a bright flash and a pop, she, the other three unicorns, the aging gryphon, and the unconscious alicorn mare, all teleported instantly to a safe spot just a few dozen feet away from the entry gate.

Dawn's warning had not been for nothing, of course, though she herself wasn't affected at all. Winter seemed a little dizzy afterwards but otherwise fine; Sunspire stumbled about slightly then clutched his stomach and rolled onto his side; Hourglass immediately glanced about and found a spot where the others couldn't see her, whereupon she ran over and immediately started heaving.

Gilderoy was equally as unaffected as Dawn was, which she chalked up to either his experience with the sensation or his technomagic prosthetics eating the brunt of the shock—or perhaps him having a prosthetic stomach? Either way, it was impressive.

Out here in the open it was clear that the weather reports had also not been at all exaggerated. Dawn had to shield her eyes just to protect from the veritable typhoon of dust particles flying about. 

While it wasn't exactly a horrible sandstorm just yet, the winds had picked up enough lately that it was unbearable to travel by land; soon enough, it would even be difficult or impossible to travel by air, by airship or otherwise, and after that it would outright lethal to move out of doors. 

She saw Gilderoy look up in awe at the defensive shield around Hope's Point. "Amazing," he said with an awestruck smile. "This is an astounding feat of technomagic ingenuity. Duplication of a unicorn's telekinetic barrier spell is difficult as-is, but on this scale the complexity is staggering. And this is… 'Hope's Point', you said?"

"Yup!" Winter said, giving the old gryphon a gentle clap on the side; she couldn't even remotely reach his shoulder, where one would typically perform such a gesture, and so had apparently settled on the next best thing. "Now ya see why I'm confident they can give ya some kind of tune-up for all your little gizmos, eh?"

"Yes, I certainly can. I'd always theorized that ponies would advance our technomagic substantially in the centuries that followed our fall, but I had not anticipated such a tremendous development. I am most impressed with the ingenuity on display here."

"I imagine your reaction will be much more invigorated once you visit New Pandemonium to the north," Dawn said, nose in the air. "Our developments are substantial as well, more so than Hope's Point in my opinion. Why, it is the single largest civilized settlement in the entirety of Equestria."

"Showboat," Winter muttered.

Dawn ignored it. "At any rate, shall we proceed?"

She used her magic to lift the unconscious alicorn and carry her along in her field, an easy feat all things considered. 

She didn't expect it to be difficult, of course, but there had been a concern in the back of her mind ever since discovering the existence of this alicorn that may or may not be Nihila, a concern that her magic might have some ill effect if she used it around the mare, either by waking the mare up without warning or causing some sort of feedback issue. She was glad to see that neither seemed to be the case.

The group then entered into the gateway building, which was, as expected, utterly empty. Travel to Hope's Point by land had been restricted for long enough now that anypony who had arrived before the lockdown was put into effect would have already finished their clearance process. Thus, it was easy enough to find seats for everypony else to rest in and to set the alicorn mare someplace comfortable and safe for the time being, while Dawn approached the communicator screen.

"Havoc made mention of how the city conducts its clearance process," she explained to Winter. "Typically a prospective entrant would provide details as to their 'voucher', which would be a pony inside the city that could literally vouch for their character. It allows the background check process to be more expedient."

"And you're tellin' me that because…?" Winter said, eyebrow up. "I already know how this shit works, mate. Sure, I typically use the air route when I need to get in, but it's not like I don't understand the rules of the whole city, eh? Gotta be prepared in case of an emergency."

"I only acknowledge the fact because it is my understanding that the duration of the process sometimes exceeds hours or days. We will not be hampered by such delays. Our 'voucher' will be Her Majesty herself, and as the Shadow Associate of the Committee I will be granted judicious leeway."

"Given what ya told us about the situation, are ya so sure about that?"

Dawn smirked and stuck her nose in the air. "Excessively so. Observe."

She pressed a button next to the screen labeled Push To Talk, and within seconds was greeted by the image of a unicorn stallion on the screen, with a brownish-orange coat and a pale green mane styled in a bowl cut. His red and green vest appeared patched together, indication that it was not some form of uniform. 

She'd heard that the ponies of Hope's Point were what Havoc called "casual-professional", meaning they did their jobs exceedingly well but did so comfortably and casually. "Professional" wasn't the word Dawn would use. "Amateur" more like.

"Who goes there?" asked the stallion. "And if you could state your name clearly for me there, eh? The winds outside are giving me all kinds of interference."

"Greetings, my good stallion," Dawn said with a polite nod. "I am Shadow Associate Golden Dawn of the New Pandemonium City Committee. I believe it is customary to declare a 'voucher' as a means of expedient entry, and mine would be Her Majesty Queen Blackburn, or failing that, His Majesty King Lockwood. Or, I suppose, Ambassador Gray Skies?"

The stallion on the other end just blinked a few times. "Uh… okay, that there's a loaded bunch of information you just gave me. Nopony's ever used Her Majesty herself as a voucher before, eh? I'm gonna have to check this in with my supervisor—"

"Ah, would that be Chief Storm, by chance?" Dawn asked, tilting her head. "Excellent, she is acquainted with me, so that would also be extraordinarily beneficial. Thank you, my good stallion."

"I wasn't exactly referring to the Chief herself there, no, but uh, if you say you know her then I think that she'd be very interested in giving you a little look-see, eh? Just a moment."

The screen went dark, and it remained that way for all of about two, two-and-a-half minutes before it came to life again. This time the image on the other end was of the familiar visage of Stellar Storm, looking every bit as intimidating—to ponies other than Dawn, of course—as ever with her false metal horn, battle scars, and dark demeanor.

Storm wasted no time at all in getting right to business, an excellent quality that Dawn remembered of her from their last meeting years ago. "Shadow Associate Dawn, I would say that it's a pleasure to see you again but I think we both know that that's not even remotely true, given the circumstances of recent… events."

Dawn expected this, of course, and was ready with a quick response. "I can assure you, Chief Storm, that I was not involved in any capacity—"

"Save the spiel. Your sisters vouched for your role in the situation, or rather lack thereof. Lucky for you that you had some advocates down here, isn't it?"

"Wonderful. It gladdens me to know that cooler heads have prevailed."

Storm sneered. "Her Majesty, and many of us on her Council and otherwise, don't know if that's exactly a good thing. A leader that doesn't know when her own military planned an unsanctioned attack upon a foreign diplomat, attempted to foalnap their kids, and murdered a citizen of our fair city doesn't exactly do wonders for your approval rating."

"The NPAF was not responsible for the attack; it was a seditious element—"

"And we've heard that bullshit too, which just means you've got traitors in your ranks and don't even know who they are. Her Majesty's of the opinion that a coup could crop up at any second. Maybe you should be back home watching your back instead of being here?"

Dawn cleared her throat softly. "I will ensure that all required actions are instituted to rectify this situation with all due expediency."

"All well and good, but I don't need you to tell that to me, Shadow Associate. Tell that to Her Majesty." Storm then tilted her head, indignant. "But tell her some other time. I'll give you kudos for having the guts to come here in person to… make amends, I assume? However, Her Majesty is not in the state of mind right now to speak to you."

"I understand completely, of course, but I must express my sincerest apologies in not acquiescing to Her Majesty's wishes. There is an extraordinary circumstance that must be brought to her attention. Immediately."

Storm narrowed her eyes. "What part of 'not in the right state of mind' didn't you understand? She's grieving the loss of a dear friend who was killed thanks to your rogue seditionists. Give her some time—"

"We don't have time," Winter said, stepping up alongside Dawn.

"Winter, this is my responsibility," Dawn hissed. "I do not require your assistance."

"Blow it out your ass, Dawn. I can tell we're gettin' nowhere listenin' to ya try and play negotiator right now."

"You look familiar," Storm said, directing her gaze towards Winter. "You were at the royal wedding, a guest of His Majesty if I remember correctly. A former associate of his. Obviously quite close if you were invited to his wedding. His… roommate, I believe?"

"That's right," Winter said with a nod. "Winter Glow's the name. The King and I go back a ways, yeah, but it's a long story, so I'd rather we not get into it here if we can avoid it."

"Fair enough, and not really important anyway. I can just look you up in our database if I want answers. You jumped right into this little argument, though, didn't you? What's this about not having time?"

"That's a bit of a long story too, eh? I need to explain it to Queen Blackburn as soon as possible, the sooner the better. It's potentially world-changin' news, and I'm gonna need her facilities—and her discretion—to handle it safely."

Storm leaned back in her seat slightly, tapping her hoof on the top of her desk. "What sort of world-changing news are we talking about?"

"The kind where the less folk who know about it, the better." Winter shrugged. "No offense to ya, Chief Storm, but this kind of stuff is above your paygrade if I can help it."

"Oh yes, because any good security chief is going to just let you waltz on through with that being your story."

"Oh, I get it, I do, so if it helps ease things up on your end, King Lockwood gave me a sort of password to use for when I need to get into the city in case of emergencies."

"You never mentioned this 'password' before," Dawn said, raising an eyebrow. "Why not deliver this information to me sooner?"

"'Cause I didn't think I'd need to if you were actually gonna get us in the proper way," Winter scoffed. "And I'm not exactly supposed to be spoutin' it willy-nilly, eh? Not just because it's a secret password but because he knows that if I'm usin' it, shit's goin' down, so I'm not supposed to use it unless it's a real emergency."

"And what exactly is this password?" Storm asked, hooves steepled.

"R-A-R-I-T-Y," Winter said clearly. With a sidelong glance at Dawn, she added, "The number of ponies who know about her and her connection with Lockwood is pretty slim, so he knew nopony would be throwin' her name around at random, eh?"

Storm quirked an eyebrow as she typed the password into her system, then smirked and nodded. "Well now, look at that, a Protocol Zero password. That pretty much clears you through every possible security check I have, even ones in place that I use in secret. Must be important if His Majesty permitted you to use it."

"Sure is. So, whatever you need to do to get Her Majesty to handle this discreetly and personally would be great, because yeah, the less who know what's goin' on for now, the better."

"I'll take care of everything. Just sit tight for now."

"Thanks, Chief," Winter said with a nod.

Dawn paused, then hastily nodded as well. "Yes, we appreciate the effort, Chief Storm."

"Mmhmm."

The screen then went dark again.

Dawn let out a long, hearty sigh. "That certainly could have proceeded with substantially improved results if circumstances were not what they presently are." She gave Winter a gentle nod. "I appreciate your assistance in any case, Winter."

Winter shrugged. "Meh. Gotta do what ya gotta do when this line of work is concerned, so here we are. Don't mention it, 'cause I certainly didn't do it for you. I did it because it's my job and we need to move quickly."

"Still, it was fortuitous that you possessed such a beneficial bypass to the security procedure. Though I do not quite understand why King Lockwood would utilize Rarity in particular in such a fashion. Naturally the security of it is substantial given the fact that Rarity is no longer present in our world, but—"

"Hey, look, I don't get it any more than you do, yeah? I figure it was just because it was easier for me and him to remember than some complex series of letters and numbers and other shit, y'know, the kind ya might use for loggin' into a bank account."

Dawn considered this, then nodded in agreement. "I suppose that much is true." She turned to the unconscious alicorn and the ancient gryphon that watched over her, then shook her head. "Given my own reaction to the situation that sits before us, I cannot imagine Her Majesty's reaction to be anything less than astounded."

"As long as she helps, I don't care what her reaction is," Winter grunted.


*****


Dawn stared at Blackburn, who—with Lockwood at her side—stared right back with an expression that Dawn just couldn't read. She'd never been particularly good at reading ponies, not like Curaçao was, but she could see hints of aggravation, anger, curiosity, worry, and many more emotions in the queen's eyes as she and Winter explained the situation. Dawn's own expression remained as even and calm as she could manage, but it was difficult not to feel unnerved.

Her Majesty had handled things with a great deal of discretion and expedience, as was expected of somepony of her nature. With all due secrecy, Blackburn herself, along with Lockwood and Gadget, had arrived at the city gate to see for themselves what had warranted Winter's use of the noteworthy password, and though some few moments were used to get over the initial shock of seeing a living gryphon and a physical alicorn, they put their questions aside momentarily.

Now they resided in a room within the royal palace itself, one that possessed what Blackburn called "Ultra-Restricted Access", meaning that only the ponies that she personally permitted entry to were allowed to access it. The way she put it, her absolute authority over the issue meant that she could restrict access to the room even from Lockwood, though she obviously did no such thing.

As such, the number of ponies who were permitted at present included only those that were already aware of the situation at hoof: Dawn, Winter, Hourglass, Sunspire, Blackburn, Lockwood, and Gadget. Blackburn even added Gray to the list, and though Dawn disagreed with the decision—her sister was out of her league in this situation as far as she was concerned—she didn't argue it further.

A single guard, one Commander Pinpoint, a trusted soldier possessing "remarkable skill with a rifle" as Gadget put it, had been left in charge of watching the entrance, but even he had no knowledge of the contents of the room he was protecting. The room was even magically sealed to prevent even entry via teleportation. The secret of the gryphon and the alicorn would remain a secret, for now.

At present, Hourglass and Sunspire had been given leave to eat and rest after a tiring journey, mostly because now that the situation had progressed to this point it was agreed that it was time for the adults to discuss things without younger ponies present. Winter had argued for Hourglass's inclusion, but Hourglass felt it better to just leave it up to the ponies in charge. A wise decision, as far as Dawn was concerned; the younger mare was learning well.

"So that's basically the situation we find ourselves in," Winter finished, shaking her head. "As ya can imagine, it's a right mess, yeah?"

"Indeed," Blackburn said, not taking her eyes off of Dawn. "Circumstances perplexing, leaves more questions than answers. Alicorn's nature unknowable at present, potential threat. Would argue against decision in bringing hazardous material of any kind into Hope's Point given current political climate."

Dawn winced slightly. "Your Majesty, again, I must offer—"

"Save it," the queen interjected. "Understand decision, however. Threat potentially greater if existence of alicorn discovered by unsavory types. In light of recent events, do not trust you to maintain protection of this secret. Best option, no question."

Blackburn then turned to Winter. "Hope's Point will guard alicorn until necessary. If she proves a threat, will deal with it. Understand your desire to maintain secrecy over circumstances of your 'work', will respect privacy."

"Much appreciated, Your Majesty," Winter replied with a nod. "I'll remain here for the rest of the day while we try and figure somethin' out about what's goin' on, but I'll be takin' Hourglass with me to head back to the ruins tomorrow morning."

"What? Why?" Lockwood asked, apparently worried.

"'Cause whatever caused this alicorn to appear where she did is likely linked to those ruins, specifically to the prototype Beacon we found there. We can deliberate on theories and shit as much as we want to, but I need concrete data and that means I need to do a full scan of the entire area. Now that we've moved her, I can get readin's I wouldn't have gotten before.

"Not only that, but we've gotta leave and get there before the sandstorm hits, and we have less than a week to do that. I know a route into the mountains that won't take us through whatever the Gargantuans are doin' in the eastern Wastelands, but my window's tight. As much as I'd love to wait around for her to wake up, I can't afford to."

"I could always teleport you there if that would offer a more convenient solution," Dawn suggested with all due sincerity. "It would not require significant effort, and I could then return here to observe the situation as it develops."

Blackburn grunted. "No. You will be leaving as soon as possible, if not sooner. Your presence in my city…" She took a breath. "Unwelcome."

Dawn frowned. "Your Majesty—"

"Blackburn, while I agree that Dawn being here isn't going to do wonders for anypony's patience," interjected Gray, "the fact is that she needs to be here for at least a little longer. Not just to discuss what to do about this alicorn situation, but because she should be here when Havoc is released from the hospital."

Gray then looked directly at Dawn, a hard look in her eyes. "Isn't that right, sis? You were planning on staying until Havoc is released from the hospital, weren't you?"

"Naturally," Dawn lied. 

She'd had no intention of waiting for Havoc to recover from whatever injuries she'd sustained, which were obviously minor enough in nature that she'd not been informed elsewise and yet still somehow required a hospital stay. But, if Gray was providing her with an excuse to be allowed to stay, then she'd happily jump on that opportunity. She wasn't sure why Gray was giving her such a harsh look while suggesting it, but attributed it to the stress of the past twenty-four hours.

Blackburn directed a minor look of annoyance at Gray for half a moment, then redirected it to Dawn. "Very well. But not as a guest of mine, or of Ambassador Gray's. You will seek own room and board, utilize an alias that I provide. Nopony in city is to know who you are or why you're here."

Dawn nodded. "That I can agree to."

"Wasn't asking for approval." Blackburn then turned to Winter. "Will provide you with food and resources needed to prepare for your trip, can offer transport if needed. Fair warning, once sandstorm hits, will be unable to retrieve you. Will need to procure own shelter; even Goldridge Checkpoint potentially unreachable. Will also provide weather predictions, give best information possible."

"Well I appreciate any help you can provide, certainly," Winter replied with earnest. "But I won't burden you much. Just some food and a few supplies to last us for the time. Worst case scenario is we get stuck in the mountains, but I think the two of us can make it work."

"Trust your judgment, understand that you know your limits."

Lockwood tilted his head. "You're sure you don't want to wait until after the storm, Winter?"

Winter shook her head. "Can't afford to wait, mate. The readin's wear out over time, and they're already gonna be a little inaccurate as it is considerin' how long it's been since the initial surge. If we wait for the storm to pass, I don't even know how much of a readin' I'll be able to get."

"Fair enough. You can count on us to help however we can."

"So, too many questions on nature of alicorn," Blackburn said with a slow nod. "Cannot obtain concrete answers until she wakes. Unfortunate, but situation is what it is. Will wait until opportunity presents itself." She then turned to Gilderoy. "Lorekeeper Gilderoy, on other hoof, can provide answers on self."

Gilderoy, who'd remained politely quiet while the ponies deliberated on their internal political issues, gave the queen a small smile. "Certainly, Your Majesty. I would be delighted to answer any questions pertaining to myself or to the situation we currently find ourselves in. I have my own questions for you, of course, about your city and your technomagic and technology."

"Naturally. Firstly, curious about how you are still alive. Not just survival pertaining to supposed extinction of gryphon race, but survival through centuries. Do gryphons possess extended lifespan?"

While Gilderoy and Blackburn spoke—Lockwood, Gray, and Gadget all listened in with rapt attention—Dawn pulled Winter aside slightly to speak privately; the pair of them had already heard enough of Gildeory's story that she figured it would be best if they tried to make more judicious use of their time.

"My offer still remains extended to you and Hourglass if you require more expeditious transport to the mountains," Dawn said quietly. "I can teleport you two there and then return here with minimal exertion of effort, and far quicker than any of Her Majesty's ships could hope to do so."

Winter shook her head. "I appreciate the offer, but that won't be necessary. It'll take a few days at most after we leave to get to where I'm intending to go, 'cause we've got more than just the ruins to explore. Long story." She smirked, nudging Dawn gently. "And hey, I won't be taking up the queen's offer for transport, either, if that makes you feel better."

"Why would it make me feel better?"

"Because I can tell you've been absolutely livid inside ever since you had to suggest we bring the alicorn here to Hope's Point in the first place. You don't like that even though it was your idea and even though I contacted you for help, in the end it's Blackburn that's pulling all the weight. Her city, her resources, not you and yours."

Dawn snorted and made to argue the point, then paused, hung her head, and let out a sigh and nodded. "Your assessment is… excruciatingly accurate."

"I know it is. I know you, Dawn, and I know how you've always got to feel like you're the center of attention. You were like that with me and Twilight, too, way back when."

"Hmph… while I vehemently disagree with your vernacular, you possess keen insight into the situation." Dawn chanced a glance towards the conversing royals, then back to Winter. "I feel as though my position in this political atmosphere has been drastically weakened. It has taken tremendous effort to reach this point, and there is no doubt that Queen Blackburn will utilize these circumstances to argue for additional measures.

"What I find most frustrating is that the situation is entirely reversed. It should be New Pandemonium, not Hope's Point, that possesses control over the upcoming political summit. As it stood, the parties were relatively equal, and even that I disagreed with. Our city is exponentially superior to this hodgepodge of desperation, even if our commercial airships are of… mediocre quality."

Winter shrugged. "Woof, that's a bold statement there, but eh, it is what it is, mate. Ya gotta deal with the cards you've been dealt. However, might I remind you that you've got an advantage that they don't have?"

"Hmm?"

"You've got your dear old dad to ask for help. Or did ya forget that the whole reason we took the alicorn out of the ruins was so that you could speak with him?"

Dawn's eyes widened. "Oh! Yes, I had utterly forgotten about that considering the excitement of our predicament. I will contact him immediately. Forgive me if it seems as though I am subsequently ignoring you, for our conversation will be entirely via a mental, spiritual link, and it takes me some effort to communicate with him. I must isolate myself."

"I bet you're pretty good at that," Winter scoffed. "Go on then. Let me know if anythin' comes up that's important."

Dawn stepped away slightly from Winter, took a deep breath, and centered herself on her own thoughts and her own heartbeat. She'd gotten better at doing this over the past few years, but focusing herself entirely on her inner aura was still a tremendous effort while she was conscious; she found it easier to commune with her father while she was asleep.

Though it took a few moments, eventually she could feel her essence waft about her, signaling into the Dreaming, to her father, that she needed to commune with him. It was both a tranquil state of being and yet exhausting all the same; her soul was both at peace and yet being taxed by the sheer effort of breaking the planar barrier. Her father had told her it took decades for even him to reach a point where he could do it without strain.

Then, she felt a familiar warmth in her heart, the feeling she always got whenever she was in her father's presence, even before his ascension. He was here now, with her. "Father," she greeted mentally.

"Dawn, my dearest daughter," came the voice of Silvertongue in her mind. "I would ask you how you fare, but I can sense a tremendous amount of stress within you. A burden encompasses the whole of your body, mind, and soul. What troubles you, my dear?"

"I bear news regarding that surge of Darkness you detected last week, Father. I fear that the news is… incredibly troubling." She gulped; she wondered if her father could hear her do it. "I cannot ascertain the absolute truth of the situation, so I will provide you with the facts that I do know. Winter Glow uncovered the source of the anomaly: an alicorn. A physical alicorn. Her form is identical to that of Nihila."

She was not surprised that her father paused for a brief instant. Even a being as powerful as he was needed a moment to parse through words that, for all intents and purposes, should be impossible. Even for somepony who had physically summoned an alicorn into the material plane and destroyed her himself. Even for somepony who had existed as a physical alicorn for a few hours himself.

"I can sense her," her father's voice said, the sensation oddly cold and warm at the same time, washing over Dawn and flooding her with feelings of tremendous anxiety and relief all at once. "Her power is… almost astronomical. Nearly equal in strength to what I bore witness to when Nihila, in a mortal, physical body, attempted to destroy me. And that power is growing stronger by the second.

"I can sense an odd disturbance within the Dreaming, as though its strength is drawn to her as it should be, yet it does not quite reach her. And yet… there is something else about it all that I cannot properly put into words. She is fueled by Darkness, yes, much as Nihila was, much as I now am, but her aura is different. It is… hmm. Pure. She is pure."

"'Pure'?"

"Untainted. I have not felt such purity of essence since I served as Warden of Harmonia. Nihila did not 'feel' like this, not when I served her in her incorporeal state, nor when I confronted her in her physical form. I cannot properly describe it to you, for you cannot sense it as I can."

"Sunspire, a pupil of mine, suggested a similar theory. He possesses the capability to gaze upon magical signatures."

"One of the Shadow Candidates, I assume?" A sense of elation filled Dawn's heart for a moment. "I knew it was a good idea to entrust them to the care of you and your sisters, my dear. If young Sunspire was capable of seeing some facsimile of this information with his own eyes, then you know my words bear truth."

Dawn frowned, though she was glad to hear that her sending Sunspire with Winter had been of benefit. "What does this all mean, though? Is there cause for concern?"

"There is always cause for concern when an alicorn is involved, my dear. The power that Nihila brought to bear when in her physical form was incalculable, and though this mare's power is not quite equal in measure, it soon will be. You were able to resist Nihila, for a time, but she was untiring. If not for the ritual's exacting preventative measures, she would have destroyed us all."

That sent a chill through Dawn's very core. "But is this her, Father? Is this Nihila?"

"That I cannot say, though I am currently of the opinion that she is… not. She is remarkably similar to her, not just in her physical form, but in her very essence, but as I said, there is something… missing."

"What course of action should we proceed with?"

There was another pause. "I have my theories. I would have them communicated to the others involved with the situation. Bouncing ideas off of others often leads to new theories, I find."

"Then allow me to provide them with the information—"

"You will, my dear, but I must do so through you. Your comrades will have questions. It would be more efficient for me to communicate directly, rather than play this makeshift game of Telephone. You would serve as my avatar for a brief period. The experience will be… taxing. Nihila performed this act upon me many times, and even Harmonia did before her. Unlike Nihila, however, I will ask you for your permission."

Dawn felt another surge of warmth in her soul. "Whatever is required, Father, I will provide you with the means to do so."

"I know you will, my dear, and I thank you for that. Now, you may feel a slight sensation of nothingness—"


~~~~~


Silvertongue lifted a hoof tentatively, glancing down to see both his daughter's and his own at the same time. The physical being of Dawn was still present, but his own astral projection had been overlaid over it, moving in tandem with his movements as if he were in absolute control of both, which for all intents and purposes he was. His daughter's presence existed only in his mind; she was, in effect, in a deep, deep meditative state.

"Uh, what the hell am I seein' here, Dawn?" Winter blurted out just beside him.

He turned briefly and looked upon Winter Glow, the Chronomancer. It was an odd sensation, seeing her both from Dawn's eyes and his own simultaneously, but adjusting himself so that he was only using his own senses was a trifling thing requiring little more than a thought. He was amused just how small she was beneath him. She was already shorter than Dawn by nearly a head, so in his alicorn state, he was nearly three times her size.

"Miss Glow, a pleasure to see you again," he said, his voice and Dawn's projecting in unison. "To answer your question, I have temporarily appropriated control of my daughter's physical form so that I might be able to provide assistance in the matters that plague her mind. I understand that you've found an alicorn? A physical alicorn?"

Winter stared at him for a moment, then sighed and nodded. "Right. Yeah. Fuckin' nothin' surprises me anymore where you're concerned. And if anypony'd be able to help, it's you, eh?" She gestured to the side. "We've got her restin' over there for now. I'm sure that the others would be glad to hear anythin' you've got to add to the discussion."

"Certainly. Shall we join them?"

He turned towards the group of ponies that he heard speaking behind him, and his eyes widened when he caught sight of a familiar face. Well, mostly familiar, at any rate. Lorekeeper Gilderoy was certainly much older than he last remembered him being, and covered with an assortment of technomagic constructs no doubt intended to replace failing organs and limbs so as to keep him alive. But it was still the old bird that had once sat on Aeropolis's Council of Elders.

A part of Silvertongue felt an immense sense of guilt and regret at seeing the old bird again; he'd been the only gryphon that had not been confirmed as destroyed by Nihila's Red Death, but with no proof one way or the other, he didn't make assumptions and just let the situation be. So a part of him was happy that one gryphon had survived—a blow against Nihila's vengeful schemes—but another part was saddened that it was apparently just the one.

Nevertheless, he stepped over to the group and cleared his—or rather, Dawn's—throat to get their attention. "Forgive the interruption, but I believe that I can provide some further insight into your 'alicorn problem'."

The attention of everypony—and Gilderoy—immediately turned to him, then gazed upon him and Dawn in their current intermingled state with varying degrees of awe, confusion, recognition, and, in one case, unadulterated anger.

"It cannot be!" sputtered old Gilderoy, taking half a step back, his talon grasping inside his robes. "No, no, this is… is impossible… h-how—" The old gryphon went into a coughing fit, the light over his chest plate rapidly blinking red. 

One of the smaller ponies, the unicorn—Gadget? His daughter's mind was calling her Gadget—approached him, horn alight. She was attempting to prevent the technomagic devices that kept his heart and lungs stable from going haywire. He knew this because he just… did, a benefit to his ascended consciousness. The magic had benevolent intentions and was of a restorative nature, and he could sense her natural talent with machinery hard at work.

"Easy, old guy, easy," she said as she worked her magic. "Golly, you're having one hell of a fit. What's gotten into you?"

"Dad?" muttered Gray, tilting her head in confusion. "Is… is that you? What's going on?"

"Would like to know myself," said the… queen. Blackburn, Dawn told him. Ah, so this was the infamous Iron Queen Blackburn. He'd imagined somepony taller. Or maybe it was just that he was so tall now that she appeared shorter than she was.

He could not resist giving the mare a small smile. "Queen Blackburn, a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, in the flesh. You do not know who I am, but I know you, or of you, rather. I knew of your father, and of your grandfather before him. Hope's Point withstood my test. Congratulations are in order for you, your family, and the ponies of your great city."

She raised an eyebrow, and in her eyes he saw some of the most legitimate confusion he'd ever seen in a pony before. Not the sort that one displayed when they were given orders they didn't understand, or were provided with information that was beyond their scope, no, those were just the underlying results of a lack of intelligence, a lack of comprehension. This mare was incredibly intelligent—he could see it in her very soul—but his words had struck her as outright odd, odder than anything she'd ever heard before. 

And so, she was confused.

"What?" was her amusingly simple response.

"Your family succeeded where so many others failed over the centuries. You likely do not know of every attempt to settle outside the Wastelands, every attempt that failed. Hope's Point was the first to withstand the elements, to withstand the Gargantuans, to withstand the NPAF." With a tilt of his head, he added, "To withstand Nihila and her wrath."

"What does any of that have to do with Nihila?" Winter asked.

"Nihila was always opposed to settlements rising up outside of New Pandemonium. It was more difficult for her to exert her influence on ponies if they strayed too far from the Beacon, you see, more difficult for her to devour their souls when they departed. 

"Everything that could be done to stop such efforts… was done. Earthquakes, swarms of Gargantuans, the city's military. No resource was spared if it prevented ponies from distancing themselves from her grasp. Hope's Point succeeded where all others failed."

The queen blinked, tilting her head in turn. "Curious. Implies intimate knowledge of situation, of Nihila's influence. Have come to understand nature of Nihila's 'rule', know she had somepony serving under her, a 'Warden'. You. Deceived her, according to Dawn. Destroyed her, absorbed her power, made Dawn your new Warden. You are her father."

He was impressed with her quick, logical thinking. It was no wonder why this mare and her family had succeeded where so many others had failed. "That I am. Proper introductions are in order, I believe." He gave a brief nod. "I am—"

"Lord Silvertongue!" spat Gilderoy, who was no longer suffering from his ailing heart or lungs. 

He reached into his robes swiftly and drew out a small metallic rod—a magic wand, which the gryphons used to channel their form of magic—and aimed it right at Silvertongue's chest, which incidentally was where Dawn's forehead was.

"Whoa!" exclaimed Gadget, swiftly drawing the sidearm strapped to her flank and aiming it at the old gryphon. "What the hell are you doing?! Drop the… weapon, or whatever that is!"

"This monster is responsible for the genocide of my kind," the gryphon snarled, not at all intimidated by Gadget's weapon trained on him. "Kill me if you must, Miss Gadget, but I will have vengeance for his unforgivable atrocities."

"Careful, Lorekeeper," Silvertongue said gently, tapping Dawn's chest with her hoof, and only hers. "I am not physically present. Your wand is currently aimed at the head of my daughter, and I very much doubt you wish any harm upon her, especially not after she has been so keen to lend you her aid. Hmm?"

Gilderoy's beak twitched slightly. "Coward. Hiding behind an innocent mare—"

"I do not hide from anypony, Gilderoy. Or anygryphon, for that matter," Silvertongue replied with an even face. "Without Galdorhoff's ritual—which I destroyed—I lack the means to physically manifest before you in a flesh and blood body, but I would gladly do so so that you could attempt this brazen show of force if you so wished.

"And I have no reason to hide from you, at any rate. Why? Do you think I fear retribution? Revenge? Do you think I fear justice? Foolish concepts, all, and concepts far beneath a gryphon of your nature. They would accomplish nothing more than a senseless waste of life on your part."

Silvertongue then laughed, confident and uncowed. "And here I thought you were an intellectual, Gilderoy? A scholar? A pacifist? Would you truly throw away every quality of your admirable character for a feeble attempt at revenge? As if revenge would somehow undo what I have done?"

"You killed every single gryphon in Aeropolis," Gilderoy hissed through clenched teeth. "You held no remorse then, monster, and you clearly hold none now. Do not speak to me of the quality of one's character. You were a paragon of light, a servant of Harmonia, a force of good in the world that stood against Nihila's Darkness and evil. And you betrayed—"

"I betrayed nothing," Silvertongue said, taking a sharp step forward; every pony in the room, bar Gray, took at least a small step back, even Blackburn. "I have lived by my ideals and kept true to my principles through it all, even at my lowest points. It is all I could do to prevent Nihila from overpowering my willpower."

"When last we spoke," he continued, "I extolled to you the need for balance in our world. The gryphon Council of Elders agreed with me then, which is why the Beacons of the north and south were erected and still stand to this day. You cannot deny that our world is in an absolute perfect balance thanks to me."

"Well, not right this moment," Winter interjected, gesturing at the unconscious alicorn in the corner.

"Precisely, and unfortunately so," Silvertongue replied with a nod. He turned back to Gilderoy. "Hence why I am here now: to offer any insight and guidance that I can in order to maintain the balance that I strived so hard to ensure would never falter, no matter what or who needed to be sacrificed in order to make that ideal a reality."

Gilderoy scoffed, his good eye, milky though it was, alight with rage. "Is that what the gryphons were to you? A necessary 'sacrifice'?"

"Yes," was Silvertongue's simple reply. "I will not claim myself to be a virtuous stallion, Gilderoy. I never was, even before I entered Nihila's service. Unleashing the Red Death upon your kind was not a decision that I made lightly, and it cost me dearly. But it was a decision that needed to be made, and there was nopony else that possessed the will to make that choice, to carry it out to completion."

Gilderoy paused a moment, then glanced at the ponies of the group momentarily, specifically at Gray and Dawn, though the latter couldn't react to his next question: "You say that Lord Silvertongue is your father?"

Gray nodded once. "Yeah. He's… my dad…" She didn't sound hurt by it—she knew well enough the things he'd done to achieve his goals—but there was definitely something in her voice that Silvertongue knew meant she did not approve of any of it. "It's complicated. Not something I want to go into detail about right now."

"Exceedingly complicated then, I would say." The old gryphon then stared at Silvertongue, still not lowering his wand. "And you say that you wish to help us with our 'alicorn problem'? Hmm? I can understand why Miss Gray and Miss Dawn would believe your honeyed words, but why should anyone else?"

"Because, as Miss Glow so succinctly put it, the alicorn in question has caused an imbalance in the world, and I have spent centuries striving for nothing more than maintaining the balance that I so carefully crafted." Silvertongue gave a small gesture towards Winter. "As she no doubt has explained to you, an imbalance of sufficient size would be potentially catastrophic. I seek to prevent such a catastrophe, just as I once did centuries ago."

"He's right," Winter said with a nod, glancing towards Gilderoy. "Look, I don't like what he did any more than anypony else, and regardless of what Dawn or her sister's might think, hey, I'm one hundred percent with ya: he's history's greatest monster. I don't trust him with a single fiber of my bein'... except on this. I've seen what he's willin' to do to maintain the balance, and I know he's on our side in this."

Blackburn looked to Lockwood for approval. Silvertongue recognized the stallion from the tower years ago, and was amused that such a seemingly unexceptional stallion had married the Iron Queen of Hope's Point. Silvertongue could tell just by looking at her that she didn't trust him any more than Gilderoy or Winter did, but why was Lockwood's opinion on it so crucial— ah, he had likely told her everything about that fateful day at some point.

Lockwood looked at her, then at Silvertongue briefly, then back to her. "I know that everything he's done is just… beyond awful. Words don't do it justice. But I think Winter's right: he doesn't do evil actions for the sake of being evil. I can't justify what he's done, and I find it a tremendous lack of karmic justice that he's essentially escaped punishment for it and is beyond the reach of anypony that could.

"But… when the situation really came down to it, when the chips fell, I saw that he's capable of doing good just as much as he is of doing evil. I don't think the concepts of good and evil really mean anything to him at all. He just cares whether or not the world is protected, and we should be glad he's willing to help us do that."

Silvertongue withheld his thanks to the stallion for his astute observation. Yes, this Lockwood fellow had certainly proven himself capable. This was the sort of stallion that offered, unafraid, to shake hooves with a god because he was just so damned polite that he hadn't seen any other option.

Gray cleared her throat. "For what it's worth, Blackburn, Dawn's entire peace proposal campaign was our father's idea initially. If not for Nihila, I don't think he'd have ever done any of the terrible things he's done in the name of balance." She looked to her father. "And… I know that he would never do anything to hurt me or my sisters, or our friends or families."

Silvertongue felt a wave of realization wash over him as he looked into his daughter's core. She'd found love. She'd gotten married. She had a daughter—he had a granddaughter. An odd question seemed to be floating around in her mind as well, one he'd have to answer eventually: Lockwood and Flathoof did not need to refer to Gray's sisters as their sisters-in-law twice-removed, since there was no actual familial connection there.

A pang of disappointment came with that feeling of elation, though: why was he only now learning of this? From his position within the Dreaming, he was only near-omniscient; he could detect magical energies, sense powerful emotions, and even exert a certain level of control on the physical realm, such as ushering in new weather patterns to the northern lands. 

But he could not see everything, not without his Warden's input. It was part of Dawn's duties to inform him of other such things. And yet Dawn had neglected to tell him that he was a grandfather. Why? A question for once this situation was resolved.

Blackburn paused for a long moment in thought, then nodded and turned to Gilderoy. "Lorekeeper Gilderoy, let us hear what he has to say. Make judgment afterwards."

Gilderoy slowly lowered his wand; Silvertongue wasn't sure why he'd still had it raised all this time, apart from a distant hope that he'd be able to do something no matter how inconsequential or fruitless it would be. 

"Very well, Lord Silvertongue," the old bird said. "If you claim yourself to have nothing but good intentions, then let us hear the insight that you have to offer. Just know that I find your presence here distasteful and only accept your aid out of desperation or answers and solutions, and out of respect for my hosts' wishes."

Silvertongue gave a polite nod. "Thank you, Lorekeeper." 

He then gestured towards the unconscious alicorn. "I explained this to my daughter earlier, and now do the same for you all: I possess a sense of this alicorn's essence that is beyond what any of you can detect with simple magic or technomagic. It is simple enough to say that her magical signature is 'different', but there is more to it than that.

"Her essence is pure. Untainted. I felt Nihila's essence inside my very soul for centuries, and I can say without any trace of doubt that this alicorn's essence is not Nihila's, not exactly. Similar, but as I said: pure. It is missing a certain… quality to it, a quality which I cannot quantify because I do not properly understand it. It is alien to me."

"Is it possible that she changed her signature?" Winter asked. "We were theorizin' on that."

"Utterly impossible, even for her," he said, shaking his head. "One can hide their magical signature to make themselves untraceable, mask it behind another to fool would-be investigators, even merge it with another's to create something new. All of these are temporary measures, of course, and easy for one with experience to gaze beyond.

"No, this is something far different than a 'change' in signature. Again, it is Nihila's same energy, the same Darkness, but she is missing something crucial that I cannot place my hoof on. Something… foreign, alien to my senses. The best analogy I can give is akin to filtering waste or poison from water to make it potable."

"So this alicorn is like pure water, but Nihila was like… toxic water?" asked Lockwood, scratching his head. "It's the same water, but it lacks the pollution?"

"An apt summary of my assessment, yes."

"Perhaps it is because you absorbed that 'taint' within yourself when you defeated her before?" Gilderoy suggested, his tone hinting that he didn't believe Silvertongue could be more tainted than he already was. It was easier than ever to read one's intentions in this form, Silvertongue found. It rather took the enjoyment of conversation away from him.

Silvertongue shook his head. "No, that is incorrect. I possess intimate knowledge of what the signature is missing, insofar as how to measure and discover its presence within a being. That presence does not exist within my essence. My power is my own, only enhanced by the power of Nihila that I absorbed."

The gryphon scoffed. "We'll just have to take your word on that, I assume?"

"Yes, you will." Silvertongue sighed. "I am afraid that I cannot provide more insight than that until this alicorn wakes, and I fear that forcing the issue may be folly. Whatever reason there is that she yet sleeps is reason enough to believe that waking her could have unforeseen consequences."

"So basically we just have new questions, not a lot of new answers, and still have to wait for her to wake up?" Winter grunted. "Fuckin' hell. I don't have time for this."

"Indeed, particularly if you wish to continue your investigations into what lies within Goldridge Mountains, Miss Glow," Silvertongue said with a small wink.

He knew just from looking at her, not even needing to gaze into her mind or soul, that the ruins of Aeropolis were not the only thing the Chronomancer wanted, no, needed to look further into. Her eyes had the look of mare that needed to know more. He hoped his little project would bear its extraordinary fruit within the next year, and she would probably be one of the first ponies to witness his triumph.

"But take heed," he continued, "the most important information that I have provided is that this is not Nihila, at least not the Nihila we knew."

"If this isn't Nihila, then where is Nihila?" asked Blackburn "Truly destroyed? Changed somehow? Vanished?"

Silvertongue looked at the queen with a deep frown, disappointed that he was in the same boat that she was at that moment. A failing on his part, and one that frustrated him to no end. "That, Your Majesty, is a question I would very much like to know the answer to."
> Chapter Nineteen: Tale
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Two Days Later


Havoc relaxed in her hospital bed, mostly upright but still in a comfortable, leisurely position. Her eye surgery had gone as well as could be, though she would still be taking another day or two to finish recovering and integrating the technomagic "software" or whatever it was. 

For now she was able to be mostly casual and carefree, despite still being confined to the hospital. The only bandages she had left were those over her left eye socket, since the new eye wasn't ready for use yet and wouldn't be for another day or two. After that, she'd pretty much be ready to leave the hospital, a day she was looking forward to immensely. Talking with Blackburn about all the secrets was one thing on her to-do list, but more importantly was officially bonding her life with Cotton's.

Anyway, this meant that she was allowed to have visitors, and since Blackburn had had her moved to one of the larger rooms for her recovery, it meant she could have several visitors at once if need be. Like tonight, for example. Joining her in the room, all seated or standing in a circle near and around Havoc's bed, were Blackburn, Lockwood, Gadget, Crossfire, Gray, Flathoof, and to Havoc's genuine surprise, Dawn.

Apart from Dawn and Flathoof, everypony had a drink—mostly beers—in their hoof. Well, Havoc didn't either, but that was because she wasn't allowed to drink until she left the hospital, otherwise she'd be drinking it up too. The mood was relatively jocular, a pleasant, friendly atmosphere filling the room like a fragrant aroma. The time for mourning and sadness had, for the time being, passed; now was the time for happy reflection.

Briarthorn's funeral had been as far from a subdued affair as Havoc could imagine, which fit right in line with the kind of pony he was. She hadn't been there herself, of course, but had watched it on the room's quality television set via a feed provided by Gadget. It wasn't exactly a public funeral, but anypony and everypony Briarthorn knew—a large number, from how Lockwood explained it—were invited. Most of them came, too, so it had been pretty crowded.

But Havoc had only half-listened to the eulogies and ceremonial displays, if only because she had still been exhausted from the most recent administration of drugs and magic into her system to help her new eye work properly. Well, that and because she couldn't bear to watch through most of it. She still blamed herself for Briarthorn's death. If only she'd been a little faster, a little stronger, maybe he'd still be alive.

Now, though, everypony had gathered here with her, as these were the ponies who knew Briarthorn best, at least those who were present in the city. Velvet was the only pony that Havoc felt should be here that wasn't, which was just a matter of too many things happening all at once and there not being enough time to arrange it. The feed Havoc had watched earlier had been recorded to give to Velvet later, just to provide some closure until she could visit and pay her respects properly.

The purpose for everypony being present now was simple: remembering Briarthorn as he lived, and sharing happy memories of their time together with him.

Blackburn went first, casually drinking from her beer as she did. "Briarthorn always enjoyed getting rise out of ponies. Liked to do things to elicit reactions, get others talking, shake things up. Otherwise, life was 'boring', he said. Always with good intentions, of course, though sometimes…" She took a breath and smirked. "Didn't think it through.

"Remember time when we were still dating, before my first trip to New Pandemonium. Both of us, young, foolish, excessively hormonal. Went to the movies one night; Crossfire, Gadget, Briarthorn, myself. Exact seating order. Big premiere of final film in favorite trilogy. He ordered largest tub of popcorn they had."

Gadget groaned in dismay. "Oh no, not this story…"

Blackburn tilted her head, amused. "Didn't think anything of it at first. Set popcorn tub in his lap, 'easy for us both to share from' he said. Did not know he had discreetly cut hole in bottom of tub, large enough to fit his… himself into," she said, taking another drink. "Was shocked at first, then amused, then, well, excited."

Havoc's good eye widened. "Whoa whoa whoa, don't tell me you jerked him off? Right there in the theater?"

"And into the popcorn, yes." Blackburn tilted her head slightly towards Gadget. "Did not expect Gadget to want to share snacks."

Gadget blanched. "Golly, I'm still traumatized by it. I had to wash my mouth out with my entire soda once I found out that no, the theater was not using a new flavor of butter."

"Haaa ha ha!" Havoc guffawed, slapping the side of her bed. "That is both the grossest and most hilarious thing I've ever heard! You must've been so embarrassed!" She pointed at Gadget, still chuckling. "You got a second-hoof mouth load! Ha! Ha ha!"

Gadget took a tiny sip of her hard lemonade, giving Havoc the best evil eye she could manage. "Har har har, laugh it up, laugh it up." She directed the glare at Blackburn next. "Really, Blackburn? It had to be that story you told about him? Really?"

Blackburn shrugged, nonchalant. "Was most amusing one that came to mind. Exemplified our relationship: fast, loose, sexual… and unthinking at times. Tell your own, get back at me if you want."

"Psh, I don't have any stories about Briar that would embarrass you. You wouldn't bat an eye if I told them the story about that time we were all at his place and he sneezed while you two were making out and damn near bit off your tongue."

"Ah. No, not embarrassing," Blackburn said, nodding and sipping her beer. "My fault anyway. Learned to be less…  aggressive after that."

Lockwood scoffed. "Less aggressive? Tell that to my back."

"Well, not with you. You like aggressive."

Gadget rolled her eyes. "The only story I have about Briarthorn that was particularly amusing, at least to me, was when we were all just getting to be old enough to drink. I mean, legally drink. We used to sneak liquor out of the palace storeroom all the time before we were old enough.

"Anyway, once we could all drink in public and such, I remember that Briarthorn always goaded Crossfire into drinking contests," she continued, tilting her bottle towards the larger stallion, who chuckled and rubbed his recovering shoulder. "Poor sap didn't realize what he was getting into. I mean, look at the guy. Tell me that any of you would try to drink Crossfire under the table."

Blackburn shook her head. "Tried once, never again."

"Nnnope, even if I were a drinker, I doubt I'd even hold a candle to him," said Flathoof with a grin. "You mean Briarthorn tried? More than once?"

"Oh, all the time," Gadget answered. "When we were younger it was what, twice a week that he tried?"

Crossfire nodded. "Sometimes three. That colt weren't too keen on bein' anythin' but the best at it. Sure, he got better 'n' better, but some ponies just got a natural skill for holdin' their liquor, and some ponies just got the right kind o' build for it. I happened to get both, I tell ya what. Not to brag, o' course."

"He was pretty good at it, from what I can tell," Havoc said with fond remembrance. "Handling his booze, I mean. I've seen his picture on the wall at the Wyrm's Head before. He's like a local legend at the joint or something, isn't he?"

"Was always his favorite place," Blackburn said with a smile and a nod. "Never felt embarrassed to call himself 'town drunk' at times."

"Heh, I even remember you tryin' to get into one o' our contests early on," Crossfire said, nuding Gadget gently. "So don't be so rough on him for tryin' to hold his own against me."

"Psh, just the once," Gadget muttered, taking another tiny sip of her hard lemonade. "Learned pretty quick that I'm a total lightweight, didn't I?"

"That's putting it mildly," Havoc chortled. "You pass out after three of those hard lemonades on a good day. I can't imagine you got more than one shot in while trying to compete against Briar and Crossfire."

Blackburn grinned. "She tried for two. Had to carry her back to the palace that night."

"I didn't know tequila shots were so strong!" Gadget exclaimed, hooves in the air.

"Sounds to me like most of your fond memories of Briar end up with Gadget's suffering," Lockwood chortled.

"To my immense disappointment, yes, that does seem to be the case. It's not fair, is what it is."

"If it makes Gadget feel better, I've got one that ended with him goin' through the wringer," Crossfire said with a grin. "Y'all know I like cookin'. So sometimes, when I got the itch, I'd make dinner for me 'n' Gadget 'n' Blackburn while we was growin' up. Briar was always invited o' course, after he 'n' Blackburn started datin'.

"So one time, he joined us for dinner when I was makin' teriyaki eggplant wit' fried rice, figured I'd give somethin' more exotic a try. Well, uh, that's the night we found out Briarthorn had a serious soy allergy that he never mentioned before or maybe didn't know about, 'cause he only got 'bout two bites into the rice before we had to get him to the hospital."

"Oh yeah, I remember that," Gadget said with a smile. "We never got to the teriyaki eggplant, did we?"

Crossfire shook his head. "Nope. Damn shame, too, 'cause it was delicious. I've made it a few times since then but I guess I just always skimped on the soy sauce in case Briarthorn wanted to give it a try again. Never quite comes out the same."

"I've never had a problem with it," Lockwood said. "But then I guess I never tried the original recipe. You oughta give it a try one of these days."

"You got any good stories about Briarthorn, Dreamboat?" asked Havoc.

Lockwood chuckled. "Yeah, sure I do. My favorite one was from a very long time ago, before Blackburn and I were dating. Briar and I didn't know each other that well, but since he was supposed to be one of my shipping contacts with Hope's Point back in the day, I figured it might be a good idea to know him a little better.

"Well, I invited him to share a drink and some lunch with me at New Pandemonium's airport's terminal bar. We got to talking a bit, and I told him about all the charity work I did and all the ponies I was trying to help get better lives so that nopony had to risk death to find happiness elsewhere. A 'pipe dream' he called it. Nopony believed then that we could do what we've been doing lately.

"Him, though, he mostly talked about how much he liked flying and how cool it was to smuggle things in and out of New Pandemonium to make Hope's Point better and better. But mostly…" Lockwood paused, then smiled tenderly at Blackburn. "Mostly, he bragged about this mare he had back home that made him happy."

Blackburn hung her head slightly, a soft smile on her lips.

Lockwood then cracked a big grin. "More than anything though he bragged about how they had a, uh… 'understanding', and then he invited me back to the ship he was flying for at the time, the Southern Sun, for a little 'alone time'. At the time I thought he was just drunk by that point, but after hearing how much of a drinker he was I realized that was just how Briarthorn was."

Havoc's eyes widened. "Briarthorn propositioned you?" She paused, eyes darting between him and Blackburn. "Did you, uh… take him up on it?" she asked, part of her hoping that the story wasn't over yet. She was totally over Lockwood, sure, but a mare could fantasize now and then.

Lockwood laughed loudly. "Ha! No no no, that's not my thing at all. I let him down gently, of course. Normally I can't spot somepony hitting on me if my life depended on it, but Briarthorn was so direct that there was no misinterpretation of what he was getting at."

"What, did he just straight up ask you if you wanted to fuck?"

"Too direct, even for Briarthorn," Blackburn chortled.

Lockwood shrugged. "Well, beyond complimenting my eyes like nopony else did before, he told me to let him know if I ever changed my mind and wanted to, quote, 'strap in and feel some good G-forces'."

Gray, who'd remained quiet up until now, snorted loudly. Havoc figured that nopony likely found the line cornier than Gray did, if only because Gray knew what real G-forces were. Well, perhaps Flathoof would know too. Havoc had no idea why her mind suddenly went to wondering how her sister's sex life was going. Maybe she was just desperate to get out of this hospital so she and Cotton could enjoy one another's company?

"One of his weaker lines," Blackburn muttered, rubbing her chin. "Amusing, though. Never told me he'd propositioned you."

Lockwood raised an eyebrow. "I didn't? I could swear I did."

"No, you did. He didn't. Just remembering that he never did." Blackburn hummed and nodded. "Embarrassed by failed attempt, probably blamed pick-up line. Hence the amusement. Usually not shy about admitting when he got turned down. His philosophy: flirt with everypony, because for every nine that say 'no', one will say 'yes'."

"I don't know if that's sad or inspiring," Havoc said, scratching her head.

"Golly, Briarthorn never was one to be shy away from talking about his sexuality, I know that much," Gadget huffed. "I'm just glad that he wasn't some universal horndog, though. I know he flirted with Crossfire a few times over the years but he never flirted with me."

Havoc gave Gadget her best shit-eating grin. "Well I mean, he probably figured since you already choked down—"

Gadget's eye twitched angrily. "It was one piece of popcorn! One! Piece!"

"One piece covered with Briar's love gravy."

"If you weren't in a hospital bed, Havoc, I'd strangle you."

Lockwood cleared his throat and turned to Gray and Flathoof. "Uh, I don't suppose you two have anything to share?"

The couple looked at one another, smirked, then gave a lighthearted shrug in unison. "I didn't know him as well as any of you," Gray said, "but I knew him well enough to have a story about him. We both do, actually."

"The same story, in fact," Flathoof noted. "See, when Gray and I got married, everypony brought us wedding gifts to help put together our new home."

"I know, I bought you a toaster," said Havoc. "Nothing says 'home' like making your own toast. Making breakfast in general, actually. It's gotta be the number one sign you two are shacked up together."

"Yeah, same thought. That's why I bought them a coffee machine," said Gadget with a nod. "Why, what did Briar get you? Let me guess: a case of beer? To try and convince Flathoof to give drinking a try?"

"No, not quite," said Gray, glancing at her husband. "Briarthorn's gift was… different. Same concept as yours—Flathoof and I coming together as a married couple and making a new home for ourselves—but a little less 'kitchen appliance' and a little more 'bedroom accessory'."

"Not to kill the suspense, but he got us one of those novelty 'sex coupon' books," finished Flathoof.

"The fuck is a 'sex coupon'?" Havoc asked.

Gray, a little red in her cheeks, took a drink of her beer then said, "Well, you and your partner are supposed to use one of the 'coupons' to do something together to help spice up your sex life. I mean, at first we didn't exactly need it, but uh… we've used a few of them over the years."

"Y'know, fun things like 'do one of your chores naked'," said Flathoof, tugging nervously at his collar. "Or 'share a shower together'. Things like that. Some were a little more… involved, but yeah, all in good fun."

"That definitely sounds like a gift Briarthorn would give somepony on their wedding day," Gadget scoffed. "I can't decide if it's tacky or funny."

"Oh, that's not even the best part," Flathoof continued. "One of the coupons in the book was 'invite a third party to join you in the bedroom'. Briarthorn was keen to show us that one himself, and uh, not at all subtle that he was volunteering himself as the 'third party'."

"What did he say, exactly?" Gray asked, tapping her chin. She brightened as she recalled it. "Ah! 'I offer myself up as tribute'! I think he figured that between me and Flathoof, he'd end up with a broken neck or back or something."

"Or something for sure," Havoc scoffed.

"Okay, that definitely sounds like Briarthorn," Gadget chuckled.

"And before anypony asks, no, that coupon is still in the book," Flathoof hastily added, looking around the room.

"The only one left in it, in fact," Gray added with a blush.

Lockwood smirked. "Well, if you ever want to lend that coupon out, I'm sure Blackburn and I could find a use for it."

Blackburn snorted loudly and playfully slapped her husband's shoulder.

"Kidding! Kidding." Lockwood then turned to Havoc. "How about you, Havoc? Got any amusing anecdotes about our favorite pirate?"

Havoc smiled. "Nothing quite as amusing as knowing Gadget ate cumcorn, but I've got something, sure."

Gadget glared at Blackburn again. "I'm never gonna live that down now, thanks."

"Y'know, when I first met the guy, I thought I had him pegged. He was maybe a bit of a sleazeball, maybe not, but definitely a little too touchy-feely for his own good. I threatened to burn his balls off if he even thought about trying to mack on me."

"Obviously took your warning to heart," Blackburn said, eyes a little wider than usual. "Would have heard about it otherwise. Impressive; he's usually harder to dissuade."

"Yeah, well, after a few months of getting to know him, I found out he wasn't so bad, actually. A bit of a horndog, sure, but his heart's in the right place." Havoc shrugged. "I'll be honest, I seriously wouldn't have minded one bit if Velvet had his foal. Not that they were gonna get hitched or anything, but I know Velvet liked him enough to ask him and be serious about it."

"Agreed," said Gray, lifting her bottle. "Velvet's got odd tastes sometimes, but she knows what she likes and she's not dumb."

"Anyway, one time, he invited me out for drinks to watch one of your local skyball games, 'cause he knew I liked the sport but that you don't get New Pandemonium game broadcasts down here. Your local teams are pretty good, by the way. I mean, not Rockets good, but then who is, am I right?"

"He was a pretty big fan of the sport," Gadget said, taking a sip of her hard lemonade. She looked to Blackburn. "Didn't he have an autographed ball signed by like sixteen different players?"

"Seventeen, as of last year," Blackburn confirmed. "Best players in our local championships. Ball worth thousands of bits. Kept it in special glass case, prevents moisture from ruining ball, smudging signatures. Prized possession."

"Makes you wonder why he never played," Havoc said, eyebrow raised. "I mean, I've seen him fly before, and he'd have made a great player, easily professional-level up north, and I'm not talking reserve spots. I guess being a pilot was just more his calling? He never said exactly why he wanted to do that rather than play the sport."

Blackburn shook her head. "Will admit, never told me either. Could make guesses, speculate, but will never know for certain."

"Huh. Damn shame, though. I'd have gotten a kick about playing against him." Havoc then turned to Dawn. "How 'bout you, sis? Since you're here I figure you've got a story to tell too, right?"

Dawn, who'd remained silent this entire time, looked mildly uncomfortable when the others in the room all turned their attention to her. She hadn't been expecting to be involved, that was obvious. Havoc knew damn well why, which was why she'd pressed the issue: Dawn didn't actually care much about Briarthorn and was only doing this to be polite, basically to try and make a diplomatic showing. 

She didn't need Dawn to admit it; Havoc knew it in her heart just by looking at her sister's face.

"I… hmm," Dawn muttered, nervously glancing between Blackburn and Lockwood while also attempting to somehow glare at Havoc. "I must enumerate my dearth of anecdotes relating to the late Captain Briarthorn. I only ever interacted with him during my preliminary journey to Hope's Point. All other interactions with him were indirect via conversations with others about him."

Lockwood gave her a small smile. "I remember that first meeting. It was fun to see his wordplay in action. I'd always seen him as an excellent wordsmith, if a bit jumbled at times. I thought for sure you two would find some common ground in that."

Dawn raised her nose in the air. "'Common ground'? Hardly. My first impression of him was that of an idiosyncratic, capricious individual with a severe deficiency in regards to professional mannerisms and qualities befitting an envoy. His demeanor was juvenile at best."

Lockwood's smile faded immediately. "Oh. Uh… I see."

Havoc glanced about to see varying looks of disapproval going Dawn's way, from the mild sort that Flathoof and Gray were giving her to the barely-concealed anger in Blackburn's eyes. Dawn had fallen right into the trap, sure enough, because she always had to show off how smart she was; she just couldn't decline to share or comment.

Lockwood then cleared his throat—if anypony else could see that Blackburn was half a second away from snapping, it was him. "Well! Uh… I think it's getting pretty late, and um, Havoc needs to get her rest." He turned to Havoc and gave her a quick, friendly nod. "Sorry to keep you up so late."

"Hey, no problem, Dreamboat," Havoc said, waving away his concern. "But yeah, it is getting kind of late, isn't it? I figure if everyone wants to get going, I'm certainly not gonna keep 'em here."

Blackburn snorted, downed the last of her beer, then gave Havoc a brief look. "Rest well. Wish to have conversation with you once recovery is finished, best not to delay it, hmm?"

Everypony else mumbled and muttered their goodbyes to one another and to Havoc, then left the room one at a time. Dawn was the last to leave, and Havoc had readied herself for her sister's coming tirade towards her about everything that had not only just happened, but that had happened over the past few days. She'd been waiting for it ever since she found out Dawn had been keeping secrets for no good reason.

To Havoc's surprise, Dawn just gave her a terse glare, then walked out of the room without a word.

Havoc didn't mind one bit.


*****


Early in the morning, Sunspire sat at the end of the hall outside the secure chamber that housed the mysterious alicorn mare. He knew he wasn't allowed inside—the alicorn was an unknown factor and could be dangerous—but that didn't stop him from doing his best to monitor the situation. Queen Blackburn seemed like a strict mare, but flexible enough to permit Sunspire to at least remain in the hall and do what he could to feel useful.

He was under the ever-watchful eyes of Commander Pinpoint, a pegasus soldier who served Hope's Point and was certainly dedicated to his job from what Sunspire could tell. The soldier remained perched in an alcove near the hallway, out of sight to anypony who didn't already know that he was there. Sunspire didn't need to search hard to find him; the pegasus had a minute magical aura about him, just like any other pony did when using their talents. His talent was apparently having eyes like a hawk.

Speaking of magical auras, that was Sunspire's main reason for being here: watching the magical aura that filtered out through the door to the forbidden chamber. The alicorn's magic had gone mostly unchanged ever since he first saw it, with only little flickers of activity here and there like it always did. But he knew that if anything about that aura changed significantly it might mean something important, maybe that she was waking up. He wanted to be the first pony to detect the change. 

He felt that it was his duty, now that Winter and Hourglass had ventured back out into the field. He'd wanted to go with them, but they'd left suddenly and hadn't asked for him to come along. Miss Dawn said it was because they'd be gone a long while—the next month, probably—and couldn't "take care of him"; he was certain those words hadn't actually been used, but he didn't argue it.

Sunspire then heard hoofsteps coming from the stairs leading down into the hallway. He didn't need to turn to see Pinpoint adjust his rifle to keep an eye on whoever was approaching. Sunspire figured it was Queen Blackburn and Miss Gadget coming to check on the situation, to see if any changes had occurred that might be of interest. The only other pony that visited… well, wasn't a pony at all, but was Lorekeeper Gilderoy, and the old gryphon's steps made a distinct metallic noise because of his artificial talons; this definitely wasn't him.

To Sunspire's confusion, the pony that came down the stairs was a large, well-built earth pony colt, his coat and long mane different shades of green. He wore a simple jacket that was a little tight against his frame. Sunspire wasn't sure how old the colt was based on just looks alone; with his height and muscle structure, he looked like he was maybe a few years older. 

There was something familiar about him though… wait, Sunspire recognized the aura around him. Every pony's was unique, after all.

"Green Guard?" Sunspire asked as he stood up, tilting his head. "Is that you?"

The large colt seemed surprised at the sudden recognition, taking half a step back. "Oh, um… yeah, it's me. H-hi, Sunspire. Long time no see?"

"It certainly has been, hasn't it? Nopony's heard anything from you since you left with Miss Gray. Miss Velvet gives little updates occasionally to ponies that ask, from what I understand." Sunspire stepped forward and offered his hoof politely. "It's good to see you again."

Green stared at the offered hoof for a moment, then gave it a firm grip and light shake. "Likewise."

Sunspire's eyes widened as he saw the muscles in Green's forelimb up close. "Wow, you've put on an awful lot of muscle, haven't you? I remember you used to train with Missus Gray all the time, so I guess I shouldn't be too surprised if you've been maintaining that regimen." He even tapped his hoof on Green's broad chest. "Yes, definitely been maintaining it. And then some."

"Oh… y-yeah, thanks," Green said, his face reddening slightly. "You, um… got taller."

"I mean, I suppose that goes without saying," Sunspire said, lifting his hoof up to measure himself against Green. "Not compared to you, though. You're an ideal physical specimen, if you don't mind my saying. I think that's what Overseer Pedigree might say on the subject, at any rate. You're even bigger than Caramel!"

Green gulped, but said nothing.

"And I'm certainly not too tall compared to most of the colts in our class. I'm about average height, relatively speaking." Sunspire tilted his head. "Though given our genetic engineering, I suppose that still puts me at above-average height for my age. I still don't have your muscle structure, of course. I believe I'm what they call 'lanky'?"

"R-right."

Sunspire smiled. "So what brings you down here, hmm? Come to try and sneak a peek at our mysterious alicorn?"

"Oh, um… n-no. I came here to see you." Green's face reddened more. "I mean, m-my mom told me you were in town and that I should, uh, say hello. So… 'hello'."

"Your mom?"

"Yeah, my mom." Green blinked, then his eyes widened as he seemed to realize Sunspire's confusion. "Oh! That's right, you might not know, but Missus Gray adopted me, kind of like what Miss Velvet did for Caramel?"

"Aha! Well, that's wonderful news," Sunspire said with a pleasant grin. "I'll admit that the prospect of having an official 'parent' has never been of particular interest to me, but I'm aware of several of our classmates who wouldn't be opposed to the concept. I imagine it's a pleasant change of pace?"

"It's… nice," Green said with a small smile. "Mom and Dad have their own daughter, too, so I have a little sister now. Rosewater."

Sunspire tapped his chin. "That's right, I recall Miss Velvet giving us the news that Missus Gray had a filly of her own. That's wonderful news for you! Knowing about Miss Dawn and her sisters has often made me curious about having siblings." He shook his head. "You said you came to visit me, though? How come?"

Green blinked. "Oh, um… b-because I haven't, y'know, seen you or any of our classmates in a long time, so… Mom thought it'd be a good thing for me to do. I know I didn't have any friends back north, but… still…"

"Well I for one think it's wonderful seeing you again. I'd often wondered what life was like here in Hope's Point, particularly what it's like growing up here compared to the tower, or even compared to the ponies our age in the city." Sunspire nodded sagely. "Yes, I think sharing some time with you would be an enlightening experience. For us both!"

"For us… both?" Green asked, tilting his head.

"Yes indeed! I know you flew here with Missus Gray on an airship, but I came here by land."

Green's eyes widened. "You did? Wow. I heard it's dangerous out there. And, um… I know Miss Havoc didn't escort you."

"Ah… no, she didn't," Sunspire said with a frown. "I heard she was injured recently. I haven't had any good opportunities to leave my, um… post, I suppose you could call it? To visit her, I mean."

"Mom says she's coming along great and will be out of the hospital within the next couple of days, if not sooner."

"Wonderful! I don't know if any of our classmates know about it yet, but I imagine if they did or do, that sort of good news will bring a smile to some faces, hmm? Particularly the Junior Skyball team."

"The what?"

"Ah, right, you've been gone a while. Several of our pegasus classmates formed their own skyball team and they train with Miss Havoc and her professional players." Sunspire tapped his chin. "Let's see… Rebel Noise, Heatblast, Razor Wing, Wildcard, Skybreaker, and Hypercharge. I'm certain those were the six."

"Six? Isn't that one player short? Obviously I don't play it, but I still know the rules of skyball."

"Well, yes, but I believe they're still trying to get a seventh."

"Ah. Um… so anyway, if you didn't come here with Miss Havoc, who did you come with?"

"Oh, Miss Dawn's acquaintance, Winter Glow, and her apprentice, Hourglass. They had an important job to do out in the Wastelands, which is what led them to find the alicorn," Sunspire said, gesturing towards the forbidden chamber. "I assisted them in finding the source of their troubles, which was that very alicorn, it turns out."

"Wow. Sounds like quite an adventure."

"Indeed it was!" Sunspire beamed, then gestured towards his saddlebag. "Ooh! I've made some sketches of the sights I've seen on my travels. Would you care to see them?"

Green smiled and nodded. "Sure. That sounds nice."

Sunspire fetched his small sketchbook out of his bags and sat down next to Green Guard, who scooted away just a little so that they weren't so close together. That wouldn't do—the sketchbook was too small to see clearly without a closer look—so Sunspire scooted closer so that they were flank-to-flank and opened up to the first page. 

He wasn't sure why Green's face was so red, though. Allergies, perhaps? It was getting pretty windy out there, after all.

The first few pages of his book contained numerous sketches of his friends from Pandora Tower that he'd been working on for the past year, mainly his closest friends like Black Bolt and Silver Spots, including a couple of luchador masks that he was helping them design; the two wanted to petition Miss Velvet to let them form an actual wrestling club. 

Sunspire doubted it would get any traction outside of the two of them—and himself as an organizer or secretary, or maybe treasurer?—but it was their passion and they gave it their all.

Serendipity had a few sketches too, as Sunspire always considered her a friend and spent more time with her than almost anypony else besides Bolt and Spots. It had taken him a few tries to get her facial birthmark just right, but he was confident he'd managed it eventually. He couldn't exactly show her to get a comparison; he felt embarrassed about doing so for some reason. 

He did know he wanted to tell her all about the adventure he'd been on, more than he wanted to tell anypony else. She'd be happy to know that he'd made new friends.

The next page was a very basic map that he'd been adding to as he, Winter, and Hourglass traveled. He knew the layout of the northern continent fairly well from the atlases he'd researched in the past, but there was just something different about chronicling the journey by hoof rather than using a premade map from a book.

On the next page was the first new sketch: the Gate for New Pandemonium City, a large metal structure situated on the southernmost section of the city's wall. The details were scarce, as Sunspire had done the sketch mostly from memory after he, Winter, and Hourglass had journeyed a fair ways away from it. It was essentially an uninteresting hunk of durasteel, anyway, but it certainly looked imposing enough.

The second and third sketches were of Winter and Hourglass themselves, respectively, which Sunspire had drawn while the trio sat down for lunch on their first day together. Sunspire never considered himself a great artist by any means, so the sketches weren't of the greatest quality. Good enough to capture their look, certainly, but not enough to evoke their inner selves, as a true artist would be capable of.

"Sorry if these aren't exactly the best," he said to Green, a little sheepish.

"I think they're wonderful," Green said with a small, proud grin. "You're very talented."

Sunspire grinned back. "Well, thank you. That's kind of you to say."

Green's redness intensified, and his eyes instantly went back to the sketchbook and stayed there.

The fourth sketch was of the Goldridge Mountains from a distance. The fifth was of a fascinating rock formation that Sunspire had seen as they passed along the mountainside towards the Checkpoint building. The sixth was a plain piece of the flat, featureless expanse of the Wastelands themselves; Sunspire had been feeling inspired that day to try and capture the essence of the arid plains, and honestly felt he'd done a good job of it. That might not sound like a complement, but it felt like one to him.

"The terrain out there isn't particularly fascinating, much to my disappointment," Sunspire muttered as he flipped between the sketches. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, given what I've read about them and seen in books, and what we're taught in school. "

"It looks different up close though," Green said, tilting his head to get a better look; his chin practically on top of Sunspire's head. "Is it really just a whole bunch of nothing?"

"I'd say that's more than accurate. The Wastelands definitely live up to their name."

The next three sketches were of the Checkpoint building itself, of the caretaker, Pewter, and of the room that Sunspire had been given during their night there. Sunspire had wanted to capture the cozy feel of the place, and how safe and warm it was compared to being exposed to the elements out in the Wastelands. The place had made him feel like it was possible for somepony to actually live out there, and Pewter's prosperity only proved it.

"The Checkpoint was a pleasant stop to make on the journey," Sunspire said, fondly looking over the sketch of his room. "I'm disappointed that there weren't any other guests there when we arrived. I would have loved to have the opportunity to interview them, to gather their opinion on the journey thus far."

"I'm sure Miss Havoc could give you a lot of information, if you asked her," Green suggested.

"Hmm… I'd never considered that before. Maybe I'll do that once she's feeling better."

The next sketches were of several different caverns within the Goldridge Mountains, with their gemstone-encrusted walls and ceilings, the underground rivers and lakes, and the twisting, winding passages. The sketches were all done with simple pencil tones and so there was no color, which was probably the biggest tragedy of all.

"I couldn't quite capture just how beautiful those caverns were," Sunspire muttered, putting his hoof on one of his favorites from the collection. "The gems here were all rubies, I believe, or at least appeared to be. They reflected the light of Winter's magic in all directions, as if the entire cave was bathed in red."

"They sound amazing," Green said softly. "Do you ever want to go back out there? On another adventure?"

Sunspire sighed and shook his head. "I'd love to have the opportunity, but with everything going on I doubt that I'd be given such a chance. Maybe when I'm old enough to leave the tower on my own."

Green was silent for a moment, then nodded, and so Sunspire continued.

The next sketch was of the Gargantuan nest that the trio had stumbled upon en route to the ruins. Sunspire had had to do the entire thing from memory, of course, and he'd been too frightened during the entire ordeal to really focus on too many details. As such, it was probably the least intricate of all of his sketches.

"An actual Gargantuan nest? With a queen and everything?" Green asked, awestruck. "Wow… you're very brave for going through there at all."

Sunspire smiled, feeling his cheeks grow a little warm at the compliment. "It wasn't that big of a deal. It's not as though I had any other choice in the matter."

"Still, I don't know if I'd have been brave enough to go through all of that. The queen actually touched you?"

"Yes, she did. I'm still perplexed as to why she reacted in the manner that she did afterwards. Even Winter lacked any kind of satisfactory explanation for it. I believe that's one of the main reasons she and Hourglass left back into the field, actually."

"You think they're going back to the nest?"

"Oh, definitely. Finding out about what caused the anomaly related to this alicorn is certainly of utmost importance, but those mutated Gargantuans are just as important to the situation, at least that's what Winter seems to think." Sunspire tapped his chin. "I think she believes they're related."

He then shrugged, and made to turn to the next sketch, which would have been of the "hub" of the gryphon ruins, but then his attention turned elsewhere: to the magical signature of the alicorn in the forbidden chamber. It was fluctuating slightly, doing so in a rhythmic pattern not at all different from a heartbeat.

"Is something wrong?" Green asked, looking at where Sunspire was looking but obviously not seeing what Sunspire saw.

Sunspire didn't answer the question; there was no time to waste. He instead rose to his hooves and called out to the pegasus soldier: "Commander Pinpoint! I'm seeing something strange happening here. Could you notify Her Majesty?"

The commander leaned his head ever-so-slightly out of the alcove, but he obviously couldn't see anything either. He didn't question it, though, just lifted up his communicator and pressed a number of buttons on it with one hoof in rapid succession. Sunspire had heard him do it before, and had come to understand that it was some sort of code. The commander never spoke that Sunspire had ever heard, and he was beginning to suspect that he was actually unable to do so: a mute.

Sunspire packed away his sketchbook, then gave Green a sympathetic smile. "Sorry we have to cut our reunion short, Green. It was nice getting to show you my sketches. You're the first to see them, other than Winter and Hourglass."

Green frowned for a moment, but then nodded, his smile returning. "Maybe, um… m-maybe you can show me the rest some other time? I mean, if that's okay with you?"

"Sure! Perhaps later today, or sometime tomorrow if time permits? Oh! I should make a sketch of you, come to think of it. It would be a good way to chronicle your growth, and perhaps I could show the others? I bet the Overseer would love to see how big you've gotten."

"Y-yeah. Yeah, that sounds… nice." Green gulped, then gestured towards the stairs. "I, um… I should get going, though. This all sounds like something I don't have much place in…"

Sunspire gave a little wave. "I'll see you later then, Green, once this is all settled, hmm?"

"Yeah… see you later."

Green headed off and up the stairs, leaving Sunspire behind to watch as the magical fluctuations in the air grew more intense. Something was definitely amiss; he hoped the adults didn't take too long to arrive.

Luckily, he didn't have to wait long, as within a few minutes of notifying Pinpoint he heard a clamor of hoofsteps from the stairwell. The collection present was smaller than Sunspire had expected, but then he supposed that Queen Blackburn wanted to limit who would be exposed to any danger that might be present. As such, it was just the queen, her bodyguard Miss Gadget, Lorekeeper Gilderoy, and Miss Dawn.

Sunspire hadn't seen Gilderoy since yesterday afternoon, but he was surprised to see that there was already a change in the old gryphon. Namely that the technomagic construct over his chest had a new attachment on it, one with a more modern design. Miss Gadget had said that she was going to take some time to make some repairs and adjustments to the gryphon's outdated tech, and this was apparently the first step.

"Commander Pinpoint claimed you noticed something strange?" the queen asked, giving Sunspire a serious look. "Explain."

"The magical signature is fluctuating, Your Majesty," Sunspire said, gesturing towards the door to the forbidden chamber. "Something is happening in there, happening to her or because of her. Either way, it's definitely different compared to how it's been since we got to the city."

Blackburn nodded, then gestured for the group to follow.

Miss Dawn gestured for Sunspire to do the same. "Come, Sunspire."

"Yes, ma'am," Sunspire said with a nod as he gathered his things.

Blackburn snorted and turned towards Dawn, leveling her with a glare. "No. He is a young colt. No place for him here. Potentially dangerous."

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, Sunspire's ability to detect fluctuations such as these are the only reason we are even aware of this sudden development with this level of punctuality," Dawn said, glaring right back at Blackburn. "He should be present to inform us of any further changes. Forewarning may prove prudent."

"I don't like the idea of placing a young pony in such danger either, Your Majesty," said Gilderoy with a respectful bow. "But Miss Dawn has a point: Sunspire can detect these changes quicker than any of us. If there is a potential danger, he may be capable of warning us."

Blackburn eyed Gilderoy for a moment, then turned her gaze—softer now—to Sunspire. "You will remain behind Shadow Associate Dawn at all times. Inform us of any change in behavior of alicorn's magic. Understood?"

Sunspire bowed slightly; he hadn't wanted to start an argument, but he was at a loss for why the adults would want to argue in the first place. "Yes, Your Majesty."

He followed along with the adults to the entrance to the chamber, which Blackburn opened with a series of security locks that included a retinal scan, hoofprint analyzer, and even a complex password. When the doors opened, everypony—and Gilderoy—prepared themselves for the worst to happen.

Instead, they were greeted by the still-sleeping form of the alicorn mare. She hadn't even moved an inch.

"Hmph. Disappointing," Blackburn muttered. She turned to Sunspire. "Certain you witnessed change?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. I can still see it," he replied, looking right at the alicorn. "Her magic is fluctuating… or rather, pulsing. Not growing stronger or changing in any outward capacity, but becoming more active. The rhythm resembles a heartbeat."

"Has it changed at all since you contacted us?" asked Gadget.

"Yes. The pace is growing faster. When I first contacted you all, the 'beats' were several seconds apart. Now, they're about one second apart, give or take. I can't measure it as precisely as Winter could."

"A pity that she has departed and will not be present for anything that might occur," Dawn muttered, shaking her head. "Her opinions could be—"

Sunspire's eyes widened. The beats adjusted substantially, beating so fast now that he couldn't tell them apart. "Something's happening!"

Gadget drew her sidearm; Gilderoy, his wand. They appeared to be prepared for anything that might happen.

Sunspire felt that nopony believed what would happen next to be so… gentle. So quiet.

The beats within the alicorn's magic reached a point where they suddenly stopped, and just as they did so, the alicorn moved. First with nothing more than a brief stirring in her neck, then slight movement from her hooves as they attempted to feel around her. Her eyes fluttered open gently, revealing the most beautiful, mysterious blue eyes that Sunspire had ever seen in his life.

She glanced about for a moment, then rose slowly to her hooves. She didn't seem to be in any pain or distress, but did appear substantially confused, more than Sunspire had ever seen anypony be confused before, and he'd seen some of his classmates try to parse through his introductory algebra books while they were still struggling with long division.

From her eyes alone, though, Sunspire felt at ease, more so than seemed appropriate when faced with somepony that radiated such power. There was always something about the alicorn's magic that inspired an odd sense of comfort in him. Not exactly peaceful, no, more akin to contentment, a knowledge that even if things did go wrong, they'd turn out alright in the end. It was difficult to describe. But her eyes, they just magnified that sensation a thousand fold.

The alicorn glanced about the room briefly, then turned her gaze to the ponies and gryphon before her, the confusion in her expression growing as she looked upon every face present. Then, to the group's surprise, she spoke. "This… is not the Dreaming. Where am I?"

Dawn's eyes narrowed. "'The Dreaming'? That is the metaphysical realm designated for alicorns, specifically—at least until recently—for Harmonia and Nihila. Your appearance resembles the latter. Are you her?"

"Harmonia…" the other alicorn murmured, closing her eyes and stepping about tentatively. "Where are you, sister? I cannot feel you here. Something must be amiss within the Dreaming—"

"You are not within the Dreaming," Dawn said swiftly, drawing the alicorn's attention back to her. "This is the mortal realm, the material plane. Harmonia is not present here."

"The material…? No, that cannot be," the alicorn said, shaking her head gently. She then looked at the assembled group again, tilting her head, still confused. "Can it? How is that I have come to be here, young ones? Why am I not within the Dreaming?"

"A long story," said Blackburn. "Will explain it to you. However, question remains unanswered: are you Nihila?"

The alicorn tilted her head the other way, more confused. "This name, 'Nihila', I do not recognize. I do recognize Harmonia, however. She is my beloved sister, who shares the Dreaming with me as we watch over the mortal realm." She looked about again. "The mortal realm in which I now reside, or so you claim?"

"Harmonia shared the Dreaming with Nihila," Dawn said, her expression firm and almost… angry? "You resemble Nihila as I last witnessed her, and yet you assert that you do not recognize the name. A justification of your claims is required."

"Indeed," said Gilderoy, who had lowered his wand by now, seemingly unafraid; perhaps the alicorn's gentle eyes instilled in him the same ease that they did Sunspire? "If you are not Nihila, then who are you, exactly?"

The alicorn raised an eyebrow. "Such a perplexing question. Though I suppose I should not disparage it from you, good sir gryphon, as your empire does not venerate me or my sister as the ponies do." She looked amongst the ponies. "But you ponies do not know of me, either?"

"Please, enlighten us," Dawn requested.

"Hmm… perhaps this is some bizarre dream within the Dreaming. My sister may yet know more," the alicorn muttered, unsure. She shook her head. "Very well, I shall humor you, though I still consider it most odd that you know of my sister and yet not of me. I am Pandemonia, the Alicorn of the Dark and the Moons, Goddess of Adversity."

The room was silent for a long moment, and Sunspire watched as confusion washed over the entirety of the group he was with, Gilderoy most of all.

"Would you care to repeat that declaration?" Dawn said, eyes wide with disbelief.

The alicorn tilted her head again. "Most perplexing, you all are. I state again that I am Pandemonia, the Alicorn of the Dark and the Moons, Goddess of Adversity."

"I have no knowledge of any such alicorn," Gilderoy muttered, looking completely lost. "As far as my kind were ever aware, there were only two alicorns: Harmonia, the Alicorn of the Light and the Heavens, Goddess of Harmony, and Nihila, the Alicorn of Darkness, Goddess of Disparity."

"Again, I know nothing of this 'Nihila' of whom you speak," said the alicorn, who was so certain that she was Pandemonia that Sunspire would simply refer to her as that. "And forgive me, my good sir gryphon, but you have misappropriated my sister's titles as well. She is the Alicorn of the Light and the Sun, and Goddess of Prosperity."

"Just going in circles," Blackburn sighed. "Will take claims at face value. You are Pandemonia, not Nihila. Claim to be unaware of the latter's existence. Very well. Also express confusion as to why you are in the material plane. Believe yourself to belong in the Dreaming. Requires explanation."

"I would certainly agree with that, my good mare," Pandemonia said. "If this is not some sort of bizarre dream within the Dreaming, if I truly am within the mortal realm, then I suppose I would appreciate an explanation as to why I am here." She looked around again, frowning as she glanced at one of the walls. "And within a place with such strange architecture."

Dawn and Gilderoy looked at one another briefly, then Dawn said, "We possess no explanation as to why you have been granted this physical form. If your claims of not being Nihila are genuine, then the circumstances are exceedingly perplexing to me."

"Perhaps you can tell us the last thing that you remember?" Gilderoy suggested. 

Pandemonia blinked, then adjusted her jaw as she considered the question. "The last thing that I remember? A simple question. I remember that… that I…" She paused, looking concerned. "I remember… very little. I feel as though I am enshrouded in a fog. What has happened? Why can I not remember?"

"Try," said Blackburn. "Information is crucial."

"Please?" Sunspire chimed in, earning a sharp, brief look from Dawn. He knew he should be leaving this to the adults, but he'd been unable to help himself from asking politely.

"I… shall try," Pandemonia said, briefly making eye contact with Sunspire. She closed her eyes and tilted her head up towards the ceiling. "I remember… it was spring, I believe. Yes, a beautiful spring. Many of the common ponies that venerated my sister and me were seeking prospective mates for the heat season, as is tradition amongst the peasantry.

"I remember my Warden. Peach Blossom." Pandemonia's eyes widened with glee. "Oh! If this is the material realm, then surely my dearest Warden is present somewhere." She turned her attention to the ponies. "One of you, could you fetch Warden Peach Blossom for me?"

Dawn and Blackburn shared a brief glance. Blackburn tilted her head towards Gadget. "Check city manifest, find a 'Peach Blossom'."

Gadget nodded and fetched her datapad out of her pocket. "Right away, Your Majesty." 

"That title… are you a queen?" Pandemonia asked, gesturing towards Blackburn.

"I am," Blackburn replied with a nod. "Queen Blackburn of Hope's Point, in full."

"'Hope's Point'? Hmm… I do not recognize the settlement. Strange. If it is large enough to follow the leadership of a monarch as I know the zebras do, then surely I would know of it."

It took Gadget less than a minute to find the information needed, and she passed her datapad over to Blackburn once she was finished. "Here you go, Your Majesty, one 'Peach Blossom' as requested."

Blackburn took the datapad and showed it to Pandemonia, who eyed it curiously. "What manner of enchanted tablet is this?" the alicorn asked with a curious smile. "Such a clear image. What fascinating illusion magic."

"Not an illusion," Blackburn said. "A photograph within electronic database."

Pandemonia smiled sweetly and shook her head. "I'm afraid I don't understand any of those words, Your Majesty. I see that you are not a unicorn, however, so perhaps you are mistaking the usage of illusion spells as some sort of other magic?"

Blackburn paused; the comment had surely not meant to sound condescending, but it likely came across that way to the queen. Then she just grunted softly, sighed, and pointed at the picture displayed. "This mare in the photograph is the only Peach Blossom we know. Is this 'your' Peach Blossom?"

Pandemonia raised an eyebrow, then glanced at the photograph for a moment before shaking her head, confused. "No, this isn't her. It doesn't look anything like her in the least. This illusion magic isn't quite perfected yet, I would assume?"

Dawn took a step forward. "It is not illusion magic. It is technomagic, based upon the developments of the gryphons."

"Ah, now I understand," Pandemonia said with a smile, turning to Gilderoy. "I commend you on your invention, good sir gryphon, and on the strides your kind have taken to emulate unicorns. Once it has achieved perfection, I am certain it will prove of use, whatever its purpose might be. I know little of what goings-on occur on the Elysian Islands, so this was quite a pleasant experience."

Gilderoy tilted his head, then smiled softly as if coming to a realization. "My Lady Pandemonia, I think that the situation we find ourselves in is becoming clearer by the moment."

"Oh? Do tell."

"Do you happen to know who the current Primarch of the Gryphon Empire is?"

"An odd question from a gryphon," Pandemonia said, eyebrow raised. "Primarch Graeson, of course, from what I last heard from my dear Warden. I believe that he only recently took the position."

"I see, I see." Gilderoy rubbed his temple; Sunspire could read his expression clearly: he was dumbfounded by her words. Not in an upset way, no, but more… interested. Worried? "And your Warden, Peach Blossom. What is the last thing that you remember about her?"

Pandemonia tilted her head. "As soon as you summon her here, she can explain it herself, likely more succinctly than I could."

"If you would humor an old gryphon like myself?" Gilderoy asked with a light grin. "Please?"

"Hmm, very well. The last thing I remember about Peach was… well, as I said, it was spring. A cool spring, yes, but beautiful nonetheless. I seem to recall that I had tasked her with a tremendous undertaking… but what was it?" She tapped her chin in thought, then her eyes widened. "Ah! Yes, I remember. I sent her to negotiate with the minotaur kingdom."

"The what?" blurted Gadget.

"The minotaurs, of course," Pandemonia said with a smile. "Ah, we must not be in one of the coastal villages. I would not expect ponies so far inland to be aware of the minotaurs' raids on our coasts. Though it took many years, eventually my sister and I managed to open up the possibility of diplomacy with them, to put an end to the violence and abductions.

"I had sent Peach Blossom to the northern continent to negotiate with their King Magnus, for they had requested that I send my Warden, not Harmonia's. As this was our chance to reach a peaceful solution to our troubles, I accepted. The last thing that I remember is her boat arriving in the minotaur capital city, Athenos." She frowned, shaking her head. "I… don't remember anything after that."

"Can you make even a modicum of sense of her tale, Lorekeeper?" asked Dawn, looking desperately between him and the alicorn.

Gilderoy stroked his beard. "Hmm, yes, and no," he said after a moment. "I cannot answer the question as to why she is here or how this came to be, but I can certainly answer a question that is just as important, at least to her: where she is now, and more crucially, when."

"What?"

Gilderoy stepped towards Pandemonia briefly, taking a breath as he did so. "My Lady Pandemonia, I fear that the situation we find ourselves in now is excruciatingly complicated, and your answers here have only exponentially increased the complexity. Through no fault of yours, of course, but such is the case."

"I'm afraid I don't understand your meaning, good sir gryphon," Pandemonia said.

"The reason that we cannot summon your Warden Peach Blossom is because she is long gone from this world. While I know not if the cause of her death was due to the burden of old age or through some other means, I can say that, barring some exceptional circumstances, she is no longer living."

Pandemonia narrowed her eyes. "Speak clearly. Why would you dare to claim such an awful thing?"

"Because, My Lady, the minotaur kingdom supposedly collapsed into the northern sea over two thousand years ago." Gilderoy shook his head. "When the gryphons moved north to found Aeropolis, the minotaurs were considered little more than a fallen empire, and they'd left behind nothing substantial enough to prove they'd even existed. Most gryphons considered them a myth.

"What's more, the Elysian Islands have long been dormant in the south. We abandoned them long, long before the Beacons were erected, shortly after founding Aeropolis here in the north. Many moons have passed since those days, My Lady." With a sigh, he added, "As it stands, I am the last of my kind. The only gryphon yet living that walks this world."

"What nonsense is this?" Pandemonia huffed. "Explain yourself, good sir gryphon, and do so more clearly as I requested. The gryphons are in an age of discovery and invention, perhaps too soon to call a 'golden age' but one of thriving prosperity. I understand that gryphons and ponies do not quite see eye-to-eye, but I should hope you would not joke about such things."

"I cannot possibly explain it more clearly than that, but I will give you reason to understand why I know it to be true. You spoke of Primarch Graeson. He began rule of the gryphon empire in the gryphon calendar year 512 A.D., shortly following our first technomagic invention. The current year, again utilizing the gryphon calendar, is 2789 A.D. I understand that ponies utilize a different calendar but the point stands."

Pandemonia paused a moment, then shook her head. "That… that is preposterous. I know that the memory is foggy, but it is clear enough to me that it could have occurred no earlier than this very day. I remember Peach Blossom entering the temple. I remember her boat docking at the port. I remember!"

"I do not claim your memories to be false, My Lady Pandemonia, but something has happened that I cannot explain, and you now find yourself here, on the material plane, over two thousand years later." Gilderoy shook his head softly. "I wish I could provide more concrete answers, but that is the situation that we find ourselves in."

"Perhaps I could be of assistance?"

The voice had come from directly beside Sunspire, so he'd jumped when he heard it. It was both Miss Dawn's voice as well as that of a much more imposing stallion, speaking together in unison. He looked up to see that there was something more than a little odd with Miss Dawn at the moment, namely that there was some sort of astral projection of another pony overlaid upon her.

The stallion was enormous, larger than everypony in the room including Pandemonia, though only just. His coat was a silvery white, and his mane and tail were a brilliant gold. One of the stallion's eyes was a pleasant, cool blue; the other was pure gold in its entirety. There were no clothes on the astral projection whatsoever.

Oh, and he was an alicorn. That was a critical fact.

To Sunspire's surprise, he and Pandemonia were the only ponies present that were genuinely astounded or confused by the situation; even Gilderoy seemed unsurprised with it all, though his expression was mildly sour. Sunspire couldn't imagine how anypony could see what he was seeing and not be utterly mystified. Even Empyrean's astral projection magic wasn't this… perfect.

"Who are you?" Pandemonia asked, not stepping back but clearly wary.

"First, if I might ask you a question just for clarity's sake: do you recognize me?" the stallion—and Miss Dawn—asked in unison. It was clear that it was the stallion speaking, not Dawn, but then why was she saying the same thing at the same time?

"If I recognized you, my good stallion, I would not have asked," Pandemonia said simply. She tilted her head slightly. "Wait… there is something familiar about you. I can feel you, your magic. It feels… similar to mine, and yet not. How is this possible?" 

She reached out with a hoof, then looked at her own hoof as if just now realizing that she had actual limbs. To the genuine surprise of everypony present except Pandemonia, her hoof actually made contact with the projection rather than just phasing through it as expected. Even the male alicorn seemed genuinely taken aback by it, though it only lasted until she pulled away.

He recovered from the surprise quickly. "A curious question, and one that I cannot provide an answer to beyond mere conjecture. The important thing to me is that you do not know me in any capacity. Sensing your intentions, your truth, is more difficult to do in your case than it is for mere mortals." He smiled slightly. "But I can still sense it. You truly do not recognize me."

"What are you getting at?" Gilderoy asked gruffly. It was odd seeing the old gryphon act with such antagonism considering how he'd been acting ever since Sunspire knew him.

The alicorn stallion wheeled—well, Miss Dawn wheeled, and the alicorn did so in unison?—on Gilderoy. "Simple, Lorekeeper: if she does not recognize me, then she truly isn't Nihila. You can all rest assured in that confirmation, because that was the most crucial piece of information we needed answered.

"This one," he continued, gesturing towards Sunspire, much to the colt's surprise, "presented that as his theory when Pandemonia was first discovered. Her magical signature is utterly different from Nihila's; it is not the same Darkness that resides in the northern Beacon, or within himself and his companions. An astute observation, young one."

Sunspire felt a swelling of pride in his chest from having his theory be so resoundly praised, but at the same time it felt hamstrung by the fact that despite seeing Miss Dawn's mouth saying those words, it wasn't her that was actually saying it. There was also something about this stallion's words that seemed so cold and logical, and it made Sunspire… uncomfortable.

"I believe we have succinctly answered that question already," Gilderoy interjected.

"Maybe you put your own mind at ease, but I was not satisfied. Now, I am. Forgive me if I required more substantial evidence." The alicorn stallion then turned towards Pandemonia. "My Lady—"

"You are an alicorn," she said, narrowing her eyes at him. "Explain this to me. My sister and I are the only alicorns of this world. Even the zebras, with their pantheon, do not claim any others of our kind to exist, for Harmonia and I know it to be true beyond all doubt. We have no… 'brother'. And yet I can see that this is no illusion, that what I see before me is genuine, real. Explain."

The stallion smiled, then nodded slightly. "The story is complex and spans many centuries, but I believe I can explain the turning point in an expedient manner. There were two alicorns of this world, yes: Harmonia, and Nihila. I served as the Warden to the former first, then as the Warden to the latter. The latter Wardenship, however, was a deception to lure Nihila into a false sense of security, to put an end to her evil.

"Seven years ago, with the help of my daughters, their friends, and a gryphon's ritual, I summoned Nihila into our world within a mortal, physical body. As part of the ritual, I destroyed that physical body of hers and absorbed her magical power within myself, becoming the alicorn you now see before you. I have ascended into the Dreaming, and speak to you now—"

"Through your Warden," Pandemonia finished, eyes wide as she looked at Dawn. "I recognize the manner in which your essence has manifested now. I have performed it myself many times to speak through my own Wardens to those in need of my direct guidance." She tilted her head. "But who are you, that has served as Warden to my sister and to another? I still know not who this 'Nihila' is."

"My name is Lord Silvertongue," he replied with a polite, genuine bow. "Now, there is a curiosity of this situation that I find most troubling. I have explained to the others present here before that I can sense your essence. Your magic is pure Darkness, untainted by any other presence. Can you sense mine?"

She nodded slowly, her expression curious. "Yes. The Darkness within you resembles mine, but there is another presence there, a Light. That is yours, from before you performed this ritual?"

"Yes. Hence the conundrum. The ritual destroyed Nihila's physical body and absorbed your magic, and somehow, seven years later, you developed a physical body with no ritual of any sort performed, manifesting near the prototype of a device that exudes pure Darkness but had not yet been fueled with the magic of Nihila."

He then turned to Sunspire. "Young one, can you tell me what Pandemonia's essence looks like in your eyes?"

Sunspire gulped and nodded. "Um, yes, of course. Her aura is purple."

"Hmm," Silvertongue hummed. "As I suspected. It was for a brief moment, but when I first saw the Dreaming, I witnessed a purple 'spark' that then vanished." He gestured at Pandemonia. "I believe that you were that spark. Call it a hunch, if that better pleases your palate."

Gilderoy nodded sagely. "A most perplexing predicament, indeed. But not as perplexing on who Pandemonia truly is." He turned to the alicorn mare and shook his head sadly. "As the Lorekeeper of the gryphons, it is my duty to chronicle our history, to maintain it and ensure that it lingers on. But in all my years, I never came across your name."

"If memory serves, the gryphons did not even acknowledge the existence of Harmonia and Nihila until… 1771 A.D. of the gryphon calendar?" Silvertongue asked.

"Correct. And we did not exactly chronicle the history of ponykind, either. We only started obtaining and researching their records in 762 A.D., when we extended an olive branch to ponies and zebras alike." Gilderoy gestured at Pandemonia. "And from what I've heard, Pandemonia cannot remember anything from that time period."

Pandemonia shook her head, confused and disturbed. "I… I do not understand. What has happened to me, if your words are true? Why can I not remember the past… two thousand years? Why do you all refer to me as this 'Nihila'? What has happened that I now possess a physical form, while Silvertongue resides within the Dreaming?" She hung her head, sad, maybe… frightened? "Where is my sister?"

"To all but the last question, I have no answers for you, none that would be absolutely concrete in their truth and certainty," Silvertongue said. "As for Harmonia, the reason you cannot sense her, cannot reach out to her, is because of the Beacons. That itself is a long tale, so let us keep it simple: our world is divided into the north and south, and the Dreaming with it. Even I cannot contact Harmonia as-is."

"Minotaurs," said Blackburn, surprising Sunspire because she'd been quiet for quite a while. "They would possess answers." She gestured at Pandemonia with certainty. "Last memory was of your Warden traveling to their city. Where is it?"

"The minotaur civilization supposedly existed on the southern coasts of the northern continent," Gilderoy said, stroking his beard. "But absolutely nothing was left to suggest they even existed, as I stated earlier. My ancestors believed that the rumors of attacks by their kind were fabrications and fables made up by ponies."

"On land, perhaps."

"They are real!" Pandemonia said, looking desperately between Gilderoy and Blackburn. "Athenos! Their capital city is Athenos! Or… Blackcliff, perhaps? I know that many ponies nicknamed it as such, for the architecture was made of a sort of black marble."

"Will find what remains of 'Athenos' or 'Blackcliff', then," Blackburn said with sheer confidence. "Deep-sea exploration vessels in preparation. Will be ready to deploy in a few weeks. First assignment: find evidence of minotaurs' civilization. Seek answers to what happened there to Peach Blossom, why Pandemonia cannot remember anything past that point."

"If they were a coastal civilization, wouldn't that imply that they had trade routes of some kind?" Sunspire suggested. "Maybe we could inquire of the southern coastal cities if they ever traded in the past, or if they even remember doing so? Or maybe they just traded among their own kind here in the north?"

"Yes, potential evidence of vessels, could predict routes utilized for coastal trade, narrow down possible locations," Blackburn confirmed with a quirked eyebrow. "A wise, logical suggestion. Was about to suggest it myself."

"You possess the means to explore the ocean floor?" Gilderoy asked, awestruck by the implications yet again. "My my my, you ponies certainly have improved on our technomagic developments, haven't you? We in Aeropolis never believed it was possible to venture far below the ocean surface."

"While Queen Blackburn seeks answers about the minotaurs, my daughters shall investigate what has become of Nihila," Silvertongue said firmly. 

"Oh? To what ends?"

"The evidence as we have it suggests that there is more to the Goddess of Disparity than it seemed, and that she and Pandemonia were entirely separate entities rather than some misunderstanding of names. And… I am concerned that Galdorhoff's ritual was not as perfect as it should have been given the situation we find ourselves in."

Gilderoy shook his head. "No, seemingly not. Galdorhoff had always been hasty with his research, cutting corners when a more thorough approach was necessary. I cannot blame him for being unaware of these strange circumstances, but had he been more cautious, this could have been avoided."

"Agreed," Silvertongue said with a nod. "I myself ensured that the ritual was performed with utmost care, employing every possible avenue to ensure that there were no mistakes whatsoever. I imagine that, had I too been desperate enough to rush, something might very well have gone wrong. Who is to say what those consequences might have been?"

Silvertongue then turned to Pandemonia. "As for you, My Lady, I suggest that you rest yourself, and of course that you get acclimated to your newfound physical body. There is no telling how long you may remain in that form or if there is some way to reunite you with Harmonia, whether in the Dreaming or some other way."

"Why are you helping me?" Pandemonia asked, tilting her head. "I can see your heart, Lord Silvertongue. There is substantial ambition there, even for one who has accomplished so much. Raw ambition, unfettered and unrelenting. You gain nothing from aiding me. If anything you risk losing what you now have, should events conspire to return me to the Dreaming, to my proper place instead of you."

Silvertongue smiled gently. "My only ambition is to bring balance to our world, My Lady Pandemonia." With a brief glance at Gilderoy, which was returned by a sneer, he said. "At any cost."

Gilderoy snorted. "Then as the pony saying goes, Lord Silvertongue, you had best start putting your bits where your mouth is."

"Oh, I plan on it, Lorekeeper. When have I ever given you reason to doubt what I am willing to do to ensure victory?"

"Then we are agreed," Queen Blackburn said. "Situation requires utmost discretion, caution. Will devote all of my resources to the cause. Pandemonia can remain here in Hope's Point to recuperate. Will arrange more appropriate lodging."

Pandemonia gave a small nod to Blackburn. "I thank you, Your Majesty. You are most kind." With a small shake of her head, she added, "I only hope that no harm comes to this world because of all of this… mess. I know not who this Nihila is, but your words have all suggested to me that she is a deplorable sort."

"The most deplorable there is, My Lady," Silvertongue said with a slight sneer. "Rest assured, all of my power will be devoted to uncovering the cause of this mystery. If Nihila somehow survived the ritual that should have destroyed her, then I will find her, no matter how deep or dark the hole she hides in."


*****



Three Days Later


The Redblade Mountains had, over the past seven years, undergone very little change. The perpetually active range of volcanoes had if anything only intensified in activity, spurred on by the rising winds of the Wastelands that blew through the region. The lava flows were barely kept in check these days; many geologists that studied the region believed that within the next decade, the volcanic activity would eventually pose a threat to Hope's Point and New Pandemonium alike.

Grit and his dear brother Grime were counting on it.

The two brothers walked through their painstakingly-built "cabin", which was situated along the side of the largest volcano in the region. It, and the other smaller ones that made up the little camp they'd established, had been crafted of specially-made durasteel and then enchanted by mundane spells and equipped with technomagic monitoring and cooling systems; the undertaking was expensive and complicated, but necessary and worthwhile. Though it was still incredibly warm within most of the camp, it wasn't lethally hot.

They followed behind one of their fellow worshippers, a cobalt-coated pegasus mare, Sister Blue Belle, their pace as eager as hers was. "The laborers found it this morning, Leaders," she said as she led them through the halls. "I've spent the last few hours making them clear out a section around the site so that I could show you what they found. I'm positive it's what we've been looking for."

"Wonderful news, wonderful indeed," said Grime with a smile. "Years of relentless searching finally at a close. This is a red letter day."

"Indeed it is, dear brother mine," Grit added with a smile of his own. "Our Dark Lady will be most pleased with this turn of events, oh yes."

The two followed Belle through a tunnel that led further into the volcano, whereupon they came to a door, besides which were a number of lockers. Grit and Grime opened theirs, and Belle hers, to take out and don special full-body gear that had been developed to withstand the heat of the volcano. They resembled the hazardous environment suits that technicians wore in certain Foundry facilities, but were more sophisticated and effective.

Once they'd all donned their gear, they opened the door from the locker room into the vestibule, then sealed it behind them as they exited out into the hoof-dug tunnel beyond. The tunnel descended into the heart of the volcano, where the lava had been contained by a techomagic "net" that would prevent it from interfering with their work. Even as the volcano rumbled gently beneath their hooves, the trio was not afraid of an eruption.

Grit glanced off to the side to watch some of the workers mining away at the volcanic iron that populated the area. The material was inherently infused with minor amounts of magic that made it exceptionally strong compared to common iron, but it was difficult if not impossible to mine effectively because of the region in which it was found. Even with protective gear, ponies simply couldn't withstand the environment for the extended periods needed to do so.

But Grit and Grime and their followers had found an incredibly fortuitous solution: 

The locals.

It was not ponies that mined the volcanic iron, no, but a pony-like species that called themselves "kirin". Grit and Grime had encountered them in the deepest recesses of the Redblade Mountains, where they lived hidden away from the rest of the north, undisturbed by even the most daring of visitors. A secretive bunch they were, woefully unprepared for Grit and Grime's discovery of their settlement.

Their kind possessed odd lion-like manes and tails, and scales upon their backs that could well be mistaken for saddles. They otherwise resembled their pony "cousins" quite closely, particularly unicorns, for the kirins all possessed horns which were capable of magic to some degree. They could not use them for spells in the same fashion as unicorns could, no, but they still possessed magical properties.

Each and every horn had its own unique shape, curving gently like hooks or scythes in some cases or jutting at straight angles in others. Even twin kirins, from what Grit had seen, did not share similar horn shapes. It provided a simple method for identifying individuals without names, a convenience since he and his brother frankly didn't care for their names whatsoever. They were just too bizarre to care much for, but some of the others in their collective still used them at times.

All of these kirin had bizarre "K" names that resembled butchered Common Equine words. One of the village leaders, for example, had the name Khasm, and his daughter had the name Kwake. Others had names like Krystal and Klash, Krush and Krust, Kleave and Karve; they had no way of discerning familial relations other than appearances. Grit was certain by now that all non-pony cultures had such bizarre nomenclature; even the antiquated zebras all had names which started with "Z".

The workers that mined the volcanic iron all belonged to one of the two "tribes" of kirin that had been found, whose metallic horns resembled iron or steel. The magic within their horns possessed powerful healing properties, even capable of rapidly healing life-threatening injuries. The magic was practically inexhaustible so long as the horn remained attached to the kirin's head. Grit and his brother had learned quickly that the magic lingered even if the horn had been separated, but was significantly weaker, barely able to even heal a paper cut.

As such, the iron-horned kirin were relegated to the relatively easier work of mining the volcanic iron, and worked in shifts like any other worker would be expected to. Oh, they weren't compensated to any degree, of course, besides being allowed to live and to have food provided so that they wouldn't starve to death, but that was the extent of it. They were still punished for speaking or stepping out of line, but such was to be expected. Yes, they were treated as fairly as any slave should be treated.

As Grit and his brother followed Belle down into the depths of the volcano, they passed by a smaller camp made for the taskmasters that ensured the slaves were kept in line. Each of them was a unicorn of respectable talent, and each was also equipped with some of the best military-grade weaponry that they'd been able to smuggle out of the city. There had been an uprising or two over the years, all of which had been quashed swiftly and brutally.

Beyond the camp, the tunnel descended further, and it was here that Grit saw the second tribe of kirins working to expand the tunnel outwards. These kirins' horns resembled obsidian, and it was their magical property that had intrigued Grit and Grime the most. 

Nullifying a unicorn's magic was normally not a trivial task. Anti-magic fields were difficult to craft and exhausting to maintain, and disappointingly limited in scale and scope as well. Runic seals were more effective, but even they were still limited by being stationary and predictable. Anti-magic was seen as a waste of time by most unicorns to bother with; it was more effective to best a rival unicorn whose magic surpassed one's own to utilize wits rather than brute strength.

But these kirins' obsidian horns? They inherently nullified magic to a startling degree. A simple touch was enough to completely sever a unicorn's ability to utilize magic, and they only needed to touch the unicorn's magic to do so, not their body or even their horn. 

The effect was strikingly effective even against technomagic, and as such had made their tribe capable of putting up a resistance for a few months before non-magical weapons could be brought to bear against them.

Best of all, the horns retained that effectiveness even if no longer attached to the kirin in question. It didn't quite last as long, and more powerful unicorns could overpower the effect in a short time, but that wasn't a problem. Their horns could be crafted into other shapes to serve a purpose. 

A dagger, for example, would not only injure the victim but shut down their magic entirely. Even better, a ring could be placed around a unicorn's horn and completely nullify their magic as long as the ring was worn.

Because this tribe's horns were technically more valuable when removed from the kirins themselves, Grit and Grime didn't care that they weren't treated as kindly as the iron horns were. They worked in more dangerous portions of the caverns that risked cave-ins, slaving away at all hours of the day until they collapsed from sheer exhaustion, and were only permitted the bare minimum amount of food and rest necessary to keep them working. 

If they died, it was no real loss; the corpse would be disposed of and the horn severed and salvaged to be put to further, better use. The crate full of horns at the entrance to the tunnel was a reminder to the slaves that their lives were effectively meaningless.

At the end of the tunnel, Grit and Grime saw that Belle's words had been true: the kirin had found their prize. Grit's eyes widened in wonder as his eyes beheld the beautiful sight. "It's true. They found it. The blessings of our Dark Lady are upon us indeed."

"Was there ever any doubt, brother mine?" Grime replied with a cocksure grin. "Her guidance has brought us here at last. With this, She may soon bathe this world in fire and blood, as She has foretold. Oh yes indeed, this is a glorious day. Truly glorious."

A dome-shaped chamber had been dug out around their prize, which now resided in the center of the room. The prize in question was, to the untrained eye, just a rock. An odd rock, to be sure, but still just a rock. 

It was perfectly egg-shaped, textured like volcanic rock and colored to match. "Cracks" in the shell seemed to leak lava into the chamber like drippy yolk, though it seemed to cool the instant it touched the floor. It rested upon an outcropping of actual volcanic rock, which functioned as a sort of cradle. The sheer size of the "egg" dwarfed even the largest ponies in the room by a factor of nearly five-to-one.

"The kirin have been vocal with their disapproval," said Belle with a small smirk. "I have ensured those with too much lip have been put to better use elsewhere."

"Disapproval?" asked Grit. "Do tell."

"This volcano is sacred to them. We have already committed 'great sacrilege' by forcing them to mine the volcanic iron, but they have long since stopped protesting that fact. Watching their fellow kirin die tends to have that sort of effect."

"Indeed it does, indeed it does. And yet they still speak up about this, despite knowing they invite death upon themselves and their kin?"

"They do, yes. I had to order two executions in the past hour alone." Belle gestured over to the side, where one of their own workers was currently separating horns from a pair of kirin that had clearly been shot to death. "They've been at it since we started getting the tunnel this far down, actually."

"Why?

"Well, the whole volcano is sacred, they say, but the ground we tread on now is beyond merely sacred to them. There isn't a singular word for it in Common Equine, so the closest I've been able to translate it as is 'Cradle of the Mother', or something to that effect." She tilted her head slightly. "You wouldn't happen to know anything more than that, would you?"

Grit smiled and set his hoof on Belle's shoulder. "Sister Belle, my dear brother knows all there is to know about our Dark Lady's Great Purpose. She has spoken with him on many occasions." He glanced at Grime for a moment, particularly the faraway look in his eyes. "Even now, She speaks to him."

Belle glanced at Grime as well, her eyes wide with glee. "Truly? Our Dark Lady speaks to him at this very moment?"

"Indeed She does, indeed She does. I have seen my brother's expression change like this when She speaks directly with him. I envy my dear brother for his gift, but still I am proud that our Dark Lady has granted one of us this wondrous station in Her service. There is no greater honor than being the brother of Her Warden."

Grit watched then as Grime wordlessly approached the "egg" and, to his surprise, set his hoof upon it. Only for a moment, though, before sharply drawing it back; evidently, it was hot to the touch even through the protective gear. He then tried again, and this time kept his hoof firmly in place, seeming almost relaxed. No, not relaxed; euphoric.

"Dear brother, what tidings does our Dark Lady bring?" Grit asked, stepping alongside Grime.

"Fire and blood, brother," Grime said breathlessly. "With this, She will drown this world in fire and blood. There will be nothing left but ash."

"What is it, though?" asked Belle, tilting her head. "It looks like some sort of egg. Is there something inside?"

"There is, oh yes," muttered Grime, setting his other hoof on the egg. "And once it has been taken within our Dark Lady's grasp, nothing in this world will be capable of stopping Her. Vengeance will be Hers at last."

"Fire and blood for The Dark Lady," Grit said with a sinister smile. "Long may She reign."

Grime's eyes glowed black, and then his voice was not entirely his own. "Yes. Long may I reign."
> Epilogue: Terminus
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dawn teleported into her office with a flash and a pop early in the afternoon, thoroughly exhausted and yet not quite ready to rest for the day. There was too much to do, too many tasks to attend to, too many ponies to speak with. 

Beyond this entire "Pandemonia" situation and the possibility of Nihila's survival, she still had political turmoil to deal with so that once everything was said and done, she and Queen Blackburn could return to their negotiations and hopefully reestablish the peace she'd been working towards.

Sunspire, incidentally, had been left in Gray’s care for the time being, since apparently he was providing assistance in finding Athenos and monitoring Pandemonia’s magic. She felt better leaving somepony behind that served some use and could be counted on to vouch for New Pandemonium’s role in things should Dawn not be present to do so.

At Dawn’s side was Havoc, who Dawn noted was excessively disgruntled, more so than usual. She was dressed in a new jacket, black with red trimming, which had to have been a gift from somepony since she hadn’t brought it with her, obviously. Now that she was out of the hospital Havoc had also taken the effort to restyle her mane, shaving it on the left side but keeping the right side its original length.

Her sister's eye surgery had been a complete success; her left eye had been replaced by a technomagic construct that Dawn didn't care for too many details on, not from Havoc at any rate. She would have Overseer Pedigree and Doctor Blutsauger give it a thorough examination to determine if it was something they could have manufactured, for better or worse. She had to know just how sufficient Hope’s Point’s medical advancements actually were.

"This is bullshit, Dawn, and you know it," Havoc grunted as she glanced about the office, particularly out the tinted window. "I literally just got cleared to leave the hospital. Do you have any idea how pissed Blackburn's gonna be when she finds out you basically just abducted me out from under her nose? 'Cause I do."

"If she requires an explanation, I will provide her with one she will find more than adequate," Dawn said, nose in the air as she approached her side of her desk.

As Havoc stared out the window, she shook her head. “Damn, that storm’s really picking up, isn’t it? Looks a lot different from up here than on the news.”

Dawn glanced out the window, then back at Havoc. “Indeed,” she said with a nod.

The pair of them could see that the winds outside had picked up tremendously. Dust particles could be seen violently swirling about. Dawn was glad she’d been able to time everything right; the sandstorm would be hitting in full force within the next day, and the entire northern continent would be under its sway for three, maybe four weeks, at least according to the meteorology reports.

“How’re you handling this whole thing, anyway?” Havoc asked. “I know they’re not worried in Hope’s Point thanks to the barrier, and the storm won’t keep them from getting food shipments from down south. We don’t have that benefit up here.”

Dawn steepled her hooves. “As part of the lockdown order, all citizens of New Pandemonium are being required to confine themselves within their homes for the full duration of the storm. Those that can perform their career duties from home are being asked to do so; those that cannot are being provided financial assistance.”

“Okay, but how are folks gonna eat? What if they need to go to the hospital?”

“I have arranged special unicorn teams within several departments—namely the NPPD, the NPAF, and the CIA—to serve as escorts for ponies in need of certain types of aid, such as service technicians or nurses. As for food, Dolorcorp was given generous government funding to provide care packages for the entire city, which have already been delivered.”

Havoc whistled. “Alright, not bad. Sounds like you took care of everything.”

“I always do,” Dawn scoffed. “Given the recent fiasco regarding the ambush upon Her Majesty, I refused to allow any further unforeseen disasters on my watch. Curaçao personally triple-checked everything for me while I was dealing with our… new problem.”

“Right. Because when it comes down to it Curaçao always does all the work and you take all the credit.”

Dawn ignored the comment and cleared her throat. “Now, you and I must address the aforementioned ambush fiasco.” She gestured towards the seat opposite her. "Sit.”

"I'll stand, thanks,” Havoc grunted. “Before we get to that, you never answered my question. What sort of explanation do you think you can give Her Majesty about taking me back here that isn't gonna piss her off, huh?"

"An elementary one: you are Commander Havoc of the NPAF, and thus are required by your station to follow orders delivered to you by your superior officer, in this case Admiral Jetstream. He has requested your presence here in New Pandemonium so as to properly oversee the transfer of power, seeing as I expect you to be my liaison between him and myself."

Havoc snorted smoke out of her nostrils. "You talked with his dad face-to-face all the time without any go-betweens, so why do I have to be your 'liaison' or whatever now that it's him? Let me guess: he's not exactly pleased with you essentially firing his pops because of what happened with the attack?"

Dawn closed her eyes briefly, took a breath, and reopened them. "Not entirely inaccurate, and as such I lack the patience to deal with his potentially insubordinate attitude. I would assign Curaçao to the task, but you possess a more intricate familiarity with the NPAF's inner workings and would be more suitable for the assignment."

"Heh. Careful, sis, you almost sound like you're saying something nice about me."

"Naturally. Your involvement with the attack on Her Majesty's airship ensured that the only casualty that she suffered was that of Captain Briarthorn. Regrettable as that might be because of Her Majesty's close ties to him, it is better than the alternative. Regardless, your efforts are…" 

Dawn took another breath. This was harder than she thought it would be, if only because Queen Blackburn had made it abundantly clear that if not for Havoc's actions, the peace summit would've been called off entirely; the attack could have easily been taken as an act of war. Dawn had barely been able to restrain herself from asserting that Hope's Point owed its existence to her and her father's desire to allow them to flourish, that the NPAF could've wiped them out at a moment's notice.

But she managed to find the resolve to continue: "Your efforts are certainly a substantial factor in the continued prospect for a peaceful resolution to the entire situation."

Havoc frowned. "Yeah… I suppose it is. Still, thanks, I think. I did everything I could to help them. I'm still not entirely sure what I did. I mean, I've sort of figured out what happened, but I'm not sure why I exploded like that. It's weird."

"However, I will note that it is regrettable that your destruction of the Chameleon-class cruiser was so total and thorough. We could not recover any evidence that could be of value, apart from some inkling of the intentions of those responsible, namely in the capturing of the Princess and Prince. We lack any other pertinent information."

"Are… are you serious right now?"

"Hmm? Yes, naturally," Dawn said, raising an eyebrow, frustrated by Havoc's question. "Surely you have been made aware of the fact that the AMP Troopers attributed to the Chameleon had data in their orders that indicated that they were intending on foalnapping Princess Bluebolt and Prince Fireglow. For what purpose, we do not know, mainly because there were no survivors."

"Yeah, I know all of that. That wasn't my question." Havoc set her hooves on Dawn's desk, putting enough pressure to cause it to creak. "I meant, are you seriously reprimanding me for doing too good of a job?"

Dawn snorted; her sister’s oversimplifications always got on her nerves. "An erroneous interpretation. I am reprimanding you for your lack of self-control. With the Chameleon destroyed in the fashion it was, I possess no information that could be of use in pursuing those responsible. Director Underhoof's investigation would have benefitted from such evidence."

Havoc shook her head in what Dawn thought was disbelief. "You're unreal. You're fucking unreal."

"Excuse me?"

"I almost died doing what I did out there!" Havoc tapped at her new eye. "I lost a fucking eye and got scars all over me because I saved Blackburn and her family, not to mention your ass! At least Blackburn has been totally legit about how much she appreciates what I did!"

Dawn huffed, taking another breath to maintain her composure. "I do appreciate your efforts, Havoc—"

"Bullshit, no you don't! If you did, you wouldn't throw this backhoofed compliment fuckery back in my face! 'Oh, thanks for doing a good job Havoc, but here's where you fucked up'. That's you. That's what you're saying to me."

Dawn sharply rose from her seat. "Watch your tone, Commander."

"Kiss my ass, Shadow Associate," Havoc snarled, getting right in Dawn's face. "I'm tired of your shit! I'm so fucking tired of being your fucking butt-monkey! You're always looking to find some way to blame anypony else for anything that goes wrong instead of looking in a fucking mirror!"

"That does it! You are hereby demoted," Dawn snapped, slapping her hoof on the table with finality. "You will no longer be involved in any capacity with the handling of this transition of power."

Havoc threw her hooves in the air. "Good fucking riddance! I'm done with you and your fucking orders! For your information, I was planning on quitting and moving to Hope's Point anyway! I've got a life there! Friends! Family! In fact, why don't we make things easier and you just teleport me back there right now."

Dawn leaned back into her seat, steepling her hooves. "No. I will do no such thing. As punishment for your insubordinate attitude I am restricting your permissions to leave the city even during lockdown, and I will certainly not break my own rules to provide you with your desires."

Havoc's good eye twitched. "Fine! Fuck you then, I'll just fly out of here myself. I know I can make it back to Hope's Point my then if I hurry—"

"Did you misunderstand me? I am forbidding you from leaving the city. The entirety of New Pandemonium City is in total lockdown in preparation for the sandstorm, which most especially includes the city walls. The AMP wall guards have been instructed to tranquilize would-be violators on sight, which now includes you."

"Are you for real? You're really gonna try to keep me from leaving?"

Dawn nodded firmly. "Absolutely. Your actions recently have displayed to me that you have a severe lack of respect for me and my position, and I believe that I have allowed this insubordinate attitude of yours to fester for far too long."

"I've got somepony to get back to!" Havoc shouted, slamming her hooves on the table. "She has no idea that I'm even here! We’re supposed be getting—"

"Irrelevant and inconsequential! Now, if you are quite done with your outburst, return to your quarters. I will have Curaçao debrief you on anything relevant." Dawn leaned back completely in her seat, satisfied that she'd finally asserted her authority over her recalcitrant sibling. "Any questions?"

Havoc remained silent for a long moment, just staring at Dawn, her good eye still twitching. "You… cunt."

Dawn's eyes widened. She had to have misheard that. "What did you—"

"You heard me you sanctimonious cunt," Havoc hissed through clenched teeth. "Who the fuck do you think you are?!"

Dawn clenched her own teeth. "Careful, sister—"

"Don't 'sister' me, you fucking bitch! As far as I'm concerned, I only have four sisters, because if you were the fifth you'd be the shittiest fucking sister who ever lived! The absolute worst! You don't give a flying fuck about me or anypony else but yourself!"

Dawn felt a sudden, tremendous pang in her heart. Nopony had ever spoken to her like that before. "That is not—"

"Shut up!" Havoc shouted. 

Her hooves flared more than slightly, and when she slammed one hoof onto the desk it left a genuine scorch mark. Dawn stared at it for a moment, horrified that Havoc had just legitimately damaged her desk, their father’s desk.

"You treat me and the others like fucking tools,” Havoc continued. “Just tools that you can order around to do your fucking bidding, like we're your servants or some shit. Even Pops, who admitted that he created us to be tools didn't treat us like that!"

"Father did not—"

"Yes he did! He said it to our faces! He said that he made us at first just to serve a purpose!" 

Havoc poked Dawn in the chest with the hoof that wasn’t ignited, hard enough to push her back into her chair. Dawn couldn’t take her eyes off of her sister’s face now that she was so close and so angry. The sheer rage in Havoc’s expression, combined with the prosthetic eye and the horrid burn scarring on her face made her look legitimately intimidating.

"But he realized he was wrong!” Havoc snarled. “And he even apologized for it, and yet he still never treated us the way that you do! He actually loved us!"

"I… I am attempting to live up to his legacy!" Dawn snapped, desperately wanting Havoc to draw back so that she wouldn’t have to stare at her any longer. "Father presented me with an important task and I have striven to accomplish it with every fiber of my being!"

"That doesn't mean you get to treat the rest of us like tools to get the job done! He still treated us like his fucking kids. You don't treat us like family at all! You don't even know anything about us, about what we're going through! 'Cause you don't care!"

Dawn scoffed. "What a ridiculous statement."

"Bullshit it is. You know how I know it's bullshit? Because I know things that you haven't even a fucking clue about, because you don't care to ask and nopony wants to fucking bother with you." 

"Preposterous. Such as?"

Havoc snorted smoke from her nostrils again; Dawn had to hold her breath to avoid breathing it in. "What floor is Insipid's room on?"

Dawn quirked an eyebrow. "If I recall correctly, the seventieth—"

"Bzzt! Wrong!" Havoc exclaimed slamming her hoof back on the table; at least she didn’t damage it this time. "She moved out of the tower six years ago. She lives in a penthouse in the Romantique District. But you knew that, didn't you? 'Cause it was 'preposterous' to say otherwise, right?"

Dawn blinked, utterly lost. "Insipid… moved out? Six years ago? Why is this the first I am hearing—"

"Because Insipid knew you didn't give a shit! She tried to tell you but your selfish ass pushed her aside because you had more important shit to do than listen to her!"

"I… I clearly must have had some crucial matter to attend to—"

"Oh, fuck off. You never bothered to spend any time with her anyway, we all know that. You never talk to her, or ask her how she's doing, or how her career is going, or anything like that, because you're too 'smart' for her."

"She is nothing more than a plebian fashion model," Dawn huffed, turning up her nose at the indignity of it all. "I know that her intellect is substandard but truly that is a frivolous waste of potential—"

"See, you don't even know a fucking thing about her! She's isn't just some fashion model, she's a wildly successful fashion model, with more friends and associates than the entire family combined, besides Curaçao. Her connections down south are making the fashion world up here more accepting of Hope's Point fashion and shit, so she's fucking helping you. She even teaches some of the Shadow fillies all about high society living!"

"I… I was unaware—"

"Oh yeah, sure, I know you were. You're unaware of a lot of things, aren't you?" Havoc snorted, shaking her head. "How many kids does Velvet have, for instance?"

"None, of course, apart from the adoption of… Caramel Rye, I believe? And thank the stars," Dawn muttered, shaking her head. "Diluting the family lineage with random, nameless stallions is hardly a worthwhile venture. I am certain that when she chooses a more appropriate partner—"

"See? You don't even know, do you?"

"Know what?"

"That Velvet can't even have kids! She's infertile!"

Dawn's eyes widened in shock. "What? What are you talking—"

"Yup, she found out about that years ago. Got real broken up about it and everything. I remember her locking herself in her room for like two days. You remember that? I bet you do, 'cause Velvet says you bugged her about getting back to work since you hadn't gotten a report about the Shadows on time. Smooth move."

"I… but—"

"And you know why she didn't tell you? I mean, besides you acting like a cold, heartless bitch to her at the time? Well, it's because you act like a cold, heartless bitch all the time." Havoc said, getting back in Dawn's face. 

Dawn opened her mouth to retort, but she couldn’t find the words.

"That's why none of us like you, and why none of us tell you about our lives. Because even when we do tell you, you brush it aside as if it’s meaningless, as if we’re meaningless,” Havoc said, giving a mirthless chuckle. “What’s worse is that you keep things from us. Things like telling Gray about Velvet getting attacked and lying to Velvet about telling Gray what’s happened.

"All you care about is yourself and your fucking 'purpose' that you think Dad gave you. I know you never even bothered to check if Caramel or Velvet were okay, because Velvet told me! You didn't even visit me in the hospital except to make a pathetic appearance at that after-funeral get-together, and great fucking job on that by the way! I bet you wouldn't have given a shit if I'd died!"

Dawn's ears suddenly perked up. There was an odd sensation in the air, like nothing else she'd felt before. She could feel a trembling in her horn, a familiar sort of feeling and yet alien all the same. The last time she could remember feeling anything like it at all was seven years ago, the morning that they'd destroyed Nihila and Twilight and her friends had departed for their world.

"Oh, I'm sure Curaçao tolerates you the most because you two work together real close-like," Havoc prattled on. "Then again, you couldn't even bother to show up to her wedding. Too busy working to even teleport in just to watch the ceremony. You weren't there when her daughter was born, either. I bet the only reason you even know she has a kid is because she talks about her. Do you even know her name? Does Dad even know Curaçao and Gray have kids? Or do you think that it’s beneath him to know that?

"And the rest of us? Nuh-uh, we don't want to talk to you if we don't have to. Velvet only does it because she loves the Shadows and wants the best for them, and needs your help and resources to make it happen. Insipid doesn't even bother with contacting you anymore because it's a waste of her time. Not yours, hers."

The sensation was growing stronger by the second, then just suddenly stopped. Dawn's eyes darted about, trying to find the source; it definitely felt like it was in this very room. Her horn flickered slightly, drawn to the source perhaps? But what was causing it? Where was it coming from? Why did it stop all of sudden? And what was Havoc talking about now? Dawn had lost track.

"Me and Gray, though? We've already talked about it, and we're fucking done. I'm done with you," Havoc said with finality.

Dawn did not respond though; to be frank, she'd mostly been tuning out most of what Havoc was saying this past minute as she attempted to find the source of the sensation. Her horn actually lit up almost entirely on its own now, and she allowed it to do so. She'd located where it had been coming from: the wall at the far end of the room. Not inside the wall or on the other side, either, but the entire wall.

"Hey!" Havoc snapped, slapping her hoof on the side of Dawn’s chair. "Are you fucking ignoring me right now? Are you for real?"

Dawn held up a hoof. "Quiet for a moment, Havoc. There is a strange occurrence present here."

"Oh, don't you try to get out of—"

"Silence!" Dawn hissed. She paused a moment, staring at the wall, tilting her head. What in the world was going—

Then, the wall opened up. Or rather, more accurately, something opened up on the wall itself, a vortex of energy of some kind. Rivers of prismatic magic streamed their way through an ethereal void beyond the wall. The deep expanse of black beyond was speckled with glowing white stars, all faintly twinkling in and out of existence. Total chaos.

Just like Dawn's life felt like right now, poetically enough.

Havoc's eyes widened. "Dawn, what are doing?" she asked, sounding both concerned and angry. "Are you so unwilling to listen to criticism that you're gonna, what, throw me out? Get rid of me? You really are nothing like Dad."

That struck hard. Dawn recalled the pangs of disappointment that had resounded through her in the brief moments that her father had interacted with Gray. Havoc was right: she hadn't told Father about anything going on in the lives of her sisters, Gray and Curaçao in particular, who had started families of their own. She felt it was unimportant to him when he was focused on his own critical work, but she knew now that she'd been wrong.

"This… this is not my doing," Dawn muttered, rising from her seat and readying herself for whatever might happen. Despite having Havoc in the room with her, she felt as though she were utterly alone against the world. "Prepare yourself for whatever might come out."

Neither of them were quite ready for what tumbled out, actually:

Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash.

Havoc's jaw dropped. "What the fuck?"