White Squall

Chapters

A New City, A New Purpose
First-Hand Encounter
Catching Up
Renewed Friendships
Meetings of Many Sorts
A New Plan
Destinations
Embarking from Paradise
Betrayal of Confidence
Edge of Yankton
Yankton Woes
A Very Important Request

A New City, A New Purpose

It was indeed early the next morning that Twilight and her friends boarded the train headed for the coast. Rarity had been forced to part with much of what she wanted to pack, a decision the conductor had learned to regret, given how much she had shouted at him on the platform. Sure, she sounded like a spoiled brat, and to an extent, she was, but what was he gonna do about it?

The train was rather special, in that there were few other passengers besides the Mane Six and their personal attendees. They each were given their own train car, with the three conductors staying far in the front to make sure the engine and everything else that kept the train going was running smoothly. Fifteen train cars made up the entirety of the locomotive, with several being designed specifically to house the coal for the engines and three for the dining halls, which would normally be used up by a full load of passengers.

The rolling hills and wide river valleys were the first things to greet the passengers aboard that coast-bound train. Green, with flowers dotting the hillsides like little bursts of color, was a fairly pleasant view, if a bit monotonous. The day dragged on, and by noon, everypony aboard was terribly hungry, so to the dining cart they went. It was not the most spacious cart in the train, but it was large enough that any private conversation would remain private.

After having been served at their own private booth near a window, Twilight Sparkle looked at her friends whilst they ate. “Though we have to do this, I still don’t like it,” she muttered. "I'll never trust that queen, no matter what Princess Celestia might think."

Applejack swallowed a sip of iced lemonade. “Twilight, don’t ya think ya might be... I don’t know, lettin’ yer feelings about yer brother’s wedding cloud yer judgement? I mean, sure, what Chrysalis did was downright despicable, but that was some time ago.”

“I’ll never forget what she almost did,” Twilight said, her grip tightening on her fork. “I’ll never forgive her for it, either.” She had almost ruined her brother’s wedding, and invaded Equestria, had Cadence not been able to intervene.

“I don’t think Applejack was saying you should forgive or forget Chrysalis for what she did,” Rarity said after daintily wiping her mouth with a napkin. “I think she was only saying you shouldn’t let the past dictate how you should determine your future is all. Or at least, don't let the negative parts affect it. You'll need a clear head to properly dictate terms of peace, after all.”

“That’s exactly what I’m sayin’,” Applejack said after finishing a bite of her salad. “Thanks fer making it clearer, Rarity.”

“My pleasure, Applejack,” Rarity said with a smile. “What are friends for?”

“Well, even if we can meet her, I doubt she’d be in the most receptive mood,” Rainbow Dash added, having drained her lemonade and waiting for her attendee to pour her another glass. “She, I don’t know, might be a little be a little upset at the sight of us? I mean, even though we technically didn’t expel her from Equestria, we did kinda hurt a big portion of her army.” She smiled slightly in a melancholy way: she had beaten up sooo many changelings...

“Yeah: that was scary,” Fluttershy added, her eyes wide as she nodded along with Dash’s statement. “Besides, she might hate Twilight as much as Twilight hates her: she did blow her cover by finding the true Cadence.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Twilight muttered, stabbing her last piece of lettuce with particular violence. She turned to Pinkie Pie, who had been too engrossed in eating her own food to participate in the conversation. “What about you, Pinkie Pie? What do you think of all this?”

Swallowing the equivalent of an entire head of lettuce without much difficulty, Pinkie Pie put on a thoughtful expression. “Well, it seems to me that Chrysalis is always such a grumpy-pants because she has no friends! That, and she never smiles, unless she’s doing something really mean and nasty. We should try and make her smile, at least, and then become her friends!”

Everypony else inwardly groaned at this: Pinkie Pie was the most optimistic of the group, and likely in almost all of Equestria, but they highly doubted Chrysalis, Queen of the Changelings, would want to be friends.

Much later and far removed from the realm of Canterlot...

The sound of the waves and seabirds was audible, even this far uphill and away from the coast. The city of Port Royale was very different than its sister city of Port Royal, on an island many miles to the Southeast. It was indeed a sprawling place, built in the natural cliffsides of a sheltered harbor. The walls provided a great protection from much of the sea’s more temperamental times, though the city itself was not immune to her wrath. However, the eroding nature of many of the cliffsides and the subsequent instability of their surface areas meant no defensive cannons or forts could be built. In fact, the only structures that could be built there were two small lighthouses, fitted with magical lamps to light the way for sailors.

But it was a haven of a city for much of the area, as its railroads, docks and drydocks made it a very commercially successful city. Businesses flourished, with the in-town fortress that stretched along the small shallow shoreline providing the defense needed for such an important port. Towns and villages dotted the countryside behind it, bringing in much food and similar goods for the trade that was the city’s lifeblood.

It was such a view that greeted the windows of the local mayor’s residence. It was situated the farthest from shore, high up on a hill, and indeed it was a spectacular view. However, the one looking out over the coastal city was anything but awed by the sight: there was too much on his mind, and with a sigh he turned away from the window.

“Such a deceiving scene,” Prince Blueblood muttered to himself, looking over a table that was absolutely covered with maps. “Just beyond that horizon lies our enemy, and yet we cannot do a blasted thing about her.” His eye drifted across the map, pausing every now and then on something important: a railroad, a port city, a fort. The list and markers went on and on, with three particularly conspicuous sets of them standing out in the area marked as the seas. There were green dots for ships attacked by the Sea Wraith and her mysterious captain, and red dots for those attacked by obscure pirate ships. However, the ones that gave him the greatest source of frustration and anger were the black dots, where ships had not been seized like others: it was where they had been sunk, often with almost all hands lost or captured, never to be seen again. Horror stories came from the few ponies who managed to survive the sinking and evade capture, and they spoke of an unnaturally fast ship that struck without warning, and showed little if any mercy.

The Phantom: it was a ship that was equally as feared as the Sea Wraith, and was piloted by a much, much nastier captain. There had been no confirmations of the wild stories that followed it, but Prince Blueblood absolutely knew who piloted that curse of the seas. There could be no other being filled with such malice and cruelty, nor with such a burning desire for vengeance.

“Queen Chrysalis,” he muttered angrily, lightly slamming his fist on the edge of the table. Oh, how he hated that mare: imprisoning him on that wedding day, only to place a curse on the door that would give horrible hallucinations to anypony who tried to open it. As soon as she was defeated, he had managed to break out, but at a terrible cost to his clothes and mane, and then his hallucinations had made him try and murder a watermelon in the royal gardens. Oh, how he had been a laughing stock for weeks!

“Is something wrong, sir?” the prince’s personal aide asked, his mustache quivering as he carried with him a piping hot kettle of tea and a small platter of biscuits.

“Yes, something is wrong,” the prince snapped, looking up from the table. “My dear aunt will not allow me to fortify our coastal areas with more ships! We are replacing them as fast as we lose them, but it is costing the taxpaying elite more than their fair share of bits to do so! Ships and the training to man them are not free, Geoffrey.” A mare like that, even with all that power, had let her ideas cease to be relevant almost twenty years ago. If only she would give him more leeway, a little more power, he could stand up to these devils of the sea and put an end to the suffering along the coast.

“Indeed, sir,” the unicorn said, his magic shutting the door behind him as he laid the tea and biscuits on a small, non-map-covered table. “What do you propose to do, sir?”

“The only things I can do, Geoffrey,” the prince said, rubbing his temples in frustration as he walked over to the butler’s side. “Increase the complement of troops on our ships, replace those ships and crews which we have lost, and strengthen the coastal defenses as well as we can. More guns, more forts, more scouts ready to raise the alarm should we catch sight of those blasted pirates.” It was all he could do to not have the unicorn ship-builders to start making massive dreadnoughts filled to the brim with cannons and soldiers. His aunt would never allow it.

“What of the ships already out at sea, sir?” the butler asked as the prince wearily munched on a biscuit and sipped some tea.

“We will have to arrange for many of the smaller merchant fleets to be escorted by whatever other ships we have available,” Blueblood said, his pompous hairdo wafting slightly as a breeze filtered through the window. “No more lone or duo scouting ships: after the disappearances of the Sunstrider and Moonskimmer, ships shall always travel in groups of greater than three.”

The two ships had been named in honor of both of the princesses, and Blueblood had been severely angered to learn of their disappearance. Other ships had combed the area where they were last seen, but there were no trace of them: wreckage, bodies, survivors, anything at all, really.

“What of the larger fleets?” the butler asked as the prince sipped a bit more of his tea.

“Group themselves closer together, for starters,” Blueblood said, pointing at his scribe. “Did you get that last part?”

The earth pony, who was furiously scribbling down everything the prince said, nodded: he hadn’t said a word, as it wasn’t in his job description to talk unless asked to. The prince never asked him to anyway: he liked to listen to himself talk most of the time.

“Good: I wouldn’t want us to forget anything,” he said, knowing full well everypony else knew “us” meant “you”, as the prince was faultless in his own mind. The world just happened to be unfair to him many times. “Now then, where was I?”

“Grouping ships closer together, sir,” Geoffrey the butler said with impeccable timing.

“Ah, yes: thank you, Geoffrey,” the prince said, knowing full well a compliment towards his butler would get better results than an off-hand remark. His butler was one of the few ponies he trusted, and actually liked: well-groomed, on-time, polite and always, always obedient. “Yes, grouping the ships together: I don’t want stragglers being picked off like a calf being separated from a herd by timber wolves. Most of our commercial ships do not carry the firepower or crewponies to repel boarders, or at least, they don’t for now.”

“What do you mean by that, sir?” the butler asked as the prince finished his tea. With a nod from Blueblood, he poured himself a cup: only when the prince had finished was he allowed to drink some tea. Gingerly, he also bit into a biscuit: cooked to perfection by the cooks downstairs, like every other time he had served them.

“I mean, the new designs for the replacement ships,” Blueblood said, glancing back towards his scribe to make sure he was still writing. “I want out newest “commercial” ships to be slightly larger, in order for the surprise they will have hidden in their hulls.”

“A surprise, sir?” Geoffrey asked. “If I may ask, sir, what kind of surprise?”

“The kind that will send those pirates to the bottom of the seas, Geoffrey, the prince said, growling slightly at the word pirate. Oh, how he hated them so: he had to clean this entire mess up, and without any help whatsoever!

Then, there was a knock at the door. The unicorn butler set his tea down and calmly walked to the door, cracking it open slightly to see who was on the other side. A letter slipped through the crack, held aloft by a pony with curiously chameleonic eyes. With a smile she flew off, knocking over a piece of furniture as she zoomed out the window.

“Well, what is it?” Blueblood asked as Geoffrey shut the door and walked back to his master’s side.

“A letter it would seem, sir,” the butler said.

“I know fully well it’s a letter, Geoffrey: what’s it say?” the prince asked. He was “clearly” too busy to bother reading the letter himself.

Opening and extracting the paper carefully, the unicorn butler cleared his throat and spoke.

“Dearest nephew, I write you this letter to inform you of some soon-to-be-arriving guests in your abode. The Elements of Harmony have been dispatched to help you with your troubles, and I suspect they will be there in a few hours. Please, do try and be an accommodating host, and be on your best behavior, as they report directly to me and will only take orders from you unless I say otherwise.

Sincerely, your Aunt Celestia.

P.S. They have a mission of their own, and I want you to support them in their endeavor. If they ask for something pertaining to it, it is theirs: no questions asked.”

The prince’s expression had gone through several phases as his butler read the letter aloud: surprise, disappointment, exasperation, and finally, a disgruntled frown.

“Ugh, those six mares,” he muttered as Geoffrey placed the letter back in its envelope and tucked it away. “Of course my aunt doesn’t think I can take care of things by myself: of course she would send her favorite “weapon” to deal with the situation.” That weapon being the Elements of Harmony, of course.

“Pardon, sir?” the unicorn butler asked, finishing his own cup of tea.

“Those six are going to be nothing but trouble, Geoffrey,” Blueblood spat, holding his hands behind his back as he walked back to the table covered in maps. “I know full well why they are truly here: to see how I’m behaving, to see if I’m doing things right. Well, they are not going to ruin this opportunity for me, I’ll tell you right now. I will solve this problem, and then Celestia will have no choice but to elevate my position in the royal court.”

Geoffrey made no response to that, as he was far too loyal to roll his eyes or sigh in disappointment at the prince’s shrewd judgment. “Shall I prepare them their rooms, sir? The letter did say they would be here sooner than later, and I know that some of the spare rooms are going to need quite a bit of dusting.” Very few guests stayed in the mayor’s mansion for long, as most were not nigh-permanent guests. Blueblood had relived the mayor of many duties, giving him more leeway and allowing his to be in charge of “maintaining order” within the city. To do that, the mayor almost never left his cozy secondary home in city hall.

“Yes, yes: go off and do that, Geoffrey,” Blueblood said, waving his hand behind him without looking in the butler’s direction. “Be sure to inform me of their arrival, but delay them until I get there: I will want to look my best, after all. Though it will likely not take long; I always look my best, after all.” The prince chuckled slightly at his own joke, his gaze sweeping once again to the docks and wharves alongside the water’s edge.

The butler bowed and retreated from the room, carrying with him the platter with an empty tea pot and biscuit crumbs.

Many hours later, as the sun was hanging above the distant horizon, the train from Canterlot finally arrived. It was an express train, after all, as a normal train ride would have taken nearly three days instead of an afternoon. With a torrent of steam letting loose from the engine, and a whistle sounding as the train finally pulled to a stop, Geoffrey the unicorn butler arrived at the station, having sent Blueblood a magical paper-airplane message that the Mane Six had arrived.

Indeed they had, for the first one off the train was none other than Pinkie Pie. In fact, her exit was rather odd: a complete cartwheel, with the landing being worthy of a perfect score in a gymnastics competition. The others at least waited for the ramp, which Applejack was the first to stroll down. Then came Rarity, Twilight and Fluttershy, with Rainbow Dash bringing up the rear.

“Ah, your ladyships: I am Geoffrey,” the unicorn said, stepping forward and giving a slight bow. “I represent Prince Blueblood, who will be with us momentarily. The servants will take your things to your rooms.”

“Why thank you, Geoffrey: that is awfully kind of you,” Rarity said, pleased to have met a unicorn with a sense of refinement around him. She still wasn’t all too happy about having to stay in the same house as Blueblood.

“It is nothing, my dear,” the stallion replied with a polite smile, clapping his hands softly.

At this, quite a few ponies appeared out of the woodwork and began quickly but cautiously loading up all of the Mane Six’s things into several carriages. Fluttershy dashed behind Applejack, quivering slightly as two ponies simply stepped out from behind her luggage and carried it off.

“Must have taken lessons from Pinkie Pie,” Twilight muttered to the others. “So, Geoffrey: where exactly are we staying? The princess said it would be under Prince Blueblood’s “watchful eyes”, but she wasn’t specific as to where.”

“Oh, that is simple, my dear,” the butler responded. “You will all be staying with the prince in the mayor’s mansion, up there,” he said, politely pointing up and off to his side. Their gaze following the finger’s direction, the six mares saw indeed what could only have been described as a mansion. Beautiful architecture reflecting the ideals and costs of living in a coastal city, with a much more slanted roof and trees planted all around to prevent erosion during more intense storms. Even from here, they could tell it was a beautiful place indeed.

“Ah, the Elements of Harmony,” a voice said, causing the six mares to look away from the mansion high on the distant hill. In an instant, their eyes settled upon...

“Prince Blueblood: how nice of you to greet us,” Rarity said, an icy tone entering her voice as she involuntarily remembered how repugnant the prince had been back at the Grand Galloping Gala.

“It is a nice thing, is it not?” the prince said, flashing what he must have thought was a dashing smile. Well, it was, and would have been attractive to any socialite mare, but the Mane Six were unaffected.

“Prince Blueblood, I know we are intruding on your time, but we promise we will try and stay out of your way as best as we can,” Twilight said, having deemed herself the one who would have to speak to the prince, if need be.

“I understand, Ms. Sparkle,” the prince said, the lack of pompousness in his voice surprising them. It was like he had done a complete one eighty and was actually respectful. “Perhaps while we ride the royal carriage up to the mansion, I could fill you in on the situation in more detail?”

“That would be wonderful: thank you,” Twilight said as another pony brought around a larger carriage. Blueblood entered first, his pompousness leaking back through his exterior, though Geoffrey was the perfect gentlecoat by helping the six mares into the carriage. Once settled in, the butler too joined them, and shut the door. With a lurch, the unicorn managing the carriage let loose his magic, the wheels turning themselves as the cobblestone streets passed underneath.

Meanwhile, only a few miles away...

“I don’t know about this, captain,” Grund said as the Sea Wraith bobbed gently in the waves. The ship, as large as it was, easily hid behind the jagged rocks and spare trees that the inlets provided, which easily shielded it from unwanted eyes. The purpose of the hiding spot was simple: what better place to lie in wait for the execution of a plan than near where such a plan would come to fruition?

“Relax, Grund: I would not let a plan come this close to completion if I did not think it had a very large chance of success,” the captain said, his gloved hands resting on the ship’s railing as he looked out at the sunset. It was a beautiful sight, really, and he never missed a sunset if he could help it.

“But what about the fort’s guns?” the first mate asked as the rations for the prisoners below were brought down by a couple of deckhands. “I mean, they won’t fire on what you’re gonna be bringing in, but what about on the way out?”

“Call it a sense of honor, Grund,” the captain replied. “I have it, and the entire crew knows it. The mayor and that arrogant Prince Blueblood knows this as well, and will no doubt wish to display how “superior” their own senses of honor are. I mean, after all, they are politicians.”

The two figures got a good chuckle out of that. After standing in silence for a little while longer, the first mate looked back at the captain, a weariness exuding from his frame.

“You know, sir, she’ll be wanting to meet you sometime in the future,” he said. “You did disable and take prisoner those two ships, and their crews, in what she said were her waters.”

“Yes, I know Grund: I know,” the captain replied, his own voice sounding a bit... weary. “No doubt by now she’ll have heard of my progress in the area and seek an audience with me, no doubt questioning why I did what I did and why I didn’t include her in the spoils.”

“Ah, yes: the spoils,” Grund said, rubbing the back of his neck in an awkward manner. “About that: the crew has been wondering when we’ll split that up.”

The captain turned to his first mate, his mask hiding the brief flicker of annoyance that passed over his features. “It is as I told them before: once the crew is whole and reunited once more, only then I shall divvy out the plunder. It was what we all agreed on, by vote, and it is what we will do.”

“I know, I know captain: I was just... curious was all,” Grund said.

“Curiosity is fine, Grund, but too much is detrimental to one’s state of mind,” the captain said, turning away from the sunset.

“And once this plan of yours is through, what do you propose we do about the new arrivals?” Only Grund, the captain and the quartermaster knew of the six important figures that had arrived in the city. Their spy network was quick, their methods of sending messages quicker, and as always, they were very reliable.

“Then begins a new plan, one I have been forming since we took the crews of the Sunstrider and Moonskimmer aboard our ship,” the captain replied, looking down into the waters below. He had specifically chosen this spot to “drop off” the remaining wrecks of the Moonskimmer and Sunstrider. Local pearl divers came out here in the morning when the waters were calm and would no doubt report the ship’s locations to Blueblood. “It will require all of our ship’s speed, firepower, and most importantly, her ability to slip by unnoticed.”

“Aye aye, sir,” the first mate said. “She’ll be silent in the waters, though not as fast with all your cargo.”

“Prisoners are worth far more alive and safe, and as such they will stay that way until they pass out of our hands and into those of the prince,” the captain replied.

The two of them were silent for a moment until the captain blew his whistle: it was time to cast off. As they did, the first mate went to direct the orders, yelling especially at the two new crewmembers who had failed to scrub some barnacles out of a corner. The captain retreated to his quarters, deeper inside the rear of the ship.

It was a comfortable set of quarters, though most likely a bit sparser in ways of trinkets than one might expect of a pirate. A large bed, with a set of maps on the wall and a single desk where deals were made and numerous writings penned. Walking past the admittedly large closet, the captain sat himself down at the desk, the motion of the ship barely disturbing the quill in the ink bottle. The wall behind him held a pair of swords, the only other thing in the room signifying he was actually a pirate and not some regular commercial captain.

He sat down and stared at the paper in front of him, as if willing the words to write themselves. He had so much to do before the plan came into motion early the next morning, and rightfully so, as many lives were hanging in the balance of whether or not he could pull this off. He knew the crew would be eager to get their share of the spoils, and as such, be able to spend them on the vices of life. Or at least, they would when they reached a port where the alcohol flowed freely and the streets were paved with hookers looking for some paid fun.

He never was tempted by things such as that, as he had a standard appearance to maintain for the sake of the crew. He drank only in private, and from good wine rather than common ale. He saved his money, often sneaking out in disguise in a city to deposit it in a back. Curiously, none of his crew had ever questioned why they didn’t land on shore and rob banks: perhaps they thought it too difficult a task, even, for the legendary captain of the Sea Wraith.

So, not only did he have to write out the instructions for the captors, and the treaty he would convince the prince to sign, but he also needed to write a letter to the pirate whose waters he now patrolled. She would not be very happy with the news of his spoils, but she still owed him at least one favor, and they got along well enough. If only she’d stop pestering him every now and then: he knew she always got a kick out of seeing his crew squirm with discomfort in her presence.

“Might as well write it anyway, while I’m still coherent and wide awake,” the captain muttered, pulling the quill from the ink and setting it down on the paper. With that, he began to write, the scratching of the quill’s tip the only noise besides the water occasionally splashing against one of his few windows. The room became darker as the night drew in, leading him to whistle for his cabin boy. He was a bright lad, small and easily misplaced, but extremely loyal and with dignity few saw in one his age.

The small pony came out of his own room, having just swept the last bits of dinner away from the mess hall down below. He looked around in the gloom, struck up a match, and lit a small lantern, so as to see better in the cabin. “Sir, you called for me?”

“Henry, be a good lad and light my own lanterns, would you?” the captain asked politely. “It is rather hard to write and re-ink my quill in the dark.” That was somewhat of a truth, as it was harder to move one’s arm and still keep the sleeves from dragging across the paper when re-inking: the other part, about it being harder to see.... not so much. “Be sure not trip on anything as well.”

“Yes, sir,” Henry said, rushing around like a rabbit, the flame from his own lantern bobbing here and there as he lit the few lanterns in the cabin. Soon enough, the cabin was lit to the point where nopony would have trouble walking around, but the tone was soft enough that if one wanted to sleep, the light would not be a burden to their eyes.

“Excellent work Henry: you can go to bed now,” the captain said, knowing full well the small colt would go apply some finish to the outer hull if the he asked for it.

“Thank you sir: goodnight,” he added, skittering out of there.

“Goodnight, Henry,” the captain softly called, finishing up on his last bit of a letter. He was always amazed on how magic worked, and as he rolled up the scroll that was due to be sent, he never imagined it could be a permanent thing. Walking over to a cupboard, he opened it and found exactly what he was looking for: a square slot, like one would use to sort mail through. Under it, on a small golden plate, lay the destination: the Phantom.

“Here we go,” the captain muttered, placing the rolled-up paper in the slot. Closing the cupboard, he waited for a few seconds, as a very dim flash of green light emanated from within the woodwork. Opening the cupboard once again, he found the scroll to be gone: whisked away on a trail of magic he had no interest in studying.

Opting for sleep over staying up all night, he removed his clothes and set them where they belonged: draped over the desk and on the small bedside dresser. Climbing under the covers, he rolled over once and fell promptly asleep, his soft snores filling the cabin as the ship gently rocked under the moonlit ocean.

Author's Note

Just introductory jibber-jabber here, and soon enough, the fun will begin. But when will the REAL fun begin?

.... I don't know. (insert trollface)

First-Hand Encounter

Twilight missed her old routine, back from when she was still in Canterlot. Wake up, eat breakfast, read some books, go to work, read some more books, eat lunch, read some more, lock up for the night, eat dinner, and then go back to sleep. All in all very simple, with enough free time allotted for something unexpected happening. Her friends would occasionally visit, as would her parents, and sometimes she would be invited to a small tea party with Celestia. All in all, nothing too drastic a change for one such as herself.

In the mayor’s mansion, though, there was very little of an enforced schedule. All three meals of the day were “around” this time or that time, she was informed, with each and every entire meal lasting well over an hour apiece. Books were available, as were several other forms of leisurely activity, but Twilight hated the smell of the library in which said books were kept. It was all... dusty, like nopony ever read or cleaned anything there, and it had an earthy undertone that she found out was caused by the cellar right beneath the library.

The servants were all right, though they seemed more keen on discussing gossip than on actually cleaning some parts of the mansion. Rarity had complained to her about a spider the size of Winona, Applejack’s dog, in her room, though when Twilight investigated, it was a mere one eighth of an inch in diameter: drama queen, indeed. The servants also had slightly damaged their luggage during the unloading phase, as in “everything had been thoroughly searched for possible contraband or weapons”, though Prince Blueblood had told them it was all standard procedure.

Still, there had been so much to listen about from the prince the night before about the situation, and though Twilight and her friends did not like him, they had to agree on one thing.

Prince Blueblood actually managed to make the situation even more perilous than they had thought. It was early that morning, during breakfast, when Blueblood brought up a startling revelation.

“-and the impressment into the navy has not been met with much enthusiasm in the outer towns and middle class citizens,” he said, slowly sipping his tea as they all sat at the large dining room table. “There have been petitions, boycotts, riots even, and-,”

“I’m sorry, but what is impressment?” Applejack asked, her confused look mirrored on the faces of all but one pony. They were not all majors in the language department, though the purple unicorn definitely was.

Blueblood bit back a retort, having almost called her out for so rudely interrupting him whilst he spoke. He turned to the lavender unicorn instead. “I believe Ms. Sparkle can more appropriately inform you of the term’s meaning,” he said. “It is a rather drastic one, to be sure, but it is necessary.”

“Well Twilight, what does this ‘impressment’ mean?” Rarity asked, her tone a bit frosty after seeing the prince so crudely delegate a simple duty onto a guest. Seriously, what a pompous ass: Celestia had said he had improved, but from the looks of things, his ass-ness had only become even more entrenched in his personality.

“It’s a naval term or at least, I think it originates as one,” the unicorn began. “It refers to the act of taking stallions into a navy by force and with or without notice. Navies since the beginning of time have been doing it, especially during times of war, but that was usually for the seizure of deserters. Rarely did it ever have anything to do with the populace of their own country.”

“Exactly,” Blueblood said. “It is a harsh term, certainly, but it is essential to our continued economic survival out here. Port Royal doesn’t have much more going for her besides her shipping industry, you see, and those fleets need sailors to keep them running smoothly. If we fall behind in anything, anything at all, we shall suffer as a whole.”

“But that is utterly horrid!” Rarity said, appalled that such a thing was happening in Equestria. “How in the world have things gotten to this point where this... practice is a logical measure for safety? I mean, can’t there be civil defense sign-up sheets, or perhaps a rally auctioning off jobs for the unemployed? Surely there are plenty of backwater or country ponies willing to sign up for such work. Does it not pay well?”

“We do pay very well, but that is besides the point. For starters, unlike our neighbors to the south, Equestria has a booming population and has virtually no unemployed in her major cities, save for a few stragglers,” the prince said, setting down his empty teacup. Geoffrey whisked it away, only to give it back again, filled with hot, fresh tea once more: the stallion was a master at his craft of butlery. “That, and unlike their services, we pay our impressed sailors in advance, with more on the way should they not desert their posts. Desertion is very high in those navies, and thus that is why their tactics of “recruitment” remain so comparatively barbaric.”

“But... forcibly taking them away, with or without notice? Tearing apart friends, family and loved ones, just to serve on a dirty ship in the middle of the ocean? That’s just... just... I don’t even know what to say, I am so appalled,” Rarity said, looking into her tea as though it might give her the answers she was looking for. It just stared back at her, the dark liquid like a pool of tranquility compared to her turbulent emotions.

“We have never had a problem such as this before, Ms. Rarity,” Blueblood said without looking in her direction. “Pirates have always existed in these waters, ever since the first ships sailed through them, but they never were this organized or deadly. Sure, every once in a while an upstart would become a legend, but he would either be caught or retire to a life of ill-gotten luxury. These... fiends, since that is what they truly are, cannot seem to be caught, hence the need for additional labor on ships. This impressment program has only recently started, and we always give the notice beforehand: we never spring it on some poor commoner while he’s going to the market or anything.”

“But why is impressment needed anyway?” Pinkie Pie asked. “I mean, there’s lots and lots and lots of sailors along the coastline anyway, right? Why not just have some go from one ship onto another, and leave that one ship in port until they get back?”

“Indeed, but they are needed for several important reasons, Ms. Pie,” Geoffrey said, the prince throwing him a small look of thanks. He shouldn’t have to explain everything to these mares, now should he?

“What are those?” the pink mare asked after she swallowed the last bits of a breakfast muffin. Off in the distance, a cross-eyed mare howled in delight at the consumption of the delicious baked goods.

“Our defensive ships are being readily destroyed or heavily damaged, thus the need for new ships and crews to run them,” the butler said as he re-poured everypony else’s tea. “The second reason is similar: the cargo and transport ships need ponies to run them, and with so many ships being captured or ransacked, then the reasoning is very much the same as the first. Besides, to leave a cargo ship in port, collecting dust and barnacles, is a surefire way to go bankrupt, from the fees and loss of business. Ships in port and not collecting and selling cargo are a liability, not an asset.”

“But does their training differ?” Rainbow Dash asked, lazily looking around the room, as the talks of building and recruitment bored her. “That between those on defensive ships and cargo ships, I mean?”

“Yes: those in the navy learn the skills of not only repelling boarders and operating cannons, but they also learn how to board an enemy ship,” Blueblood said, nodding another small thank-you as Geoffrey walked off to refill the tea pot. “Those on cargo ships merely learn how to repel boarders: otherwise, all they need to be able to do is take care of themselves and move goods around once in port. Not much training required for that last part, to be honest.”

“But, wouldn’t they be more effective if they too learned what those entering the defensive naval ships learned as well?” Twilight asked, seeing a problem in this solution. Why waste time training just those going into the defensive fleet to do everything pertinent to fending off pirates, and instead train everypony who works on a ship? Surely it would cost much more, and in the long run it would much more likely save the city money, right?

Prince Blueblood opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the sound of the door to the room swinging open suddenly. Turning to face it, all seven ponies found themselves face-to-face with a rather disheveled mayor. One could tell he was mayor by his rotund belly, shorter stature, and a suit on him that screamed “I AM THE MAYOR”.

“Your grace: and ladies,” he added, tipping his hat in the direction of the six mares. “Sir, we have a situation on our hands: a very, very problematic situation.”

“Yes?” the prince asked, rising to his hooves and setting his tea down in a rather panicked matter. The mayor never arrived unless it was urgent news, like when Blueblood’s ship carrying exotic throw pillows had arrived or when somepony in town claimed her colt or filly had inherited the prince’s eyes.

“He is here,” the mayor said, removing his hat and running a hand over his balding mane, as though to stop himself from shivering. He was also sweating: not perspiring, but sweating as if he had just ran clear across the water from Port Royale and had skipped the rest of the way up to the mansion he once called his own.

“He? Who is he?” Applejack asked, looking confused as she sat up a bit straighter. Funny, how much a conversation could throw off one’s train of thought, leaving one stupefied. She had been thinking about buying an apple orchard near the city when the bumbling mayor appeared!

“Is he here? In the city?” Blueblood asked, some of the color having drained from his face, whilst the remaining darkened in anger. Oh no, if he was in the city, then he was likely coming for him! He had to get out of there, he was so important! He-

“No, he is in the harbor,” the mayor said, the words “in” and “harbor” imploding the prince’s initial panic attack, only to replace it with a different, and yet relatively similar one.

“Well, the why hasn’t the fort opened fire on him like I instructed them to?” the prince asked, his voice almost rising to a shout. “Are they asleep out there? Is the captain of the guard off gallivanting with those two whores again? Because if he is, so help me, I will cut-,”

“He... he sent this, with a young pony named Jeremy Hoofer,” the mayor replied, handing Blueblood a letter with his trembling hand. "Young Mr. Hoofer was an Ensign aboard the TMS Sunstrider, sir."

The prince snatched it up, too panicked to be miffed by the mayor cutting him off mid-rant. Smotthing his mane back in an effort to look prim and proper once more, he quickly read through the letter: he then let loose a snarl and threw it on the table behind him, a few errant bits of his mane sticking out again from his movements. “Confound that stallion and his piratical, devilish ways! How does he always know to do things like this?”

“Do what?” Applejack asked, standing up in indignation at her being ignored by both the prince and the mayor. “Who is he?!” She, and indeed the others gathered, were growing rather impatient at the lack of explanation from the mayor and prince.

“Read the letter for yourself,” the prince spat, turning to Geoffrey, who had just arrived with more tea. “Fetch me my finest suit and my sword: we are meeting our pirate guest in a half hour, by the steps of the fort.” He turned to face the mares. “If you wish, you may come along as well: no doubt you will wish to see an example of the lunacy I have had to deal with for so long. Perhaps then you will finally begin to understand my plight, and why I have to do what I do.”

With that, the prince stalked out of the room, with the mayor and Geoffrey following close behind. The six mares looked at each other, some still struggling to grasp just what the hay had happened in so short a span of time. Sobering up quicker than the others, as was her natural talent after being confused, Twilight magically retrieved the letter and read it aloud.

“Dear Prince Blueblood, or Overseer Blueblood, or High Lord Blueblood, or whatever you might call yourself now. It is, the captain of the Sea Wraith, terror of the seas and plunderer of the properties of little rich colts such as yourself. The subject of countless wet dreams of young mares up and down the coast, and the shadow that strikes fear into the hearts of every sailor who passes through these waters! Have you been having trouble finding where I hide? Of course you have: nopony finds me unless I let them. Your ships may be expertly crewed, but I know them like the back of my hand: you hold no surprises for me, good sir.

Anyways, I write this to inform you I have a very special offer for you: limited time, no cash back, limited refinancing, see back for details, etc. A few weeks back, some of your local “peacekeeping” troops came across a few of my crew in a tavern, on shore-leave and telling wondrous tales of my deeds to the local whores. Naturally, they were arrested on charges of piracy and aiding and abetting a known pirate, charges that I do not wish them to hang for, as it is hard to find such a loyal bunch of scallywags along this stretch of the country. Instead, in exchange for their lives, I will personally hand over the crews of both the TMS Moonskimmer and TMS Sunstrider. They recently came into my possession, and I would hate to strand them on some island far removed from civilization. A fair bargain, I must say: twenty pirates for, what were they as of now, eighty members of Their Majesty’s Navy? I know how much the princesses value a good deal when they see one: perhaps Celestia herself could come visit me sometime, eh?

I will be waiting for your response for half an hour: raising a blue flag over the fort would be the best indicator you have “succumbed” to my demands. Worry not: if you decide to go through with this, you shall have both crews in your possession, safe and sound.

Yours in everlasting piracy, the captain of the Sea Wraith.

PS. I will send you a case of my finest rum should you prove to be civil.”

The six mares looked at one another, astounded at both the formality and sheer lack of tact on the part of the captain. Here he was, in the middle of a hostile harbor, knowing full well there was a bounty on his head, and yet... he played everypony into his hands like they were mere puppets. Afraid of the fort’s guns: hold prisoners for ransom within the very hull they could fire upon. Worry about possible capture after the deal is done: subtly express his doubts of their honor, making the mayor and the prince “enforce” their own appearance of honor by not doing so.

He was a genius: at least, in Twilight’s mind, he was. A foolish, arrogant, gaudy genius: what a bizarre combination for a pirate, never mind a pirate captain who was feared throughout the area.

“Do we have to go?” Fluttershy asked, speaking up for the first time. “I mean, he i-is a pirate, after all.”

“Yes, I think so,” Twilight replied, rising to her hooves. “We are going to be dealing with pirates, and the best way to learn is by example. Come now, it can’t be that bad, can it?”

Meanwhile...

“I still don’t like this idea, sir,” Grund said from aboard the Sea Wraith. “I mean, what about all of us? We aren’t exactly cut out to manage operations like yours on our own, after all.”

“You will be fine, as I have ways to still be in contact with you all should things go... awry,” the captain said. “Are the prisoners ready for their freedom? The deal is no doubt going through as we speak.”

“Yes, of course,” the first mate replied. “It’s starting to smell down there from their sweat and waste: we’ll have to get some crew to scrub it down again.” He didn’t envy the poor sea dogs who had to do that: drawing straws was the only fair way one would be assigned such a grueling and nasty task.

“And of the ‘special’ prisoner: how is he faring?” the captain asked, looking over at the one standing next to the first mate.

“He is ready as well, sir,” Grund said. “We will not fail you, sir. We will follow your orders until our passing from these waters.” Ah, even for a pirate, Grund had a special knack for flair and extravagance in speech: maybe, in another life, he had gone on to be in theater, instead of a pirate.

“Thank you, Grund, but I do not think you will die anytime soon,” the captain said with a slight chuckle. “If anything, we will all eventually retire and live long, happy lives: at least, that is my sincerest hope. Ah yes, there it is.”

He was looking out at the fort, and true to his letter, the mayor, or Prince Blueblood, he didn’t care which, had raised a blue flag high over the ramparts. Through a quick peek of his spyglass, he saw nopony standing near the guns of the fort, a sign they had all been ordered to stay away from their posts. He turned to the special prisoner, and then to Grund.

“Well now, time to get started,” the captain said, clapping his hands together in mock glee. “Bring up the prisoners and start loading them into the rowboats. My prisoner and I will be in the lead one: for the time being, the ship is in your hands, Grund.”

“Thank you sir, but you will be back with us soon enough,” the first mate replied, saluting his captain before walking off to get the prisoners.

The captain looked out over the clear waters of the inlet, knowing full well what lay before him. In fact, he’d better get ready himself: he did want to look his best, after all. He walked into his cabin and shut the door behind him, changing quickly into something a bit more “formal”.

Later...

Prince Blueblood stood in his formal best, sewn together by the finest seamstresses in the entire city. His coat, his boots, his hat: all adorned with the various medals and symbols of his authority. Every buckle and button polished, every hair in his mane in perfect order: he was the epitome of both authority and fashion.

Behind him stood the Elements of Harmony, all dressed in the best dresses they had managed to bring with them. They all carried with them personal umbrellas: for shade, of course. Far off in the distance, the flag of the Sea Wraith was clearly visible as it flapped gently in the breeze. From the side of the ship, and to the small dock by the fort, came several sets of rowboats, with the one in front containing only two passengers.

“I wonder what he will be like, this pirate captain,” Rarity said, trying to stimulate a conversation between her friends. “I mean, he has impeccable penmanship, and seems rather reasonable, but... are those his only redeeming qualities?”

“Whoever he is, that sure is a fine lookin’ ship,” Applejack said, nodding in its direction. “Ah mean, look at the polish on that there wooden hull: that has to be some high quality oaken planks right there.”

“And that mainmast: it seems... it seems to just go on forever,” Fluttershy whispered in awe, looking up and down the massive piece of timber as though it were the world’s largest tree.

“I bet he’ll be a scoundrel,” Rainbow Dash said, not liking the fact that she had to dress up in so fine a dress.
“I bet he likes parties!” Pinkie Pie said in a near-shout. “Everypony likes parties! I mean, even pirates have to have parties at some time, and then it has to be fun, since parties are fun, and-,”

Applejack shoved an apple she pulled out of her small lunch basket right into Pinkie’s mouth, thankfully silencing her rambling about fun and parties.

“Whatever he is like or where he is from, I don’t think it matters,” Twilight said. “In fact, I think it’d be best if we were silent, to be honest. We need to learn from Blueblood, however painful that might be, about how to negotiate with pirates. They are nick-named cutthroats, after all, so they must have plans that go beyond the here and now.”

So the rest of them fell back into silence, off in their own little worlds as a veritable train of ponies made their way up from the docked rowboats. In front, leading one particular prisoner by a length of chain, was the pirate captain. As soon as he was within several feet of Blueblood and the others, he stopped, his prisoner stopping beside him. The prisoner himself was completely hidden under a bunch of clothes, though they were by no means ratty or ill-kept. Curiously, he too wore a mask, just like the pirate captain.

“Greetings, your highness,” the captain said, giving a bow and a flourish of his hat, which he then settled back on his head. “I have come to honor the agreement we both know of. Where are my crewmates?”

“Over there, safe, healthy and unharmed,” the prince said, his eyes flickering over to a small group of bedraggled-looking prisoners, some of whom waved when they saw the captain.

“From the looks of things, two of those statements would be correct,” the captain said, noticing their rather unkempt appearances. “Shall we begin the formal negotiations?”

“Indeed,” the prince replied, his scribe at his side and ready to write. So they began, each peppering their sentences with large, meaningless words that served no purpose other than to try and confuse the other.

Meanwhile, the Mane Six looked on with the proceedings, with Twilight making her own notes on a small pad of paper. “Well, he is at least polite,” she muttered, noticing how the captain never interrupted the prince, who often cut off the pirate at several junctures in the conversation. The pirate was a tall stallion, taller than all of them by only a few inches, with the prisoner being of the same height.

Fluttershy turned and whispered to Applejack. “Why is he wearing a mask?”

“Ah don’t know, but somethin’ tells me he’s hidin’ something he don’t want nopony else to see,” the mare replied. “Besides, have you been lookin’ at that prisoner feller? Why does that one seem... ah don’t know, unusual?”

“Maybe it’s because all we can see of him is his clothes and mask, Applejack,” Rarity said, her eyes roaming over both the pirate and the prisoner. “Honestly, one would think these pirates had a better sense of fashion for their prisoners. I mean, the captain is just dressed gorgeously, but the prisoner looks like his clothes were hand-me-downs from his grandfather.”

“Rarity, I doubt pirates care much about the fashion senses of others when it comes to dressing their prisoners,” Rainbow Dash whispered with a smirk. “Besides, have you noticed how similar in build they are?”

“Yes, I did, Dash my dear: I thought pirates were supposed to be either very short and robust or tall and lanky, myself,” Rarity replied. “He almost seems to be somewhere in the middle: tall, but not rail-thin. He obviously eats well, and has had a higher education than I think every other pony in his profession.”

“Those are excellent observational and deductive skills, you all, but I am trying to take notes,” Twilight whispered back, her magic-laced quill furiously re-dipping itself so she could continue to take notes. Her hand had started to cramp, so magic had been needed instead.

Then, without warning, the ponies who were crew to the pirate lurched forward, behind jostled along by several of the city’s police officers. The pirate captain raised his arm, and far behind him, the prisoners from the sister ships Moonskimmer and Sunstrider were lead along towards the fort.

“You’ll find that these keys,” the captain said, holding up a pair on a string, “will be useful in freeing them from their chains. If there is nothing else, I will leave you now.”

“Before you go, I do have two things to ask of you,” Prince Blueblood said, his air of formality gone as he stared down the stallion who had been causing him so much grief. He was tempted to signal to the fort to open fire on the ship, but that would be a hollow victory. What kind of a pony fires on a target when there are peaceful procedures, not to mention ceasefire agreements, in progress? No, any other time he would signal for a bombardment, but today, his duty to honor and standing amongst other nobles held his temper in check.

“Yes?” the captain asked, his prisoner shuffling his hidden feet slightly: likely fatigue from standing in one place for so long.

“Why do you do this? Plunder our ships, attack convoys, steal that which does not belong to you?”

The captain was silent for a few moments, the wheels in his head turning at a rapid pace: only a good answer would do. “I... have my own reasons, ones you would not understand,” he said finally.

“Granted, but here is my second question,” the prince continued. “Why did you bring this prisoner with you, by yourself? He is certainly not among the crew, as I can plainly count how many others you have heading this way, bound in chains. He is not from any other crew, as you always return crews alive and whole. He is not a slave of the far south lands, and he is not listed under any missing ponies associated with your ship. So, I ask you this: who is he?”

The captain turned to the prisoner and shrugged his shoulders. “I only know his name, and where he is from: the rest, I can assure you, is locked somewhere in his brain. I don't want to tell you: I am sure you can figure it out for yourself.” He stepped up to the prisoner, so that what he said would be heard by him as well. “He is in your hands now: do with him what you see fit. Other than that, I ask a small favor.”

“Which would be?” the prince asked.

“Do not remove the mask from his face until my ship has left the harbor,” the captain said, taking a step back. “I will know if you honor this agreement: I have my first mate looking at us right now through his spyglass.”

The captain waved towards the ship, and in response, a small gold light flashed from across the water.

“See?” he said, walking away while still facing the group. “Now, sir, and ladies,” he added, tipping his hat towards the Mane Six. “I bid thee farewell.”

With that the pirate walked off, passing by the prisoners he had held in his ship for a few uneventful days. A messenger rushed past him, stopping and bowing before the prince.

“Sir, I bring you good news,” he said, pausing after that little speech to catch his breath.

“Yes?” the prince asked.

“The TMS Moonskimmer and Sunstrider: they have been found, sir.”

“Where?” That was indeed an odd, if not good, bit of news.

“A small cove, not far from here: they are damaged, but some locals say they are still seaworthy,” the messenger said, standing up straight.

“Excellent: send word to the TMS Skua and Lancer to tow the ships back to the drydock here in Port Royal,” Prince Blueblood said, turning to face the Elements of Harmony. “I trust this... meeting, was informative as to what you’ll likely be dealing with?”

Twilight put away her little notebook, the pages containing all she needed to know. “Indeed, Prince Blueblood.”

Far off in the distance, the Sea Wraith hoisted its anchor just as the captain, his rescued crew and the little rowboat they had all piled in were hoisted up. Unfurling their sails, the pirates blew a loud whistle as they departed the harbor, disappearing behind the cliffs soon enough.

“Strange, that they should not think I would not send a ship after them immediately,” Blueblood said.

“That would not be wise, sir,” a voice said. Looking around, Blueblood saw it came from the still-masked prisoner, who was technically no longer a prisoner, but free.

“Remove that mask,” the prince said, not wanting to touch it himself.

In response to that, the prisoner stood up straight and looked at everypony assembled. With still-chained wrists, he raised his gloved hands to his face, gripped the sides of the mask, and pulled it off.

Everypony there gasped in astonishment: Twilight, perhaps, most of all.

“Spike?!”

Meanwhile...

The seas were indeed a treacherous place, especially for those ships that did not heed the warnings of locals. The Sea Wraith knew that no ships of the Royal Navy would be sent her way for some time, but far off in the distance, another kind of ship spied on her every move. It was rival, and her friend: her enemy and lover all rolled into one, a ship from which the captain had gone to and returned many, many times. A ship that patrolled the seas with a fury like no other, sending countless ships and crews to the murky depths like a sea monster spawned from Tartarus.

The Phantom was her name, and piracy was her game.

Author's Note

Good God, I cannot ever set a limit for myself when it comes to writing. As of now, and unless I add more chapters (which seems highly likely), this story could run 25 chapters. 25! Just from an idea springing forth as I listened to a song by Alestrom.

It was "Wolves of the Sea", by the way. (insert shameless plug)

Also, A Dragon's Journey is not going on hiatus: I just had a burst of inspiration and decided to write this at the time instead of the next chapter. It will be up soon: I promise!

Catching Up

Utter stillness permeated the area as the eight ponies looked at each other: or at least, seven ponies. The eighth pony was not a pony, but a dragon, a dragon that none of the others had seen or heard from in quite a few years. It was as if he had simply disappeared off the face of the planet, falling into the starry skies like the tales of sailors about a flat Earth. He did not look too well, given the circumstances.

“Twilight? Is it really you?” were the only words Spike was able to say before he fell over, the six mares barely managing to catch him before he hit the ground.

“Who is he?” Prince Blueblood asked, standing over the unconscious dragon with a mixture of pity, concern and slight disgust etched into his features. “Do you know this... dragon?”

“Yes, sir,” Twilight said, helping the others turn Spike over so his head rested in her lap. He let out a soft snore: out cold, it seemed. “He is, or should I say, was a close friend of ours for many years, and my partner in many of my endeavors when we were younger.”

“Partner?” Blueblood asked, raising an eyebrow. “By partner, do you mean...?”

“What? No!” Rarity interjected, having drawn the correlation between Blueblood’s question and his silence. “He was almost like a brother to her, and I must remind you, sir, that he was a very good friend to all of us. He was with us through many dangers and was always there for us. It was a shame that he left to come alongside the sea and join a schooner for work, really, but we didn’t try and stop him. It was our fault for being so busy, but we just couldn’t keep him with us forever.”

“Well, then, what became of him? After he joined this schooner?” the prince asked, looking back down on the dragon with far less disgust and quite a bit more intrigue.

“Well... h-he kind of stopped s-sending letters,” Fluttershy said as she gently stroked the dragon’s hand, her eyes on his closed ones. Underneath the lids, they were fluttering around, as if he were in a dream: a very odd dream, judging by the way his lips kept moving. It was like he was trying to smile, snarl and talk all at the same time, but no sound came out at all.

“Well, I think you now know the reason,” Blueblood said, clapping his hands: five servants rushed up, having apparently sprung out from behind a stack of barrels. He turned to them, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. “Take... Spike here to the last guest bedroom in the mansion, but be very quiet about it. There’s no telling who could be watching us right now: I don’t trust those pirates.” That and he knew the scum had a series of spies working for them in his city: he just didn’t know who or where they were.

The servants nodded and gently picked up Spike, his friends looking on as he was whisked up out of their hands. His hand brushed against Rarity’s knee, and Twilight could have sworn she saw the mare flinch, not from disgust, but from concern.

“Be very careful: he seems rather fragile and we have no idea what sort of ordeal he has been through,” Blueblood added to the servants in the tone of voice that suggested he had just thought of it. “He will need to rest and recuperate, and then we can ask him what he knows.” The servants nodded once more and whisked the dragon away, carrying him aloft with noticeable difficulty. He was heavier than he seemed, but then again, that extra weight might have come from his large tail.

“Question him?” Applejack asked, turning to the prince as he began to leave the fort: the six mares followed close behind.

“Of course, Ms. Applejake,” the unicorn said, not noticing how red around the ears the mare got when he said her name wrong. “He was in the company of pirates for who knows how long. In that time, assuming he wasn’t tortured or put to back-breaking slave labor, he must have learned something about them. Plans, hiding spots, allies and spies within our own ranks, anything really: there’s no telling what he overheard or saw.”

“But... he’s half-dead or sick or something!” Rainbow Dash said indignantly. “He couldn’t even stand for very long! How in the world is he even going to be coherent enough to talk to somepony, let alone answer a bunch of questions?”

“Yes, Ms. Dash, I know that, but we mustn’t let an opportunity such as this slip through our grasp,” the prince replied, already thinking of the questions he would ask the dragon. “Locked away in his head could be the keys to solving this pirate problem and freeing our shores once again from those wolves of the sea.”

“Prince Blueblood, while I appreciate your efforts in attempting to bring this growing conflict to a complete and sudden end, I must protest,” Rarity said, Fluttershy nodding along with her words.

“Oh, really?” the prince said, arching an eyebrow.

“Yes. Spike has been gone so long, and he is either very ill or very weak: possibly both, judging from how he simply fainted away,” the white unicorn said. “He needs time to recuperate, to regain his strength, and right now, what he needs is familiar faces, not a barrage of interrogating questions.”

The prince seethed internally at her brash assumptions that he would try and wring out every drop of information from the dragon, but on the outside he remained calm. She wasn’t wrong in assuming he’d do that, for the sake of security, but these six were far too close to the princesses. If any word got out of what he did, they’d immediately be in contact with his aunts and he’d be removed from the situation. Then he’d be laughed at by the upper echelons of society for letting his emotions rule his actions and losing such an important position over some dragon nobody.

“I... see your point. Very well: the six of you may visit him at your pleasure, but a fair word of warning,” the prince said, shaking his finger. “You must be very careful around him. For all we know, he could be a spy for those same pirates: I’ve seen it before.”

“Prince Blueblood, I know you have the security of the realm at heart, but trust me when I say this: Spike is the farthest thing from a spy that I can think of,” Fluttershy said, her voice sounding oddly strong and confident. Perhaps all those assertiveness lessons under her tutor Iron Will had not been a complete waste.

“Is that so?” the prince said as they finally reached the carriage that would take them the rest of the way to the mansion. The second carriage had already left, the servants and their unconscious passenger likely already back at the mansion.

“Yes,” Fluttershy said, her hands lightly balling into fists at the prince’s mildly scoffing tone. “He is not like those pirates you’ve all told us about at all: he never would be.”

“I gotta agree with Fluttershy on this, Prince Blueblood,” Pinkie Pie said, climbing into the carriage first. “I mean, he was totally nice all the time, and he always helped us with stuff, and he even helped me bake a cake for a Summer Sun Celebration! He’s nothing like those mean old pirates you’ve told us all about.”

“...right,” the prince said softly as, for the first time, he let the mares all clamber into the carriage before him. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” He didn’t really believe what she had said: she had no idea what the sea, or being held captive, could do to a pony. Or in this case a dragon: it could change you in ways you would never expect. He had seen it plenty of times in the young sailors that had come back from both: they were changed for life.

An hour passed, and once more, the six mares were staring down at their long-lost, and now found, dragon friend. The servants had been very efficient in their treatment of the unconscious dragon, having changed his tattered rags for some rather nice, if plain, clothes. He had not woken up yet, but his breathing was unlabored and his eyes were no longer rattling around in his skull: undoubtedly an improvement.

The room he had been placed in was on the upper floor of the building, with a spectacular view of the harbor and sea beyond it through an admittedly plain window. The room itself was not terribly large: more like a large closet than a spare bedroom, but it was unlikely the sleeping dragon was going to complain. For a long time he had slept in a basket in Twilight’s library, there having been no room for another bed: he had been fine with it until he outgrew it.

“Should... should we wake him?” Applejack asked, looking over the dragon with a mixture of pity and sorrow. They had all missed him dearly, but they had never truly realized just how much until he was suddenly thrust back into their midst.

“I would advise against that,” Twilight said, walking a bit closer to the bedside and sitting down softly on the edge of the covered mattress. “He’s in no condition to be woken up: we’d best let him rest a while before we speak to him in a coherent and not one-sided manner.”

“But... then what do we do now?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“I... I remember reading that those in a deep sleep, like Spike’s, can hear the words of others, but only through their dreams,” the purple unicorn said, her hand reaching for Spike’s, but she stopped herself. He looked so peaceful, his hands folded and clasped across his chest as he slept.

“So... who wants to go first?” Fluttershy asked first, glancing out the window as a flock of seagulls flew over the harbor.

“I guess I will,” Twilight said, leaning a bit closer to Spike. “Should I be formal?”

“Twilight, Spike is our friend: I am sure he’d understand if we decided to talk to him as one,” Rarity said. "But, we mustn't tally: we'll have plenty to say when he awakens, so for the time being... we must keep our hellos short."

“Well, okay,” the purple mare said, leaning slightly closer again. “Hey Spike: it’s me, Twilight Sparkle. I know you can’t talk to me now, but I just wanted to say... I’ve missed you. I’m sorry I didn’t try following up on your last letters, but please understand the burdens that were thrust upon me: on all of us. Get well soon, and we can talk it all out.” With that, she leaned forward and kissed him gently on the forehead. With that, she got up and walked away, her hoofsteps fading as she left the room.

Applejack was next: she sat a bit closer, though she removed her Stetson bonnet hat as held it over her chest. “Hey Spike,” she whispered, her lips only a few inches from his ear. “It’s me: Applejack. I don’t know if y’all can hear me, but please: get well soon. We’ve got lots to catch up on.” She kissed the dragon softly on his left cheek and then left the bedside, putting her hat back on as she joined Twilight outside of the room.

Rainbow Dash was next, and with a grace and dignity she never showed her parents or the public, she sat down on Spike’s bed, opposite from where Twilight and Applejack had sat. “Hey, Spike, just thought I’d say that it’s good to see you again,” the blue pegasus said, her volume slightly above that of a whisper. “We’re gonna have lots to catch up on, so get better soon, you hear?” Hesitantly, as if struggling to make a decision, she gave him a light peck on his right cheek. With a flutter of her wings, she was off the bed, almost floating away as she followed the first two well-wishers out of the room.

Pinkie Pie was next, somehow doing a complete flip over the bed and landing softly next to Spike, her impact barely making the sheets ruffle around where she landed. “Heya Spike, it’s been a long time since we got to talk,” she whispered into his ear, her words tumbling out of her mouth faster than cupcake could go in it. “You’ve missed out on a whole bunch of parties, and there was cake, and ice cream, and we played games, and-,”

“Pinkie Pie, you’re rambling again, my dear,” Rarity whispered.

“Oh, yeah: sorry about that Spike,” the pink pony whispered into the sleeping dragon’s ear, smiling at her own mistake. “Well, seeya later Spike: get better soon, okay?” Instead of a kiss, Pinkie lightly nuzzled the dragon’s nose before hopping away, her lightly bounding hoofsteps barely making a noise.

Fluttershy motioned for Rarity to go next, but the unicorn shook her head. “I would like to be last, dear,” the white mare said, taking a step back and looking out the window. It was a rather beautiful view, though hers, a view of the rolling countryside that lay beyond the borders of the city, was no less splendid to look upon.

Fluttershy nodded softly, gently making her way to the dragon’s side. Smoothing out her dress, she sat down where Rainbow Dash had, sinking slightly into the soft sheets. Reaching up with one hand, she gently placed it over one of Spike’s folded hands, gently caressing the smooth scales. He did not look particularly unwell, in her eyes, but there was a hardness to his features that she did not remember. Perhaps it was all that time out at sea, or under the “care” of those pirates. Whether it was one or the other, she did not know.

“Spike, it’s me: Fluttershy,” she whispered softly, her words barely loud enough for herself to hear. “I... I’m sorry we didn’t send you letters. I know you were working very hard out here, and we were glad for you, but... things just got so difficult back at home. When you stopped sending letters in return, we... I mean, I thought you were just upset with us not responding to them. We... we never imagined anything like this had happened. Just... please get better, okay?” She glanced over at Rarity, who seemed particularly interested in the framework of the window. Looking back to Spike, she leaned over and gently brushed her lips against the left corner of his mouth, not feeling brave enough to go all the way.

Rising to her hooves, she turned back to Rarity. “I’m done,” she said softly, walking away: her wings trailed behind her, the feathers brushing softly against the back of her dress. Rarity turned, as if to say something, but decided against it: there would be another time, another place to say it.

She at last turned to Spike, unsure if to walk over to where he was or simply talk where she was standing, as if he were awake and it was a normal conversation. But if she did talk where she stood, then there was the chance he wouldn’t hear her, and that was a chance she couldn’t bear to take. Walking over and sitting opposite of where Fluttershy had sat, she settled herself down on the crisp, clean sheets. Smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress, she was content, at least, to simply sit there for a few short minutes.

“Spike,” she said softly, unsure of how to word what she was feeling. Joy at seeing him again, anger at what those pirates might have done to him, fear of what he might say about how they had all fallen out of contact or not even looked for him: it was all so confusing. So, instead, she chose to reach up and gently stroke the side of his cheek. “I’m... I’m sorry, Spike. You must know by now we all terribly missed you, but we had no idea what you were doing out here. I had no idea you were ever in any danger, and... I’m sorry. I’m sorry we let our responsibilities take hold of our lives and forsake the friendships we had with you: sorry we never tried to reestablish contact with you, or even come looking for you. I pray that, somewhere in your heart, you can forgive us. Please, please come back to us Spike.”

Leaning over, her mane dangling around her face, Rarity kissed the corner of Spike’s mouth, softly and in an entirely lady-like manner. About to rise to her hooves, she looked at his closed eyelids, almost trying to will them to open, but it was to no avail. Sighing, she turned and left, the door slowly shutting behind her. As the tumbler clicked shut, Spike’s unconscious form was once again all alone, the soft breeze coming though the cracked-open window carrying with it the smell of the sea.

Unseen to all but the room itself, the corners of Spike’s mouth curved upwards ever-so-slightly.

Meanwhile...

“I’m going to regret not trying to question him immediately: I know it,” Blueblood said, sipping his tea with Geoffrey high up in the main conference room. The map that showed the seas and coastline was still there, as detailed as ever, and even now, Blueblood would hopelessly cast his eyes upon, hoping to find an answer to his problems. The map, as maps were most likely to do, remained silent.

“Why do you say that, sir?” the butler asked, pouring himself a cup of the fine-brewed tea. Now, when all other business was done and dealt with, was when Blueblood actually allowed himself the pleasure of conversing with his butler on a more informal level, even though Geoffrey preferred to remain the consummate professional.

“Quite a few reasons, actually,” the prince said, his hand passing over the marker on the map where the city of Port Royal lay. “If he is damaged, mentally anyway, the healing part of his brain could cloud up or repress his memories. We would lose immediate access, and you know as well as I do: interrogating him would bring us nothing but grievances and severe repercussions.”

“This dragon: Spike, was it? You said he has a connection to the six mistresses currently residing with us,” the butler said, sipping his tea thoughtfully. “Is this connection the reason why you won’t let anypony try and question him in detail?”

“Precisely,” Blueblood said, turning away from the map lest the sight of it drive him to drink. It was maddening, to be able to see the motionless world in such clarity, and yet not be able to control it like one could a chessboard. Or see the moving, living world in all its splendor and glory: now that would be a power unlike anything he’d heard of before. “That brings me to my second point: he is a dragon, Geoffrey. He is of a race unlike ours, and though similar in many ways, he is wholeheartedly different. He can breathe fire, change his size, live for untold numbers of centuries, and yet... Celestia saw fit to have him be looked after by a mere filly at the time. I know he was raised in the castle: I remember him as a youngster myself, but now... I am unsure as to why Celestia would take such an interest in him after his hatching.”

“Perhaps she has a plan for him?” Geoffrey suggested. “He is, after all, a dragon, and could very well be a legitimate answer to a problem we have not yet encountered. Indeed, with that long lifespan of his, Celestia could have a potentially political ace-in-the-hole, should other options be less favorable or downright impossible.” Celestia was well known for making plans that often took many years to come to fruition.

“Geoffrey, your insight is astounding, even to one such as myself,” the prince said, giving his butler a rare, honest smile. “Of course: why send in a few meager pony ambassadors who fear for their lives, and instead send in a creature that could decimate a country all by itself, should such an opportunity present itself? I do believe you have “hit the nail on the head”, as the commoners say. Celestia indeed would want such a powerful creature on her side: everypony knows that very few dragons live outside their own country, or even care about the goings-on of others.”

“Nevertheless, we must indeed tread carefully,” Blueblood added, after a few moments of silence. “He is a close friend to the Elements of Harmony, is a blasted dragon, and is under the eye of Princess Celestia herself. Perhaps, to put ourselves in a better light, we should reveal his “rescue” to my aunt?”

Geoffrey said nothing for a few seconds. “I don’t know, sir,” he said, looking down into his tea like it were some crystal ball. “That might not be in your best interest, to say you rescued him.”

“And why not, Geoffrey?” the prince asked, far more curious than insulted by his butler’s comment.

“Seeing as how this was no rescue, but as a mere prisoner exchange, one might see it as you trying to take advantage of another’s suffering,” the butler said, sounding oddly sure of his words. “That, and some of the more wealthy members of society might whisper behind your back about such a “lofty accomplishment”, and it would not be a compliment, I assure you,” he added.

“Geoffrey, your insight knows no bounds,” the prince said, smiling once more. His butler may have been perhaps the greatest pony to ever come into his employ. “How did you know they would likely react in such a way?”

“I have seen it many times before, sir, and unlike those previous times, my master was not kind to me,” the butler said simply. It was true, oddly enough: of all the ponies Geoffrey had served, Blueblood was by far the kindest he had ever known. “I did not care about their ruinous rumors and problems, but I should shudder to think how your life, both personal and political, would be degraded, simply off of a few malicious rumors. That is why I do my best to try and help you avoid the mistakes so many of my previous masters have.”

“Geoffrey, I cannot thank you enough,” Blueblood said, just as the small clock on the wall began to chime. “Well, Geoffrey, I believe it is almost time for dinner: would you mind checking in with the cooks? Last time, that- oh, what was it called.....”

“Spinach and broccoli soup, with whole-wheat dumplings, sir?” the butler said. "They called it something along the lines of "gnocchis à la parisienne", I believe?"

“Yes, that: thank you, Geoffrey. Yes, last time, mine had a bit too much broccoli in it. For this meal, do you think they could even out the serving proportions a bit more?” The prince loved everything being neat and orderly: his food was just another one of those things.

“I shall get right on it, sir,” the butler said, bowing and taking with him the tea. He was gone in a few long strides, his coattails swishing behind him.

Watching the door close behind his butler, Prince Blueblood turned towards the tall grandfather clock in the corner of the room, which had mysteriously not rung as the small, wall-hanging one had. “You may come out now,” he said, his smile becoming a thin, serious line.

The clock opened, and out stepped perhaps the oddest-looking pony in the entire mansion. He wore black gloves and a very tight set of dark robes, and the monocle covering his eye only gave him a slightly less threatening expression. For underneath that monocle lay an eye, part of a pair of dark, yellow eyes that reminded the prince of a predatory bird’s. A whitish pelt, an a yellowish-white mane to match: he could have been a snowy owl of the far north, or the white phase of a gyrfalcon.

“Shall I be keeping tabs on him as well?” the pony asked, his voice deep, soft and very, very chilling. His accent was a bit thick, with him stressing his s’s and the w’s were pronounced as v’s.

“No, no, Geoffrey is entirely trustworthy,” the prince said, walking over as the other pony closed the clock behind him.

“Then why did you send him from my sight?” the white stallion asked, a small cold smile showing where his mouth was.

“I did not want him knowing of our business, and if everything goes according to plan, he will never know, nor will anypony else,” Blueblood said, the thin line of his mouth becoming a slight frown.

“What would have me do, prince?” the figure asked.

“Geralt, we have known each other for a long time, have we not?” Blueblood asked, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Sometimes it was such a pain to deal with this stallion, but he got results, and even though they were many times bloody, they were results nonetheless.

“Yes,” the stallion replied, his cold yellow eyes scanning the room.

“And in that time, we agreed upon many things: one of them being that we refer to one another by our names?”
“Indeed,” Geralt said softly.

“Then please, tell why, in your last letter, you referred to me as “Your Highness”, after you had told me of that pirate crew’s... misfortune?”

“I was writing it in a tavern, Blueblood: you know how nosy the common folk can get about a loner pony in any establishment,” the white stallion said, his monocle glinting slightly in the sunlight.

“Yes, yes: I know that. Still it irks me, that for a spy, cutthroat and many other fouler titles you possess, you are usually rather punctual,” the prince said. “So please, tell me: how long do you think your task will take to complete?”

“That depends entirely upon what sort of task you are willing to give me,” Geralt said, his voice as soft as ever, though it had a slight humor in it. It was cold, black humor, blacker than the pits of Tartarus, but a slight bit of humor nonetheless.

“I want you to... keep an eye on our six guests, and our most recent one: the dragon,” Blueblood said.

“That is it? No throats to slive? No evidence to plant against your enemies? Are you going soft on me, Blueblood?” Geralt asked, more of his malice-laced humor seeping into his tone.

“Far from it: you are to do this along with your “usual” responsibilities,” the prince said, his scowl deepening. “I know there are spies somewhere in this city working for those pirates. I want you to find them, and report back to me as soon as you do.”

“Do you want me to... take care of them as well?” the spy asked, his teeth showing as he gave a most unpleasant smile.

“No, I don’t need random townsfolk turning up dead: more than usual, anyway,” Blueblood said, shaking his head. “Once found, I will have them arrested and hanged, showing everypony that piracy is a crime that is punishable by death. Aiding one is a lesser one, but the punishment will be the same.”

“Ah, I see: a “obey or else” sort of tactic,” Geralt said licking his lips slightly. “I can’t say that I agree, but I am paid to follow orders, not to question them. So tell me: I am just supposed to... follow these six mares and their dragon friend around? That is, when he awakens, I imagine?”

Blueblood did a small double-take. “How did you-,”

“Believe me, it was not easy to find a hiding spot in that room, but it was well worth it,” the spy said, intertwining his hands behind him like a school teacher talking to a foal. “Those six mares all have deep-seated feelings for the dragon: some more than others,” he added, thinking of the yellow pegasus and white unicorn mares. They were all beautiful, all right: too bad he wasn’t allowed to get... closer.

“Indeed? That is... interesting news,” Blueblood said softly, filing it away for later in his mind. “You are to stay away from them: they are far more capable of handling themselves than you think.”

“Do you take me for some common, low-life thug?” Geralt said in a mock-hurt tone. “I would never hurt any of the Elements of Harmony: Celestia would have my head on a platter in a matter of days.” There was truth in his words: Celestia did not get violent or bloodthirsty very often, but when she did, the entire world trembled in fear.

“And of their dragon friend?” the prince asked, arching an eyebrow. “What about him?”

“Him? Oh, he would undoubtedly be a challenge, given his ancestry,” the pony said, his accent making him sound even more threatening. “I will... restrain myself around him, though if he confronts me, I will not hesitate to put him down.”

“Let us hope it never comes to that: he still may yet have some usefulness, and until I deem him a dangerous threat, you are to leave him alone as well.” The prince did not care for the dragon, but he knew a potential tool when he saw one.

“And of your aunts?” the spy asked, his leer deepening. A sudden change in the atmosphere of the room made him realize, deep inside his mind, that he had made a grave mistake. The prince’s calm surface gave way to wild-eyed, furious glare that, if he were not made of sterner stuff, would have made Geralt soil himself.

“If I ever assign you to anything with my aunts, it will be to protect them with your very life,” the prince hissed, his voice sounding deadly. It was odd, to be sure: nopony thought of Blueblood as being a physical threat, but he was a unicorn, and in his time traveling to various ports around world as a diplomat, he had learned several... interesting spells. “My aunts are never to be threatened, you hear me? Ever: should I catch wind of you doing anything suspicious near them, I will expose you and end your life. An earth pony such as yourself must surely understand what I can do with my magic.”

“Yes,” Geralt said, suppressing the urge to gulp.

The prince turned away, his rage disappearing behind a cool, polite mask. “Leave: don’t return unless you have what I want.” The spy bowed and left, his robes swirling behind him as he disappeared into the secret passage that led through the grandfather clock.

"Bastard," Blueblood muttered under his breath. A necessary evil, Geralt was, but an evil nonetheless.

Author's Note

Aha, I'm such a bastard. Writing four different stories at once, and I've still not seen a significant decrease in my ability to write them all separately! Oh, if only I were a better writer, I could churn out better chapters faster, but for me, greatness is equaled by time and effort.

So, what do you think so far?

Renewed Friendships

The sun rose on the third day after Spike had arrived at the mayor’s mansion, and it was a coincidence that a maid decided to come into his room to clean. Why she came to clean, it was not known: all that everypony knew was that she ran out of the room, screaming for Prince Blueblood, the butler, the guards and the Elements of Harmony. It was a mad dash to the room, and more than one, several ponies became rather stuck in the same doorway after trying to pass through at once.

All of the aforementioned ponies eventually rushed to the room, Prince Blueblood swinging the door open with the first sign of magic the Elements of Harmony had ever witnessed together. Upon almost wedging themselves in the doorframe once more, they all looked up to see a single figure standing by the window, his back to the doorway as he stared out into the summer morning.

“Spike?” Twilight called softly, not sure why the guards and Blueblood were so on edge. It was just Spike: he wasn’t dangerous or anything... was he? “Spike? Is that you?”

The figure stood still for a moment longer before turning around, a small but formal smile gracing his lips. “Of course it is I! Who else could it be?” His smile grew as he looked at everypony. “Hello, Twilight,” Spike said, his eyes looking over everypony there. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to give me a hug?” As if to emphasize his question, he opened his arms invitingly.

Twilight felt herself sprint at the dragon, with five others in close proximity matching her movements. As one seething mass of dresses, jewelry and manes, the six Elements of Harmony swarmed the lone dragon, enveloping him in a great big hug. They stood there for a few minutes, or seconds, or maybe an hour: they didn’t really care.

“Ahem, excuse me,” a voice said, causing the group to break apart. Everypony and Spike turned to see Prince Blueblood had taken a step towards them, arms behind his back. “I hate to break up this little “reunion”, but seeing as Spike is currently a guest in a mansion under my authority, I would appreciate it if I could ask him a few questions about his... incarceration with the pirates.” He said “pirates” with a slight snarl, as if the very word brought him great anger and discomfort. Which it did, actually, as anypony who ever spent time in his presence would readily know.

“Mr. Blueblood, it is entirely up to Spike when he will answer questions and when he will visit with his friends,” Twilight said, Rarity nodding quite avidly in agreement. “I mean, he just woke up after having slept for who-knows how many hours, and-,”

“Twilight, it’s all right,” Spike said softly, his hand gently squeezing her shoulder, the action causing her to look at him in both bewilderment and slight embarrassment. “I’m not going anywhere: we can catch up after he’s done talking to me.”

The six mares made to protest his decision, but something in Spike’s expression made them stop. Was it the determination in his eyes, or the way his jaw was now set? He, for all intents and purposes, looked like he’d want to have a talk with the prince, but what he would actually say was anypony’s guess.

“I promise it will not take long,” Blueblood added, hoping to get the mares out of the room before they did something to mess his plan up. He needed to be frank with the dragon, but he’d build up to that: first, he’d need to be polite and sincere.

“Spike, we-,” Applejack began before Spike shook his head slowly.

“It’s fine: I feel better than you think. After he’s done questioning me, I’d like it if you’d all get ready to go outside. The hillside looks lovely from my window, and I would love to have a picnic with you all.” His voice was smooth and very relaxed, but in his tone was a slight hint that he would not take no for an answer.

The mares were slightly taken back by Spike’s request. He had just awoken from a near-coma, only to ask them to join him for a picnic? Either he was faster at recovering from an ordeal than he looked, or he was entirely out of his mind. Whatever his reason for doing so may have been, they said nothing more and left him alone with Blueblood and his guards, closing the door gently behind them.

Blueblood looked away from the door to see Spike once again standing in front of the window, his hands clasped behind his back as he scrutinized the prince, his two guards, and the butler. For all intents and purposes, he looked like he had just stepped off the train from Canterlot. His poise, his stock-still posture, his eyes scanning the four others like a sharp-eyed hawk; he was not to be trifled with, it seemed.

“Ahem, I believe introductions are in order,” the prince said, gesturing to those around him. “These are two of my best guards, Roan and Destry, and my personal butler, Geoffrey.” The two guards gave a pair of curt nods, and the butler gave a small bow. “I am Prince Blueblood, overseer of all things nautical and financial in this sector of the country.”

“I am Spike: just Spike,” the dragon said, giving a small, curt bow of his own. “I must thank you for aiding me in my recovery. It was quite kind of you to care for me in the way you did, as I undoubtedly would have required a longer stay if I were placed in less... accommodating hands.”

“Ah, he is a smooth one, to know of such politically-correct praises,” the prince thought, clasping his own hands behind his back. “Tell me, Spike, how long were you imprisoned by those pirates? I pray it wasn’t for too long.” He somehow managed to hold back his sarcasm when he said the word “pray”, as he knew this dragon could be either very beneficial or very damaging to his political career.

Spike was silent for a moment, one hand coming up to rub his chin, as if in thought. “This latest batch of pirates? I would say.. about a year and a half, give or take a few weeks.” There was silence for a few seconds after he said this, as if the others were trying to make sense of such a sudden drop of information.

“This latest batch? By whatever do you mean?” Blueblood asked, arching an eyebrow. “Have you been in the custody of such scum as before?”

“Why, yes: I have, in fact, been in the presence of pirates several times over the past few years,” Spike said, glancing around the room as if trying to memorize the place. “I would say I have been captive to... I don’t know, five or six pirate captains over these last few years? I don’t wish to count the sips themselves, as more often than not, a pirate captain was replaced and the new captain kept me under his own control.”

“You... you’ve been captive for several years now?” the prince asked, his eyebrow threatening to retreat into his mane, so great was his surprise. “How on Earth did you manage to survive for so long under such brutal care?”

“Oh, they weren’t all bad, I guess,” the dragon said, a half-smile forming on his lips. “Some were better than others, though there was that one captain who always made me sleep in her quarters. Wanted to “keep an eye on me” or something along those lines. She and I were shipwrecked a few years ago, and that was where I made my escape.”

“You escaped? But you said you’ve been in the hold of pirates for years now,” Blueblood said, his guards glancing at each other and the butler. This was indeed a rather sharp change in story.

“Yes, well, I escaped, only to be caught by other pirates, you see,” Spike said with a small chuckle. “Ironic, isn’t it? Escape one pirate, only to be caught by another? My luck must have been regaining much of what it had lost, as these pirates were perhaps the kindest I had ever “served”, so to speak.”

So, these pirates you have been held captive by... do you know where their bases are?” the prince asked. “Locations far from the eyes of our defensive forces? We have had a devil of a time trying to track so many of the pirate ships these days.”

Spike thoughtfully rubbed his chin a bit more, his expression laced with puzzlement. “I... I don’t know this last crew’s secret places. They always took us below decks before moving from one spot to another, and there were no windows down in the brig. They were especially careful, these ponies of the Sea Wraith.”

“But of the others you have been captive of over the years? What of them?” Blueblood asked in a somewhat impatient manner. He did not like the small tone of respect the dragon spoke when he mentioned the Sea Wraith. Pirates were not to be respected: they were to be jailed, or hanged, for all he cared.

“Well, old captain Bloodhoof of the Bloody Cutlass died in his sleep during a storm,” Spike said. “He was the first pirate I was captive to: not a terribly bad pony, but his age finally caught up with him. My only problem was his habit of chewing tobacco, as he spit it everywhere. After he died I tried to escape, but the new captain shackled me for a few weeks before I was free to do tasks for the crew. Didn’t trust me at all, but then, I tried to escape, so how could he?”

“Fine, who was next?” the prince asked, suppressing the urge to press his hands to his temple in frustration. He knew plenty well of the legendary pirate captain Bloodhoof: that stallion was impossible to kill in a fight, even when outnumbered five to one.

“Well, after that ship ran aground, I was sold to a rather nasty captain called Iron Eye, and served for a while on his ship, the Black Horizon. If I may say so, he was a downright bastard, Mr. Blueblood,” the dragon said calmly, though there was a slight sign of anger in his voice. “Cruel beyond measure and with a quick sword arm, he was nasty to be sure. Luckily, though, he was too cruel for his crew and died in a mutiny. From there, I ended up with the lady pirate I told you of before.”

There was the distant ringing of a few bells, causing Prince Blueblood to straighten up and smooth out a few wrinkles in his coat. He had to remember to remain proper in front of this stranger, though it was hard to tell just how much about etiquette this dragon truly knew. He had come so close to losing his cool during this impromptu (and totally useless) history lesson.

“I should very much like to hear more of your tales, Spike, but it seems we will have to discuss such a thing at another time. I am due for a meeting with the fort’s commander: military business and all that. Please accept my apologies for cutting this meeting short.” The prince felt that perhaps that bit of information would quell any thoughts of challenging his authority in the dragon.

“I understand completely, your highness,” Spike said, giving another short bow. He turned to the butler, a sudden friendly gleam in his eyes. “Would you perhaps like to help me with something? This picnic I wish to have with the Elements of Harmony; I have not cooked any food for myself in quite a long time. Would you care to show me to the kitchens?”

“Indubitably, sir,” the butler said as Prince Blueblood and his two guards left without saying another word. “Might I ask why you wish to have a picnic so soon after your recovery? I have not seen anypony in a condition like yours the other day be ready to be up and about in so short a time. Most ponies would still be in bed, barely able to have a conversation as you just did.”

“I wish to catch up on some things with six old friends of mine. Besides, I am no pony, Geoffrey: I am a dragon, and we “heal” a bit quicker than most might give us credit for,” Spike said, walking away from the window. “Now, for the kitchens: will they do what I ask of them, if I ask of it on the behalf of the others?”

“Yes, of course sir,” the butler said, leading the dragon out of his room. “Might I ask why you wish to ask them for specifics?”

“Of course,” Spike said politely as they walked. “I know what things they like, or at least, what they liked when I was younger. I was hoping to help ease their slight angst over my return with a picnic filled with things that bring them nothing but happier feelings.” He paused for a moment. "Also, do you have anything a bit more... respectable for me to wear?"

“Ah, I see: a most honorable intention, sir,” the butler said as they arrived at the main stairwell. “I shall see that you will have anything you ask for. If you'll follow me, I can show you truly outstanding outfits for your wearing pleasure.”

One hour later...

“I must say, Spike is taking an awfully long time to get to this picnic,” Rarity said, the other five mare sitting with her in a semicircle on the picnic blanket. The large white oak under which they sat proved to be a most excellent source of shade, and the grass around them was cut to only a few inches in height. “He did say meet him here, did he not?”

“Yeah, and here I thought he’d be bringin’ the food too,” Applejack said, a rather unladylike rumble emanating from her stomach. “I mean, what could he be possibly makin’ in that kitchen that would take so-,”

“Ahem,” a voice said, making the six ponies, who had been facing the city, look behind them. There was nopony there: was it a ghost or something?

“Hello?” Twilight called, looking around as the others copied her movements. Where had that voice come from?

“Oh, sorry,” the voice said again, and a lone figure stepped out from behind the large white oak. Fluttershy rolled behind Rainbow Dash in surprise, Pinkie gasped so loudly that it sounded like a vacuum cleaner, and Rarity nearly fainted from the sudden sight of...

“Spike, how did you sneak up on us like that?” Twilight asked, smoothing out her dress to erase the signs she had almost fallen over from surprise.

“It is not my fault you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings, Twilight,” the dragon said with a slightly smug tone, carrying with him three picnic baskets. One in his left hand, one in his right, and the other on the tip of his tail: he looked like some sort of reptilian delivery boy. “Besides, I thought overhearing your conversation would give me a bit more time to make myself presentable.”

“But... but you are presentable,” Rarity said, looking him up and down. “Just where did you get those clothes? Is that why this all took so long?”

“I was not gone that long, Rarity,” Spike said, setting the baskets down gently on the picnic blanket. Still, he had to admit his new clothes were rather flashy, even for one such as himself. A white jacket, lined with golden thread and similarly adorned cuffs, and a rather crimson undershirt highlighted by polished ivory buttons. His pants, a dark blue, seemed more like they belonged on an admiral than on a simple dragon, and the boots he wore over his feet were a polished onyx in color. Perhaps the oddest addition to his assemblage was the hat he wore. It was reminiscent of a captain’s hat, complete with a feather tucked in it, but the feather was that of a peacock, and the brim narrowed sharply, giving the base of the hat a very triangular shape.

“Rarity’s right: where did you get those clothes?” Rainbow Dash asked, fluttering into the air to hover around Spike like a planet revolved around its star. “They look freaking awesome!”

“Rainbow Dash! Such language is unbecoming of a lady of your political stature,” Rarity said, admonishment lacing her voice. “I know you were raised better than that.”

“It is fine, Rarity. We’re all friends here, so Rainbow Dash can talk in any manner she sees fit,” Spike said, gently sitting down in the middle of the group. Fluttershy, having lost her hiding spot when Rainbow Dash took to the air, looked at Spike with a curious expression

“Spike... when d-did you get so... formal? I d-don’t remember you t-talking so... proper.”

Applejack nodded her head. “Yeah Spike, ya used to talk a lot more informal than this. What happened to ya out there?”

“Well, we do have some time to discuss my many adventures,” Spike said, causing the six mares to arch eyebrows at “adventures” like it was scandalous news. “But, please, tell about how you all have been doing. I’d like to think your own stories would be far more interesting to me, as I have been out of the loop for some time now.”

The six mares were silent at this: he had just alluded to adventures in his time as a pirate captive, but he was willing to let them all go before he did? Since when did being a captive breed civility into anypony, or in this case, dragon? Back when he was younger, he’d have given anything to be able to tell a story first.

“Well, I’ll go first, I guess,” Twilight said in a rather subdued manner. “I was promoted a few months ago to be assistant to the Head of the Canterlot Archives.”

“Ah, excellent! I knew you’d always get that position someday,” Spike said, a genuine smile gracing his mouth as he passed around the picnic baskets. “I bet in less than three years, you’ll be Head of the Archives as well.” Twilight blushed slightly at this; such a compliment would not be said by Spike unless he was sure of it. Before he had left, he had almost rivaled Applejack for his honesty.

“Ooh, me next, me next!” Pinkie Pie shouted, her small bowl of cherries nearly flying off into the sunset, so great was her takeoff speed from the ground.

“Go ahead, Pinkie,” Spike said, pulling out a bottle filled with a ruby-red liquid.

“Is that a Coteaux Champenois wine?” Fluttershy asked, causing everypony, and Spike of course, to look at her suddenly. Fluttershy seemed to know an awful lot about Prance.

“Yes, it is. I asked Geoffrey for something good, and he gave me this,” the dragon said as he poured a small glass for Fluttershy. The pegasus accepted it gingerly, blushing as she did.

“Well, last month was the Canterlot Dance Your Pants Off, and I won again, for the seventh year in a row!” Pinkie Pie said, having not minded Fluttershy’s little interruption. “I still can’t believe it! The contest has been around, for like, ever! Sure, some of the competition was rather good, but nopony could beat my patented Pinkie Pie Smile Backflip Cartwheel Breakdance.”

“Pinkie, the contest has only been going on for seven years, and we have no doubt you’ll win next year as well,” Rarity said kindly as Spike poured her a lady-sized portion of wine. “your “moves” truly are a thing of wonder.”

“I am sure it is quite a sight indeed,” Spike said, giving Pinkie her own glass of wine before pouring another. “What about you, Applejack?”

The earth pony mare accepted her glass. “Well, agriculture has been pretty good for the last few years after my brother invented that newfangled triple plow. The farms in the south have been hit by more than a few dry spells these last few months, so I got my pa to ask Rainbow’s pa to send them so extra rain.”

“Yeah, and I got to lead the effort,” Rainbow Dash said. “Plus, Applejack’s been helping me keep in shape with the Wonderbolts!”

“So, you are officially a member of the Wonderbolts?” Spike asked, holding the blue mare’s glass high so she could grasp it easily from his hand.

“Yep, she is,” Applejack said, giving a small toast to the blue pegasus. “Plus, she convinced her pa to form a new air squadron fer patrollin’ the bigger cities. Sorta like a judge police force that can catch nearly any criminal out there.” She looked up at Rainbow Dash. “What were they called again? I forgot.”

“Officially, they are the Equestria Flying Defense Force, but we like to think of them as Judges,” the blue pony said as she lazily floated above the others.

“So, how did you come up with such an idea? Has crime become more of a problem during my... absence?” Spike asked as he handed Twilight her own glass of wine.

“Well, yes and no,” Twilight said. “Along these coastlines, more and more ponies are unhappy with the way things are being handled, whether it involves pirates, workpony’s compensation, or the segregating of neighborhoods into districts based on the primary product in the area.”

“Really? That’s a problem?” Spike asked as he poured himself a final glass.

“Yes, or at least, in smaller cities and towns where it is happening for the first time,” Rarity said as she took a sip of her wine. “Larger cities are already ahead of this sudden curve in change, but there are many who don’t like it.”

“I almost forgot to ask: what is new with you, Rarity?” Spike asked, looking in her eyes for the first time.

Rarity shut her mouth, as if she had been hit by an unbearably embarrassing thought. “Oh, uh, nothing new for me, really,” she said, a small amount of nervousness filtering through her voice.

“Come on, Rarity, he should know,” Twilight said, rolling her eyes at the unicorn’s evasive answer.

“Know what?” Spike asked, glancing around in a curious manner.

“Nothing,” Rarity said again, giving Twilight a “shut-up-please” look. “I mean, it’s good for business, but I really don’t think-,”

“Rarity designed some dresses based off of a dragon’s scale pattern,” Rainbow Dash said with a smirk, causing the white mare to almost turn dark pink with embarrassment.

“Yeah, and they’ve been selling like my world-famous hot cakes!” Pinkie Pie added. “Her family’s business has been booming for a good two years now!”

“Is this true?” the dragon asked, it finally being his turn to arch an eyebrow in surprise. “You designed famous dresses off of a dragon’s scale pattern?”

“...yes,” Rarity almost squeaked. “I mean, it was an absolutely fabulous design for the dresses, and I was on a deadline, and-,”

“What dragon’s scales?” Spike asked suddenly, his interest piqued. It wasn’t everyday something dealing with dragons became suddenly famous, as it usually became “infamous” instead.

“Y-y-yours,” Rarity squeaked, her tone so low it could have rivaled Fluttershy’s for sheer lack of volume.

Silence pervaded the area at that confession. Spike, unsure of what to say, simply took a sip of his wine, the gears turning in his head. Rarity, on the other hand, took his silence for displeasure, and quickly tried to salvage the situation.

“I’m so sorry Spike, I knew you wouldn’t know, but I had a deadline, and it was-,”

“Relax, Rarity, I understand,” the dragon said, smiling softly. “I’m not mad.”

“You’re... you’re not?” the unicorn asked, now embarrassed and confused. He wasn’t mad? He should be furious, having something as personal as his scale pattern being used without his permission!

“Not at all: in fact, I must say I’m rather... flattered,” Spike said. “I’m glad to have been of service in such an endeavor.”
Everypony breathed an audible sigh of relief as Spike raised his glass. “To success in our endeavors!” he said. The others mimicked his movements, gladly sipping the rather delicious wine.

“So,” Twilight began, holding her glass in a casual manner. “Tell us about these “adventures” of yours.”
“All right,” Spike said, smiling as he did. “You might want to get comfortable: it is quite a lengthy tale.”

Meanwhile...

The shadows of the trade district’s water-side buildings provided the perfect hiding spot for Geralt as he watched a group of ponies unload some cargo from a small trade vessel. Judging by its size compared to many other larger ones, it was a caravel of some unique design. Red sails, a larger keel, and double the amount of normal cannons: it was not your run-of-the-mill ship in these waters. He knew it personally belonged to Prince Blueblood, and as such, he decided it would be the best place to look for his contact. She was always looking through things, whether they belonged to nobles or common ponies.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a lone pony walk up and set down a box on a couple of large crates. The stallion was a dock worker, plain and uneducated in the ways of the world. That was what made him such a prime target for the mare that walked up to him.

“Hello, can I help you?” the stallion asked, wiping some sweat from his brow.

“Yes, sir I think you can,” the mare said in a sickeningly sweet voice. “I seem to have lost my way. Perhaps you could help me? I’m looking for my brother, and he said he was working at Pier 3.”

“Well, this here is Pier 5, so you’re not far,” the stallion said, obviously looking the mare up and down. “Would you like me to show you the way?”

“That would be wonderful!” the mare said, sidling up close to the stallion as they walked off. Geralt, knowing full well what was going on, rushed through the shadows to Pier 3, donned a new disguise and waited. Soon enough, the pair came around a corner and the mare’s face lit up.

“Oh, there he is! Thank you, kind sir,” she said as she waved the dock worker goodbye.

“Any time, miss,” the stallion replied, watching her ass bounce as she ran up to her “brother”.

Geralt waited until the stallion disappeared before he spoke. “You know, he might come looking for you again: your “innocence” appealed to him. He may want to... take it from you.”

The bubbly personality of the mare disappeared, leaving behind a devilish grin and an air of nonchalance as she extracted the small coin purse from her back pocket. “Geralt, you and I both know I only steal from idiots, as is my trade,” she said, flicking her mane over her shoulder. “Besides, if he does wish to take my “innocence”, what is a poor, defenseless, grateful mare like me going to do against his charms?” She snickered while she said this. “He has a nice build.”

“I don’t care if he’s shaped like a marble statue,” the white stallion said with a snort. “You have information, and I want it.”

“Ah, ah, ah, the goods first,” the mare said, holding out her hand unexpectedly. Instead, Geralt pulled her close and smashed her up against a tall stack of crates, causing some to rattle. His one hand held her in place by her waist, while the other gently squeezed around her throat. Her air supply was not cut off, but there was the threat it could be, should she not cooperate.

“I told you, information first, then you get your “goods”, wench,” he said in a deadly whisper. He was not in the mood for games.

The mare gulped slightly before her calm façade returned. “Fine, fine, though one of these days my price is going to go above some bits and a rutting whenever you please.”

“Don’t get cocky, Charlotte: you wouldn’t want to end up like Marie, would you?” Geralt asked as he released the mare with disgust. She smelled rather badly, but when a pony was in her profession, hygiene was not exactly the top priority on one’s to-do list.

“Marie tried playing your bluffs, but I know differently: you never bluff,” the mare said as she pulled a small piece of paper from another pocket. “These names are entirely legitimate, by the way.”

“Good, good,” Geralt said, taking a small coin purse from his pocket. “Here’s your supper tonight, but don’t eat any seaweed. Something tells me the latest batch is... tainted.”

“Fine; never liked the stuff anyway,” Charlotte said softly, wrinkling her nose at the mention of the stuff. “Are you gonna leave now like always? I could use some friendly company tonight, though you and I both know you’re never friendly.”

Her words did not sting: instead, they brought a twisted sensation of pleasure to the white stallion. “Maybe I can visit... if you promise to do the thing I always like,” he said softly, his voice only slightly less deadly.

“Ugh, fine, but my throat was sore for two days after last time,” the mare mumbled as he turned to leave. “Ten o’clock, then? My rounds should be done by then.”

“Ten thirty at the latest, my dear Charlotte,” Geralt said. “Remember, you gave me this list of names: I intend to... visit many of them this day.”

“You spies and your covert espionage and throat-slicing,” the mare muttered as the stallion walked off, her eyes watching the swishing of his tail as he did so. She did not love him, for he was the kind of pony not even a mother could love. Still, he paid reasonably, and on time, though his methods of “payment” would likely get him arrested, if he didn’t have tabs on every activity she and her fellows committed.

“Well, almost every activity,” Charlotte whispered to herself, a truly venomous smile slithering onto her lips. “That fool can’t be everywhere at once, and for now, he’ll live. But not for too long, I’ll wager.” She walked off, her features blurring slightly as she did so.

Her queen would be told of this new development. Plans would have to be pushed forward, agents redeployed elsewhere, but her search for her old "friend" would not stop, no matter what.

Author's Note

I cannot apologize enough for letting this get away from me. I am sorry to have kept all you loyal readers waiting as well.

Also, would anyone here like to be a proofreader? Qualifications for this are the same as for Solar Embrace.

Meetings of Many Sorts

Darkness approached fast on the city, with the darkest areas limited to places the sun rarely reached, even in the middle of the day. The setting cast shadows that often hid the less civil aspects of a city; the thieves, the prostitutes, and the gangs vying for power over the local criminal underworld. It was within these darkest of shadows that a hooded figure made his way past the scum of the city. The beggars, the ladies of the night, local drunkards and troublemakers, the thieves and the unruly mob; they were beneath his notice, as he far more important things to do.

Geralt never liked the nightlife of Port Royal. Oh, he liked the night, mind you, as it made it much easier to accomplish many of his... clandestine activities. But the nightlife brought out the the worse in ponies, a part he wished never existed. It brought with it diseases he would most like expunged from society, and he had a peculiar feeling Prince Blueblood would likely feel the same way.

“Of course, he’d think it easy to eradicate these vermin from society, but I know better,” the stallion muttered to himself as several street urchins rushed past him, their shabby, filth-ridden visages bringing a sick feeling to his stomach. It reminded him far too much of what he had been like at their age; filthy, destitute, and without a future. But he had been found by a remarkable individual, who had shown him his true inner talents, and had fully unleashed every bit of talent locked within him.

That was precisely the reason why he was visiting the local underground gambling ring. The last pony on the list, before he had choked to death on the garrote cutting off his air supply, had revealed to Geralt the location of the one he was truly searching for. Prince Blueblood may have been his employer and trusted confidante, but there was another whom he called master, and when he called him master, he meant it.

Knocking on the door of an unassuming building, Geralt peered through his hood to see a small latch open and a pair of golden eyes peer out back at him. “Password?” a female’s voice asked, her voice low, gravelly and awfully tense.

“As the crow flies, so do my master’s wishes,” the assassin said softly. No password was ever easy with his master, as he only relied on the intelligent to be his go-to peons. Even then, passing on changes in code usually involved tedious code-breaking of codes upon codes sent in messages, and more often than not, there were several possible answers in one message.

“Business?” the voice asked again, the eyes widening slightly as one door lock was unlatched. "There's not much else to be doing at this time of the evening, sir."

“A private meeting,” Geralt said, leaning slightly against the door frame. A few more clicks and the door slowly opened, the hinges creaking as it did so. A mare stood there with a long dagger, looking an awful lot like Charlotte, but the yellow eyes belonged to a griffoness. Her sharp talons glinted in the low light of a lamp, and her pale feathers shone in the dark.

“Right this way, Geralt,” the griffoness said softly, a wave of her hand causing the mare behind her to put the dagger away. “He’s been expecting you.”

“I know that perfectly well, Eva,” Geralt replied, his tone even as he eyed her up and down. “The usual place, at midnight; bring your friend,” he added, glancing behind at the mare. She blushed slightly, both from embarrassment and indignation at his insinuating stare.

“She’s not for you,” the lady griffon said, her tone dropping an octave. “She’s new, and she belongs to somepony far wealthier than you; somepony who could make you hurt very badly for touching her.” The low tone of her voice meant there was no room for a compromise.

“Then just show up; you know I won’t be happy if I am kept waiting,” the stallion said as he crossed the threshold. He walked away without giving the pair a second glance, their conversation already forgotten in his mind's eye. There were far more important things to do than to idly talk with a couple of wenches.

“I am never late,” Eva said as he walked down some stairs. “Asshole,” she added, whispering it to her mare friend. Said mare barely managed to suppress a giggle at that.

Walking down the spiral staircase, Geralt came upon a large room filled with ponies. Corrupt police officers, dock workers, the occasional city official and soldier from the forts, including the occasional ranking officer; they were all there, and so were the several prostitutes they all seemed to share. None of them had a heart of gold like something out of a romance novel, and in this cesspit, they couldn’t afford one. Love in the underworld was an illusion, and the pleasures of the body always came with a price, usually at a greater cost than one might think. Geralt was glad he didn't have any little bastard foals running around with his color pelt or same colored eyes; his mares always knew how to "take care" of themselves during their more volatile times of the year.

As bets were made around games of chance, cards and billiards tables, Geralt calmly kept on walking, his eyes focused on a table in the far corner. A piano played on the background as smoke filtered through the room, brought on by the several richer ponies smoking imported Minotaran cigars. The reason his eyes were focused on that far table were relatively simple; it was surrounded by a large red curtain, through which only a shadow of a pony could be seen, but the assassin knew right away it was the one he was looking for.

Gently parting the curtain and taking a seat, he looked across the table, where his true master sat behind yet another curtain, his outline blurred behind the tacky red fabric. Geralt had no intention of insulting the stallion’s choice in décor; he liked being alive and in one piece.

“You’re late,” the hidden figure said, his tone low, cruel and very cold. His voice, though softer than silk, had a quality to it that sent a chill even up the spine of one so disreputable as Geralt. Few if any other beings in the world could lay claim to such an ability.

“I arrived exactly on time,” Geralt said softly, glancing out at the crowd. “It is not my fault I had to make my way through half of the city’s gamblers and scum.” As if to make a point, there was a shout and two ponies off in a corner started to fight, punching and kicking at each other while others laughed, drinking and making bets on the sudden brawl.

“It does not matter to me,” the stallion said again, his tone indicating he did not want any further excuses. Excuses in this line of work were for the weak and entirely unreliable, and being weak and unreliable usually meant one was not long for this world. “Did you take care of the ponies on that list of yours?”

How did he know about that? Geralt had a very short list of confidants and co-conspirators, who all knew the price they would pay should they reveal who he was. The anonymity he enjoyed working with many ponies helped him in his line of work immensely. It made many... activities, so to speak, so much easier to accomplish. “Yes I did, though I was a bit surprised by the third one on the list: the dock-master’s brother? I thought he was a clean pony: he had more than enough money to care for himself.”

“No; he owed far too many gambling debts, even with all his riches, and he sent his son’s family into hiding to try and avoid me from using them as collateral. A wise but pointless decision, as I had already decided his own life would be his long-overdue payment.” The stallion was silent for a few moments before he spoke again. “Tell me; has the one I have been searching for arrived in this city?”

“Not to my knowledge, though a dragon has come here as part of a prisoner exchange,” Geralt said. “A most curious fellow, as the Elements of Harmony know him from years ago. It seems a few would like to know him a bit more, judging from what I have witnessed.” He didn't want to say just which ponies seemed the most interested, as he could tell his master that at a later date.

“Ah yes, the Elements of Harmony,” the hidden figured whispered, his sneer evident in his words. “I want you to keep an eye on them; they cannot be allowed to interfere with what is coming."

“Yes, sir,” the assassin said, sitting calmly as a passing barmaid (who double as a two-for-one prostitute) set down a glass of brandy for him. Giving him a wink, she walked off, not knowing the assassin never liked sharing his conquests with others; other stallions, at any rate.

“And this dragon fellow; it would be best for you to keep an eye on him as well, just in case he proves to be an obstacle down the road. I will not have such a powerful creature interfering any more than I would those six troublesome mares.”

“Of course, my master,” Geralt said. “What else would you have me do?”

“Many things,” the curtain-enshrouded figure said mysteriously. “Listen close, and memorize these words, as I do not tolerate having to repeat myself.”

Meanwhile...

The last lights of the day had finally disappeared, and an eerie darkness fell over the city, as it had seemed to over the past few months. After hearing of his tales all afternoon of what he had been through, the Elements of Harmony bid Spike goodnight at the bottom of the stairs leading to his quarters, each giving him a goodbye hug. Spike, having traversed up the stairs at a slow and methodical pace, was just about to enter his own room for the night when he was intercepted by Geoffrey.

“Excuse me, sir, but Prince Blueblood requests your presence down in the armory,” the butler said politely. “He did not say it was urgent, but I suspect he would be terribly upset if you did not join him. He is a stickler for proper meetings, and I believe it will just be the two of you at this one.”

“This place has an armory?” Spike asked, sounding slightly puzzled. “Very well; perhaps you could show me the way?” He still didn’t know all the rooms and halls of this place, as it was rather spacious.

“Indeed, sir; it is right this way,” the stallion servant replied, leading the pair of them by a lantern held aloft. The lights in the mayor’s mansion were easily-lit lanterns, but more often than not, the price of incense-laced oil skyrocketed with every cargo ship lost to pirates, and so the mayor was still trying to order some replacement, non-incense oil. In the meantime, the small amount that had been purchased from local vendors was used strictly for hand-held lanterns, which cast flickering shadows around the pair as they walked.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what did Blueblood want of me earlier today?” Spike asked. “His questions seemed awfully focused on things related to pirates.”

“Yes, well, he has been focusing on them rather intensely as of late, as it is his job to do so,” Geoffrey said as they went down a flight of stairs, the flickering lantern casting odd shadows on the wall paintings. “The attacks have become increasingly more destructive in these past few months, and I am afraid things will truly become dire if he cannot find an immediate solution.”

“And now? What did he ask me for tonight?” the dragon said as they passed through a pair of large wooden doors.
“I am not sure, but I believe he would like to continue your morning conversation,” the butler said as he closed the doors behind him. “Here we are, sir.”

Spike looked around the room, several brackets of hot coals and torches providing light instead of lanterns. The room looked old, but it seemed rather clean, and if the dragon had to guess, they were underground.

“Ah, thank you Geoffrey,” a voice said as a few small streams of magic flittered to and fro. Each struck the torches and hot coals, sending them ablaze in a wash of magic-induced fire. The room, now as bright as day, was empty except for a few tables and chairs off in the corner, a rack of swords along the north wall, and-

“Prince Blueblood, I have retrieved Mr. Spike, as you requested,” the butler said, giving a courteous bow as the prince walked into the middle of the room. He was dressed in rather fine but plain clothes, like the ones a royal might wear if they were to engage in an exercise of some kind. “Shall I leave you two to your discussion?” In his hands lay a brown rucksack, several feet long and obviously kept in very good condition.

“Yes Geoffrey, you may leave,” the prince said as he fluffed his collar slightly. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight to you, sir,” the butler said with another bow as he closed the doors behind him. Within seconds, the pair of them were all alone, the lights flickering from the torches and small fire brackets.

“So Spike,” Blueblood said as he slowly undid the drawstrings around both ends of the rucksack. “Have you thought back to our earlier conversation?”

“Yes, after learning from Geoffrey that was the reason you wished to see me at such an hour,” the dragon said, watching as the prince walked over to the table. Another burst of magic increased the output of the torch above it, bathing the table in a great orange glow.

“Yes, but I realize you must be tired from the long day, and in my experience, one’s faculties are not at their peak unless their body is under some sort of duress,” the prince said as he withdrew two shining swords from the sack. “Therefor, for this to be an accurate and fruitful conversation, I’ll need you to get your blood pumping, and what better way than a good duel?”

“I can think of several other ways involving a few of the maids,” Spike said lowly, eyeing the swords as they glimmered in the light. They were not only high quality in make, but also mostly non-lethal in design.

“Ah, indeed,” Blueblood said with a humorless chuckle, as he was in no mood for clever conversation or witty remarks. "Here, catch.” With that, he tossed the second sword to Spike, handle first of course.

With a rather practiced dexterity, Spike caught it in his right hand, raising it to his face for a simple examination. “This is good steel; from the mines of the Crystal Empire, I gather?” the dragon asked. It showed in the finish, as the gold-gilded handles and the fine yet blunt edges and tip were rather indicative of the northerly empire’s craftsmanship. That, and the small personalized coat of arms near the very bottom of the blade: a single crystal, shaped very much like how a normal combat blade would be formed.

“Indeed, as their steel is so much purer than most, what with much of the ground it is excavated from being so low in other minerals,” the prince said, a bit unnerved by the ease at which the dragon had caught the sword. Maybe he had been taught swordplay by a pirate captain, but if so, by whom and why? There was no real reason for some chained-up ship prisoner to be able to use a weapon. “Shall we begin? It has been a while since I dueled somepony down here; I have been far too busy these last few months.”

“Indeed, as dealing with pirates on a scale such as you currently are would no doubt take up a large portion of your day,” Spike said, making a series of small sweeping gestures with his sword. “En garde, then.”

Blueblood made a sudden swiping motion with his sword, an overhead one to test the dragon’s reflexes. As expected, his opponent brought his own sword up to meet it, easily blocking the strike. “Excellent form,” the prince said, sweeping his own sword into a semi-defensive stance. “Where did you learn swordplay? That deflection was indicative of more than just a simple blocking technique.” Indeed, the manner in which the sword had been blocked had left Blueblood entirely exposed to a vicious punch to the kidneys, should this have been a real fight.

“From several pirate captains who kept me on a looser leash than might be expected, each teaching me a bit more than the last,” the dragon replied as he adopted the same stance as the prince. The two false-combatants circled each other slowly, the light of the torches glinting off the steel in their hands.

“Ah, yes, pirates,” Blueblood said as he made another overhead swing, which Spike unerringly deflected. “Tell me, did the ones aboard the Sea Wraith treat you as well as any of your previous captors?”

“You could say that,” Spike replied as he made a leg-sweeping motion with his sword. The prince simply stepped backwards quickly, the strike clearly not even close to being fast enough to hit a seasoned opponent. “Although to me, the crew seemed a tad more likeable than many of the cutthroats I have had the... misfortune of being indentured to.”

“What can you tell me of this ship itself? I doubt there is any non-pirate alive who can tell me more than you, judging from how long you were aboard the ship,” the prince said, sidestepping another swing from Spike’s sword.

“Well, she’s not terribly larger than the other pirate ships I’ve been on,” the dragon said simply. “For a size comparison, I’d say she was... a tiny bit bigger than those two ships named after the princesses launched several years ago.”

“The TMS Sunstrider and Moonskimmer, they were called,” Blueblood said, watching as Spike dodged his rather sudden blow. “I have some bad news about them.”

“I know their crews were held within the Sea Wraith with me,” Spike said as he narrowly deflected a blow meant for his chest. “Were they sunk to the bottom? The captain I was indentured to didn’t seem like the kind to just sink a ship after going through trouble to capture the crew.”

“Yes, well, both ships have been found not far from this port,” the prince said as his frustration grew slightly. He couldn’t penetrate this dragon’s defenses as easily as he had thought, both in the material world and in the conversation. Spike was obviously well-versed in swordplay, he’d give him that, but the drake batted away attention-ensnaring hints and countered with logically infallible answers. Who was this dragon? “They were towed back this afternoon by a few of the smaller corvettes. They are heavily damaged and will not likely be fully sea-worthy for a few months now.”

“Oh, a shame,” Spike said, a quick whipping-like motion almost knocking the sword from Blueblood’s hand. “I saw them the day they were launched, as that was the time I still happened to be employed on a simple schooner before my... life of impressed servitude. At least the crew was returned to you in one piece.”

“More or less,” Prince Blueblood said, responding with a whipping motion of his own. “Although I doubt the captain of the TMS Sunstrider would agree with that statement. He lost a hand in that engagement, and I fully promised him I would revisit such a wound, with kindness, upon the captain of that cursed pirate ship.”

Spike didn’t say anything as he ducked under the swipe. “I am sorry to hear of his injury. Will he recover?”

“It matters to you?” the prince asked, sounding slightly confused and intrigued at the same time.

“Well, any injury is a terrible thing to witness or experience, and an injury such as his would be a life-threatening one if somepony hadn’t cared for him,” the dragon said, his sword clashing against Bluebloods in the torchlight. “Tell me, did he say who took care of him?”

“That is where things are interesting,” the prince responded, pushing Spike back a bit to give himself some room to maneuver his sword around. “He said a dragon took care of him. Would this same dragon be you. If I may be so blunt as to ask?”

“I cared for an injured pony on that ship only a few days ago, yes, but I hadn’t known his hand was cut off,” Spike replied. “He had it bandaged up and tucked away at the time. I was “in charge” of feeding other prisoners and administering to any wounds. Are any of the other ponies from those ships injured as well?”

“No, no, they are fine; most have already gone back to posts within the navy aboard a few of the local patrol ships,” Blueblood said, his sword plunging towards Spike. The dragon simply sidestepped and whacked at it with his own, the vibrations making Blueblood nearly lose his balance altogether. Recovering quickly, Blueblood spun around and raised his sword for another strike, but felt something press against his sternum.

Looking down in surprise, he saw the blunt tip of Spike’s sword pressed firmly against his clothes. “It seems I have won this duel,” Spike said, withdrawing the sword as Blueblood lowered his own. “We should do this again sometime; you have excellent form, though if you wish to improve, you might want to work on your defensive strategy.”

Blueblood magically retrieved the sack and placed his own sword in it, with Spike’s soon joining its twin within the sack’s confines. “I always believe the best defense is a good offense, Mr. Spike,” the prince said, a bit of his haughtiness subdued by how easily he had been disarmed. That simple mistake had cost him time he could have used to further question this dragon, but it did not matter. There would be other times, other places where this little “game” of his could continue.

“A wise strategy, but sometimes the best offense is a good defense,” the dragon replied courteously. “Although, in my experience, sometimes it is best to study your enemy before confronting them.”

“When did you have time to study your enemy?” Blueblood asked.

“Oh, I learned on a pirate ship long ago all the minor vices that would distract certain members of the crew. I used this to my advantage, and one day, made good my escape while they were all busy.”

“Busy?” the prince asked.

“Yes; I forgot to mention. This ship in particular was mostly crewed by mares; tough, fierce, entirely ruthless mares. However, it was “that time of the year” again, and there was only one other prisoner with me who so happened to be an earth pony stallion.”

“How did that have anything to do with your escape?”

Spike shrugged as they walked away, the prince’s magic causing the fires to snuff themselves out one by one. “I convinced him to strip in front of the crew one day. They were so infatuated, I simply dove overboard and swam to an island.”

“What became of this stallion?” the prince asked, wondering why this sounded so ridiculous and yet so plausible at the same time. The heat of mares was something to behold on land, but out at sea, he had heard reports of mares going nearly mad with want, since there was nowhere to go for “relief” when far out in those waters.

“Last I heard, he was a high-end escort for wealthy mares out of Fillydelphia,” the dragon said. “Well, I must bid you goodnight, your highness; I am rather tired from our duel. Would you like to try dueling again, perhaps some time in the near future?”

“Yes, yes, of course, but not for at least a week,” the prince replied. “I have far too many important matters to go over for the next few days. If I find some free time, I’ll be sure to send Geoffrey for you.” He was silent for a few more moments as they came to the bottom of the stairs leading to Spike’s room. “Goodnight, Mr. Spike. By the way, I believe I have a proposition that would greatly interest you.”

“What is it?” the dragon said.

“Meet me at noon tomorrow in my planning room, and I will tell you. If you don’t know where that is, simply ask Geoffrey or one of your mare friends,” the prince said, giving a slight bow of respect before walking off.

“Odd,” Spike muttered to himself as he climbed the stairs. “He must think I am up to something, or even hiding something from him.” He walked into his room, his tail shutting the door behind him.

“No matter; what he won’t know can’t hurt him, right?” Spike said to himself, chuckling slightly as he walked past the bed and reached the window. Opening it, he felt the breeze coming off the ocean filter into the room, the smell of the salty air tingling his nostrils. Ah, it was a pleasant smell to him, even with all the bad memories associated with being out on the sea with a bunch of bloodthirsty pirates.

Meanwhile...

“Oh buck me!” Eva shouted as Geralt rammed her from behind, his cock pushing into her folds. Luckily he wasn’t particularly large in any way, but he knew how to make it count, and as he always desired, he knew how to make it hurt. He had been slapping her ass so much for the past ten minutes that it was numb and likely bruised beyond belief. The white stallion always liked it rough, and always, always, liked to be the dominating one.

“Grah!” the pale pony replied as his sticky cum flew out into the convulsing griffoness’s cunt. Her orgasm, after having been denied for so long by his little “choking game”, finally arrived. It wasn’t much of one to her, but it still was one, and she took every one she could get. Most of her clientele couldn’t even bring her to a good climax anyway, and so when her cunt sucked him in, coaxing every last bit of sperm from his balls, her body meant it.

The pair of them collapsed onto the bed, exhausted from the ordeal. It hadn’t been particularly long since they had started, but when the pair of them went at it, they went at it hard. “Oh, Geralt, that was better than last time,” Eva moaned. Unlike most of the past few times he’d mounted her, this time, she wasn’t lying through her beak.

“Of course it was: I was the one doing all the work, so of course it would be better,” the pale pony replied, giving her wings a small yank. Her sensitive wings made her body shudder involuntarily, both from pain and from the aftershocks of her body still being pounded like mad. “Tell me, have you heard any news that Maria hasn’t?”

“You’ve been seeing her too?” Eva said, putting on an exhausted but still false pout. “I thought you liked me better than that slut.”

“You’re a slut too, Eva; you just like being tied up more than she does, and that is why I prefer you,” Geralt said. “Now, answers: let’s have them.”

“Well, other than that dragon that came with those prisoners...” the griffoness began, slowly pushing Geralt away and out of her bruised featherhood.

“Great, him again; why does everypony think that’s still news?” Geralt thought to himself.

"There have been a few sightings of two ships not far from here, but they are rumors, no doubt,” Eva finished.
“Ships? What ships?” Geralt asked, his interest suddenly picqued. “Were they pirate ships?”

“I... I think so,” the griffoness said slowly as she remembered all she could. “I think... I think one was the Sea Wraith, though the rumors are rather spotty.”

The Sea Wraith: the ship Blueblood had been searching for! Oh, that pompous prince was going to explode when he told him the news! “And the other ship?” Geralt asked softly.

“The... the Phantom.”

That quieted Geralt’s excitement a tad. That was the one ship in the entire world he never, ever wanted to go on. The horror stories, the death and slaughter and rivers of blood that flowed from the unholy decks... it sent a shiver even up his remorseless spine. The captain was a madmare bent on killing or enslaving all in her path, and for no good reason too! He could admire that quality in a mare, but they said she was also a witch, a magic-user who had acess to the deepest, darkest realms of the magical world. There were stories of her raising the dead and eating the flesh of the living like some ravenous undersea beast.

“Thank you, Eva,” Geralt said as he lay down next to her, fully holding her against him. “You can sleep now; we're done for the night.”

So they did sleep, somewhat content in each other’s embrace as the waves outside splashed softly against the pylons of the docks.

Meanwhile...

A small boat, undetectable in the shadows of the night, slowly made its way to the docks of Port Royal. Painted a matte black and powered by one single figure, it slowly slipped up against the wooden structures, an eerie fog accompanying it like a blanket obscuring it from sight. The figure, cloaked in robes of deepest blue, stepped out lightly onto the docks as one small lantern emerged from their sleeve. Glowing an oddly-colored hue, they navigated past a few containers to where the meeting was.

“I am here,” a voice said, though the cloaked figure made no notion they had even heard the voice. Out of the shadows came Maria, her face a mask of servitude and loyalty. Kneeling like a knight about to be knighted by one of Equestria’s princesses, she held aloft a small scroll.

“I believe I have found him, your majesty,” she said softly. The cloaked figure did not move; the only sound they made was the sound of their breathing. “It is good, solid information, my queen,” Maria added. “Shall I leave with you? My work here is done, and I-,”

“No,” the figure said, her voice cutting through the air like a knife. Maria flinched, her disguise temporarily failing her. The large green eyes, the holes going through her legs, the pair of glittering wings on her back; they disappeared as soon as they had appeared. She was a Changeling, a feared and thoroughly mistrusted race that few knew of and yet still fewer accepted to be equal to other ponies.

“But, my queen, I-,”

“There is still much to be done, my faithful servant,” the queen said, her voice low and as smooth as silk. The coldness in it, greater than an iceberg, softened slightly as she took the scroll from the scared pony’s outstretched hand. “I promise you this, “Maria”; when all is said and done, and you have served me to your fullest, then you shall receive what you have so desperately wanted.”

“T-truly, my queen?” Maria asked, daring to look up into the face hidden by the cloak’s hood. “I... I may receive my... reward?” Her excitement threatened to burst through her carefully in-check emotions, but she was able to hold back, though only just.

“Indeed, thought that day is not yet here, and as I said, there is much work to be done,” the queen said. “The current mission cannot interfere with the long-term goals of our kind, but then again, we are nothing if not resourceful. Return to your post, and continue to fool them all as to who you truly are; what you truly are.”

“Yes my queen,” Maria said, slowly retreating after she stood up, her head still bowed in reverential respect. “May I ask you two questions, Your Majesty?”

“This is not a common request, but yes, you may,” the queen said, removing her hood slowly. Her jagged horn stood out on her profile, and the gleam in her green eyes would have sent any sane guard running for the hills.

“This... dragon,” the changeling spy said. “Just how important is he to the plan?”

“Very,” the master responded, making a move as if she were turning away to return to her boat, and from there, her ship far out at sea. She didn't have to row, anyway; that was what magic was for.

“And the Elements of Harmony?” Maria asked softly. "How important are they?"

“Even more so,” Chrysalis said, smiling devilishly. "Not a single one among them have any idea just is what in store for themselves, their cities, and their country."

Author's Note

Well, more intrigue and more questions. Just what are all these characters planning? Stay tuned to find out!

A New Plan

The sun rose on the city early that morning, any blood spilled the previous night having long since been washed away. Of course, none in the governor’s mansion knew that any blood had been spilled, so whatever had happened in the city last night never entered their thoughts. Breakfast was a leisurely affair, as Prince Blueblood ate quickly and left the six mares to their own devices, with Geoffrey standing by to oversee their conversations and provide any assistance.

“Have any of you seen Spike?” Fluttershy asked as she quietly sipped her tea. The others looked at her, their own conversations about how to deal with Chrysalis being put on hold for the time being. The queen was not in her palace in her own country, if changelings even had palaces, and even if she was, there was no telling just how long a journey there would take, or even how dangerous it would be.

“Haven’t seen him since yesterday, ‘Shy,” Applejack said as she took a none-too-dainty bite out of a nice juicy apple. Pinkie Pie shook her head, her mouth too full of creamy tarts to say anything.

“Me neither,” Rainbow Dash said, moving an errant strand of her mane out of her face. "He's awfully secretive for just having been reunited with his friends."

“Maybe he decided to sleep in?” Twilight added. “I mean, he did just start getting better, and I doubt he was afforded much sleep in his time with those pirates.”

“Darling, why don’t you ask one of the servants where he is?” Rarity said, setting down her tea. “They should know, I would think.”

“Yes, but, I... I... I’m too nervous,” Fluttershy said, her voice dropping to an octave above a whisper. Fluttershy always liked the ponies that waited on her back in her own home: they were quiet, loved animals as much as she did, and many were friendly with everypony they met. The servants here, though; they were all business whenever she was around them, and she never heard them have polite conversations. All they ever seemed to do besides work and frown was gossip, and much of it was things she didn’t like hearing about.

“My dear, then why don’t you go look for him?” Rarity asked again, curious as to why Fluttershy wanted to know where Spike was. Come to think of it, she too was wondering where he was; you’d think he’d be anxious to share a breakfast with his friends after being gone for so many years. It had certainly seemed that way the day before, when he went on and on about his adventures after listening to their own happenings during his disappearance.

“I... I would, but this place... I don’t like going anywhere... alone,” Fluttershy said as softly as before, wincing slightly at the word “alone”. Oh, they must thing of her as some silly little scaredy-pony! She, an heiress and a mare in her own right, afraid to walk by herself in the very place she was currently residing; oh, the embarrassment ate her up on the inside.

“Fluttershy, if you wanted to go looking for him but were too scared to go by yourself, all you had to do was ask one of us to go with you,” Twilight said as she glanced up from the report she had received that morning. Oh, just some little thing about how her brother had established a new alchemist library in the Crystal Empire.

“I’ll go,” Rarity said, albeit a tad too quickly. “I mean, surely he is not preoccupied with anything of great importance, right?” Oh, her impatience and own anxiousness were getting the better of her!

“O-of course, Rarity,” Fluttershy said softly, rising to her hooves and smoothing out a few wrinkles in her gown.

“Misses Rarity and Fluttershy, I do believe I know where Spike is,” Geoffrey said, stepping forward as Rarity too rose to her hooves. “The last I saw him, which was early this morning mind you, he was heading down to the armory, though that was some time ago. I do not know if he is still there, but it couldn’t hurt to look. Would you care for me to accompany the both of you?”

“Why, Geoffrey, that would be positively gentlecoltly of you,” Rarity said, a genuine smile gracing her features. “How in the world did you become such a polite, and I must say rather dapper, gentlecolt?”

“Years upon years of servitude, good miss,” the butler said, opening the door for them to pass through. He in turn looked at the four other mares. “Will you ladies require anything else whilst I am indisposed?”

“No, Geoffrey, though thank you for asking. We can take care of ourselves for the time being,” Twilight said, wishing the rest of the mansion’s staff acted with even half the grace and dignity of Geoffrey. He was the epitome of the world’s most efficient servant, and even in that Twilight held him in a higher esteem than she did many of the stallions that were born into royalty.

Wandering through the halls right behind Geoffrey, the pair of mares continuously peered around, looking into every open room they passed by on their way. Seeing nothing of interest, they stopped when the butler brought them down to a set of large doors.

“I believe he is in here,” the stallion replied, opening the doors for them both. The torches inside were burning brightly, since there were no windows or similar means through which sunlight could enter. “Should you require anything else, I shall be waiting outside these doors for you.”

“Thank you, Geoffrey,” Fluttershy said as the pair of mares walked into the room. Peering around, they could not see Spike, nor anypony else. It was empty, all right, save for the few tables and chairs stacked off in a corner.

“I see a few doors,” Rarity said, walking around as Fluttershy remained fixed in the center of the room. “Shall we check behind them?”

“S-sure, Rarity,” Fluttershy said, walking past the fellow heiress and grasping one door’s handle. Opening it, she found herself staring death in the face. Or at least, pointy death arranged neatly on shelves and racks: swords and muskets lay in neat little rows in the small room. But, there was no Spike in there, so she gently closed the door and moved onto another one.

Rarity, on the other side of the room, opened another door to find what appeared to be a bathhouse. A large basin, fed by pipes trailing down from the ceiling, and the spacious area it covered likely meant this was reserved for the mayor, or in this case, Prince Blueblood. Rarity has always wondered if there had been another bathing station in this mansion, as the showers for the guests seemed a bit too... simple, for such a place. This was surely the place Blueblood would bring any “lady friends”, if he had any, actually.

“He’s not in here Fluttershy,” Rarity said, closing the door and looking back at her friend. “Fluttershy?”

The yellow pegasus was standing stock-still, looking into a room far off in the corner. Walking up behind her, Rarity knew something was off. Fluttershy’s wings were standing on end, almost as if she were in fright, and yet... she wasn’t trembling like she normally did. Walking up beside the pegasus, Rarity poked her gently in the shoulder. No response: whatever was in that room had grabbed her attention so intensely, the yellow mare had seemingly forgotten about the outside world. Sidling up next to Fluttershy, Rarity peered in through the door, and felt her eyes nearly bug out of her skull.

They had found Spike, all right, facing away from them and all by himself. He was in what appeared to be akin to a training room, complete with assorted dumbbells, benches and various other instruments of physical enhancement. At that moment he was performing pull-ups on a large overhead beam, with grooves indicating this was precisely the reason such a beam was even in the room. However, the fact that he was effortlessly pulling himself up again and again was not the reason the two mares found themselves staring in awe, nor was it the fact his tail was simultaneously lifting a dumbbell that had to weigh a good hundred pounds. It wasn’t the fact that the rather brightly-lit room carried with it a fragrance of sweat, earth and a slight musk, either.

Spike was wearing only a set of short pants, reaching down to about his knees. Normally Rarity would have wondered where he got such an unusual set of clothes, as such things were rarely seen outside of a country home, but at the moment, all thoughts of clothes and fashion-related items faded away from her mind. No, she now knew why Fluttershy had stopped and seemed to be off in a world of her own.

Spike had never been a large specimen before he had left them to fill that job on a schooner, but all these years later, Rarity now knew they had all been wrong. He had filled in, along with gaining the height he had, and it clearly showed. The years, even though they had been filled with hard and often slave-like labor, had been kind to him indeed. A broad and yet compact back, with knotted muscles flexing beneath his scales with every pull up; his long, muscular tail bulged every time it lifted up the dumbbell. Biceps and triceps, defined in ways Rarity had not thought possible, glinted in the light of the torches of the room, and she could see him clenching the muscles in his lower back every time he let himself down.

After a few minutes, Spike’s tail set the dumbbell down on a bench, and then let himself drop to the ground. Landing without so much as a bounce, he grabbed a towel and began wiping his face off, turning around as he did so.

Fluttershy had always known a superior biological specimen when she saw one; it was, after all, part of her cutie mark in caring for animals. Some male elk might be bigger and have larger antlers, or a male eagle might have a larger wingspan than most, or even a female sturgeon might lay countless more eggs than those of her same age. In her mind’s eye, Spike was no exception to this rule; he exemplified it.

A trim waistline, with abdominal muscles that looked like stacked bricks; pectoral muscles that looked as though they could crush stone between them. He exuded testosterone and manliness, something the majority of noble-born stallions lacked. Spike was technically a commoner by birth, even though he had grown up by Twilight’s side and had been raised in and around the court of Canterlot for nearly his entire life.

“Oh, hello,” Spike said as he moved the towel from his face to the back of his neck, his arm bulging as he scrubbed himself. “I didn’t hear you knock.”

The two mares just stood in silence, unsure of what to say: they hadn't knocked at all.

“Did I miss breakfast?” Spike asked again, walking past the two slack-jawed mares and out into the main room.

“Well, no, we... we were just wondering where you had been,” Rarity said, since all Fluttershy was able to do was emit a small squeak.

“I must have forgotten to tell Geoffrey I would be down here for a while,” the dragon said as he grabbed a small pile of clothes the two hadn’t noticed. “I will be with you all shortly; right now, I need to wash up.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Rarity said, coming to her senses and snapping out of the apparent trance she had been in. “Come Fluttershy, we should be getting back to the others.”

The yellow mare said nothing as she followed the unicorn mare, glancing back at Spike every now and then as they left him alone. Closing the door and thanking Geoffrey for showing them the way, the two departed, setting course for the dining room once more.

Geoffrey, upon seeing them disappear behind a corner, opened the door and found himself looking at Spike, who had just reached the door to open it. “Pardon me sir, I had not expected them to come looking for you this late in the day,” the butler said as Spike walked through the open door. “I had thought they would seek you out at a much earlier to me.”

“That is fine, Geoffrey, and thank you for showing them the way,” the dragon said as the pair walked off. “Although, it is probably a good thing that they didn’t come looking for me right away; I had been using that wonderful bath system a few hours ago. Imagine the looks on their faces if they had found me in there!”

The two chuckled at that; indeed, it would have been rather amusing to see the mares’ reactions to him being completely naked. “Sir, if I may ask, when do you plan on arriving at your meeting with Prince Blueblood?” Geoffrey asked as they passed a pair of maids. One of the maids, upon seeing Spike in his shorts, nearly fainted away with a smile on her face, the other barely managing to catch her before she fell.

“Soon after I finish breakfast, though I doubt I will be there for long,” Spike said as they reached his room. “If he sends you a letter urging me to be there, please notify me as soon as possible. Other than that, if you need me, I will be with my friends.”

Later...

Breakfast, it turned out, had been a rather busy affair. Spike, upon arrival, had immediately been swamped with questions on the history of the pirates he had “served” under by Twilight, much to the chagrin of everypony else who had to endure her prattling. Pinkie Pie and Applejack had been interested in what kinds of food pirates ate, and Rainbow Dash had pestered him for a good ten minutes on how they sailed their ships through storms and such. Rarity and Fluttershy, on the other hand, had been rather quiet, which Spike believed had something to do with them walking in on him during his workout routine.

Even so, it was ten minutes until noon that Spike arrived in what Geoffrey had referred to as “Prince Bluebloods brooding room”, as that was “all he seemed to do in there”. Spike’s eyes were immediately drawn to the large map table in the center of the room, so much so that he almost forgot Blueblood was even there.

“Greetings, Spike,” the stallion said as he walked away from a set of documents and towards the map table. “I trust you had a pleasant night’s sleep?”

“You could say that,” Spike said, absentmindedly scratching his chin as he walked up to the table. “This map... would it happen to show the Isles of the Changelings?”

“No, for I am afraid we know little if anything about what their country truly looks like at the moment,” the prince said. “What, with all that volcanic activity going on out there, new islands are being created every year around the old ones. Even if we could map it out, the maps would likely be rendered obsolete within three years or less, depending on how much terraforming the changelings are able to perform.”

“Indeed,” the dragon said as his eyes swept over the city of Port Royal. “Tell me, what exactly is this proposition you spoke of the other night?”

“Ah, well, perhaps it is best if we cut to the chase,” Blueblood said, waving his hand over the map. Instantly, little dots appeared all along the coastlines: red, black, and green. “These red dots symbolize where there have been pirate attacks, or at least attempted acts of piracy, by those wishing to make a name for themself. As you can see, they are few and far between, since most pirate attacks by these nobodies usually end in them being sunk by our defense fleet. These green dots, on the other hand, represent where the Sea Wraith has attacked ships.”

“There are quite a few more of them than I thought there would be,” Spike said. “I was usually below decks whenever they went to battle with another ship.”

“Quite,” the prince said, pointing at the third color. “These black dots, as numerous as they are, represent attacks by the Phantom. Have you, by chance, ever heard of this ship, or encountered it in your travels?”

“I... do not believe so,” Spike replied, his eyes perusing the sheer number of green and black dots. “Judging from the number of places they have struck, I would surmise they are a force to be reckoned with, and as such the captain aboard the Sea Wraith sought to avoid any potential conflict with them.”

“A sound theory, though there have been alleged sightings of the two ships sailing together every now and then,” Blueblood said as he waved his hand again. Immediately, three new things showed up on the map: large golden circles around the coastal towns, forts and cities, bright blue dots concentrated near the centers of these circles, and long magenta ribbons trailing off into the edges of the map. “All of these together represent the zones of control for the ships within our defensive navies. These gold circles are the judicial boundaries of each city and town, along with their zone of influence. As you can see, the larger the city, the greater its’ influence over the surrounding areas. The farther these zones reach out into the ocean, the farther our fleets have jurisdiction out to sea.”

“What of smaller towns and forts within a large city’s zone?” Spike asked.

“They count as part of that larger city’s zone, but they themselves have smaller zones that can help expand a city’s region of control,” the prince said. “These blue dots represent our merchant and similar trading fleets. As you can see, they follow these magenta lines to and from our coastal cities. These lines are our most common trade routes with other countries.”

“They seem to coincide with the fewest pirate attacks,” Spike said, looking closely at the map.

“You would be half correct in this. For some reason, these pirates are only attacking our fleets, and not the fleets of other countries,” Blueblood said as he lazily traced an outline along the coast. “We have every reason to believe whomever is doing this wants Equestria to suffer by itself, as involving any other nation might make piracy become decidedly more dangerous.”

“Any idea as to just who that might be?” the dragon asked as the prince waved his hand again, causing all of the dots, lines and circles to disappear.

“We believe it to be Queen Chrysalis, though we have no solid evidence supporting this,” Blueblood said. “She could likely be trying to get back at our country after suffering that devastating defeat in Canterlot all those years ago. I personally wouldn’t put it past her to do such a thing.”

“So, if she is doing this, and yet we have no real proof, what are we to do?” Spike asked. “Surely we could try reaching out to her with a diplomatic team?”

“We will, and very soon, too. You see, your friends, the Elements of Harmony, were sent here by Celestia to try and settle a treaty with Chrysalis. Whether it is one of peace or at least a cease-fire, I do not know: we never technically went to war with the changelings, even after they attempted to invade. I personally believe that diplomacy will be a waste of time, but seeing as how we need to use every option we can get our hands on, I am supplying your friends with the means to contact Chrysalis.”

“Is that this proposal you spoke of before?” the dragon asked as he glanced at the large grandfather clock. Something about it seemed... off to him, as though it was more than just a clock.

“Yes, though it involves you as well, Spike,” the prince said as he magically summoned a piece of parchment from his desk. Looking down at it, he continued. “You will help the ship’s captain lead a small fleet to the last few locations of where Chrysalis was believed to have been seen. Once you make contact, you are to assist the Elements of Harmony in establishing diplomatic ties with the queen, and if need be, ensure all proceedings go smoothly.”

“Is that a letter from Princess Celestia?” Spike asked.

“Yes, though it was I who added in the parts of you assisting them in their mission,” the prince said, rolling the parchment back up. “So tell me, have you any reservations?”

“Well, I’m not exactly sure I’d want to be near pirates again anytime soon,” the dragon said slowly, thoughtfully stroking his chin. “Tell me, how many ships will be in this little diplomatic convoy?”

“Three ships, all of them new and fresh off the naval docks,” Blueblood said.

“Well, that’s good to hear, but I’m still not sure,” Spike said.

“You will be handsomely paid for this endeavor, should you chose to accept it,” Blueblood added, feeling as though he had him right where he wanted him.

“How much?”

“Approximately fifteen thousand bits in advance, with twenty thousand more to be paid upon arrival back in Port Royal.” It was a large sum, and a rather expensive one to pay for at that, but Blueblood was desperate. He needed Spike’s knowledge of the area to find Chrysalis, but he couldn’t let the dragon know just how desperate he was.

“Wow, that is... quite a sum,” Spike said, glancing back at the grandfather clock. Seriously, why did it give him a sense of unease? “I accept your proposal, though I do have one last question.”

“Ask away, my good dragon,” the stallion said, secretly glad he didn’t have to try and raise the sum of bits he was willing to part with just to convince Spike to go along with this. He had to pay for this little expedition out of pocket himself, and though he had more money than he’d likely ever spend, it still hurt his pride that he’d need to resort to paying for things himself like this.

“When do we leave?”

Well, Prince Blueblood had been expecting that question to arrive, but for some reason, he had not expected the meeting to go as smoothly as it had. Here he’d have thought it’d take hours just to write out the terms and convince the dragon to do this job. So, upon hearing the question, Blueblood remained silent for a few moments, still struggling to catch up to what he had not assumed would be dealt with on such short notice. “Tomorrow, if the weather permits,” he said.

“Works for me, though I must ask another question,” Spike said. “Do my friends know of this expedition?”

“Well, yes, though they do not know it could be tomorrow,” the prince said as he walked away from the table. “If you could be the one to break the news to them, I would be very grateful. I could tell them myself, but I have many other more important things to do, like allocate funds from the local treasury to pay room and board for our troops.”

“Indeed,” Spike said, giving a slight bow. “I will tell them, and we will be at the docks first thing in the morning; after breakfast, of course.” With that, he turned and strode out of the room, gently closing the door behind him.

As soon as the dragon was gone, Blueblood turned and looked back at the grandfather clock. “Geralt is starting to become a bit sloppy in his work,” he thought to himself. The spy he employed had only delivered the news to him this morning as to the whereabouts of the Phantom, and had left mere minutes before Spike had arrived. Had the dragon detected the spy’s scent, or had he just been suspicious of the clock’s slightly off-kilter hour hand? It was the secret lever that opened it from the outside, after all: Blueblood would have to get a few servants to replace it eventually.

Meanwhile...

The ship that sailed on the high seas was the least likely to experience an act of piracy, as the oceans were vast and often hard to navigate in unfavorable weather. That is why the majority of attacks occurred near the coastlines: the conduct of the Phantom was no different. Trike hard, strike fast, and make a clean getaway before any passing ship witnessed what had occurred.

Queen Chrysalis, technically a Grand Admiral in rank but choosing to forgo such a formal title, sat in her cabin quarters, pouring over a few charts she had recently received from her native isles. The rocking of the ship as it lay nestled amongst a labyrinth of sandbars and rocks made her feel at ease, even though the clouds on the horizon promised a chance of rain.

“Excellent: the dry-docks on the south islands are complete,” she muttered, pouring through the absolute stack of papers on her desk. “With those in place, we can finally begin building and repairing ships without having to worry about those blasted barnacles eating away our hull during construction.” Picking up another piece of paper, she scanned it carefully, as every bit of information she received was crucial to running her country. In a volatile landscape like the Isles of the Changelings, one could never be too careful or complacent.

“The births for last month are 20 percent greater than this same time last year,” the queen said, nodding and smiling at the news. “Good, good; that means the “prisoners” are keeping up with their duties.” Nopony outside of the Changeling Kingdom knew just what the changelings did with their prisoners, but the rumor mill sure made them out to be horrific monsters.

“If only they knew,” Chrysalis said, smiling as she poured over the last reports on the success of creating farmland on some of the northern islands. Volcanic soil was incredibly rich, but to farm it as intensively as they did required a lot of work.

A small keening noise came from the bed nearest the far wall, causing Chrysalis to look up. Sighing and magically extinguishing many of her lamps, she set the piles of paper into a large bin and closed it. “I believe that is enough work for tonight,” she said to herself, finally hanging up her captain’s coat and hat. Slowly taking off the boots she wore over her hooves, she gently walked over to her bed and looked down at the small contraption near it.

Changelings were renowned, at least amongst themselves, for their creativity and ability to adapt. It came with where they lived, as only the adaptable and creative could survive and even thrive on the volcanic islands they all called home. As such, they had learned long ago that the easiest solution to a problem was to look at said problem in an entirely different light. So, in a fit of brilliance, Chrysalis had taken the curved top of a treasure chest, smoothed out the inside, and made a small carriage for it after flipping it over. The suspension system of small cables helped keep the contraption stable, even amidst turbulent waters. After all, what it carried within it was more precious to her than anything else in the world.

“Hello, my sweet little grub,” she cooed, picking the small object out of the makeshift crib. Less than a year old, her little companion was the product of a night long ago, on some deserted island, with her and a slave turned friend. It had been magical, wonderful even, and the end result had been an altogether surprise for both parties. She knew the foal’s father knew of her existence, and had paid her visit several times, but had not seen her since the birth. He would want to see his little daughter eventually, and very soon, that day would come. It would be a day tinged with sadness and guilt, but hopefully the overall happiness would overshadow such ill feelings.

“He will love you, my little dragonfly,” she said, gently rocking the small foal wrapped in swaddling clothes. Such a term amongst changelings was one of utmost affection. The small foal looked up at Chrysalis, her bright green eyes, just like her mother’s, glinting in the light. She smiled, her toothless grin bringing a warm feeling to her mother’s heart.

Little Cordulia was an indeed unexpected bundle of pure, unadulterated joy. Chrysalis had never thought she’d enter motherhood this soon, and yet, even with all the cravings, mood swings and general unpleasantness she had visited upon others during the pregnancy, she was utterly in love with her little filly. Hopefully, in time, once Cordulia’s father saw her for the little beauty she was, he too would grow to love her as much as her mother did.

He would love her for everything she was, regardless of what she eventually became. Her cute little snout, her adorable little green mane, the tiny ridges along her back: everything about her made her mother smile. Sure, some might see changelings as horrid creatures, and a filly such as this might draw scorn for her parentage, but Chrysalis didn’t care. So what if Cordulia’s wings were a bit more rigid and bat-looking than a normal changeling’s? They still carried with them the swiftness and insectoid nature of her kind, and any changeling that said or thought so otherwise would be on the receiving end of a very angry queen.

The same would go to any pony who threatened her, regardless of who they were or their intentions. Chrysalis had learned much from her defeat in Canterlot, and was unwilling to risk as much to achieve success.

Nothing was worth the life of her daughter, even if Chrysalis herself were in danger. Banishing such dark thoughts from her mind, she cradled the yawning foal next to her and gently drifted off to sleep, the gentle rocking of the waves a comforting embrace for the pair.

Author's Note

Dun dun DUUUUUNNNNN! What madness is this? A new update? Bring out the rum!

Destinations

The sun rose early that morning, as it did this time of year. Yet, the start of the day was delayed, for when Spike and the Elements of Harmony found themselves on the docks of Port Royal, a stiff breeze was already ruffling the sails of the ships anchored at the docks, and the shadows of morning had long since been burned away by the sun’s rays. Prince Blueblood had bid them farewell from the mansion, forgetting to say Fluttershy's name correctly and instead calling her "Hootershy", a comment that almost had his face removed by a slap from Rarity. Spike had been able to prevent any further problems, and as such, they had arrived at the docks in a state of relative peace. A small storm was forming far off the coast, the grey clouds obscuring an otherwise pristine horizon. The smell of the salt was strongest along the docks, as the constant deposition and evaporation of the seawater left behind very noticeable salt markers.

As the seagulls cawed overhead, Spike leaned over slightly and scraped a bit at one of these depositions, flicking out his tongue to taste it off his talon. His tongue retreating, he made a slight sucking motion with one cheek, turning over the salt in his mouth. “The river’s a bit rapid today,” he muttered to himself. Port Royal had a river meandering behind it that dumped into the sea right on the far side of the fort and judging from the slightly bland and mildly muddy taste, that could only mean there had been a storm higher up in the hills a few days before. With such an influx of fresh water into the area, the fish in the harbor would likely be driven further out to sea, and the seabirds would follow suit. This could be taken as either a good or ill omen among the most superstitious sailor ponies, since they had an omen for pretty much everything that dealt with the sea. For those in the city, the greater degree of silence from a lack of birds would be good fortune, and something to be enjoyed.

“I still don’t see why we have to be leaving so early,” a voice called out, the whine in it breaking Spike out of his private thoughts. "I thought it would be more prudent for us to leave sometime in the early afternoon, rather than the morning." He turned to see Rarity and the others all dressed and ready to go, their luggage being brought up onto a ship named Broadside. Well, dressed and ready being rather gracious terms, in this case: each of them were corresponding to this sudden change of events typical of the way they always dealt with things.

Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie were following the sailors hauling their things aboard, Dash questioning both the construction and defenses of the ship and Pinkie asking when they would reach a good place for a beach party. Fluttershy was sitting demurely by herself, taking in the sights and smells of the area, whether it was the spray of the salty water or the calls of the numerous shorebirds she could likely identify within mere moments. Twilight had her nose in a book, coincidentally labeled The Sea: A Beginning Sailor’s Guide to All Things Nautical and written by somepony who had likely rarely if ever traveled across it. Applejack was helping several sailors haul in supplies as best she could in the restrictive dress Blueblood had had fitted for her: she’d likely have it torn apart by day’s end, if only to move more freely. Rarity was watching the sailors with sharp eyes that would have put a falcon to shame, nearly leaping to her hooves every time it seemed one was going to drop some of her luggage. What did she expect? She had packed the most things out the all of them, and many that stuff was heavier than most would think possible.

Spike, meanwhile, was simply taking whatever Blueblood had provided him with, which admittedly wasn’t much. Still, the clothes on his back were nice and clean, and the prince had even had the courtesy to send with him a small map of the coastline around Port Royal, in case they needed to get back to a safe port as soon as possible. Walking over to where the others were gathered together, he sat down on a barrel of pickles.

“I hope you know the ship won’t be stable enough on this journey for most of your things to be of use,” Spike said softly, causing Rarity and Twilight to both look at him in surprise. Surely they hadn't thought travel by sea would be just like a carriage ride, or even like that of a train?

“By whatever do you mean, Spike?” Twilight asked, tucking a ribbon into her book before putting away in a small box, likely enchanted to be watertight. “Surely the seas won’t be that rough on this expedition? The weather doesn't seem so bad.”

“You never know, to be honest,” Spike said, gazing out at the horizon. “We’ll likely sail into a small storm in a few days, but other than that, how the ship handles in the sea is entirely up to the skill of the captain and their crew. If we have a good wind at our backs and a sleek bottomed-hull, we’ll have a relatively smooth trip. If we must fight the wind and the waves the whole way there... I don’t think you’ll like it.”

“Like it? I’m sure you’re just dramatizing things, Spike,” Rarity said. "A ship is still a ship, and the ocean is just an ocean. there isn't anything truly dangerous to worry about besides a rare storm or pirates now, is there?"

“You’re going to get seasick,” Spike said in a slightly teasing tone, his smile a bit smug as he put it in as honest and blunt terms as he could. “In smooth sailing, you’ll be fine, but the rocking of the ship will get to you if the going gets rough. Other than that, there's no telling what we could encounter out there.” He had a hard stomach, both from his life and his heritage, but even he would feel a tad ill in truly terrible weather.

“Please Spike, I am a lady, and I believe I know what my body is capable of handling,” Rarity replied, her voice polite but the veiled implication leaving nothing to the imagination. She would do her best to be strong on that ship, even if she did find herself in a discomforting position.

“I agree with Rarity on this one, Spike,” Twilight said as the last of the luggage and supplies were loaded on board. “We’ve been in tougher situations than this, sometimes apart, other times at each other’s side. I’m sure we’ll do just fine out there, regardless of your advice.”

“Okay, okay, I give up trying to give you some advice,” Spike replied with a chuckle, raising his hands in mock-surrender even as he smiled. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

A sharp whistle blew, and a small, rather daft-looking stallion stood at the top of the ship’s boarding ramp. “We’re due to set sail!” he called out, his reedy little voice sounding rather like his whistle. Everypony who was not already on the ship quickly made way onto the boat, with Spike being the last to board. As two sailor ponies brought up the ramp, he took one last glance back at the city before heading off below decks with the rest of the Elements of Harmony, who had been given the biggest rooms they could afford to have in the ship. Naturally, the biggest rooms were the storerooms, but a few of the less-used rooms had been converted to hold just the ladies’ luggage. Rarity, naturally, took up the most space with her things, but even after all that, the rooms they had settled in were very roomy and comfortable.

Spike didn’t get a room: as much as both Blueblood and the captain had insisted upon it, Spike had instead opted to sleep in a hammock slung between two beams on the same floor as his friends. He had simply said he felt more comfortable in a place where, should something happen, he’d be much quicker to respond.

The captain’s first mate, a sour-looking old pony with his two front teeth missing, stopped by the dragon as he set up his hammock. “I don’t like it,” the old stallion said under his breath, leaning against a wall.

“Don’t like what, sir?” Spike asked, curious as to why the pony had chosen to speak to him now. It wasn’t like there was a lack of anything to do, since they were barely a few hundred yards out of the harbor. Most first mates did damn near the same amount of work supervising as the captain did in the Royal Navy. Maybe this one was close to retirement and was getting a little slack in his old age?

“Them lassies on board the ship,” the old pony said, jerking his head towards where Twilight and everypony else were unpacking what they could into their rooms. “Bad luck, you see. Never a good sign if mares are on a ship; there’ll be trouble, I’m tellin’ ya.”

“Well, I should think of them as good luck, to be honest,” Spike said, his voice cool and calm, but his heart feeling rather heavy as a very unusual feeling of protectiveness swept into his heart.

“Oh, do you now?” the old pony asked, crossing his arms and squinting up at the taller dragon. “Why do ya say that, stranger?”

“Firstly, they are my friends, so I would greatly appreciate if you didn’t treat them like some common dock wench. Secondly, and more importantly, they are the Elements of Harmony,” the dragon replied with a slightly smug smile, which grew in time with the realizing look on the old fellow’s face. “They were sent by Princess Celestia herself to oversee a possible end to all this business with the pirates, and if we’re lucky, secure a lasting peace with Queen Chrysalis.”

“Blimey, is that so?” the old codger asked, scratching his head at the clear confusion he was experiencing. “Princess Celestia’s representatives? Never thought I’d see the day she got involved this personally.”

“Indeed. They have names as well, sir, so I suggest you take the time to learn them, to make the trip more pleasant for all of us.”

Harrumphing and trudging off, the old stallion threw one last look over his shoulder at the young dragon. “I still stand by what I said. There’ll still be trouble with them on board. You’ll see.”

“Oh, of that, I have no doubt,” Spike chuckled to himself. The six mares were used to a good, dainty breakfast with much variety. A ship like this, even with all its extra rations fit enough for a royal, would likely make them think twice about ever travelling by way of ship in the same manner. Ocean travel was not the same as it was for a steamship on a large river; you had to cut frivolities to make sure the ship could better handle itself far from shore.

As he finished packing what little he now owned under his sleeping place, Spike walked off, leaving his hammock swaying freely where he had fastened it. Time to go see what this ship had to offer, and just how “good” it really was. With Blueblood proclaiming it as such, there was no telling what corners might have been cut. Hopefully nothing important…

Inside one of the two rooms set aside for just them, Fluttershy, Applejack and Twilight took time arranging what few things they decided needed to be unpacked. The other three were in the room immediately next to theirs, and since each “group” were technically bunking together, it was best that they help one another make it feel a bit more like home.

“Twilight, Applejack, can I ask you two something?” the quiet pegasus said, her voice barely carrying through the room. Even with the splashing of the seawater against the hull, the thick wooden planks seemed to do a rather marvelous job of keeping the noise of the sea out of the ship’s interior.

“Sure thing sugarcube; go right ahead,” Applejack said as she pushed a small box underneath one of the beds. She never told anyone what was in it, but then again, they were respectful of her privacy, and did not ask.

“Well, there’s something I’ve wanted to talk to somepony about, but I... I... I-,” she trailed off softly, making a small squeaking noise at the end of her sentence.

“You’ve been too afraid to tell anypony, Fluttershy?” Twilight asked, done with finally sorting her incredibly few books (a rare feat from her, to be sure) on her small bookshelf, her horn lighting slightly to enchant them to stay in position despite the ship’s rocking. “Why? Did somepony say something to you that made you feel... uncomfortable?” Her eyes narrowed. “Did Blueblood say something again to you that you didn’t like?” That "Hootershy" comment had really gotten under her nerves; she'd have to write to Celestia about that incident. Only with Spike's intervention had Blueblood been able to save himself from having his lower lip pulled up and over his entire face by an enraged Rarity.

Applejack cracked her knuckles at that. “Why, that low-life, scum-sucking turd of a-,”

“No!’ Fluttershy cried out, her voice causing the two other mares to stop their evident mental processes on nasty things to do to Blueblood. “No, n-no, Prince Blueblood never said anything to make me f-feel uncomfortable. I just... I just didn’t know who to talk to about this.”

“Then, if it ain’t about Blueblood being a scumbag, then... what could it be about?” Twilight asked, unsure as to what exactly her friend was getting at.

“Twilight, I know you don’t h-have much experience in this, so maybe it’s best Applejack tells me,” the pegasus said softly. She hated awkward situations, she really did, but she needed to talk about this now.

“Experience? I have plenty of experience in... things!” Twilight said, confusion blossoming within her.

“Fluttershy, is this about some stallion you’ve met?” Applejack asked softly. “Seems to me that might be what this whole big deal is about, if you say Twilight ain’t really got any experience on the subject.”

“I... you... sure, but... ohhh,” Twilight said, realizing the truth after feeling entirely embarrassed with herself. “Is that why you want to ask us?”

Fluttershy merely nodded silently, the purple unicorn’s scrambled response almost making her crawl under her bed. “I d-didn’t want to be rude in asking it, but... but I just had to ask somepony who knows about it. I-I’m sorry, Twilight.”

“Fluttershy, it’s fine; really, it is,” Twilight said, plopping herself down on her own bed. “It is true, at any rate; I don’t exactly have the best track record with members of the opposite sex.”

“Can’t say the same for myself,” Applejack said, blowing an errant bit of her mane out of her eyes. She never did like it all done up into three-foot high towers on the top of her head like other noble mares of Equestria. “I’ve had everypony from farmhands to apple tycoons after me. Big Macintosh usually sets them out straight for me so I don’t have to deal with them all the time.”

“No, no, it’s not about… that,” Fluttershy said. “It’s about Spike.”

“What about him?” Twilight asked.

“He…” she trailed off, causing no small amount of patience-testing of her two friends. Fluttershy was notorious amongst themselves for being not only incredibly hard to be open with, but very shy around anypony outside her circle of friends.

“Well, what about Spike?” Applejack echoed. “Is this about you and Rarity walkin’ in on him workin’ out?”

“You did what?” Twilight asked, her bewilderment clear.

“No, not that,” the pegasus muttered. “I just… oh, I feel so terrible!”

“Terrible? About what?”

“What happened to him! What he went through, all these years, and for us to just happen to be there when he turns back up again… it’s awful?”

“Why is it awful we were around when he was freed?”

“We weren’t there when he went away!” she replied. “It’s not fair to him, for us to not be there when he goes off to live his own life. What if what happened to him is our fault for not doing that?”

“Sugar, you can’t be thinkin’ like that,” Applejack said, scooting over and placing a reassuring hand on her friend’s shoulder. “What happened to Spike was bad luck, ya see. Ain’t much we coulda done to prevent it.”

“But we could have, if we’d known what was going on out there, out here,” the pegasus said, motioning towards the wall, out where the ocean gurgled and sloshed peacefully. “We oversee large parts of Equestria, aren’t we? Whatever causes those ponies to go pirate, we could have done something to prevent it, I’m sure of it!”

“Like what?” Twilight asked. “Fluttershy, not everything someone does is logical. Some ponies go into piracy because that’s all they knew growing up. Some go because it pays well in the short run, and that’s all they can think of. Other just… they do it because they can. Whether or not we do something about it would make much of a difference, and besides, isn’t that what we’ve set out to do now? Hope to change things, make a difference for the better, for our citizens and our country?”

“Yes, but we could have done something sooner!” Fluttershy countered. “Then Spike wouldn’t have had to go through with all the horrible things that happened to him!”

“Sugar, I don’t think Spike would blame ya at all fer what happened to him,” Applejack said. “What happened out there happened, and there’s no way fer ya to change that. This ain’t on you, you can’t hold onto this.”

“I know, I know,” the pegasus muttered softly. “I just… it’s tearing me up inside, knowing what happened to him out there.”

“Then talk to him about it,” Twilight said. “He’s back in our lives, hopefully for good, as after this I can’t see him wanting to go out to sea anytime soon.”

“What do I say?”

“Exactly what’s on your mind,” Applejack said. “Tell him what you’re feeling.”

“Self-pity?”

“No, anger at what happened to him, and yes, maybe a bit of guilt thrown in,” the mare said with a shrug.

The other two stared at her.

“What?” she replied. “I ain’t the Element of Honoesty fer nothing.”

“So just… talk to him, when I can,” Fluttershy repeated.

Exactly,” Twilight replied.

“What if he doesn’t want to talk to me about it?”

“I doubt that’ll be the case,” Twilight said. “He’s always been there for us, and even after all this time, and all the pain and trouble he’s gone through, he still came back to us, expecting us to still be his friends. Do you know how hard it is for anypony, or dragon in this instance, to be able to just forgive years’ worth of toil and pain, knowing his friends weren’t coming to look for him? He said it himself at the picnic; ‘the thought of you six kept me going through most of my troubles’. I mean, who can honestly say they’d think that same way after all the terrible things he’s been subjected to?” The mare did have a point; forgiveness was not a common trait among dragons, and to be as forgiving as Spike had been in them not even bothering to try and find them, it could only mean he truly valued them.

“Then... what should I do?” the poor pegasus asked, her feelings mixed up like a bunch of fruit thrown into a blender. It was so hard to just sort through every little thing she felt; happy at his return, surprised that he wanted to help them, anxious with talking to him about how guilty she felt, sad at what he’d went through…

“What we all will do, dear,” a voice said from the doorway. “We will each seek out Spike feels and talk with him about what he has gone through.”

The three mares turned to see Rarity standing in the doorway, a rather knowing but still polite smile gracing her lips. Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash were right behind her, quietly snickering at the looks on their three friend’s faces.

“You... you heard everything?” Twilight asked, looking past the other pegasus at her other two friends.

“Yes, Twilight, Rarity knows about what we all are feeling,” Rainbow Dash said, gently nudging Rarity to enter the room. “With all Spike’s gone through, we need to be there for him, to support him getting better. There’s no way he isn’t hurting, but we need to get some answers. Besides, Pinkie and I had the same kind of discussion with Rarity here just a few minutes ago. You'd have thought she was going to have a heart attack, judging from the look on her face when I guessed what she was talking about!”

Fluttershy looked absolutely horrified at her friends. “You... you all are worried about Spike? I thought... I thought it was just me, I-,”

“Fluttershy, just because we want to talk with him doesn’t mean we’re going to interrogate him about what happened,” Rarity said softly, sitting down next to her demure friend and clasping her free hand. “What he went through was dreadful, yes, and while we may never get the whole story of it all, what he chooses to confide in us, will be what we shall accept. After all, we are his friends, but being friends will only take us so far, and we must respect that.”

Meanwhile...

“Captain, I’m glad I managed to find you unoccupied before we were too far into our journey,” Spike said, glancing around the cabin they were sitting in. It was rather plain, with the only furnishings being those somepony with scant wealth would find useful. A set of pictures, a small writing desk, a few odd trinkets that likely were once owned by their parents or grandparents; it all felt rather cozy, something one would not expect to find on a ship like this.

“Well, my boy, it is a good thing you caught me when you did; I’m usually terribly busy, even more so when we pull into our next port,” the small captain said, puffing from a rather short pipe. Truth be told, the captain was only busy when he needed to be, or else he'd just be in his cabin, waiting for the time to pass until the next time he was needed.

“I’ve been meaning to ask: what is our first destination? I talked with Prince Blueblood before we left for the ship, and it seemed like we wouldn’t be trying to find Queen Chrysalis immediately,” the dragon said. Why the prince wanted them to take a few out-of-their-way detours escaped the dragon's logical side of his brain, but then again, the prince surely wasn't telling him everything. Why should he? Spike had agreed to the deal, but that didn't make him a friend. Blueblood likely saw Spike as nothing more than a tool, an expendable pawn in a larger struggle.

“Quite true, quite true,” the captain replied. “We have two more cities to stop in before we can truly begin our journey towards the Isle of the Changelings. Our first stop is the island city of Havana, where we will stock up on fruits and other goods. Don’t want an outbreak of scurvy on board our ships now, do we?”

“I guess not,” Spike agreed. “And the second city?”

“We’ll be stopping at Yankton to load up supplies of... another nature,” the captain said, his voice trying to sound mysterious but ending up sounding constipated. “Strictly secret, can’t tell anypony, hush-hush: you know, that sort of business.”
“Ah, I see,” the dragon replied. “Isn’t Yankton somewhat of a... dangerous place for sailing ships to go? What, with all the public displeasure over the need for sailors and the impressment that goes along with it?”

“Ah, you know about those malcontents, do you?” the captain replied, arching a thick, bushy eyebrow at the young dragon before him. “Well, it pains me to say it, but they just have to deal with what we need. We need sailors and soldiers to defend our trade fleets, and although the pay is better than what any might expect, it’s still back-breaking work. The whole lot of ponies who are most against this have never served aboard anything in their life; many have never seen what happens to ships when they come under attack by pirates. They don’t understand that trade keeps much of the coast running smoothly; how else would we trade with other countries? By railroad is too costly to build through the terrain we often have along this stretch of coastline, and we can’t make flying trains to just soar over the oceans, either.”

“I see your point, but my question remains the same,” Spike said. “What is the danger to this ship, and more importantly, to its passengers, should we stop in Yankton?”

“I don’t see why we would be in any danger,” the captain replied. “What fool would dare try to attack a ship of Their Majesty’s fleet in their own port? Things would have had to degrade very rapidly in the public’s eye for something like that to happen, even in a place like Yankton. Besides, if the Broadside were to stop in the city, it would likely give the public a morale boost, knowing that Celestia herself had sent the Elements of Harmony to help deal with the situation.” The fact that said Elements of Harmony were traveling on this ship was no secret, and it would likely spread to every corner of the coast long before the Broadside made port.

“Yes, well, with all the problems on the high seas these days, a bout of bad news would surely sour the public’s opinion of the those in charge around these parts, while a good bit of news would undoubtedly lift their spirits” the young dragon replied. “Which brings me to my second question; how likely do you think it will be for this ship to run into a group of pirates? I speak not for myself, but out of concern for... some of our passengers.”

“It is unlikely we will encounter any on our way to Havana and then Yankton, Mr. Spike,” the captain said, his little reedy voice starting to wear on the dragon’s nerves. “Those routes are some of the most patrolled in the area, and we haven't had a sighting of unregistered ships in those areas for weeks. Besides, this ship is one of the finest of the newer vessels launched. We’ll have a few surprises in store for any foolish pirate to try and cross our way.”

“Yes, well, it’s not regular every-day pirates I’m thinking of,” Spike said softly. “What of the Sea Wraith, or possibly the Phantom? They aren't exactly the most average of pirate ships.”

At the names of those two ships, the pipe dropped from the captain’s mouth and onto the floor. His somewhat jovial and rather calm disposition vanished, only to be replaced by one laced with fear and uncertainty. “I would rather live the rest of my life aboard a trawler than have to meet those ships on the high seas,” he muttered, picking his pipe back up. “Of the two, perhaps the Sea Wraith would be the lesser of two evils. I’ve have heard the captain to be a fair and rather honorable pirate, if such a thing exists. But as for the Phantom... I cannot fathom any fool who would dare and try to attack that that ship, or even look for it. She... she glides through the water like some unnatural beast, I have heard. Her hull is littered with the most foulest of the deep sea’s creatures, their magically petrified corpses donning it like some collection of unearthly trophies.”

“So I have heard; the stories, I mean,” Spike said, wondering if this captain had seen the Phantom with his own eyes. His own descriptions were not puffed up to impress; they seemed far too sincere, far too genuine, to be that of a boastful fellow.

“The stories do not do justice the terrible things that occur on that ship,” the captain whispered. “Devilish creatures, in the forms of mares, suck the very life out of you. Your mind becomes their plaything to do with as they will, and many a thing they do to it. Your body becomes nothing more than an extension of their desires, and many are cruel and twisted in that regard. They will drain you of much of your blood to make you weak and feed it back to you in a frothy soup, laughing as they do so. They will pull your mane from your head to keep you clean-shaven, if only so the lice don’t make you insane in their care. And the walls... the walls in the lower decks breathe in time with you, so that you feel like the weight of the ocean is pressing in on you at all times.”

“I’m sorry, but have you ever been on that ship?” the dragon asked. “You seem to be rather... invested in these stories. I've heard a few of the horror stories myself, from some of the relatively few survivors that are scattered along the coast.”

“Yes, once,” the captain said softly. “I was there for only a short amount of time, and it nearly drove me mad. The only thing that kept me sane was the thought of my wife, and my two young daughters. If not for them, I don’t know where I’d be now; dead, most likely.”

The two of them sat in silence for a few more minutes, the gentle rocking of the ship the only thing indicating they were even moving towards their first stop. “Well, it is time for me to return to the lower decks, sir,” Spike said, rising from the small chair he had been delegated. "I have some things to discuss with the Elements of Harmony, and I would hate to keep you preoccupied from your other duties."

“Oh, of course, of course,” the captain said softly, looking down at his pipe with an odd expression on his face. He seemed very subdued, as if the mere recollection of the horrors he had witnessed aboard the Phantom were making his brain sleepy and nonresponsive.

“Do not fret, sir; if we should come across either of the pirate ships you mentioned, I will do my best to make sure you get back to your family in one piece,” Spike said, bowing once more before leaving the captain to his thoughts. "This conflict has already cost too many families the lives of their kin."

Meanwhile...

“You are certain of this?” Chrysalis asked as she nursed her foal, little Cordulia making adorable squeaking noises as she did so. The little filly was hungry far less often than other ponies her age, but she made up for it by needing to feed on a larger amount of milk. Then again, changeling milk was only slightly more nutritious in some respects than that of other ponies, and unfortunately, the nutrients it gave in abundance were not dedicated to physical growth, but to development of one's magical aura. A queen's milk was laced with properties that would ensure her offspring would have magic far beyond that of any of her subjects, partly as a defense mechanism and partly to establish who was in charge when the foal became of age. Being stronger in magic was the usual sign of royalty among her kind, anyway, though such strength-focused dynastic succession often meant if a ruling family grew too weak, a strong family, noble or not, would be best suited to take their place.

“I am sure, my queen,” the changeling said, her eyes drawn to the little filly in her ruler’s arms. “Our spies have located where they will be heading next.”

For the lower castes of the changelings, the urge to breed was always strong, but the urge to raise their offspring, to nurture and help it grow, dominated all other thoughts at many points in their life. However, the sheer number of females born to every male meant so many females had to live without ever having children, something many found to be an utterly horrible fate. Even the implementation of herds and harems a few generations ago had done little to ebb the flow of tears from the mares who lived their entire lives without having a single foal. That had all changed after the failed invasion of Canterlot under Chrysalis all those years ago. After that rather stinging defeat, the queen had decreed there would be no more unhappiness in her kingdom, as the love of what few breeding males existed could not satisfy the needs of the entire populace. Her plan and the resulting ramifications had been swift, decisive, and so far incredibly successful, but the looming threat of it no longer being an option weighed heavily on the minds of all her subjects.
“Havana is lovely this time of year, but I doubt we’ll be able to get the Sea Wraith into a position favorable to us, as the area is heavily patrolled,” Chrysalis said softly as she stroked one of Cordulia’s cheeks with two fingers. “Has the captain reported back yet?”

“Yes, your highness, but he said they will not be able to reach Havana in time for everything to go as planned,” the servant changeling said, her eyes not able to remove themselves from the sight of the queen’s little feeding filly. “He did say they could reach the dragon’s second destination ahead of time and be able lie in wait after they leave.”

“Then that is what they will do,” Chrysalis said, gently removing the filly from her large breast and burping her gently on her shoulder. The little filly made a keening noise and snuggled into her mother’s embrace. “We shall travel further out to sea: I don’t want this ship put in danger by that small storm on the horizon. With the weather we’ve been having, there is far too much chance it could develop into something much stronger.”

“Yes, my queen,” the changeling said, bowing once more before making motion to leave.

“Serena,” Chrysalis said softly, looking up at her subject with a curious expression. “I wish to ask you something.”

“Yes, your majesty?” Serena asked.

“Is it right for me to be doing this?” the queen asked, looking back down at her daughter. “Is it right for me to be so honorably meddling in the affairs of another kingdom, that I put my own in jeopardy? A kingdom that would gladly see me and our kind gone from their sight, far removed from the world as they know it? A kingdom where the majority of the subjects not only fear us, but despise us, for both out appearance and the way our society works?”

Serena was taken aback by the queen’s questions. It was highly unorthodox for Chrysalis to ask such a thing. She had always been decisive, eloquent, and incredibly self-sure of herself and her subjects. She was beautiful, smart, and utterly charismatic to those who knew her, but beyond all of that, she was still a mare, and now a mother. Was she questioning this because of her filly’s father? Was she asking this to just reassure herself of what needed to be done?

“Of course,” Serena replied. “You are our queen; we would follow you to the ends of the earth, no matter what your decision may be, or what the consequences your decisions will bring.”

“And what of our enemies? Would this make them our friends or keep them as our foes?” the queen asked softly as her daughter began to snore, her belly full of her mother's warm milk. "Only time will tell."

Meanwhile...

The city of Port Royal was famed for not only being a magnificent port city, but for one having some of the fastest travel to neighboring cities. The trains and carriages were some of the quickest in all the coast, and it showed just how prosperous one could be if they took full advantage of that. Perhaps that was why Sombra, former king of the Crystal Empire and eternal foe of all things good and free, used it to his advantage as often as he could.

Journeying to cities along the coast in secrecy was no problem for one as malevolent as he. All it took was a few bribes here, a few threats here, and voila: he could be almost anywhere along the coast in a matter of hours. No paperwork trail, no witnesses to his movements, and no reports of unusual activities in the cities he traveled to.

Stepping off the train amidst a cloudy sky, and rapped in a dark traveling cloak, he made his way to the meeting place of his subordinates. Yankton was by far the most profitable venture he had ever invested in. The city was sharply divided between the rich and poor, and the timing of his arrival could not have been better. The fools appealing for fairer wages and worker’s rights had no idea the very stallion “financing” their little protests would have had them all executed on the spot if he were in charge for simply being troublesome. He did not care if they had families to feed or if they had been injured in some accident and only sought restitution: all he cared about was the plans he had set in motion ever since his defeat at the hands of Princess Cadence and...

“Spike,” he hissed, the memory of his defeat still burned into the back of his retinas. That blasted dragon had been the one thing he had not counted on all those years ago. Who would have expected a dragon to assist in his defeat, mere weeks after his unholy return from ice and shadow? The stinging humiliation had ruined his plans then, but he had since grown to begrudgingly respect the small dragon for being so brave, even if it meant Sombra himself would need to learn patience when enacting a plan.

Since that day all those years ago, he had watched and waited for an opening through which his new set of plans could take hold. Surprisingly for him, that opening had coincided with the dragon just up and vanishing from Canterlot, something Sombra had been entirely gleeful about. But now he had reports of the dragon resurfacing, and even though he had no doubt the dragon would be difficult to deal with if he ever became trouble again, he had other problems entirely. His spies were disappearing as the plan was becoming more successful.

Something would have to be done; something likely... drastic.

Author's Note

He he he.... oh, what am I planning? Like I'll ever spell it out for you guys. Stay tuned to find out more!

Embarking from Paradise

Evening came quickly for the Broadside as the ship continued its lengthy journey. The sun setting along the horizon cast the entire ocean’s surface into a pale and fiery glow, the kind that hurt one’s eyes if they stared at it for too long. Gulls cawed from the air high above as the ship moved through the waves. Given the relatively lively wind pushing their sails, the sailors estimated they’d reach the port of Havana by sunrise, which would be needed to dock. Making port in the dark was not entirely easy, after all.

That in and of itself was good news, seeing as most of the ship’s passengers were already getting ready for bed, seeing as there wasn’t much to do aboard a ship like this. You could play all the cards you wanted, you could have as many guessing games as you desired, but eventually, that all grew dull for the day, and you just felt like spending some time alone, surrounded by your own thoughts.

After informing the Elements of Harmony of their upcoming destinations and anything else he had found pertinent to tell them, Spike had found himself a nice private storeroom and had commenced to working out. He prided himself in keeping in shape, and though it was a pleasant change of pace from the admittedly lax days back in Blueblood’s residence, he couldn’t lie to himself that he had missed being on a ship. The spray of the waves, the smell of salt in the air, the odd creak or groan the ship made as it sliced its way through the sea… it made his blood run hot, like a boost of energy that never went away. Perhaps he had been on the sea so long he’d found it to be a second home?

“Hey Spike,” a voice said, causing the dragon to peer at the doorway after rising from a sit-up. “Can we talk for a minute?”

“Sure, but Rainbow Dash, what are you doing here?” Spike asked, pausing his workout. The cyan pegasus walked over and sat on a small crate next to the dragon, likely having been watching him work out for a brief time before interrupting. “I thought you’d be with the others.”

“Just Dash is fine, I don’t expect my friends to same my whole name all the time.”

“I see,” he replied. “Well then, what do you want to talk about?”

“Well, Applejack and I were talking, and we’ve come to the decision that your return has made things a bit difficult for some of us,” Rainbow Dash said, some of her tutoring finally showing through in her manner of speaking. Normally she’d be extremely informal, now she was just moderately informal… most of the time.

“How so?” Spike asked. “I know you and Applejack haven’t been acting differently around me, other than asking what happened before I was brought ashore before you all, and Pinkie... well, she’s the same as ever, so that’s not it. Does it have something to do with Twilight or Fluttershy or Rarity?” Rarity or Fluttershy were the most obvious guesses, seeing as how they had reacted when they found him working out in the mansion's armory, but Twilight... she was still a wild card. Pinkie Pie was good at hiding emotions that were upsetting her, usually just putting on a smile and only letting things out when they built to an explosive climax. So she too could be feeling something that was upsetting her, and he just didn’t know it.

“Well, both yes and no, to all of that, really,” the cyan pegasus said, fiddling with her fingernails. “Spike, I’m just gonna say it: we all are very glad you’ve returned. However, some of us are having a harder time accepting that you’re indeed back.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think you’re entirely with us, Spike,” she replied. “You’re hiding an awful lot of what happened to you, and I can respect that. What you went through, I mean, I can’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to spend a year in your former situation. Yet for you to spend several years…”

He raised an eyebrow. “Hiding something? Like, a secret?”

“More like… not telling us what happened to you.” Rainbow Dash finished fidgeting with her nails and looked him in the eye. “I can understand not wanting to hurt us by leaving out the details, Spike, but we need to know more than just “it sucked”, okay? Some of us are taking as our fault for what happened, even though I know it’s not, and you need to let us know whatever truth you care to. We need to know because we’re setting sail to try and establish peace with a mare who very well may have been behind your situation in the first place!”

“So, you don’t want me to screw this up, by acting rashly, should Chrysalis be the one responsible for these past years of misfortune?” Spike asked. In another lifetime, he’d have been a bit offended by that, but here, with what he knew, and what they were trying to accomplish… it did make sense. As it was, piracy on the seas was not at an all-time high, but it was picking up steam from what it had been many, many years before, from even before his time on those ships. Whether Queen Chrysalis had a hand in that or not, he had no idea.

“Like swearing vengeance or attacking a queen during a diplomatic meeting, yeah.” Dash shook her head, sighing. “I’m not cut out for this kind of crap. Twilight’s the diplomat, I’m just…”

“Dash?”

“Yeah, I’m just me,” she muttered. “So, think it over, okay? Some of us want to know for our own reasons, whereas me… I’m just curious.”

“I noticed. When did you become so intrigued with ships, by the way?”

“Well, with my parents technically helping to run the military, I guess part of my schooling just happened to fall a lot on ships, forts and armies,” she said with a shrug. “Never got to go down to the coast to see one before, so I thought I’d make the best of it and ask around while we were loading. It’s not like I wanted to ask Blueblood for a tour, and all those military tours always happened during parades. I want to see what’s real, and not what’s just there for decoration, you know?”

“I think so,” Spike said. “I’ll keep in mind what you said, but some things… I’m not ready to say.”

“So... we’ll always be friends?”

“Of course.” Reaching down to pick up the towel he had brought with him, he wiped the sweat from his shirtless torso. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m a big girl, I can handle myself,” Dash scoffed. She had been working out over the last few months and could give even her sparring teachers a run for their money. Although, she had no idea just how Spike fought, if he even did... She figured she’d have to challenge him to a spar sometime in the future, if they had the room to maneuver and the time to do so.

“I have no doubt, Dash, but after what I’ve gone through, I’m more afraid of what your parents would do to me, if I hurt you,” Spike said.

“Like what?” She crossed her arms with a small frown.

“Well, banishment, or imprisonment,” Spike said with a shrug. “I don’t want to hurt any of you because you’re my friends, but I also don’t want to hurt you because your parents might make terrible things happen to me.” He smirked slightly. “To say nothing of what any of you might do to me… truly, something too terrible to think of.”

She playfully punched him in the shoulder. “There’s the Spike I knew,” she said.

“He’s always been there, he’s just… spread his wings a bit, you might say.”

“No wings, though.”

“Yeah, well, we all have to deal with the cards we’re dealt. I just happened to get some shitty hands over the last few years is all. Don’t worry too much, Dash, I’ll fill you guys in on stuff when I’m ready.”

“I understand,” Dash replied. “Just, don’t shut us out for good, okay? We just got you back, and we want to feel like you’re back. After so long apart,” she said, making to leave. “It’s almost like you’re a stranger to us now.”

With that, she departed, leaving him once again to his thoughts. Resuming his workout, now with pullups from the beam overhead, the dragon mulled over her words. Times had changed, that was for sure, but so had he, and his friends it seemed. Everything he’d been expecting when he woke up was being warped ever so slightly into a new paradigm, one he had to think about. The caricatures he’d painted in his head were not the same, and thus, everything new would have to be accounted for.

After all, with everything changing as it was, there was no telling what the future held for his friends, should they be able to try and secure a lasting peace with the Changelings. Life had a habit of throwing curveballs at him and everyone he knew in the most unsuspecting of ways.

Spike hoped whatever lay in store for him was better than what had already happened. The only way to go now was up, right?

Meanwhile...

In the streets of Yankton, the dark of the night cloaked the movements of Sombra from the eyes of others. His own cloaked whirled around him as if it were alive, a second shadow that followed his every movement. Many who saw him out of the corner of their eye might have mistaken him for a trick of the light, so swift and sure was his path.

Down the middle of the street, he glanced to and fro from left to right, the stark contrasts of rich and poor greatly displayed before anypony with half a brain. On the left side of the street, built on the higher levels of the city, lay the homes and businesses of the wealthy upper classes. These ponies owned much of the city’s docks and ships, and as such had a substantial portion of the populace working for them. High gates and fences cordoned off this more “prosperous” portion of the city from the lower classes, something that had of late been a contesting point amongst the social outcasts.

To the right lay the poorer sections of the city, both slums and meager dwellings in which many ponies struggled to just get by on a monthly basis. There was some modest wealth here, to be sure, but they were not welcomed by the elite, so many of the middle-class were more or less forced to live with and near their poorer neighbors, something the wealthy sometimes found to be a source of amusement. Trash lay here and there down many of the alleyways, and the stench of the ocean was heavier on the buildings closest to the piers.

All in all, it was a city long divided by the social classes, and the now-repeated challenge of the status quo had many of the ponies in the city on edge. The last time there had been severe riots in the city, well over a hundred years previously, Celestia herself had declared martial law and come to the city to help deal with negotiating peaceful terms. Many of the rich in the city has grown to frown upon her “bleeding-heart politics” when it came to dealing with the “rabble”, and as such, there were many wealthy ponies in the city who paid many a bribe to have their more “unusual” dealings erased from police records or not filed at all.

The poor, on the other hand, absolutely adored Celestia, since she always gave them her time when times were at their toughest. Sure, there was a bit of resentment here and there during these troubled times, but most if not all of the ponies refused to put the blame on her. In fact, they said that without the interference of the richer ponies, there likely wouldn’t even be any pirates in the area, seeing as how Celestia used to have equality on the forefront of nearly every major political issue she interfered in. But now, with all of the troubles of running the country keeping her from dealing with the small things, those indeed small problems had blossomed into much larger things, all of which would soon require her full and undivided attention, should the situation deteriorate to something even worse than what it was at the moment.

Yankton, a city divided and ready to be torn apart from the inside. It was in this perfect hive of scum and villainy that Sombra had decided to set up his headquarters. There was very little chance of ever being discovered here; his agents knew all too well the price of their failures, should somepony manage to follow their master’s trail. His informants and spies, while not numerous and certainly not cheap, were definitely valuable in his continuing expansions into nearby cities along the coast.

Cities in the countryside and far removed from such prosperous ports were nigh impossible to infiltrate and successfully establish a presence in, as the ponies were far more cooperative and the lines between rich and poor were pretty much nonexistent. Ponies of all social classes happily interacted with one another on a fairly regular basis, something Sombra had known would be the biggest threat to his plans. So setting up shop in cities that were always just a few nudges away from openly exploding into conflict had been a rather simple solution, one that he had been glad was so easy to accomplish.

Arriving at his final destination, he quietly slipped past two police ponies into one of the larger taverns in the poor district, a rather crowded place known as the Spit Bucket. Judging from the smell that occasionally wafted into his nostrils, Sombra could have given it a much more appropriate term, all with just changing a single letter in the name.

Inside, Sombra weaved his way through the crowd, his presence barely detected by the rather numerous patrons gathered there tonight. His timing couldn’t have been better; his contacts were all waiting for him in his permanently reserved private booth, and the locals were all drunk and distraught over the recent wage slash proposed by the upper class merchants.

“Not fair, I tells ya!” an upset-looking unicorn said from the bar, much of the crowd more or less paying attention to what he was saying. “We’ve been workin’ our tails off for the last two months repairin’ each and every ship that come into port sportin’ damage from those bloody pirates, and what do these rich ponies decide? Cut our wages to make up for lost cargo revenue!”

There were cries of outrage from several members of the crowd as more beer was drunk freely by the gathered masses. In his booth, Sombra quietly smirked, glad that the several merchants he had in his pocket had taken his advice. After gathering all the information his spies had scraped together for him, he had sent them on their way, leaving himself alone once more in his booth. He didn’t technically need to be here at the moment, but in the off chance something occurred that he could turn to his benefit, he had decided to stay. It always paid off to be patient: he of all ponies knew that.

“That’s not countin’ the number of us lumber ponies that have been laid off since they started buyin’ up wood from the interior cities!” another pony cried, his voice loud and gruff. “We’ve got forests all along our coastlines, ready for harvest, but what do these rich ponies say? ‘Oh, it’ll be cheaper to ship in larger amounts of wood from the interior, where the railroads are better’ and other tripe!”

“Not to mention the price hikes on all of our imported goods,” one of the barmaids yelled out as she served up some more mugs of beer. “Tea’s gotten so expensive that only those bloody rich bastards can afford the stuff! Back in my mother’s day, you could buy a fifty pound bag of salt for a small bag of bits, but now it’s the same price for almost a pound of the stuff! What in bloody Tartarus do pirates have anything to do with salt production?”

“Uneducated fools,” Sombra muttered under his breath, the rising tension in the air rejuvenating his spirit. Salt production was done along the sea, but the places where that happened had warehouses filled with the gold they were paid in for the salt. Since pirates loved to raid, it only made sense that the pirates would raid these, and the salt "growers" would have to raise prices to make up for lost revenue. It was rather simple to be honest, and the fact that so many things were interconnected in such ways made Sombra's job all the easier to accomplish. Sowing the seeds of chaos and eventual anarchy was one step; the steps that would follow would prove to be the more decisive factors in his plan.

After several more outbursts highlighting the ever-growing disparity between the wealthy and the poor, the unicorn from before rose to his hooves and thrust a mug of beer into the air, like a rallying symbol. “I’ve heard one of the prince’s so-called “pirate hunting ships” is one its way here, and will likely be carrying with it not guns and cannons to dissuade the buggers, but the cargo of our more prosperous citizens! What has the world come to, where our armed vessels carry cargo instead of protecting us all in these dangerous times?”

“Then make your displeasure known when that ship arrives in port,” Sombra said, his small spell causing his voice to drift through the crowd so everypony could hear it, but not a single on could identify him as the source. He had picked it up from several texts in a library once, one of the few times he believed that Celestia's incessant library upkeep had actually paid off for somepony. “When that ship reaches our fair city’s shores, let those rich bastards know we won’t stand for this sort of treatment anymore!”

On any other day, a fair majority of these ponies would have not only questioned these words, but would have also tried finding just who had said them. But tonight, drink had been flowing freely and passions were high, and the situation facing all gathered in the tavern was driving logic and reasoning out of the window. So, in a great roar, everypony shouted in agreement, calling for everyone to spread the word in secret; Blueblood’s ship, upon reaching port, would receive a fully unpleasant welcome from the poor folk of Yankton.

Sombra smiled as the locals continued to drink freely and talk of their glorious plans he had so subtly encouraged them to come up with. Now, there was another tavern on the other side of town that he needed to attend to, else he forget to rile up the wealthy ponies with similar talk that would result in even more distrust and anarchy. After that... who knew? All of the dominos were set; they just needed the right... push, to set them off.

Meanwhile...

High in the lantern-lit room of the mayor’s mansion, Prince Blueblood had gathered some of his closest allies in all of Port Royal and her surrounding cities. High-class merchants, government officials with strong connections, captains of guards and minor admirals; informants, engineers, master shipbuilders and several impressment officials were there as well. Geoffrey the butler and Geralt were there as well, though Geralt was in disguise as a personal guest of Blueblood’s, so as to not arouse suspicion as to why Blueblood had such a... shadowy figure at this meeting.

“Gentlecolts, I suspect you all know why you have been summoned to this meeting,” Blueblood said, the dimness of the lanterns obscuring the faces of most of those gathered. Meeting in secret like this was not something to be handled lightly; better that they do such work in such a manner, so that like their shadowed faces, they would not be seen by those who did not understand their true purpose. “The pirates have forced our hand; we must enact the plan.”

“What of the Elements of Harmony and their quest to find and settle a peace accord with Queen Chrysalis?” one of the minor admirals asked. Several other ponies muttered in agreement with him, as they too had heard of the six mares’ departure for parts unknown. Several of the rumors had them going off to find and make a peace accord with Queen Chrysalis, which had almost been immediately been shot down as being a "bit too preposterous" an idea. Oh, if only they knew the truth...

“I have little faith in those high-bred ladies, seeing as they are only here because my aunt decided they “could” be an asset,” Blueblood said, the venom in his tone at the word ‘faith’ proving his point for the more doubtful of those attending. “We are in charge, and through us, not only will the pirate menace be destroyed completely, but we will emerge from this struggle stronger than ever, with our naval power unmatched in the entire world.”

“I do not mind ridding ourselves of the pirates, but something tells me the international community will not be happy should our naval forces suddenly outclass their own,” one of the government officials said. “My brother is a diplomat for the Griffin Kingdom, and he has told me that Griffins take such slights very seriously, even if they are completely unintentional and done with the best of interests at heart This could be perceived as one, should this be handled in a... careless manner.”

“That is why we are here,” Blueblood said as he retrieved a scroll from Geoffrey’s outstretched hand. “We are to ensure we will become the dominant naval power in this portion of the world without provoking a war with any other country in the region. Should worst come to worst, we can always... manipulate the other side into firing the first shot. Then we would be the defenders in the eyes of our citizens, would we not?”

There were murmurs of agreement with that; almost all of these ponies were power-hungry folk, and wouldn’t mind starting a little war or two if it meant furthering their own careers and businesses. War was profitable, after all, especially if you were on the winning (and perceivably righteous) side. The most lucrative conflict could potentially be the complete conquest of the changelings, but their islands were too heavily defended for the current fleets to shell successfully.

That was where Blueblood’s little meeting came into play. “As you all know, these designs for our new ships and their subsequent armaments have been secretly and painstakingly crafted by our finest engineers and scientists. Some of the newer cannons are still a bit experimental, but with the captains and admirals here briefed on how to handle the equipment, the new crews should be able to handle them with ease. Any other questions before we continue?”

The room was silent; everypony there was convinced of the necessity of Blueblood’s plans, despite any minute misgivings they may have had earlier. All of these stallions were loyal in one way or another to Celestia, but their loyalty came with a price, and seeing as how Blueblood was offering them a chance to show their loyalty by subverting it, they were all in agreement as to what had to be done. The threat of these pirates to both the social and economic prosperity of the coast was too great to simply overcome with diplomacy and what little resources they had now; they would have to prepare to fight the war that was literally on their doorstep.

And they had to win, no matter the cost.

Meanwhile...

Down in the interior of the Broadside, two figures were tossing and turning in their sleep. It had nothing to do with the gentle rocking of the ship, nor was it what they had eaten before going to bed. Inside of their minds, thoughts and feelings were whirling around like swarms of bats, eating away at their insides.

One of the figures bolted upright, breathing heavily at her dream. It had been... horrible, to say the least. Broken friendships, loneliness of a sort she doubted any had experienced in her own little circle of friends, ships on fire amidst an ocean swell, lightning flashing all around as ponies cried out…

The water gripping everything, pulling it away, into icy depths, where no light dwelled, and monsters still lived…

She hadn't had dreams like this since she had read that horror novel of Twilight's. Right now, though, she had a feeling this was not some sort of nightmare brought on by frightening images; these were tied to her state of mind and to her emotions, for sure. She needed to talk to somepony. Rising to her hooves and slowly walking to their door, Fluttershy glanced back in the gloom of the dimly-lit magical lanterns. Applejack was softly snoring on her bed, and Twilight was sleeping under the pages of one of her romantic novels. Opening the door with a silence that would make a ninja jealous, the pegasus crept out of her room and down towards where Rarity was sleeping. Crawling into the room quieter than a mouse, the mare creeped over to where her friend was sleeping.

“Fluttershy,” Rarity whispered, bolting upright just as the mare was about to poke her shoulder. Fluttershy managed to stifle her squeak of surprise, though to do so she nearly farted from the sudden compression of air down her throat and into her stomach.

“Rarity, y-y-you scared me!” the yellow pegasus said softly.

“I believe you were the one sneaking around, dear,” the unicorn replied, moving over slightly on the bed. “Come, sit.”

“T-T-Thanks,” was her reply, softly sitting down next to Rarity. “I... I need to talk to you.”

“Couldn’t sleep either, my dear?” the unicorn asked as she readjusted her sleeping wear. She was glad none of them had to wear their corsets to bed, even though several of them had to sleep on their sides to account for the "mass" their removed clothes held in place.

“N-no, not at all,” Fluttershy said softly, glancing over at Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash’s still forms. You’d never have thought those two could sleep so soundly in a moving ship, but everypony was full of surprises this night. “Can... can I confide something in you?”

“About what?” Rarity asked. Fluttershy, and herself for that matter, usually slept rather well, not matter the situation. Something must have truly been troubling her poor friend for her to come talk with the unicorn about it.

“Spike,” the pegasus said softly. “It is about... Spike.” All her rising emotions had been tearing up her previous thoughts and memories of the dragon. What had once been innocent and rather pure was becoming torn by the mysteries of what had happened to him and the certainties that made it even worse. Life on the seas wasn’t just a concept to her any more, it was real, and it was putting her entire world into a new perspective.

One that she did not care for at all.

“Oh,” Rarity replied, finally understanding just why Fluttershy hadn’t been able to sleep. It had been the very same reason to her own restlessness, though likely less than her friend’s. She knew well what kind of life Spike must have gone through, as the sea was incredibly important to her parent’s holdings. Trade saw their wealth increase, as it did for all Equestria, and whatever goods they could not produce were bought overseas, and vice versa. To say that there were those that would take advantage of that was an understatement, but before Spike’s return, rarity had never seen the face of piracy. It had been… jarring, to say the least.

She would attempt to calm her friend’s worries, and encourage her, once more, to seek Spike out, and assuage her fears that, even if he didn’t say anything about it, that he felt no ill will towards his friends after all these years.

Still, with just how much she likely needed to talk over with Fluttershy, it was going to be a long night.

The next morning...

The port city of Havana was something far different from the city of Port Royal. Here, on an island teeming with jungles and plantations, the sugar industry of Equestria had shaped the entire island to suit its needs. In the places where jungles had never stood, or had not done so for hundreds of years, fields of sugar cane rose high and lay out as far as the eye could see. The city itself had very wide roads, but many of the overhanging roofs nearly touched one another, as the streets themselves were only modestly paved and could not stand up to the torrential rains that lay waste to the island during certain months. Not even the strongest of the local magics could weather hurricanes, after all, so limiting the damage through natural means, enhanced by magic, was often the most cost-effective means of weathering the weather.

The sheer number of docks, ranging from tiny fishing wharfs to massive piers dotted with warehouses showed just how important the sugar industry, and import/export business for that matter, were to this city and the rest of the island. It really was a city unto itself, the dockyards of Havana, with the logistics and amenities needed to service as large a fleet as needed, be it merchant or military. The seas were too rough for barges, as might be used on inland lakes, so the dockyards even carried with them lodging for sailors staying until cargo was loaded, or until the seas calmed from a storm. To say nothing of the bordello taverns that lined the outside of the docks, often the immediate destination of many a sailor as soon as they were paid or docked.

The secondary crops grown on the island were fruits, many of them high in vitamin C. Seeing as scurvy was caused by a lack of said vitamin, this city was amongst the most sought by captains in the area, seeing as fruits could be bought in bulk, at rather modest prices. Hence the reason for the wide roads through the city; it was easier to haul carts of fresh fruits down to the markets for shipping across the coast that way. If captains did not keep the fruits for their crews, they would often sell them along the coastline, magic helping to keep most of the fruit from spoiling in the oft-intense heat.

The city’s interior buildings reflected much of what the island had to offer; most of the defensive forts and larger buildings were built, not from stone, but from coral harvested along the innumerable reefs surrounding the island. The countless stained-glass windows of many upper-class residences and government buildings were the products of the sand along the beaches of innumerable small islands dotting the coastline. All in all, it was a scenic, picturesque place that could have been a major tourist hotspot if a bit more development was brought into the area. There were even a few isolated mansions dotting the highest points on the island, belonging to sugar and citrus barons and other titans of local industry, giving the owners a clear view of the tropical seas surrounding them and the island that gave them their wealth.

Sadly, for much of the crew and their fellow passengers, the Broadside was not destined to stay long enough in port for them explore this wondrous place. Exploring the city proper would likely take days, if not weeks, given how much there would be to do and see for anyone with political power.

Almost immediately after loading the new cargo onto the ship, including several crates of oranges, the ship had disembarked for Yankton, which was a few days sailing away. Given the good tailwind they had, it was likely they would reach the city before the end of the week. However, before leaving the harbor, there had been more news from some of the local city officials inspecting the docks. Pirates, though thankfully neither the Sea Wraith nor the Phantom, had been sighted in the area north of Yankton. Several TMS ships had been recently dispatched to drive them off or sink them entirely, but the locals in Havana had been hearing rumors of more ships between there, and several of the galleons that had made it into Havana had the scars to show the increasing frequency of pirate attacks on convoys.

Once afloat on the drifting waves of the sea once more, the Broadside's crew broke open a few bottles of rum to celebrate a successful voyage. Sure, it had been a short one, and only those off-duty could share in the drink, but with the frequency of pirate attacks these days, combined with unpredictable weather and economic hardships, every little victory was worth celebrating. Luckily for the passengers aboard the ship, all off-duty drunkards were required to stay in their own quarters, which most did out of habit: easier to sleep off a hangover in their bunks, at any rate.

Spike, alone for once in a small storeroom, had managed to scrounge up a small piece of parchment and a bottle of ink. He had no quill and didn’t want to ask to borrow one from Twilight but given his talon could function as one as well, he didn’t mind. Dipping the tip and scribbling on the paper, he began to write, his words etching into the paper from the light force of his talon.

“Dearest confidante, I know it has been some time since our last communique. It is a thing I miss, being in your company, but it is something I must surely go without, for the greater good. We will not yet see each other for some time yet, but I am confident we will meet under better circumstances than when we left.”

He paused for a moment, thinking out his words. “When we do see each other again, I know you will have many questions for me. I will do my best to answer them fully, and without deception. Until then, yours truly, Spike.” Penning his signature, the dragon rolled up the paper and held it in front of his mouth. Letting loose a light stream of green flame, he watched as the scroll disappeared into a puff of smoke and whisked away, off to parts only he knew about.

“You should ask him first,” Rarity said to her friend, unsure why she felt like doing the exact opposite of what she was saying.

“I-I-I think y-you should go first,” the yellow pegasus said softly. “H-he seemed to l-like you when he was younger, and I th-thought maybe that might p-play into him opening up to you if you asked.” Fluttershy had noticed just how enamored with Rarity the dragon had been when he was younger. It had been something of a harmless joke amongst her friends, them having all noticed it as well, but to Fluttershy, it was sweeter than it was sad. The little guy hadn't even known at the time just how far apart they all were from him in the political spectrum, but he hadn't cared. He had been their friend through thick and thin, and after all these years, he had finally returned to them, a changed dragon.

That crush was likely long gone, but the connection had been there, so perhaps they could use that to their advantage? No, that sounded terrible, like they were manipulative. Use it… to help? There, that would do.

“Fluttershy, that may be true, but I doubt that he would so readily spill his heart out to me on the matter, simply because of a childish crush all those years ago. I am certain he has grown out of it, and if he has not entirely, then using it to help him is our duty, as burdensome as it is.”

“Then, w-what are we going to do? I feel so ashamed of not being there to see him off all those years ago, but I don’t know h-how the others will ask him-,”

Rarity cut off the slightly rambling mare with a finger to her lips, silencing her from making a fool of herself. “Fluttershy, we’ve discussed this, more than once, I might add. Our friends will understand how we feel for Spike’s health and friendship, and they will ask in their own time. I already know Dash has, though the others will likely take longer. Spike will no doubt tell each of us something slightly different, but together, we will be able to piece together what happened to him, and from there, hopefully help him recover both his sense of self and our friendships.”

“I see,” the yellow mare replied.

Rarity continued. “Thankfully this trip is a lengthy one, or else it would take us much longer to even get Spike alone to talk with him. We want Spike to decide what to say to each of us, and we will honor his decisions, no matter how we feel on the matter.” It was almost as if Spike avoided them at times, but whether this was purposeful, or merely coincidental, none of them knew.

Author's Note

Yeah... Spike's really beefed up since he was younger, though it clearly didn't do him any good in chains. Just what is Sombra planning? What's all going to happen?

...like I'd tell you guys straight out! You'll just have to wait and see!

Betrayal of Confidence

Spike sat atop the crow’s nest, relieving the post of ship’s exhausted lookout. Alone for the first time in what felt like weeks, and was yet only a few days, Spike was glad to be up and out of the ship’s interior. Though he had no wings to experience such a feeling, he always had the distinct impression he was flying whenever he had been atop a crow’s nest. The wind rushing past his scales and filling his lungs, he gazed out over the ocean, the far-off storms on the horizon bringing no trouble to his mind.

However, storms much closer to home were brewing all around him, and for the life of him, the dragon was unsure of what to do. Well, he knew what to do, but not exactly how to do it. He had just been released from captivity, only to find himself tagging along ones he had considered friends, and to an extent, still did. Yet, now he was headed towards a horizon he had no idea he would, or could, reach. The troubles he’d heard rising all over the coast, both in cities and the surrounding areas, and the seeming increase in piracy, along with the potential of lasting peace talks with the changelings and their kingdom… he was going to be a part of that whether he wanted to or not.

The sheer possibilities flitting through his head of what could happen or what could go wrong were driving Spike mad. He had learned to be careful, considerate, and cunning over the years, but there had always been one aspect of life that he hadn’t mastered entirely, and that was learning how mares think. Sure, he could guess at points, but in this case... he knew he was bound to come across an obstacle he wasn’t prepared for. He didn’t like being unprepared; it gave him a sense of unease and vulnerability, something Spike had learned was readily exploited by others.

“So many secrets,” he whispered to himself, rubbing one of his eyes with a balled-up fist. He had been gone for years; the fact that his friends now had lives he knew next to nothing about, apart from what they had chosen to inform him of, was proof enough of that. His own life, filled with tragedy and triumph, loss and gain, deception and secrecy, was proof enough that he was no longer the same dragon the Elements of Harmony had known all those years ago. Even though he had told them much, Spike had barely scratched the surface on all of the things he had done; what he had been through, the ponies he had betrayed and the ponies he had murdered, often to save his own miserable hide in some arguably vague sense of self-defense. Dragons are far tougher than other beings, but in the end, with just a bit more effort than normal, they could die all the same.

His fear of death was equally matched by his desire to live, which had only grown stronger as he had grown older. He had been tempered in the fires of a harsh and often unforgiving life, emerging with a wrought-iron will and steadfast loyalty, but... sometimes the weight of it all just came crashing down on his shoulders when he least expected it, and he needed someplace to vent it all out. Perhaps that was why he liked being up in the crow’s nest so much.

Nopony could hear him cry up there.

“So many duties; so many plans,” he muttered to himself, willing his tears to leak out but not spill like a torrent. He had to keep so much bottled up inside, yet had to let some of it out every now and then, or else he might burst from it all. “Is this all really worth it? All these years; have they been spent in the best way possible, or have I wasted ultimately wasted a good portion of my young life for something I knew little about?” To anypony else, his words may have sounded like ramblings or even some attempt to confess, if only to himself, but Spike knew better than that. In all this rambling, he was still reassuring himself of what needed to be done, and why. It was all plainly obvious to him, even if the pain of it all truly felt like a scorching brand-mark upon his soul.

Luckily for him, dragons were born of fire, so the heat wasn’t so bad.

Wiping away the few tears rolling down his face, and controlling his breathing until his heart rate was back to its normal pace, the dragon looked out over the ocean and sighed. He’d been to Yankton once, what felt like ages ago; to be honest with himself, something he was trying to do more often, he was not looking forward to going back to that place. Nopony there knew him, likely not after so many years, but he knew of the kinds of folk that would frequent the harbor, and with all this unrest...

Perhaps the Broadside coming into port would light a hidden powder keg that could bring this simmering conflict to some unheard-of new level of discontent. He could only hope that would not be the case, and that their journey would not take them somewhere his friends would be in great peril. They were already likely facing enough danger as it was.

Meanwhile...

Queen Chrysalis walked quietly through her ship, the sounds of her hoofsteps making the occasional changeling look up from what they were doing, only for those same crewmates to immediately go back to their work. Several of the more veteran crew, upon the queen’s instruction, were following her closely, the sounds of the waves outside almost giving them a feeling of being in a moving but very dry cave.

Changeling ships were as dry as one might expect any other ship on the high seas to be, but the truth was that this dryness was all in part due to a special moss each ship had coating the spaces between boards. This special moss, found only on their home islands, grew very fast in the presence of excess water, to the point where it could solidly plug sudden holes should enough water, be it salt or fresh, came into contact with it. However, it needed an anchor point that was not vertical, so it could only grow in horizontal patches. This meant the ships did not have to worry about it growing out of control along the bottom or top of the ship. This also meant that if retreating from combat, any holes in the sides of the ships could be rapidly filled-in with the moss, sort of like a makeshift bandage for the ship until later repairs could fully fix the damage.

The ships themselves had copper bottoms, so as to not only increase speed but deal with the problem of barnacles growing on the hull, which would eventually eat their way through the wood and make the ship as watertight as a sieve. The masts were made of wood, as were any others, but the core of each had ribbons of steel magically inlaid, so as to strengthen the masts from high winds. All in all, combined with wheeled cannons and steel-plated hatches, ships in the changeling fleets were a bit more potent than anything they might come across.

“Your highness, we are very nearly half-way to our destination, though with that approaching storm, our arrival near North Yankton may be delayed slightly,” one of the changelings said, their queen’s silence putting them on edge. Chrysalis usually talked with her subjects, though much of the time it was either associated with their work or with reports she needed to go through. One wouldn’t think that bureaucracy was a thing in the changeling race, but it had been for countless generations, improving with each passing decade in some way or another. Surprisingly, it was almost completely devoid of any semblance of corruption, the closest example being higher-up bureaucrats getting family members into positions in some company or form of government, though they almost always started out at the lowest rung of the ladder. One did not advance far in changeling society without skill, merit or ambition. Working as a whole had long since weeded out most of the highly individualistic and selfish specimens from government, and had relegated them to jobs more befitting them; merchants and lawyers, for instance.

“Very good, though we may have to press on through the storm if our timing is to be accurate,” the queen said, opening a door to a room few had entered on the ship. Chrysalis did not keep many secrets from her crew, or her kind for that matter, and the few she did keep were respected by all who served her. Nopony among them, for instance, knew the exact father of her little filly, but there was a consensus among the crew as to the true identity of that particular male. Changelings weren’t born with scales and spines, after all, and they had only had one “passenger” who had any of those features. “I haven’t read this morning’s reports; how goes the constructions of the drydocks on the northern isles?”

“They are proceeding along schedule, though a sudden storm delayed construction for a few hours,” the changeling said in reply. “It should be done and ready to start building ships within two weeks. There was a bit of a problem of keeping the unfinished lumber dry, but it has since been resolved.”

“Excellent,” Chrysalis said as she closed the door behind them. The room was small, as one would expect on a ship, but it was large enough for them all to comfortably sit on a few large bags of grain. “What of the forts along the harbors? the last i checked, the coral collection processes had been faced with the problem of needing to go farther for more supplies.”

“Aside from the far northern fort, all have just been finished and are currently being fully stocked with cannons, ammunition and supplies,” a different changeling said. “The coral issue has been resolved, for the time being, by pouring excess nutrients on the old corals to promote rapid regrowth. We’ve also made preparations, should they fall into enemy hands, that the hidden powder kegs lining the underside be lit by a select few chosen for such a task.”

“Let us hope it does not come to that,” the queen said as she drew a small scroll from her pouch. “I also wish for the new lighthouses to be constructed as soon as possible. Our growing fleets will need beacons to find their way to these ports."

"It will be done, your majesty," the first changeling said. Their queen was truly an industrious one, if her style of governing and finance allotment was anything to go by.

The queen nodded, lighting a small lantern so they could all see one another. Changeling females more or less looked similar, though that was only at a passing glance. Looking closer, one could see so many differences, just like in other ponies. Taller, shorter, skinnier or not, with naturally exaggerated hips or chests where others had longer or shorter wings; they all varied in some way.

Perhaps it was just the ability of being able to change appearance that gave them the stigma of all looking the same. "As you all know, I’ve selected you for a very special mission, one I no doubt will come to pass far sooner than we’d like.” Chrysalis knew business was at hand; important business, and she could not afford for things to go south. So, out of all her hand-picked crew, she had chosen only the best and the ones with the greatest potential.

“What would you have us do, your highness?” the youngest changeling asked, her smaller stature betraying her age. Tabby, as was her name, was barely one year older than the minimum enlistment age, and was on this ship because she was unsuited to construction back in the home isles. Her small size gave her an advantage, however; she was quicker than most ponies would expect, and easily scrambled up and down the rigging of the Phantom as if she were part squirrel.

“You are to infiltrate this city and meet up with my contacts; I will give you their names and general locales beforehand,” Chrysalis said, pointing at the small map on the scroll. “You’ll be leaving within a few minutes, by way of a small but fast fishing vessel, and you’ll likely be in the city before the afternoon is over.”

“It will be difficult; security will be high after what else is bound to happen,” the eldest of the gathered crew said. A good ten years older than tabby, this one, called Bree, had the distinct air of one who was long used to dangerous assignments. She was, after all, one of the queen's oldest spies and had more experience than pretty much any of the others. “How will we know when to get into position? We could be found out at any moment, especially if we slip up in some way.”

“You will know when to act, and I trust you to remain discrete,” the queen said, pocketing the scroll once more. “I would not have chosen you for this mission if I did not think you stood a very high chance of succeeding. You are dismissed.” As they were leaving her, and almost as an afterthought, she added, “While there, try not to kill anypony. I’d prefer this mission to have as little bloodshed as possible, if only for future reference.”

Meanwhile...

As the day progressed, Spike continued to stay up in the crow’s nest, only accepting some relief in the form of some food whenever the captain felt like he would be hungry up there. After a while of softly singing to himself, Spike turned his head after hearing a fluttering noise, only to find Rainbow Dash hovering next to the crow’s nest.

“What is it, Dash?” he asked, looking away as she sat down on the nest’s railing.

“There’s somepony who wants to talk with you,” she said, casually flicking an errant bit of her mane out of her face. She looked better with her short mane down; of all of the Elements of Harmony, she perhaps had the shortest mane, and for some reason, it suited her just fine. Her parents, or her mother, to be precise, always wanted her to grow it longer; her father thought she should have her mane up any way she wanted.

“Which one?” Spike asked. He didn’t exactly want to come down from the crow’s nest, but he really didn’t want to put any of the mares in the dangerous position of having to climb up here. Dash was obviously confident enough to have flown up here, so who could it have been? Wait a minute... confidence... “Is it Fluttershy?”

“How’d you know?” the blue pegasus asked. "None of us told anypony else about what's going on, so it couldn't have been any of those sailors who brought you some food..."

“Call it a lucky guess,” the dragon said. “If she’s up to it, do you think you could sit up here with me? I'd prefer somewhere private to talk.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Rainbow Dash said, flying back down to the deck below. Alone once again for what would only be a short period of time, Spike took in a deep whiff of the salty ocean air. He belonged near the sea, but not of it; he had too many ties to land, and as much as he had grown to know and cherish the mighty waters, there was still that bit of mystery he was unwilling to try and explore.

He turned his head at the sound of two sets of fluttering wings, one sounding much more rushed and unsteady than the other. True to form, Fluttershy dropped herself as quickly as she could onto the crow’s nest, grateful to no longer be flying so high. The fact she was up so high was still at the forefront of her thoughts, but it was doing battle with some other thought.

“If you need me for anything, just give me a holler,” Rainbow Dash said, giving a mock salute before flying back down to the upper deck. She would have made a great sailor in another life, especially if certain sailors didn't feel uneasy about letting mares onto ships.

Spike looked at Fluttershy, who had apparently tried to do her mane up into some upper-class amalgamation of a beehive and a ponytail. With the wind unfurling some of the looser strands, it started to look a bit less ridiculous, and more towards her style. Her clothing was a simple dress, warm-looking since the ocean air here wasn’t getting any warmer the further north they traveled. As it was, it looked good on her, but then again, her parents always made sure her clothes were tailored to be the best fit for her, even more so than other parents might.

“So... Rainbow Dash said you wanted to talk to me about something,” he said, trying to keep his tone casual.

Fluttershy, for her part, did a very good job of keeping her eyes on his face, and not on his body, barely hidden under his clothes, strong but likely riddled with evidence of his hard life of captivity out here on the sea. “Oh, um, y-yes,” the pegasus said, wishing she had the same way with words Twilight did. She knew she was too easily flustered, even now, with years of diplomatic experience under her belt. “I-I wanted to t-talk to you a-about... stuff.”

“Stuff?” Spike asked, arching an eyebrow and letting a small tone of amusement enter his voice. Fluttershy was downright adorable when she was nervous, something he’d eventually have to tell her someday. “What kind of stuff?”

“Well, I... I... I don’t kn-know how to p-put it, but I... I’msorryforwhatyouwentthroughandifitsokayIwouldliketoknowwhathappened,” Fluttershy said, the part coming out all in a jumble.

“Sorry? I didn’t catch that last part,” Spike said..

“I... ‘m sorry for what... y-you went through, and I want... if it’s okay… I would like to know what happened,” the mare said, wishing her mane was down completely so she could hide behind it. There, she had confessed it: one more thing off her substantial chest and out in the open.

The small smile on Spike’s face disappeared. “Oh, that,” he said.

“Oh, you must think me horrid! We’re supposed to be friends, and we haven’t s-seen each other in s-such a long time, and now w-we’ve met again and I-I feel so guilty about it all, how we never wrote and-,”

“Hush,” Spike said, pressing his finger to her lips to silence the now-rambling pegasus. "Fluttershy, I’m not mad, but I do need you to understand something.”

“What is it?” she asked

“There is much I went through that I cannot, and will not, tell you, or any of the others,” Spike said. “I have my own reasons to do so, but even with that, I can see that my past few years has been bothering you.”

“It… it has. I just… it’s awful, Spike, to not know even a bit of what you went through, and it’s driving me up the walls!”

“Then please bear with me that I will, in time, tell you most of what happened,” Spike replied. “Only, for now, I will not tell it just to you. I will say what I can to assuage your fears and hurt, but you will have to be satisfied with that, okay?”

“Whatever you tell me will help,” the mare replied softly. “Even a little bit is better than not knowing and imagining the worst.”

Spike settled himself in, leaning against the mast. “It all started, I don’t know, maybe six months after I’d moved to Port Royal. When I got here, I only had what I’d brought with me, which wasn’t much. Growing up with Twilight had provided room and board, but I technically didn’t own anything under her care unless I earned money and spent it.”

Fluttershy nodded. All of Spike’s needs had been taken care of because of the stipends from the princesses to Twilight’s duke and duchess parents, respectively, but he’d likely been unable to access whatever funds he’d had in there before he was old enough. That was, at least, what she had heard from Twilight. Come to think of it, he’d likely been unable to get to those funds before his time in captivity.

Spike continued. “Eventually I found a little inn to sleep in, and what money I’d had on me went right to rent. For work, I unloaded cargo for a bit, and did odd jobs here or there for ponies needing an extra hand. Times were better then, more cargo coming in and out, so there was always work to be found. Helped that I was going through the first of my growth spurts, made it easier to clamber over the docks and sling ropes to tie up ships.”

He paused. “After that, I started working specifically for this one schooner captain, a grizzled old stallion. Captain Vette was a good if bit stingy captain, not giving out pay unless he was sure you’d not waste it all and come back looking for an advance. Many sailors do that, you know, so I guess he just didn’t want a young one like me taking up on the bad habits of the older ones. I think it was about now that I started sending Twilight letters on how I was.”

“Yes, I remember them, Twilight used to read those to us whenever we’d get together,” the yellow mare replied. “We would talk about you and what you were likely seeing, out there in Port Royal.”

“It certainly had the sights for a young dragon like me, especially back in those days,” Spike said with a small smile. “The naval museum, the old dockyards, some of the mansions and plantations that dotted the hills and outskirts, the beaches and cliffs around the area… it seemed a great place to live.”

His expression darkened slightly. “That was, if you tended to stay away from the poorer parts of the city. The slums were… well, I doubt they’ve improved, but they were likely not as bad as they are now.”

“What do you mean?” Fluttershy asked.

“When there is plenty of work, from ships coming and going, naturally, poorer folks will travel to find paying jobs. If the work is steady, they can make a living, and perhaps make enough for themselves to, say, buy plots of land further into the countryside and take up farming, or become part of some industry, like textiles or metalworking. In this way, they can leave the slums behind, and pick themselves up out of the poverty of their family was born into. However, if readily-available work falls by the wayside, then paying jobs are sparse, and the coin flows less freely. Getting out of the slums then isn’t possible for a lot of poor folk, and so they’re stuck, waiting for better.”

He sighed. “Whole generations can spend their lives working for whatever it takes to survive in those slums. It’s the same for any large city along the coast, or really any large city anywhere. The poor are downtrodden the most when trade and work is most scarce, and while they’ll always be there, at least in the good times they have the ability to leave it all behind.”

“So with the piracy of these days, and with both trade and thus prosperity being threatened…”

“The poor are suffering for it. Even the middling classes are feeling pains of it, and usually they can weather it far better than those struggling just to survive,” the dragon muttered. “That is why your mission from the princesses must succeed. I’ve been in those slums, often hanging out at night with some of the ponies I was working with on unloading Captain Vette’s schooner. It was decent then, but now… I fear for them.”

“The impressments have likely been an added source of trouble, according to Blueblood,” Fluttershy said. “There are roving groups of officials with soldiers “convincing” ponies to join the navy to protect the trade and lifelines of these coastal cities. I can see why it’s being done, and if piracy falls by the wayside, it will have been for it, but… can our cities and their citizens really take such another burden upon themselves, on top of everything else?”

Spike sighed. “I don’t know, ‘Shy, I don’t know. What I do know, was that I joined Vette’s schooner crew after one of the older sailors came down with severe scurvy, and had to be hospitalized. So, not only did I load and unload cargo, I started on as a cabin boy for the old captain.”

“You said he was tough but fair?”

“Yeah, he was, that old salty stallion,” Spike said. “I learned a lot from him when I was on board. Only sometimes… I wish I’d never taken the job, and been happy unloading cargo. Maybe then I might’ve gotten the chance to work in the navy dockyards, and then maybe enlist in the royal marines or something.”

“The military?”

“Yeah, pay would have suited my needs just fine, and maybe I could have risen through the ranks with my sets of skills I already had,” he said with a shrug. “But that’s in the past. All I know is that, we should have steered clear of that reef. Vette was a little ill at the time, and spent most time in his cabin. If he’d been out keeping an eye on things, then we wouldn’t have run aground like we did.”

“You were marooned?”

Spike snorted. “Yep. Tiny little speck of sand in the middle of a huge reef. Shore was miles off, and we had little food. Any plans were dashed by a sudden storm that turned our mostly-intact schooner into a pile of driftwood.”

“So then what happened?”

“One of the deck hands tried hoarding food and the arguments turned into an all-out brawl. Eventually things settled down, but we all went to our own little part of the island, if you could call it that. The deck hand convinced a few of the others to try and slap some of the wood together, held together by spits, prayers, and whatever rope they could find in the wreck. They set off the next morning.”

“And?”

Spike was quiet for a moment. “They didn’t make it.”

Fluttershy gasped, covering her mouth with one hand. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“Their deaths weren’t entirely in vain,” Spike continued. “A passing ship likely found their little wreckage and floating bodies. That’s what we believed, anyway, when we saw the ship appear on the horizon. We set a fire with some of the debris to flag it down, but now… maybe we should have taken our chances like the others had.”

“A pirate ship?” she asked.

“Aye, old Captain Bloodhoof, probably one of the last of the old breed of pirates that still go through these waters. From what I could gather, he’d been in Their Majesty’s Navy a long time ago, but turned to piracy because some of the more… genteel-minded members of the navy board didn’t want some upstart son of a blacksmith becoming an admiral, you see. He’d more than earned it, from the stories, but he’d stepped on one too many aristocratic hooves and was bound to pay the price. So, upon them attempting to arrest him while out at sea, on trumped up charges, he and his crew rebelled and turned pirate.”

“What was his ship?”

“It was originally called the Oathbound, but after his turn to piracy, he’d renamed it the Bloody Cutlass. A fitting name, don’t you think?” he asked with a snort. “One of the best captains they had, and the navy turned their back on him because he wasn’t some son of a noble.”

“The reforms of the princesses have all but stamped out the aristocratic favoritism in most of the navy,” Fluttershy said.

“The princesses put in those reforms directly because of Bloodhoof. His crimes were not many, mind you, though he made a name for himself targeting the ships belonging to the ponies who had betrayed him, or the companies which they owned.”

“So, did he force you on board?”

Spike shrugged. “Technically, yes, but if you’d ever met the old codger, he’d not have seen it that way. He offered us board on his ship on the oath that we’d not attempt to escape or try and start a mutiny. That, or we could stay on our island, and wait for the next ship to pass by and pick us up instead.”

“So you joined his crew?”

“Unwillingly, yes, and at the bottom of the rung, so to speak,” Spike said. “Despite everyone supposing to be equal on board the ship, there’s still a hierarchy, and I was the lowest of the low. Turns out not a lot of ponies have seen dragons, and only have some… misguided stories to go on.”

“Was it hard?”

“Hard is a light way of describing it, yes. The shittiest jobs were delegated to me, and by “delegated”, I mean dumped onto me whenever the captain wasn’t looking. Bloodhoof was a good captain, though he spit tobacco everywhere, and often would make one of us drop and clean it, just to see if we were paying attention. He took no delight in grueling labors, feeding us better than most might have, but more often than not we’d have to barter with fishing trawlers for anything they’d managed to catch.”

Spike chuckled. “That was part of his robber baron mystique, I suppose. He dressed the part of a captain, or even an admiral, with plain but very fine clothes, and for an old stallion kept himself in remarkably good shape, not going soft like so many others. He’d rob from the rich, often outnumbered and yet was able to absolutely humiliate his opponents. From the coffers of the haughty aristocracy he’d buy supplies for his ship directly from some of the poorer folks along the coast, always somehow staying one or three hoofsteps ahead of local pirate hunters. Most kids in the small seaside villages we’d make port in for a night or two always came out to see him. To them, with lives that seemed boring and with souls thirsting for adventure, he seemed larger than life, like an old hero from the stories their grandparents might tell; a stallion robbing the rich to feed the poor, and an honorable duelist more skilled than any that sailed the seas at the time.”

Spike sighed. “He died during a stormy night, far out to sea. His last wish was to return home, and under the cover of another storm, we arrived in a small, out of the way seaside village. It must have been fairly run down once, but he must have given every piece of gold he’d had to it, for it was a cozy one, with proper buildings and docks, with room to grow in the future. His family was there, and though he’d seen little of his many children, they had buried him as they would any member of their community, with solemn respect and dignity.”

“It was afterwards, then, that I tried to escape. His first mate, however… had other plans.”

“What do you mean?”

“Bloodhoof had promised freedom from his ship upon his death. He thought that serving under him was our sentence for his generosity, and in a twisted way, I guess it was. What was the price of someone’s life when you’d rescued them from certain death?” Spike shook his head. “The rest of the crew had agreed to it, the majority of them having been rescues themselves who had decided to stay on anyway. For a few, however…”

“The first mate?”

“He hadn’t been on long, and while he’d been loyal, there was always something about him that was just… off. He had a hankering for gold, more than the others, and immediately saw my worth. Why, a dragon of all things, that had served and possibly learned skills from the legendary Bloodhoof? There was a pretty penny to be made selling me to the highest bidder.”

“Sold?” the yellow mare asked, eyes growing even larger in shock. Slavery was known in other parts of the world, but to be this close to home, where it was so vehemently outlawed… it wasn’t something she’d considered possible.

“Yep,” Spike muttered, as her shock grew more apparent. “He took me to the Isles of Flesh.”

With a surprised squeak, Fluttershy fainted into his arms. He stopped, holding her so she wouldn’t fall.

The mention of that horrible place must have been a bit too much for somepony with as tender sensibilities as her; perhaps another time, then.

Meanwhile...

Geralt was bored, though not from lack of things to do. With the disappearance of so many ponies the few nights before, he had had to lay low for a while, doing covert things such as eavesdropping, bribing and pickpocketing just to keep himself occupied. Port Royal was a growing city, and even amidst the seemingly unconnected deaths of several of its more prominent and well-connected citizens, the aura of concern covering the city would soon fade away, until it was nothing more than a mere afterthought.

Blueblood had once given him the “important” task of tracking down bankers who dealt with pirate money. Technically, they were doing nothing illegal by it, so long as income taxes were paid and the bankers donated a bit here and there to charitable purposes. It hadn’t taken the white pony long to ensure that any and all bankers dabbling with pirate coin also donated a good portion of the interest to the taxes paying for defense upkeep, ship repairs and troops wages. Fighting the pirates with their own money; rather clever, Geralt had to admit.

However, that day he was on one very special assignment, one he wasn’t exactly thrilled to undertake. Blueblood was meeting with some of the lumber suppliers outside of the city, further in the countryside, and so had given Geralt the task of looking over the newest batch of recruits for the fort. To be honest, it would likely be a very boring job, but luckily for him, he had been given a false identity as a high-level inspector from the government. He actually was, if anypony looked close enough, all courtesy of Blueblood’s machinations, but he liked the feeling of possibly being discovered as being false. It gave the job an air of danger and excitement.

Striding through the fort’s doors after a quick conversation with the guards, Geralt slowly made his way to the outer ramparts, where the freshest batch of recruits were waiting under the watchful eye of the fort’s captain. His own clothing mirrored the captain's, though his own hat had two white feathers tucked into it to symbolize his lofty title. that, and the coat he wore was fashionable, but at the same time thin, so as not to have him overheat. His knee-high boots clicked loudly on the stone and mortar of the fort below him.

The fort itself had high, sloped walls, but was nothing like a fortress of more medieval times. The fort was the only thing protecting the city from the ocean's many dangers, as it was difficult to build and maintain city walls, especially when said city grew too large for the walls to contain. So, naturally, forts were built around the city to help defend it, and city planners turned to making cities themselves highly defensible, with grid pattern streets and buildings with tunnels beneath so as to make defending forces traveling in secret that much easier. The cannons that lined the forts had crossing fields of fire, so as to prevent there from being a weak point in the defense.

Walking up to the captain with a false air of superiority, Geralt removed his hat and slicked back a bit of his mane. “A fine day, is it not, captain?” he asked.

The captain quickly saluted before returning to a more relaxed stance. “It is good to have you here, sir; I was just finishing getting all of the recruit’s names. it pays to address them by their names, and not just their ranks.”

“I won’t need to know that, thank you, though I would like to see what our recruiters have gotten for us,” the spy said. “Are these all locals?” Many appeared to have grown up along the docks, though a few seemed a bit out of place.

“Most are, though a few of the larger ones are from further inland,” the captain said as the pair strode up and down the line. “Better fed out in the farmlands, you see; didn’t grow up in a place as cramped as a city, either.” in the countryside, you had to be big to work the fields and do so much manual labor; that, and farmhouses were usually big enough for large families meant they didn't live in cramped conditions.

“Yes, well, they’ll make good at grenadier training; only the biggest and strongest of soldiers can haul and throw our grenades. Tell me, what of that small one over there?”

“That’s William; he’s only been living here a few months. Moved down from North Yankton, you see, after a fire destroyed his home. I heard about that fire; luckily nopony was killed.”

Fires in cities, especially near the slums, were always dangerous, usually deadly as well. The sheer luck that everypony had managed to get out before local weatherponies had managed to build a raincloud big enough to douse it was all but a miracle to most.

“Yes, indeed,” Geralt said. Walking over to William, who was indeed a good deal shorter than all the ponies around him, Geralt looked down on him. “So, William, I hear you are from North Yankton originally.”

“Sir, yes sir,” the young pony replied.

“Have you ever been to the Withering Heights portion of the city?” Geralt asked. He of course, having been there himself, knew that there was no Withering Heights, but Weathering Heights. It was a trick question, just to make this young recruit squirm.

“Sir, there is no Withering Heights in North Yankton, sir,” the recruit said, a small bead of sweat forming on his brow. While normally this could have been associated with stress or worry, Geralt knew it was likely the uniforms. They didn’t breathe well and almost gave the troops an appearance of being slightly large in the chest and rump, almost like a mare. They were undoubtedly uncomfortable in the things, but they did look nice, and to many, that was all that mattered.

“An excellent answer, soldier,” the spy replied. “Tell me, where do you see yourself in a few years?”

“Sir, I hope to serve Their Majesty’s armed forces until I am no longer needed, sir,” William replied. “Sir, then I wish to start a family and raise my foals on the same duties and principles I was, sir.”

“Ah, an ambitious yet humble soldier; I like you,” Geralt said, giving him an honorary bow. “You’ll likely make captain one day, William, with an attitude like that.”

“Sir, thank you, sir.” William's salute was sincere and professional, something one so young usually might not have known how to do. Geralt thought nothing of it; he was just better trained than one might have expected was all.

“Recruits, dismissed!” the captain called out, watching as the lines of soldiers left for the barracks. “So, inspector, what do you think of our fresh batch?”

“I think they’ll do just fine, so long as we aren’t attacked by some foolish pirates,” Geralt replied as the pair walked to the ramparts. “Tell me, just how have we been recruiting in Port Royal? I know there’s been some discontent among the lower classes with the level of impressment in some of the other cities for the navy.”

“Here we put up bulletins and hire town criers, calling for young stallions looking to not only make some money, but have the honor and privilege of serving under the banner of Their Majesty’s armed forces,” the captain said. “So far, we’ve had almost no discontent, seeing as how the soldiers are free to move about the city in which they are from, and even have something akin to shore-leave every other weekend. Most have families in the city, you see, and would hate to be parted from them, like those in the navy are.”

“Ah, I see,” Geralt said. “Is there any friction between the respective branches of the navy and army?”

“Somewhat, though it has less to do with pay, as some might expect, and more to do with labor,” the captain said simply, wiping a small bead of sweat from his brow. "Sailors complain land forces do less work for the pay they receive, and soldiers call sailors a bunch of ill-mannered louts, if you will. I've always believed that cooperation amongst the armed forces is key, but some admirals and generals just don't see eye to eye, and those disagreements tend to work their way down through the ranks."

"Indeed," Geralt replied. "Now, these recruits, I have a few ideas on how to test their mettle..."

Behind them, William was walking past when he heard them mutter something about "sending out patrols”. Patrols were often an excuse for new ponies to test their mettle of working under less-than-favorable conditions outside of the fort. Sometimes they’d be alone for hours at a time, with their only company those whose assignment they shared.

The briefest shimmer of green crossed over William's eyes before he continued on to his post.

Author's Note

Hmm... the plot thickens, no pun intended. Where shall all of this planning end up? You don't know yet, but you will in time!

Edge of Yankton

It was hard to believe a week had passed, but then, to Spike, with years on the water under his belt, it was the barest blink of an eye. The seas were easily manageable, the skies were not yet completely filled with clouds, and the warm breeze that fluttered their sails carried with it the smell of not-too-distant rain, the storm that had been brewing many days before missing them only by a few hours.

Spike yawned from his seat at the bow of the ship, legs dangling over the side as he felt the breeze wash over him. Moving about the ship had given him an innate sense of the ship and her capabilities, and to be honest, he had to say he was impressed. She rode quickly through the waves, yet seemed unimpeded when turning, and though he’d stayed far from the cannon decks, he had a feeling the firepower aboard this ship was greater than what he could see.

Which begged the question, where had Blueblood come up with a ship like this? It seemed far too fast for its size, and yet despite what he guessed to be a larger than average amount of firepower, it likely had a sizable cargo hold. Yet it was given to be the ferry that would deliver his friends to the Changeling Islands, and hopefully, be the vessel that would carry the full ceasefire terms between the changelings and Equestria. Such a ship was more in line with one dedicated to carrying troops and war across the seas, or at least, it was a smaller version of such a ship.

Yet the questions the ship raised for Spike were drowned out by the simmering anger he could feel radiate from the crew. He knew these kinds of ponies. They’d worked on the seas for a long time, knew how to read her, and in turn, depended on moving from port to port, city to city, making money when they could doing whatever they could. Serving on a ship was never easy, as it was a combination of a caravan, a house, a carriage and a warehouse all rolled into one, floating on the sea. All of the tasks that went with such singular entities were the same for on the ship, even more in some cases.

As such, the feeling of unease and anger amongst the crew was all too troubling. Yankton was never a “nice” place, but it usually had been a good place, at least. Sure, there were fights, and squalor in many a place, but it’d been manageable, controlled to a degree, usually whenever times were good and the city could afford to both propose and enact reforms.

Nowadays, it seemed, the city could only enforce what already was, and was slowly slipping away, further into darkness. It was a darkness that seemed to be slowly oozing out of everywhere, like oil from the cracks in a barrel, dripping and splattering across the fabric of society up and down the coast.

Yet the news he had heard from the crew was not good. Yankton was not only falling on hard times, as many places were, but the citizens were growing further and further apart from one another. Gangs were springing up that would never have been allowed years ago, often controlling entire districts. Turf wars were so far bloodless other than the odd death, but as things grew worse, it was only a matter of time before these turf wars turned truly bloody. Gangs like these, they fought over scraps, and would not care who got in the way.

Was this ship sailing right into a trap?

“Spike?”

He turned to see Twilight and Rarity waiting for him, Rarity seating herself on a large crate, placing a pillow down first.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Are… you okay?” Twilight asked.

“Why do you ask?”

“You haven’t really spoken with us since you told Fluttershy of your… beginnings as a captive,” Rarity said. “You’ve been with us all this week, yet you still keep to yourself, even after promises of the opposite. Would it be wrong to ask why?”

“I don’t know,” Spike said with a shrug. “I just didn’t feel like telling her more than what I had so far. She didn’t take some of it so well, so I thought to let her get used to the idea of it first. It's so much to give out to you all, it gets hard sometimes to remember it all without just breaking down.” that much was true, as Spike's memory had been sharpened like a fine knife, to where recalling a memory was child's play. it also meant anything he'd felt then, rage, regret, pain or nausea... it all came back as well.

“Understandable,” Twilight said. “It’d be traumatizing for Fluttershy to hear of the Isle of Flesh so soon after finding out all you’d gone through up to that point. Information overload, I believe, though learning some of what you’d told her through our knowledge would definitely help bring her to terms with everything. I imagine it'd even be worse for you, thinking about everything. Years to recall, to tell about in mere hours; condensing trauma into such a small time is no doubt hard on you.”

“Something like that, maybe,” Spike said. “It’s just… I don’t know, I feel something else, about Yankton, about this journey.”

“Such as?” Rarity asked as she fiddled with the twirl of her mane.

“Like something bad is on the horizon,” the dragon replied. “Yankton is simmering right now, in a way that I’ve never heard of before. If we show up there, it could be just what is needed to set things off. But it's not just Yankton, though it all just seems to start there.”

“Set things off?” Twilight shook her head. “Things aren’t quite that bad, Spike. They aren’t good, to be sure, but I’m certain we’ll find a way to set things right. Yankton is a troubled city, to be sure, but that’s part of the reason we’re on this mission, isn’t it? We’re here to put a stop to the piracy that is plaguing the cities that depend on shipping and overseas commerce the most. Yankton is one of these, and surely whatever we can do will help matters.”

“Agreed,” Rarity said. “As a secondary task passed down by the princesses, apart from gathering intelligence and more supplies, our stop in Yankton is primarily to get a handle of the situation, and if possible, meet with those in charge of the city, be they political or business leaders, especially whatever members of the city council we are able to convene with. From there, I’m sure we can figure out a solution that will help the city hold over until negotiations have been met, and this piracy plague put to rest for good. The entire coastline is feeling the ills of the practice, not just Yankton. There is more at stake than just one city, and we'll find a solution, we always do.”

Spike wanted to argue with their optimism, but it’d been some time since he’d heard something that sounded so… nice. So, he said nothing, and merely nodded. After all, maybe he was just expecting the worst. The life he’d lived had made it somewhat impossible to do otherwise.

The port of Yankton was not a very old one when compared to others along the coast. It’d been the docks of a small fishing village a mere century before, like any other north of Port Royal, but after the village patriarchs discovered rich veins of silver within nearby mountains, it’d quickly grown as countless citizens moved into the area to seek their fortunes. As the city grew, so too did its influence, and as the silver began to run out, the ruling families had decided to invest their livelihoods into shipping and trade.

As fortune favored the bold, those that immediately went into trade prospered, while those that did not, well… nobody knew if those lines had died out or not, but then again, none of the upper crust cared for their fallen competitors, except in how they could compare and lift themselves above those less fortunate ones. Family lines died out all the time in larger cities like this, dynasties rising and falling with the whims of war and trade as easily as nations and empires themselves did, though somehow with a bit more backstabbing than usual, it would seem. Silver after all had built Yankton up from a mere speck on a local map into a powerful town, but trade had made it strong, had made it grow well beyond what its far-sighted founders had envisioned for it, and many that called Yankton home grew very, very rich from that trade.

Nearby green valleys teemed with sheep whose wool was some of the finest in the kingdom, and desired all across the globe for everything from the latest fashions to the simplest of robes for travelling monks. Icy cold rich rivers, full of fish and eels, were caught, salted and sold to griffin princes and other nobility many leagues to the south. The mountains, into which the uppermost crust of the city spread into, were filled with coal and iron, ideal materials for trade, for building ships, and for creating the railroads, many of which wound their way out of the city's outskirts and into the countryside, like winding snakes of steel and smoke. The vast swaths of forests in the hills outside the city supplied timber for trade and for homes, for ship building and dock renovations, while the forests themselves provided fruits, nuts, berries and all manner of forage-ready goods to be bought or sold.

All in all, a city with such a wealth of resources and available labor should have been absolutely thriving.

Yet, as their ship drew into the docks, it became clear to Spike that it was not. With how sprawling it was, Yankton had developed more districts than some port cities had docks. Everything was built upon everything, with layers upon layers of buildings sprouting up and nestling against one another in tightly packed clusters. Whatever streets that were not purposefully kept wide and clear were so narrow and congested with lean-tos, makeshift shops and groups of beggars, that one would think them to be an alleyway, and not the main route through that district.

The ship sailed past several other, smaller ships, bristling with cannons and guarded by a wide berth of the city’s militia. These ships were pirate hunters, not trading vessels, and it showed, for some were battle-scarred and riddled with holes, some of which were being patched up by dock workers as they passed by.

Their own dock was cordoned off as well by a gate and wall of thick wooden posts, manned by a good number of soldiers wielding both sword and musket. A pair of watchtowers flanked the gates, with no less than three soldiers per station, and from the look of things, the area immediately in front of the gate had been cleared all the way to the nearest city street, with not a soul in sight that was not a soldier. Such security was to be expected for delegates as important and influential as his friends, but to Spike, this overt display of force made him… uneasy. How many of these soldiers were fresh-faced recruits? How depleted were the nearby coastal forts that served as the protection for this city? How bad had things gotten in Yankton for this amount of security to no longer be a courtesy, but a necessity?

“Spike, come on, we’re unloading,” Dash said.

“All right.”

The streets of Yankton were paved with silver, many a tale had said. To an extent, that was true. The cobblestone that lined the proper streets had been paid with the last of the silver from the mines before the veins had dried up. They bore a silvery sheen to them, even when dry, likely enchanted against rain and the constant travel across them throughout the day.

The silver had not, however, made the rest of the city as such. Every road that was not one of the few main roads was narrow, overshadowed by buildings built so close that many connected in impromptu arches. While some were clearly of actual design, many were haphazard, thrown together to try and create an aesthetic that would have been pleasing to look at, were it not shoddy and likely dangerous.

Everypony that lined the streets seemed just like the buildings. Many were packed closely together, likely families or, judging from certain symbols or styles of clothing, members of some sort of gang. Many were filthy, their gazes downcast and their looks grim. What must have been a bright and cheery people in the days of plenty and prosperity had been exchanged for unhappy, sick, poor wretches. The ponies that seemed better off lined not the street, but the upper levels of many a house, looking down from ledges and open windows with pity and revulsion.

Rarity sidled up next to Applejack as their troupe was carried through the streets by a trio of carriages, flanked on all sides by armed guards.

“Did you think things would have become this bad?” she asked her friend.

“I reckon not, but them pirates have nearly brought this city ta it’s knees,” Applejack replied. “Come ta think of it, Blueblood told us Yankton’s been one of the more troublesome cities because of the piracy. Trade’s the lifeblood of these folk, either outta pocket or from the work it provides.”

“My parents have been investing in some of the more profitable ventures within the area, the city included,” Rarity whispered. “Yet I’m worried they’ll withdraw before this pirate mess can be dealt with accordingly. Many families depend on those businesses to keep them fed. I shudder to think what would happen if they were to close down.”

“Nothin’ good, I tells ya,” her friend replied. “My family’s been sellin’ food here at lower rates than anywhere else, just ta help out, and ponies are still goin’ hungry. Somethin’ ain’t right, I tell ya. Ponies here outta be able ta pay fer their food at the prices pa charges and still have a bunch left over, yet half these ponies look weak from hunger!”

“The guards and troops patrolling the streets look well fed,” the unicorn replied as a column marched past, normally bright uniforms tinged with dust and dirt from the foul streets. Indeed, they all appeared strapping and in good health, if a bit haggard and tired in appearance.

“If Blueblood’s been raidin’ the food stores ta feed his soldiers, or them city leaders been doin’ the same…” Applejack muttered, cracking her knuckles in displeasure.

“Come now, Applejack, the prince may be many things, but to stoop so low is something I doubt even he would dream of,” Rarity replied, turning her nose up at his name. “It reeks of corruption and incompetence, and despite what I would normally believe, all evidence points to him being a competent, if rather rude fellow. He would not have secured all of his titles and responsibilities were it not for that, for Celestia does not employ fools.”

“Tell ya what, before we get ta blamin’, let’s see what we can do here,” Applejack agreed. “She sent us here ta help, so that’s what we’re gonna try and do. First things first, when we get ta where we’ll be stayin’, we gotta talk with the others. All of our families’ have stuffed at stake in cities like Yankton and beyond, so I reckon we should be able ta help out somewhere down the line. Fluttershy’s parents practically run all industry outta the Royal Bureau of Land Development, city-wise or not, and Pinkie’s family runs any mine they own like well-oiled machines.”

“Twilight’s family takes care of all the historical and bureaucratic paperwork that flows through the capital, and Dash’s parents oversee the hiring of the Royal Air Force and Army. With all of us working together, and working towards a solution, I’m certain we’d be able to help convince the city’s leaders of the importance of getting Yankton back on its feet. If ponies become so poor that they cannot leave, the who is to say they won’t riot or revolt?”

Never having been in one herself, Applejack had heard stories from her parents of revolts in the past. Miners challenging their owners to form unions, farmers not planting until they’d be assured a good rain season from the Air Force, lack of food making cities practically turn into cesspits of thievery and murder… there were countless instances in the past fifty years to draw from.

Which one would Yankton take, if it were to come to that?

Mathilda was a quick pony. She had to be, to survive her frequent tasks among Yankton’s many dark back alleys and cramped winding streets. Getting wind of news or events before they became common knowledge was vital to the continued wealth of her employer.

Councilman Landon was an important pony in the city. He was, first and foremost, a descendant of one of the original patriarch of the fishing village that had found the silver in the mountains. His wealth was tied to the city right and proper, as his ancestors had been among the first to invest heavily in building and maintaining trade within Yankton.

He also oversaw much of the goings-on of whoever entered or left the city. Many ponies knew him by the fact that he gave out permits for building new residences like they were candy, but would not budge to upgrade those same buildings with whatever amenities were needed after construction, often citing safety concerns. He’d gladly accept the poor and huddled masses into the portions of the city his family owned, citing charity and goodwill, yet would do little to increase their standard of living beyond what they were already experiencing. Certainly, he might try and spin things in his favor by drilling a new well or clearing a street or two, but those were few and far between.

He knew how to play the crowds whilst doing nothing for them. He bore no ill will to them, from what she could understand, but only did so because he cared only for his family, and for the city that brought him wealth and prestige. If his family and thus the city did better because he raised the standards without sacrificing too much wealth, then he would do it.

Such accomplishments were few and far between among most other city leaders.

So, despite his apparent indifference and unwillingness to continually improve the lives of Yankton’s downtrodden, he somehow still did more than most might.

Mostly, what he did otherwise, was to use knowledge for the benefit of his family and the city. He relied on accurate and up-to-date information, such as, the most recent and possibly important arrivals to the city proper in quite some time. Being one of the first to know of their arrival, a good day ahead of schedule, would earn her more money than she’d otherwise see in a month in another job.

Anything to keep her nieces fed. Some may have been near her own age, so sudden and unexpected she was to her own parents, but that didn’t stop her from looking after them. They needed all the help they could get down near the docks, where the riches should flow but only misery and crushing despair were in plentiful supply these days.

She pushed those thoughts from her mind as she darted across the rooftops. The streets, even cleared, were far too narrow, far too filled with those who could get in her way or slow her down for their own reasons. Friends, rivals, even an ex-lover or two, they could all make her pause, and thus be too slow to be of use. Yet, be it day or even worse, night, with the roving gangs… the rooftops were by far safer, though their risk was apparent as well. Hurtling over a smoke-filled gap between two alleys, she came to the base of the largest outcropping of buildings in the entire city.

Weathering Heights was the central location in a vast portion of the city where many of the middle class dwelled. Their shops, markets, homes and warehouses were far less cramped than near the docks, and gave the impression of a respectable, if somewhat dry, upland portion of a working seaside city. Yet, it was often cut off from the less desirable elements of Yankton, so many of the ponies there felt little discontent from the goings-on of the dockmasters and shipyards. They were more concerned with whatever trade and goods flowed into the city by land, and as such, built their wealth where they lived, rarely venturing outside save to the upper portions, where their wares were sought by the richer denizens.

Yet Weathering Heights paled in comparison to the magnitude of buildings before her.

Officially labeled as Seaside Heights on the city maps, the residents knew it as Cliffside, and it was apt. Seeing as the city had grown out and towards the sea, after a century of building, it would only make sense for certain buildings to be placed in more and more confined areas. If they could not go in one direction, they would undoubtedly go in another. Zoning and ordinance laws were far more lenient for those who had the coin to spend and the magical abilities to back it up. So, if someone wanted to build a monstrous assortment of towers and housing in a veritable cliff face rising to the very highest echelons of the city’s richest districts, to both extend said districts further out and make more living area for tenants, and had the money and magic to do it, then why shouldn’t they?

Blowing a small strand of her errant red mane out of her face, Mathilda rushed up to the lowest ledge and with a leap began her ascent. Luckily for her, she’d clambered up this amalgamation of buildings many times in her much younger days and knew practically every handhold available.

It was doing so one day that brought her to Councilman Landon’s attention in the first place. He owned this veritable vertical district, filled with all kinds of shopkeepers, artisans, merchants and even a few guild headquarters. After all, what were the odds he didn’t? He’d told her he’d normally have had such a scruffy, ill-mannered beggar thrown in prison for a week for daring to climb it.

Yet he’d seen in her something useful, even told her so, and the chance at good, reliable money had been too good to pass up: thus, she’d taken him up on his offer.

One of the poorest families in the city, and one of the richest, directly dependent upon one another, one for reliable and current information that kept them ahead in the political and social games, the other for coin that kept food on the table and bought warmth during the colder months.

Ironic.

She shook her head as she continued to climb, through a lattice work of seemingly out of place railings, handles, ropes and platforms jutting or hanging from the sides of the buildings.

The quiet scuffling of papers and the scratching of a long quill were the only noticeable sounds in the study. Overlooking the sea, as well as a fair portion of Yankton, it was a quiet place, the windows closed for once to escape the heat radiating from the sun. The only door leading from the room was flanked by a pair of busts, statues of ponies long dead, for nearly a century in fact, yet their chiseled stony faces seemed just as lifelike as when they had been carved.

Silver had paid for them. Silver had paid for most of the building the study was connected to, as well as the legacy of the family that dwelled within it.

The only occupant, flanked by a pair of bookstands filled with historical, political and economic theory and information, slouched slightly over his desk.

Councilman Landon was always a busy pony, even when it seemed he wasn’t. This was a self-imposed break from the stress and constant workload of securing his family’s future. It was a rush of politics and economic gambling that he lived for, but every now and then, for both his sanity and his health, he needed a break.

Where other pones might go and take a trip to a relaxing villa chateau in the mountains, or a seaside vacation along a tropical beach, he retreated to his study. He did not care that some ponies asked why, nor did he care that few believed him when he said it helped him to relax.

This was often where he’d sit and read while father worked, the comfortable silence a reassuring one. Where many of the other colts would go out to roughhouse in the streets, playing ball or getting into antics by climbing a building they shouldn’t, he’d be here instead, learning by his father’s knee of the family business and how to keep it running.

His father had not said many words to him in his life, and every word from him had been taken to heart gladly. Whether it was from his days spent overseeing a coal mine that corrupted his vocal chords to the point that not even magic could fix it, or the fact that he was likely just a stallion of few words, nobody had ever known other than Landon’s own mother.

Speaking of which, he should send her a bouquet, her birthday was coming up soon and she’d likely swing by for a visit. “Lilies of the Valley, she always liked those,” he muttered, making a notation on a small pad beside him. Normally it’d be filled with what some might have called incomprehensible gibberish, but he knew what he meant by what he wrote. If others could not, then too bad.

His study, the study of his father and grandfather before him, as well as every male head of the household leading back to its very construction, was a bit like himself. To many other eyes, it would seem rather ordinary, perfectly suited for his tasks.

Landon was a stallion at war, and this was is headquarters.

Specifically, he was at war with the poverty in his city.

His runner Mathilda was evidence enough of that. Just her, with the money she earned, was lifting more than three families out of squalor, and without a bit of it being charity. It was pay, pure and simple, and what she did with it was her own business. Luckily, his investment in her had been a wise one, and instead of hoarding it to herself or spending it on frivolous trinkets, she helped feed her family on top of whatever they made.

He kept tabs on them from time to time, and was surprised to learn how many were actually going to finish primary school. From what he understood, very few had before he entered the picture, albeit subtly.

The poverty in the city was growing at an alarming rate. His decisions to let poor into his districts, to build them housing and yet seemingly turn a blind eye to their later woes was not at all what it appeared. Yes, he did not wish to develop the infrastructure in so crowded an area. If he did, then none of the ponies would be encouraged to work hard enough to escape their squalor. If they did not rise above their station, then any improvements he made would only encourage them to stay.

Instead, he catered to the needs in the growing districts, where many of the city’s formerly poor would move once they’d found work that paid them enough to live there. He’d talked with most of the craftsmen and construction overseers on the hiring of those looking to leave their stations, but it only went so far. Everything else he footed whenever he could, be it new wells for drinking water, larger buildings designed to hold families, expanded roads into the city from undeveloped areas to allow for greater flow of goods, schools for the children of ponies who needed to learn how to read and write just as much as their children did… he did so much, yet from behind closed doors.

Many might call him a penny-pincher for not wanting to spend so much in the areas where the poor already dwelled, but he never saw any of them build or finance hospitals, or supply the soup kitchens, or distribute blankets and medicine for those too poor to afford such lofty care. He did this out of the goodness of his heart, but were it not for a shrewd business sense, he’d have gone bankrupt trying to save as many as he could. His family came first, and then the city, but the poor and the destitute…

His family had been that, once, a very long time ago. He did not wish that sort of life on anypony, and would do what he could, when he could, but never at the expense of his family or the city of Yankton itself.

As it was, there was an unhealthy amount of ponies gathering in the poorer sections of Yankton. Half the time Landon wondered where they came from. The countryside was brimming with full farms and overflowing in production, but the pay was not the greatest. So, many a young and single pony, from mountain hamlets and valley cottages to coastal fishing villages and forested cabins, flocked to the cities looking for work, often owning only what they carried.

It did not sit well with him the business of piracy was turning this once great city into one of squalid streets and debauched citizens. The poor would always exist, he accepted this long ago when his father had first shown him the poorer sections he now oversaw, but things were getting worse. Looser morals amongst the populace were leading to fewer and fewer crimes being reported while more were likely being committed, to say nothing of reliable witnesses coming forward or even being found. It was almost as if everypony was keeping their trap shut or somehow immediately forgetting anything illegal they’d seen.

Yet there was more to it than just that. Landon knew shadowy forces were at work in his city, the likes of which he’d never heard of before. Gangs had always been a thing in the larger cities, and Yankton was no exception. Yet… the turf wars were on the downswing. Gangs that would have gladly clobbered one another a few years ago were often seen acknowledging one another and sticking to their own business, often clearly defining their territories in ways that somehow did not violate any city ordinance or law.

That alone gave him a great deal of suspicion. Any chance to expand territory was taken, with great gusto and planning, or at least, it had been.

To add to his suspicion, occasionally, ponies would disappear or wind up dead that were influential among the lower classes; dockmasters, fishing captains, craftsmen, lower-end bankers and even sailors. Those that disappeared were never seen again, as if they had simply vanished into thin air. The ones that did die, however, were often replaced by perfectly respectable ponies that, for some reason, Landon did not trust.

There was just something… wrong with them. They had clean backgrounds, almost too clean in some cases, as he always checked on those sorts of things. The problem was that many came from backgrounds or with skills that had little to do with their current positions, such as a pearl diver becoming a blacksmith and being fairly good at it, or a former fisher going into carpentry. Yet, they not only performed admirably at their newfound positions, many were succeeding in endeavors at a far greater pace or rate of success than they logically should have.

He could have just been imagining things, but something was afoot in Yankton, and from his correspondences in other cities, Port Royal included, much of the same was occurring. Ponies from all walks of the lower and even middle classes were disappearing or, in cases, winding up mysteriously dead. Many deaths were ruled as accidental homicides, likely the cause of drunken fights or muggings gone bad or debts being repaid, but even so…

There was a pattern here that Landon could not see yet knew was there. He only hoped when he found it, that only the right ponies would find out that he had. If there was something sinister going on, then his life would be in danger, and the lives of his family, should he delve too deep, or discover the truth.

He would have to get them out of the city, send them into hiding, if such a terrible conspiracy was indeed unmasked. The capital… Canterlot would be a haven for them, he was sure of it. His correspondences there would undoubtedly take them in if the worst happened to him.

There was a knock at his door. He looked up, his glasses set loosely at the end of his snout.

“Come in,” he called.

A butler graciously opened the door, and with as much grace and dignity as she could muster between panting breaths, Mathilda strode in.

“Councilman Landon,” she said with a polite bow.

“Mathilda, my dear,” he said, setting down his quill and straightening in his chair. Well, it was about time for him to return to his duties anyway. “I take it you have news?”

Keeping a house in good order was the primary responsibility a good butler cherished most of all. Geoffrey was no different. Where there was dirt, it was to be cleaned. Where there was a mess of sorts or something in an ill state, it was to be cleaned or repaired. Should there be guests on the way, or already arriving, then preparing the house for them to feel most welcome and at ease was the order of the day. Be it food, drink, or some form of exotic taste, like incense or an old hookah stashed in the basement, he would see it utilized to its best for the sake of his guests.

Geoffrey had been born into a middling house of wealth, though he had not, like some believed, come from wealth. His family had been servants for several generations after a great forest fire had forced them from their lands and into the city of Port Royal. The mayor at the time had taken them in, and from there, they’d worked their way up to serving under one of the city’s primary council members.

Geoffrey had been born into the councilman’s home from parents who could barely write, though thankfully they could read well enough. Yet, from an early age, his master had taken note of how quickly the young stallion had taken to the lessons under the matronly governess he’d hired to tutor his own children. So, with some curiosity, he’d allowed Geoffrey to sit in on the lessons, should all his tasks for the morning be completed.

The councilman soon realized Geoffrey’s talents for not only reading and writing, which he’d developed at a tremendous pace, but also his skills in running a household. When the young stallion’s parents had fallen ill with an unexpected malady, the young stallion had taken it in stride, seeing to all the tasks and duties of running the household, despite being near half the age of the more experienced staff. Even upon their eventual return to good health, he’d remained in command of the household duties, as the councilman’s request.

So, as he continued to impress and improve his skills, his studies had eventually taken him elsewhere. Many places he visited in his youth, from secluded corners of Equestria to the shores of distant and exotic lands, all when most lads his age were still learning to talk with girls. Before he was yet a stallion grown, he’d already accumulated a vast repertoire of knowledge rivalling many an educated professor, and that skill set only grew as time went on. Skills both known and hidden collected in him like a great deal of treasure within a secure vault, and in time, few knew even a fraction of what he knew and could do.

Had he been born in even a middle-class family, he might have become a professor of great renown. Yet upon returning to his home city years later, to formally take over the duties of his parents, who by now were becoming a bit too old for that line of work, he chose to remain a butler. Albeit, he was a finely-paid one, especially by Port Royal standards, as his finances allowed his own family to leave the servant lifestyle and take up in a cottage industry on the outskirts of the city, spinning wool into clothes for rich and poor alike.

His duty to his family was second, however, for he had no children to call his own just yet, and his position did not allow for the pleasantries of dating. Perhaps, in time, should he not grow too old, he might find somepony to call his own.

Yet, he did feel like he had a child to look after some days, a rambunctiously rowdy child who talked far too much about himself and thought far too little of others.

“Geoffrey!”

Or most days.

“Yes, my prince?”

Blueblood was an odd fellow, to be sure. He took his work seriously yet cared little for proper etiquette unless he was wishing to secure support or funds from a wealthy or influential individual. He’d practically thrust aside his visitors from the princesses, and despite what some might think, Geoffrey knew the Elements of Harmony were by far some of the most capable ladies in the entire kingdom. They’d negotiated ceasefires and peaceful resolutions to more than one brewing war, banished and reformed cults, stopped invasions, brought low countless environmental disasters and tragedies, reformed traitors and villains alike that threatened the very fabric of society, and in case, reality, and had, for the longest time, been part of the first bulwark against the more dire threats to the kingdom.

Simply put, to Geoffrey, this mission of theirs should have had Blueblood’s full support, and from the surface, it did indeed. Yet...

“Another glass of wine, if you will?” the prince asked.

Underneath the apparent facade of willing to play along, Blueblood had plans upon plans of his own. He was nothing if not ambitious, the prince, but Geoffrey knew that should many of these come to light, it would hurt the standing of Equestria in the eyes of more than a few nations. There were meetings he partook in that not even Geoffrey was privy too, exchanges of information and contacts that he was completely in the dark about. Whoever they concerned, and their details, remained a mystery to him.

The ones he did know about, moreover, were the ones the most concerning, as he could not worry about something he did not know.

The Changelings, first and foremost, would definitely retaliate something fierce if it were sprung on them, and while the Crystal Empire would likely pay it little mind, many of its citizens would likely grow worried. A rising army and navy with the power to change the course of naval history, as well as redraw the maps should individuals achieve enough power to do so? Why, it could start a trade war with some, or worse, an actual armed conflict with others.

Yet Blueblood was taking precautions for this as well, both diplomatically and politically. He’d assured and soothed many ruffled feathers amongst the Griffin republics across the sea as well as the Griffin Kingdom to the south, and had told more than a few minor city states that such hearsay had little bearing on the truth. He’d also convinced many local officials across the country to either see things his way or continue about their business as best suited them, offering positions to family members or friends within his vast collection of peons and allies if only to keep them out of his way.

To some extent, despite what others might believe, Blueblood was telling the truth when he told others not to worry. The Prince had no visions of grandeur for conquest or naval supremacy, despite what he might mutter from time to time. No, he wished for peace and prosperity, for that made him rich, and making him rich made you his friend.

Yet he was not so naïve as to believe that peace did not come without a price, nor could it be maintained with platitudes and kind words and signed documents. So he sought security, both for his kingdom and for his bank accounts, and while others might not see it like that, Geoffrey knew the prince would take it in stride. Yet, for the life of him, the butler did not understand why he attempted to keep all this secret from his aunts, the princesses. Surely at least some of this was going to get back to them sooner or later, in some concrete form, would it not?

Would he have to help the prince pick up the pieces if it did? The fallout would likely be severe, both for Blueblood and the nation. After all, a great number of ponies were siding with him in all sorts of these matters and plans, judging from the number of visitors and letters he received. Even if not all were completely on board with it, a great many were still at least compliant with it.

Geoffrey sighed as he poured the prince another glass of wine. It was all so confusing at times, all of this cloak and dagger politics combined with all the secret meetings. Why could things not just be solved more openly?

“Something on your mind, Geoffrey?” he asked.

The butler shook his head. “Just an old stallion musing on some inconsequential matters, sir, nothing to worry yourself about.”

“Ah,” Blueblood replied lamely, before sipping the red drink. “Tell me, Geoffrey, do you find it odd that I am not married?”

Again, the prince continued to surprise him by displaying extremes of both ends. This question had come up in passing before, and the prince had merely been thinking out loud, but this had to be the first time Geoffrey could remember the prince actually asking him. “Some would say you have dallied far too often with unmarried ladies of the lower classes, my prince,” Geoffrey replied. “Yet you do nothing of ill repute that I am aware of.”

“You’d be the first to know, anyway,” the prince replied, lounging in his study’s chair, staring out the window at the city below him. Port Royal looked beautiful when you couldn’t quite smell it. “As it is, there is a young lady who has recently caught my attention, and if you could be so kind as to put out the word, I should like to know more about her.”

“Her name, my prince?”

“A young lady named Charlotte. I believe she works down near the docks.” The prince took another sip. “A spy of mine had seen her talking with my quiet associate, and I would like to know why.”

“I shall do what I can, sir,” Geoffrey said with a soft smile. Ah, a chance to work some of the other skills he’d picked up in his life, and one that didn’t involve looking over a potentially disruptive prince.

How refreshing, to say the least.

Author's Note

Almost five years in the making. The first thing I've published in well over a year. Little to no activity within the fandom, barely responding to anyone, and generally nearly leaving the fandom altogether several times.

Does this make up for my absence? I would think not. If you are upset with me, or want answers, all I can say is that life began to kick my ass something fierce, both in reality, and in my own head. Rest assured, things are much better now.

Will this chapter hopefully be the turning point in my return? I would very much like it to be.

Enough ranting, a few notes on this update.

I've rewritten a few portions of earlier chapters, especially chapters 8 through 10, as I decided I did not like the direction the story was going in. It is now a bit better in my opinion, and along with that, I've deleted all of the un-uploaded, unwritten chapters I had stashed on the site, in a sort of "saved overall future outline" sort of deal. Partially because there was nothing to them (literally), and I always felt a bit intimidated by how planned out I had originally made this story. Now, it'll be a chapter by chapter writing, with a general outline stuck in my head that can be fiddled with as needed, at will.

As for any other stories, this is my official announcement: I am holding off on those until I finally finish this one. Once this one is done, I should expect to return to A Dragon's Journey, as well as a few unfinished projects, as soon as possible.

If you have any questions or comments, let me know, either in this chapter or in a PM.

Yankton Woes

If there was one place in the city that exemplified the changing times that always occur, it was at the old mansion where the city’s most powerful leaders assembled on a semi-regular basis. A sprawling manse of old wealth passed down from generations before, it was built strongly, with solid timbers and carved stone, enchanted to repel rain and snow as much as hold together against frost and overgrowth.

It was poor fate that the family that called the place home had not thought to protect themselves in the same manner as their ancestral abode. Accidents, poor health, secret wars of influence and wealth between guilds and powerful families, all culminated in the extinction of the family who had so meticulously built and called the manse their home for generations. Now, only their names remained, and as such, they were only spoken about in hushed whispers, lest their ill fortune infect those who dared speak of them out loud.

It was the perfect meeting place as it was, for the family had once been large, and with so many relations, any get-together was going to need enough room. A wide semicircle of chairs hemmed in a large central table, in a spherical chamber that appeared a bit similar to some governmental halls and meeting places. There had been some of those in the extinct families’ past, so perhaps that was where the inspiration came from, and the marble columns, high ceiling, and large spaces for extra tables meant it could seat a great number of Yankton’s influential citizens, or at least their representatives.

As it were, the original annual meetings had quadrupled in frequency merely ten years previously. At the onset of every season had been the original change, but now, with times as trying as they were, it was impossible to go so long without a meeting of sort. As it was, many of the surrounding grounds contained their own offices and guest quarters for the rich and powerful of Yankton, as travel between different parts of the local countryside and the city often took longer to complete than the time between meetings.

It had only taken a day settling in before Spike received word that the Elements were invited to the proceedings. Such a rapid response to the crisis surprised him, but given how badly things had been going recently, there was no telling just how long it had taken them to decide to expedite such a process.

When he entered the foyer overlooking the great meeting hall, he had reason to immediately suspect the situation was worse than they had originally planned for. The place was absolutely packed with important Yankton elite or groups of representatives sent in their stead. Economic barons of steel, coal and lumber mixed with mercantile monopolists, mining conglomerate heads and representatives of several cottage industries, all under one roof. Why, there was likely more wealth or representatives of wealth gathered under this roof than in the rest of the city combined.

That would definitely explain the garrison outside the grounds, marching around in starkly colored uniforms and armed with the latest equipment of Their Majesties’ Army. Impressive, no doubt, but more than to give a sense of order, they were there to keep the peace, and keep any folks away that got any funny ideas about that many wealthy people under one roof.

At the very head of the tables, high above the others, were the seats for the Elements of Harmony, likely the most distinguished guests of all those gathered. As their escort, Spike led them to these high seats, next to which were several others, already taken by the senior most elected officials of the city proper. Many of these ponies were elderly who had witnessed the city grow and prosper in better times, and as such, had dedicated their lives to not only seeing it remain prosperous, but were the best sources of advice on current maladies that had afflicted Yankton in the past.

After another hour or so of gathering and mild gossip, the doors finally closed, Spike standing well behind the Elements as a great hush fell over the delegates. Anticipation, fear, greed, ambition, hope, Spike could practically smell all of these emotions radiating off this host of Yankton’s elite.

“Esteemed guests, I welcome you to this grand council of Yankton,” Twilight said, speaking up as she rose from her chair. “On behalf of my friends and me, we are honored to have been included as guests of honor within this grand assembly. Even with the princesses having sent my fellow Elements and I to assist with your situation, it is without a doubt a sign of good fortune that we find ourselves arriving at the confluence of such an esteemed gathering, so as to assist with matters far beyond our normal jurisdiction. In due time, I am confidant a series of measures and solutions will be presented, that will not only alleviate the loss of trade and prosperity that Yankton is currently suffering, but also lift this burden from the people of this great city. With a city as grand and storied as Yankton, others will no doubt follow suit, should we find a compromise that satisfies all parties, and brings about a new time of good will and prosperity.”

Spike had to admit, he was more than a little impressed. Twilight’s fear of speeches that he remembered from long ago had apparently been shoved in a box, filled with concrete, and dumped into the proverbial sea. That, or she was much better at hiding it than before.

Perhaps a bit of both.

“Our first speakers are High Overseers Fuse Backfill and Alloy Slab, owners of the Coal Guild and Steelworks of Yankton, and senior members of the Board of Mining Safety and Regulations.”

Mr. Backfill and Mr. Slab were older earth ponies, but by no means were they crones. Middle-aged might have been the better term, given their greying manes and glasses, yet in their eyes they retained a spark of youth, a fire that time had not quenched. Mr. Backfill’s pelt was one of deepest black, much like the coal mines he oversaw, while Mr. Slab was as grey as the steel he produced for the railways. Normally the leaders of two such interconnected industries would have been enemies, given how much one needed the other’s materials in cheap supply, but by pooling their resources instead of bickering, they had created codependent industry the likes of which could support entire lesser towns, should it spread to other locations.

“The miners have been producing more than we can use,” Backfill said, adjusting his spectacles as he gave short, rasping cough. “We have coal sitting around leeching dust into the air, even with the spells in place. We can only export so much to other steelworks and train yards for their furnaces, and in time we’re liable to run out of space unless trade with the Crystal Empire is resumed in full measure. A train route is still underway, but the snags in construction are delaying progress almost as badly as the pirates are. As it is, they cannot heat their homes with personal magic as readily as fairer climates might, given their occasional magic storm that interrupts spell usage.”

A leftover from the days of Sombra’s black magic, no doubt, when he was at the height of his power, Spike recalled.

“As for my mill workers, we too have steel that is being left to gather dust, as we have been unearthing more iron than what we know to do with,” Slab added, his strong jaw set in frustration. “Orders for building materials cannot be fulfilled on the southern coast at current prices if we are unable to ship by sea, nor can dockyards be expanded without the materials necessary. We may still ship by land, yes, but it is far more cost effective to go by water, and damn it all if we haven’t lost a considerable amount of good steel to pirates sinking the ships carrying them!”

“So we have steel that is unused or too pricey to be moved by rail, and coal that cannot be shipped by land to those who have greatest need of it,” Twilight reiterated, turning to her left. “Pinkie Pie? Your family has extensive mining holdings and conglomerations to their name, and thus that leaves you with the most experience in the matter. What say you?”

“The best thing about coal is that you can’t make steel without it, or at least, it’s very hard,” the pink pony replied, thoughtfully tapping her chin. “That, and while our spells can keep it from making everything nasty and dirty to the most extent, we still can’t use our trains without it. Are there, by chance, any other routes that could be used for hauling the coal?”

“Not very many, your ladyship,” Backfill replied. “To absorb the cost of transport through multiple railways, rather than a direct shipping lane, would greatly diminish the return on investment, and sadly, would wind up gouging my worker’s pay. Yankton’s lack of miner strikes has been primarily to our policy of paying them well above what other places might, as absorbing the admittedly minor cost is more beneficial in the long run than, say, dealing with strikes and revolts.”

“Well, the Pan-Oceanic railway system does stop off on the other side of Equestria, and they have a route to the Crystal Empire, but such a distance would amount to a fair bit of delay in shipment, let alone travel costs,” Pinkie Pie said. “My family does have a bunch of small mining towns located along those tracks, many of which produce coal. Would it be okay for you to take the routes through those places, so long as my parents come to a deal for exchanging our coal for, say, some of Slab’s steel?”

“I do not see why it wouldn’t work for the time being, though I would still need to be paid for the steel,” Slab replied. “Covering the cost of additional train cars to carry the steel to these towns is something I can do for now, though eventually it will need to be supplanted with a more permanent arrangement.”

“I concur with Mr. Slab. Hauling that much coal is best for when you won’t need proportionally more of it to move your trains, and it would be likewise ludicrous to make a longer journey, only to burn through some of the coal you are scheduled to deliver, just to make it on time,” Backfill said with another cough. “Provided your family is willing to exchange their coal for Mr. Slab’s steel, I will gladly have my trains pull the extra cars, and then use the traded coal for our own train’s fuel. In this, we don’t burn through our coal, and your coal towns receive steel they otherwise wouldn’t have.”

“Still, this is a temporary measure, only good for the near future,” Pinkie Pie added. “If I am able to secure a deal, we will still have to find a means to swap coal for steel at the current market prices.”

With a few mutterings amongst other delegates near the two High Overseers, many of them either smaller guilds or mills that worked for or were partnered with the two stallions, it seemed the issue had, for now, found a solution. Albeit temporary, true, but temporary was better than none at all.

“Let’s see here,” Twilight muttered, looking upon a long list before her. “Our next speaker is Grand Admiral Mast Drawn.”

“Just Drawn is fine,” the soft-spoken pegasus replied as he stood, looking very sharp in his pressed uniform of Their Majesty’s Navy. Red eyes, a well-groomed black mane, he cut a very imposing figure.

“So then, Grand Admiral Drawn,” Twilight continued. “On our way here, we overheard tales of press gangs needed to fulfill the navy quotas for sailors. Is there precedence for this?”

“Sadly, yes, though usually only during wartime,” the cobalt admiral replied. “Often, when the need for ships outstrips our capacity to man them with sailors and, if need be, marines, larger cities will often employ the destitute, sometimes by force, to join the navy. It is a repugnant practice, I will admit, though it does achieve the results we wish for.”

“Dissent and anger in cities?” Rainbow Dash asked rather pointedly, clearly remembering the conversation with Blueblood some time ago.

“Sailors,” Drawn replied coolly. “We need them now more than ever, to man not only our trade ships, but the vessels protecting them from these pirates.”

“Why not simply create recruitment drives for the more interior towns and cities?” the duchess asked, raising an eyebrow. “My parents have long found that concentrating on recruiting manpower locally affects local cities far more than spreading out the recruitment. After all, you can’t just grab any stallion you see in the same place, or else any leftovers are going to avoid you like the plague.”

“Your parents, heiress, they have significant presence within the armed circles, do they not?” Drawn asked. “Have my correspondences to them been lost, or simply ignored? Such tactics are exactly those I have attempted in the past, but my recruiters find themselves bereft of funding or support.”

“I’ll see to it that they are personally informed,” Dash countered. “The expertise of my parents lies in the Royal Army and the Royal Air Force, not the Navy. I will see what I can do, as they undoubtedly have had many recruits wash out from both branches for one reason or another. Encouraging these ponies to sign up for one last chance at serving princesses and country in the navy should not be a difficult endeavor.”

“Then I shall await their answer, the sooner, the better… your ladyship.”

Dash simply gave a curt nod, clearly holding back some sort of insult. There was a time and a place for that, but here, amongst high society, she had to play the part of the nobility, of genteel blood and upper society mannerisms.

Were it some tavern, she’d have likely told him off with a few choice words.

Twilight was silent for a few moments as well, subtly glaring as the grand admiral sat back down, a cadre of junior officers and captains clustered around him. Most seemed cowed by her stare, though a good number seemed not to notice at all.

“Moving on then, next is… Lady Bolt Veneer, head of the Forester’s Guild.”

A batpony of all things, a rare sight this far north and west, stood, her wings folded to her sides. Her attire screamed “dressed in the carriage on the way here”, but her calm demeanor very much gave credibility to her profession. After all, being in charge of large, burly lumber-ponies meant you had to have a presence that went beyond simply being loud, and her stare was one of direct intensity that clearly brooked no room for argument.

“Compared to our mining associates, production has slowed to a crawl, as many of the ponies who hauled logs down to the docks are no longer needed, as the docks have stopped expanding. Some have moved to hauling cut boards from sawmills for ship repairs and building, but we need less of them than log haulers. Without as much space as the mining companies, and with logs that will go bad far faster than steel or coal will, we have had no choice but to ramp up production whenever we run low of stock, but throttle it back once we run dry on orders.”

“Have you tried using spells to prolong the life of the wood, to repel water damage and pests?” Fluttershy asked. “Our family has long hired unicorns to cast such spells on most of the buildings making up the park and settlement infrastructure.”

“We normally would, but some of our unicorns were picked up by the admiral’s gangs during a lull in production,” Ms. Veneer said, giving the cobalt pegasus a sideways glare. “Even then, our budget is stretched as tight as can be. Wood is always needed, but with how the mills are working, we only need so many to harvest. The mill workers are not afraid of losing their jobs, but the ones cutting the trees and hauling them in? I’ve had to lay off a good quarter of them, and others are just up and leaving for other cities.”

“Have you branched out to woodcutting?” Fluttershy added. “Many homes do not have the ability to burn coal in their furnaces, and fireplaces are still installed in a large number of country towns.”

“Even if we cut back on our lumber production enough to use those same logs to make bundles of firewood, I doubt it would amount to much. Still,” the batpony said with a sigh. “It is something.”

“I also assume you’ve been pressed into the position of practically giving away most of your lumber to the shipyards for shipbuilding as well, correct?”

“Yeah, price is fair enough, but they’re eating up all the good timber I can make. All I have left is only just good enough for homes, and Yankton’s not in a market to expand, most everyone here can’t afford it. Besides, we used to export a lot of our wood, but seeing as we can’t anymore, we’re a bit stuck.”

“But many of the interior towns and villages are growing, especially those located on rich ore veins or along train tracks. Expanding your market outside of the city will surely help, wouldn’t it?”

The batpony nodded. “It would, but hauling the lumber that far makes it cost more, and a lot of those smaller places wouldn’t be able to afford it. I’d have to gouge my prices just so I could sell it.”

“Better that than just letting it sit and rot,” Spike muttered to himself.

“I’m sure an arrangement could be made to have the buyers meet you halfway, if only to cut back on costs,” Fluttershy continued. “My parents have been in correspondence with some spell guilds as to creating better protection enchantments, and they’ve been making great progress. With your permission, I could arrange a meeting with your unicorns to study and master these new preservative spells, if only to help your stock last longer before it begins to deteriorate.”

“I’d appreciate that very much, ma’am,” Ms. Veneer said with a bow before returning to her seat.

As the next round of delegates and upper echelons of society were called forth, this time on the means of food production and distribution to the poorer sections of Yankton, Spike let his eyes wander around the assembly. With so many gathered folk here, many of them coming wealth earned from Yankton’s original silver expansion, it stood to reason that others, with far less scrupulous ideals in mind, would attempt to tag along. That, or eavesdrop, disguised as a servant or whatnot.
Come to think of it, there were a lot of servants milling about this hall. He could understand, given just how many of the delegates would bring their own along with them, but that didn’t account for the sheer number. Most were refilling pitchers of wine or whatever else a delegate was drinking, replacing empty food trays, bringing fresh quills and ink, or just taking orders from the assembled. How many of these servants worked in this old estate fully? Given that it was more of a meeting hall than an actual residence, it couldn’t have been that many…

“Wine, sir?” a voice asked, and Spike turned to find a pegasus holding a platter and pitcher, one full of wine, the other covered in empty glasses.

“Sure,” he said, taking in her appearance. Shorter, cream colored, with a rather hastily-done bun of an auburn mane and a rather cute figure. She looked exactly like many might expect a maid to appear.

“My pleasure, sir,” she said she handed him a full glass. Wines such as this were weak, with barely an alcohol content to them, but they were better than much of the wells in these areas. Being so close to mines had rendered many wells unfit for drinking a generation or two ago, and from what Pinkie Pie had told him, cleaning up the aquifers was a long and arduous task, even with magic to assist.

Hence the wine. It tasted good, he had to admit, and after sipping, looked back to find the maid still there, staring at him a bit oddly.

“Is there something I can help you with?” he asked.

“You’re a dragon.” She sounded surprised.

He chuckled. “Yes, I am. Spike, at your services.”

“I’ve never seen a dragon in Yankton before.”

“I can’t imagine a lot of dragons come through here. They tend to stick to their own lands, I’d imagine, and even if they did, they probably never make it up this far into Yankton.”

He’d never seen a dragon in all his time out on the seas, not even when trading with passing ships. Either dragons didn’t care for the sea like he had come to, or they hired others to do the trading for them. Then again, given how water could nullify the flames of all but the most powerful of dragons, it wasn’t hard to imagine they’d want to avoid a place that could actively weaken them.

Then again, his fire breath was more magical than most, probably due to the circumstances of his hatching. So maybe that was why he didn’t feel threatened by the open water.

“No, I’m afraid not, good sir,” she said. “Most visitors coming our way don’t stay for long unless they have a good deal of business to attend to. Are you with the Elements of Harmony, by chance?”

“Yeah, old friend of theirs, and also what you might call a bodyguard. I'm here to help make sure they keep their heads cool and level as much as I need to make sure they keep their heads at all."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Really? Do they really need protection beyond whatever escorts that are assigned to them, even with their powerful magic and skills?”

“In times like this, it’s better to be safe than sorry,” Spike replied. “Yankton is just one of many places all along the coast suffering from these pirates, never mind all the places further inland that support their industry.”

“Some of my cousins are aboard the navy vessels patrolling these waters,” the maid said in a hushed whisper. “Not of their own free will, I might add.”

“Pressed?’

“Yes, though the gangs at least had the decency to give them a good lump of coin beforehand, as an incentive, to get them on board. Used to work down on the docks, hauling freight, making good coin for their families. Now, with how things are, it’s a sure way to earn coin, but far more dangerous.”

“Yankton is hurting for a lot of things these days, coin included,” Spike surmised. “I imagine that’s why so many ponies have gathered here for this assembly. Hopefully they’ll be able to sort out some immediate issues and get things back into working order.”

“You know it is bad when even the rich are starting to struggle,” the maid muttered. “Imagine what it’s like for the common folk who don't have decades of family wealth to fall back on during the rougher times.”

“I can’t even begin to. I’ve been out on the water for years, often against my will, and right now, I can tell you, these pirates are popping up out of nowhere. There’s more now than ever before, given the reports I’ve seen.” He was silent for a moment. “Just where are they all coming from, anyway? You know if ponies are joining up with them to earn a living?”

“I’ve never heard anything quite like that, but it would make sense. Some ponies just up and leave Yankton, with or without their families. No telling if they’ve just given up, are joining these scoundrels, or are out there trying to find real work and send money back. Some wind up sending it, and eventually the families leave as well, though some stubbornly stay put.”

“Well, hopefully they aren’t joining pirates. That’s not a great way to live a life, especially if you’re trying to provide for family.”

“I can only hope this trouble with the pirates can be brought to an end before things get even worse.”

The dragon scratched at his chin. “I’m not sure how much worse they could get.”

She looked him dead in the eye. “Much, much worse,” she added ominously. “If I were you or your friends, I’d get out of Yankton before things go south. This city is a powder keg, and all your friends are doing is delaying that fuse burning to its rotten heart.” With that, she refilled his wine glass, before scampering off.

Spike didn’t like that. Ominous or not, there was something off about the maid, especially since she’d more or less just told him to leave. That meant something was going to happen, but if she was certain things could get worse, then in all likelihood, things were going to get worse. Only question was, how much so? Strikes at the docks? Open revolts or rebellions? A trade war to try and undercut the pirates? Or open war altogether?

Spike knew that plenty of other nations were itching for some excuse to hunt down these pirates with extreme prejudice, Equestria included. However, laws of the sea and international treaties were tying the hands of many who would see such action take place. If those treaties broke down, and the seas turned into a veritable warzone of pirate hunting, how long would it be before miscommunications and tragic skirmishes took place?

How long before war erupted in earnest?

Power was a curious thing. It had no real substance or material form, yet it could be exerted through them. None were born with it, nor was it an inherent right to have, but all grew to crave it in some form or another, be it over others or over themselves, in a manner. Those who had it often took measures to secure or increase their own amount, yet those without would also attempt to take it for themselves.

On many occasions, those without power took it from those with, and being unused to it, had it taken from them as well, as they knew not how to wield it, nor how to deal with its many consequences.

Sombra knew this all too well.

He’d been a king, although a king doesn’t rule an empire, an emperor does. As king, he held absolute power over his subjects, his will becoming their drive, his ideas their goals, and his sovereignty their only form of order. In his regime, however, he had failed to realize an important aspect of ruling.

Do not be seen ruling,especially with an iron fist.

It was one thing to be ruled from a distant or secure monarch, to be informed of laws through intermediaries and cultural diffusion. It made one feel safer from persecution, more free to interpret or follow the rules, even if those laws restricted them. Sombra had ruled very directly, taking whatever brave souls sought to lodge complaints in his throne room, and issuing declarations through mass spells of communication. His power was absolute, and delegating had been something he hated, as that meant sharing his power with others.

Now, though, after so long, he could see his follies as clearly as a cloudless winter day.

Delegation was key if he was to become more than what he once was. He would need spies, bootlickers, confidants and loyalists under his sway. No matter the rank, no matter their perceived or actual level of importance, all would have a place and a part to play. He would hold all the cards at the end of the day, true, and need to play everyone against everyone else, but that would just be another game to him, something else to master and enjoy.

Deep within the recesses of Yankton’s lowermost levels, some of the original streets that had become tunnels underneath much of the city’s dockyards, he strode, silently, towards his destination. The air was thick, damp, with a tang of saltwater, and the gloom was held at bay only from the ball of fire floating before him, held in place by his magic.

The slick walls were a solid foundation for the city, yet the same could not be said for its downtrodden and forgotten inhabitants. He knew well what that was like, having been forgotten by the world at large so long ago. Yet unlike then, and unlike these weak-minded fools, he could pull himself up by sheer will alone. He’d done it before, reforming his form after being reduced to a shadowy specter.

Underneath the city, in these tunnels, he moved unseen by the teeming masses above. He was unknown to likely every living being in the world, save for a few princesses and their closest confidants. His magical aura, a spell to keep his identity concealed, made him look to be nothing more than a unicorn of mysterious, yet ultimately uninteresting persuasion.

His methods had changed with his persona. Gone were the days of direct action, of control through willful commands and spells binding another’s actions to his will, of days spent threatening recalcitrant servants into performing their tasks. There was no need for such overt displays, when with but a few simple words, a passage of easily replaced gold, and long-seated machinations, he could have anyone doing what he wanted, when he wanted it. He could have entire guilds under his control in a matter of weeks through simple murder, bribery, extortion and all manner of corruption. No information in a city was out of his reach, no amount of skilled labor unavailable to his needs.

Such means of control were by no means new, but what they represented was his future.

Control from the top down had long since proven disastrous for him. His forced abdication was relatively simple, yet the factors that led up to it could have been avoided, had he taken other paths.
Such was his current path. From the tunnel, he came to a door, upon which he knocked three times.

It opened a few moments later. “How’d it go, boss?” an old, rather scruffy pegasus asked.

Entering the cellar of the establishment, one of his many holdings under false identities and intermediaries, Sombra smiled. “Very well indeed, Matchbox. Have the others begun their preparations?”

“Already on it.”

“Very good, I am glad I pulled you out of the gutter you had nearly drunk yourself to death in, you have proved far more useful than you first seemed. Send word to the barflies to begin their rousing. When the time is right, everything is going to fall into place just as I have planned.”

“When it’s all over?” the pegasus asked.

“As to that, Matchbox, do not worry. Your skills will once again earn your family a good living wage. After all, the blacksmiths will be needing a new guild head or three within a week, and what better pony to be put forward than one who knows so much about fire?”

As the smile mirrored his own, Sombra cast his mental gaze upon the layout of the city. Yankton was indeed going to change very soon, and with it, would come a great amount of success for the efforts he’d put into it, and this time, he wasn’t going to be stopped so easily. After all, you can’t be deposed if nobody knows you’re the one running things.

Author's Note

This took way longer than I expected to put out, having been written months ago, but complications on my end and that of my proofreader (all of which are just cool, I have other projects to do during the lull) means that I'm happy with the final product, and hope to put out more soon-ish.

A Very Important Request

“I am sorry, your ladyship, but there are simply no more quills in the royal directory!” a stumbling servant said, his voice slightly muffled by the fact that he was facing the floor in a bow. The lady in question, her voice filled with a weary sigh, looked down on the poor stallion, her eyes containing within them a mixture of pity and frustration.

“What about the large batch I ordered the week before?” Twilight Sparkle asked, herald of the Element of Magic, assistant to the head of the Canterlot archives and daughter of Duke Sparkle and Duchess Armor. She had recently come into the position after the previous librarian’s assistant went on to bigger and better things, and it was perhaps one of the positions she had desired more than anything in her life. Maybe that was why her teacher, Princess Celestia, had bestowed upon her the position. She had an awfully accurate idea of what many of her ponies wanted out of life, and more often than not was only too happy to help them on their way.

“Entirely used up, my lady,” the servant said. Oh, how he hated being the bearer of bad news! “I am terribly sorry!”

“It is quite all right, Nigel,” Twilight said, turning to look at the row of scrolls she had just been alphabetically resorting: some ponies just didn’t know how to put things back away right.

“Miss?” the pony called Nigel said, looking up at her in confusion. “It is... all right?”

“Yes: no need to fuss over something like this,” Twilight said. “Would you be a dear and fetch the others? I need to talk to them about something.” She knew he knew of whom she was talking about.

The servant rushed out of the room after another cursory bow, his hoofsteps fading away as the door shut behind him. Twilight Sparkle sighed as more of the scrolls magically re-arranged themselves. Nigel was a good soul, and he tried so very hard, but she felt he was almost always too high-strung about so many of the duties he was assigned to assist with. Maybe she could talk the princesses into giving him a vacation: he needed it.

Several minutes later, the sound of numerous hoofsteps reached her ears. Turning around, Twilight Sparkle found herself facing her oldest friends, fellow wielders of the Elements of Harmony, and fellow daughters of high-ranking political figures.

Rainbow Dash: Element of Loyalty, and daughter of the noble Duke Dash of Cloudsdale. Her family had a massive influence over the military of Equestria, including the Air Force and the Royal Army.

Rarity: Element of Generosity, and daughter of the Duke and Duchess of the Unicornia Province. Her parents had many businesses and mercantile interests across the country.

Applejack: Element of Honesty, and daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Ponyville. Her family maintained a large portion of the agricultural aspects of the country.

Fluttershy: Element of Kindness, and daughter of the Duke and Duchess of the Everfree Forest Province. Her family specialized in land management and maintained the national parks.

Pinkie Pie: Element of Laughter, and daughter of the Duke and Duchess of the Outlands Province. Her family owned much of the mining business within that province.

“Hey Twilight, what’s up?” Pinkie Pie asked as all the bearers of the Elements of Harmony gathered in a single room for the first time in weeks. Their personal lives, such as dealing with their parents attempts to marry them, the stress of having to attend to numerous political matters, and the occasional bits of unrest that needed settling, took up much of their time.

“You know me, Pinkie: just sorting through some dusty old scrolls,” the librarian said with a smile. "That reminds me; I should get a larger duster for some of these top shelves. Some of these cobwebs could ensnare a large bird!"

“I remember that used to be Spike’s job,” Fluttershy said with a touch of melancholy remembrance. "Cleaning cobwebs, that is; not catching birds." Everyone sighed at that: it had been many a year since Spike, Twilight’s oldest friend, had been convinced to join the crew of a schooner along the coast to make some money. For a while he had sent back letters, telling everypony back home how great it all was. Then, he had stopped sending them, and everypony had just gotten used to his absence: they had so much work to do, there was really little else to think of.

“Yes, it was,” Rarity said softly, before tactfully changing the subject, lest the gathering be brought low by sadder memories. “Has anyone heard been contacted by Celestia, recently?”

“Now that you mention, I was the other day,” Rainbow Dash said, fluttering around the room slightly. “I got a letter that simply said ‘this Saturday, my throne room, at noon’: anypony else?” Coincidentally, it was Saturday that very day, and the meeting was designated to take place in only a few hours. It had been a good thing they had already gathered in the city of Canterlot, lest some or all of them arrive late to the designated meeting.

“We were,” Fluttershy and Applejack said in unison. “It said the same thing,” Fluttershy added, holding up a small letter identical to Twilight's.

“I got mine three hours before Twilight did,” Pinkie Pie said, earning confused stares from everypony else. “What? My tail was a twitchin’, and then my tongue went numb. That means I got a letter before somepony.”

“Ah, yes: your Pinkie Sense,” Twilight said with a roll of her eyes. “Well, it seems the princess wants to speak with us this Saturday, but... why?”

“Maybe we’re being giv’n our first performance reviews?” Applejack suggested with a shrug of her shoulders. Every now and then they’d receive praise for handling some small problem in a province, but most of the time they only used the power of their Elements for some greater purpose, like collapsing a volcano away from a city in peril or something like that.

“Somehow I doubt that, Applejack,” Rarity said with a toss of her mane. Seriously she never stopped doing that whenever she talked. “We’ve all been doing marvelous jobs, I would wager. Perhaps she has come to give us more tasks to complete?”

“I’m not sure, Rarity: the princess is usually so much more... detailed in her letters,” Twilight said. “I mean, when has she ever written in broken sentences or even failed to leave a signature? That’s nothing like her at all.” Indeed it was not: Celestia was a princess of not only Equestria, but of all aspects of writing and conversation. The only way that any of the six had known the letter were even from Celestia was the fact that it had arrived by royal mail, as Spike’s handy fire-delivery system was no longer available.

“Well, it is drawing a bit closer to our scheduled time, don’t you think?” Rarity asked, pointing one dainty, glove-covered hand up at the library’s largest clock. Once again, Rarity exaggerated: it was barely past eleven o’clock. Eleven fifteen, to be precise.

“You girls wait outside the door: I’m almost finished with these scrolls,” Twilight said, turning back to her task at hand.

“Twilight, we’re yer friends: helping you will help us pass the time,” Applejack said, the others following suit as they picked up several scrolls.

The purple unicorn smiled: it was good to have friends like these. Still, even with all of their help, it took the librarian’s assistant another twenty minutes to finish putting everything away and locking up the library. As soon as she finished turning the key into the lock’s tumblers, she turned to her friends.

“Well, we’d best get going,” she said, looking at another clock on a wall: eleven thirty-five, and it would take at least twenty minutes to reach Celestia’s throne room.

Twenty-five minutes later, the six mares hurried into the throne room, having been stopped by the guards outside. Of course, there had been the technicalities with visiting the princess, including a magical scan for weapons and such, but Rarity had almost slapped a newer guard right in the face when he started hitting on Fluttershy. Jeez, just because they were forced to wear corsets under their dresses to “keep their figures” did not mean they were some back-alley prostitutes.

“Rarity, you didn’t need to jinx his tail into tying itself into a granny knot,” Twilight said as they stopped, pausing to catch their breaths.

“He was being a scoundrel, Twilight, and nothing like those you gush over in your romance novels,” Rarity said with a smirk. “Besides, with the way you pass over every suitor, it’s no wonder none come calling anymore.” It was the joke every other mare knew about: Twilight, and to a lesser extent, the rest of them, had a fascination with novels about adventure and dashing romances. Of course, being the more “booksmart” of the group, Twilight was far more invested in the stories, and often had dreams about herself in the heroine’s/damsels hooves: so much so that she flat out refused dances with idiotic royalty, since many didn’t meet her standards.

“I do not gush over romance novels!” the purple unicorn replied, her face going beet red. “They... they’re only for light reading before bed. Besides, I have had plenty of suitors who would give their left hoof to be by my side.” They all had had suitors such as these, but each had their reasons to not want to be tied down then and there in their lives.

“Twilight, I ain’t always one fer technicalities, but shouldn’t ya try and not talk like that in front of... her?” Applejack whispered, pointing behind the librarian’s assistant.

“I too enjoy a light reading before bed, Twilight Sparkle, but I must say, I doubt I read them with such... fervor, as you do,” a serene and slightly amused voice said from atop a throne. Twilight did a complete 180 and found herself facing Princess Celestia, co-ruler of Equestria.

“Your... your highness!” she said, forgetting all informality and nearly throwing herself on the floor in a bow, a bow her friends all did with as much grace and dignity as they could. “I... I didn’t mean to be so... crass. I just-,”

“It is quite all right, Ms. Sparkle: to hide our true selves is one of societies’ more... insensitive formalities,” the princess said, stepping lightly off her throne. As always, her dress shimmered in the light, as if miniature suns were radiating out from each encrusted diamond. Her positively amazing mane flowed behind her, though there was no wind to push it along as gently as it appeared. “Please, stand: all of you. There is much for us to discuss.”

Twilight nodded, rising to her hooves with her five friends. “What... what can we help you with, Your Highness?” she asked as they drew around a table detailing the entire country of Equestria. Coast to coast, with the lands of the Griffins and Dragons bordering to the south, and the Crystal Empire to the far north: it was a greatly varied land, and the ponies that inhabited it were no exception.

“Normally this would likely be under the jurisdiction of a subordinate, but I feel as though I cannot allow a situation such as this to go on any longer,” Celestia said, her magic causing the map to distort and zoom in of Equestria’s distant Western coastline, which stretched from the cold waters of the far North to the tropical seas of the far South. A variety of cities, towns and villages dotted the coastline, with the larger ones supporting a vast array of interconnecting railroads and harbors.

“As you all know, the peace between Equestria and many of the southern kingdoms, including that of the Griffins and the Minotaurs further to the south, is because of our trade network,” Celestia said, her finger lazily tracing the coastline’s edges as if she were trying to memorize their every twist and turn. “We supply them with raw materials they do not have, and they in turn do the same for us. It has made all three of our countries very rich, and as such, it has invited in some... less than stellar ponies.”

“What do you mean, princess?” Fluttershy asked quietly, secretly enjoying the small, finely-detailed drawings of whales and dolphins frolicking in the ocean. She always did have a fascination with animals.

“The elite of Canterlot, as do the elite of many of our countries’ larger cities, have vast fleets of trade ships bringing in goods from distant ports,” Celestia said. “Our navy, as per the agreement all nations have settled upon, is only large enough to defend larger cities from attack by... unscrupulous beings. As such, I am afraid we have a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” Pinkie Pie asked, pulling a sweet roll out of a hidden compartment in her sleeve and swallowing it in one gulp. Nopony knew how she hid those sweets without her entire outfit getting terribly sticky or otherwise dirty, but she had her ways.

“Pirates,” the princess said simply, an almost imperceptible shadow falling across her face. “Towns and villages have been plagued by them for years, but we have always been under the assumption that they were acting alone, and more often than not, it was always a smaller crew on one of these vessels: nothing major. They would be successful for a while, then either we’d capture them all or they’d fragment and split up, never to be seen again.”

“But something has changed,” Twilight said, her analytical mind having already connected the dots. She prided herself at being very good at connecting things together in ways some ponies might find troublesome, but it had served her well in the past.

“Yes, Twilight,” Celestia said. “We believe, or at least I do, that Chrysalis, Queen of the Changelings, is behind it all, or at least most of it. Even I cannot be sure if she is working alone to cause all this grief for our nation. After our uneasy truce following the failed invasion of Canterlot during your brother’s wedding-,”

This made Twilight growl slightly.

“-she and her kind retreated to their chain of islands, a series of both extinct and active volcanos far off the coast of our country. The soil is rather fertile, and the coastal regions highly fruitful, but the soil is young and our crops have a much harder tim growing there, hence why they need to resort to such acts to simply get enough staple food to survive. There, on those islands, they have stayed, rebuilding their society piece by piece as they licked their wounds from their defeat at the hands of Princess Cadence and Shining Armor's love.”

“But, why would she try and start somethin’ now, yer majesty?” Applejack asked. “Wouldn’t trade with any other country help her own? I mean, from what I’ve heard, their islands have some of the most fertile soil in the area, not ta mention excellent spot for harbors and drydocks.”

“I do not know how her mind works, nor have I ever pretended to,” Celestia replied. “All I know is, pirate activity has been increasing up and down the coast, with larger and larger crews of pirate per ship, and sometimes small fleets of pirate ships working in unison to take down or separate trade fleets. Equestria and her trade fellows in other countries are hemorrhaging money on lost goods, Twilight.”

“But... what can we do to stop this?” the purple unicorn asked. “I mean... surely there are those more experienced, more... I don’t know, militarily qualified for such an undertaking?”

“I want you there to help try and create a more lasting peace with the Changelings, should war again appear on the horizon,” Celestia said. “Besides, you will not be without accompaniment: Prince Blueblood has been assigned to the area, and you will fall under his protection once you reach the coastline.”

“What?! That... that rude excuse of a stallion is going to be our protection?” Rarity said with a mild shriek, her displeasure made perfectly obvious after having been quiet for so long. “Your Majesty, I simply must object! He is... well, he is utterly repulsive, both in personality and manners!”

“I understand your... concerns, Rarity,” Celestia said with a very slight grimace. “But I assure you, he has since improved from the last time you saw him, after a sound scolding following that “disaster” of a Grand Galloping Gala. In fact, one might say he has changed for the better, though “better” is entirely dependent ones’ point of view.” Indeed, he had improved: he was no longer an ass in prince’s clothing. Now, he was in charge of many things, and as such, could not devote as much of his time to his “ass-ness” and actually ran things quite fluidly out along the coast.

But Rarity didn’t know that, so she merely harrumphed and settled her mane back to its proper place. “I still don’t like it,” she muttered.

“Your highness, thank you for this opportunity to once again serve Equestria’s best interests, but... how are we supposed to do this? The coastline is so far away, and even with your express delivery service, it will still take some time for our letters to reach Chrysalis,” Twilight said.

“You will not be sending letters to her: rather, you will be sending them to me,” Celestia said simply. “All six of you will be there, remember? I hope for you to meet the... Queen, face-to-face, and talk to her.”

“But... but... but-,” Twilight began, her brain furiously trying to come up with a counter-argument for them needing to go.

“No more buts, Ms. Sparkle,” Celestia said, her tone no more serious than it had been before, but carrying with it the full weight of her mandated power. “Please, I am counting on you all: this is a situation that needs more of a scalpel and less of a hammer, so to speak. Our military cannot be overtly involved: a few ships or small fleets here or there, but if we were to amass forces to stop this, other countries might see this as an attempt by us to begin an age of imperialism. They would then respond in kind, and the calls to war for conquest and glory would sound forth, like they have so many times in the past.”

Twilight had nothing to say to that: after all, how could she argue with history itself? The peace that had been holding between all the countries had been tenuous at best over the past few hundred years, and if it were to be tipped, then who knew what would happen?

“Yes, your majesty: we will leave as soon as possible,” Twilight said, steeling her nerves. She didn’t want to leave her home behind, but if the princess asked of it, and the country needed it, then she would try her hardest to complete this task.

Celestia smiled, her features softening as the map below her reverted to its natural state, showing the entirety of the country. “Thank you, Twilight Sparkle: many thanks to all of you,” she added, looking at the gathered Elements of Harmony. “I will have your things prepared for your journey: should you need anything, only ask Minister Derp and his daughter, Derpy. They are in charge of all things pertaining to transportation. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some letters to send Blueblood: he is no doubt busy right now, but I am sure he can listen to his aunt.”

With that, the princess left the six mares alone in the room, all of them staring down at the map. “Well, I must say I wasn’t expecting this,” Fluttershy said softly as her fingers traced the political boundaries of her parent’s domain.

“Me neither, and my Pinkie Sense would have normally told me of such a doozy of a thing!” Pinkie Pie said, devouring another hidden sweet. “Oh wait, maybe that was why my spine twirled around inside my back this morning: it tickled!”

Everypony else ignored the physical impossibility of such a statement, but they all looked at each other instead. None needed to say another word to know what the others were thinking: this was very, very important, and they could not fail in this endeavor.

“Well, we’d best get going,” Rarity said, looking at the clock high above them all: the potentially life-changing news had only taken a half hour of their lives, but it seemed like it had taken up so much more. “We... we don’t want to miss our train.” The train was due to leave tomorrow, most likely: morning, if the weather was good.

The others nodded silently, and with heavy but steadied hearts, they left. The fate of Equestria, and indeed much of the world, rested on whether or not they could complete this task.

But no pressure or anything, right?

Meanwhile...

“Should have stayed a carpenter,” Jeremy Hoofer, Ensign aboard the TMS Sunstrider, muttered to himself. He was the youngest officer aboard, having barely entered stallionhood before enlisting in the navy. After working his way through training, he had been assigned a non-descript, AKA non-illustrious career aboard a rather plain escort vessel. It had been a routine patrol with their sister ship, the TMS Moonskimmer, along the coast north of the port of Augustine, when a sudden fog had come out of nowhere. Then, as the two captains tried to re-establish communications with one another, a sudden burst of bright light was the only thing Jeremy saw before he felt his ship shudder beneath him. Another distant blast made the ship tremble again, and to his horror, he had seen three of their cannons roll out and into the ocean, the holes torn into the side a gaping wound. Such accuracy was unheard of from cannons, and the sight had filled the earth pony with dread.

Soon after, a horn sounded in the deep, and shouts and yells accompanied ropes and grappling hooks as another ship appeared out of the mist right next to them. Within seconds, dozens upon dozens of figures had leaped or climbed aboard, doing battle with the shocked and dazed crew of the TMS Sunstrider. It had all been over in a few minutes, the attacking forces brutally forcing the surrender of the crew. The captain, bless his soul, had refused to do so, and had received a naval axe blow to the wrist, cutting his hand right off. He had then passed out from the pain, but was otherwise still alive: or at least, the ensign thought he was, judging from the rising and falling of his chest.

The rest of the crew was tied up alongside him, in chains they normally reserved for captured pirates in the brig below. Instead, they were trussed up, being held at sword-point by the pirates who had so surprised them. Then, as if magic, the fog lifted, and they saw their sister ship in the same shape as them. She was parked on the opposite side of the ship that had pulled up next to them, the majority of the crew being forced into her hold down below.

The flag that flew high over the ship that had defeated them both was clear in the now-sunny skies: a skull above a pair of crisscrossed swords, a torch holding it all aloft on the rippling fabric. It was a sight all sailors had learned to fear, for if the dreaded captain set their sight on their ship, there was little they could do, for it belonged to the Sea Wraith.

Soft hoof-falls accompanied a trio of figures off the Sea Wraith, the one in front making barely a sound. The large hat, tipped with a feather, bobbed slightly with every move. The coat, complete with golden buttons, a red velvet finish and a long, tasseled sleeves, gave him the appearance of a commodore. The captain wore long, light blue pants, and the boots were polished to a fine sheen, though they looked strong enough to crush a wooden beam underhoof.

He, or at least everypony along the coast thought he was a he, wore something akin to a mask over his face. There were rumors he had been terribly disfigured in a battle and now wore it to hide his shameful visage. Others said he had the face of a beast and only wore it to add to his mystique, revealing it only to those he was going to kill. The mask itself was of a purest white, almost intensely so, and the holes where the eyes would shone through were shrouded by a thin fabric, so that nopony could see his eyes.

“What do we have here, Grund?” the captain asked softly, his voice like a slithering snake. It was smooth, gentle, and yet carried with it a deep, resonating tone that would have sent chills down the spines of any scullery maids, had they been aboard the ship. In the spines and hearts of stallions, however, it inspired anger, loathing... fear.

Grund, the first mate who had led the raid on the ship, walked past the row of captives. “All prisoners accounted for, captain,” he said in a gruff voice, limping slightly. “The captain put up more of a fight than I’d have liked, and he lost a hand for it. Still alive, though: the boys bandaged him up pretty good, as per your code.” Ah, the code: informal, but enforced nonetheless by the mysterious captain.

“Good, good, though why you had to cut his hand off eludes me,” the captain said, nudging the unconscious captain with his boot, earning a slight moan in response. It wasn’t a hard nudge: just enough to get a confirmed response of coherence, even in unconsciousness. “I told you I prefer them mostly unharmed, and losing a hand is a severe injury if not treated. Any others injured in such a manner?”

“None, sir: mostly just a few with splinters here and there from the quick shelling, but otherwise unharmed,” the earth pony replied, plucking a small piece of wood out of the shoulder of a captured sailor as he passed by. The pony let out a slight whimper, but otherwise remained silent, the blood trickling down from his wound and staining his whitish uniform: the blue highlights were stained as well.

“I see,” the mysterious pirate captain said, pausing before Ensign Jeremy Hoofer. He leaned down, grasping the young pony by the chin and forcing him to look him in the mask. “Tell me, son, what is your name? I try to learn the names of ponies I’ve met, so as to remember them should I meet them again."

The earth pony was silent at that, trying not to show weakness. “Come now boy, I am no barbarian: we are all equals on the sea, as we are all susceptible to her charms... and her fury,” the captain added with a slight chuckle, glancing out at the distant horizon. “Come now, son, tell me your name: I won’t bite.”

“Ensign Jeremy Hoofer, of the TMS Sunstrider... sir,” the earth pony added: it was a habit by now.

“Ah, another Hoofer,” the captain said, releasing the young pony’s chin. “I met your cousin on your sister ship: maybe you can talk to him when you arrive to your new quarters. Tell me, what did you do before you join Their Majesty’s fleet?” Their Majesty being a reference to the co-ruling between Princesses Celestia and Luna, of course: everypony knew equality was a lofty ideal to the two.

“I... I was a carpenter, sir,” Jeremy said. “I joined because my friends did. I... may or may not have been drunk at the time. I think we all were.” He cracked a small, weary smile at that: they had been drunk.

The mysterious masked captain laughed at that. “Ah, yes, well, even the best of us can do great mistakes whilst under the influence of that liquid called alcohol,” he said. “Tell me, Jeremy, what will you do, now that you are out of a ship, and possibly out of a job?”

“What will I do? I’m... you’re not going to kill me?” the earth pony asked, shocked at this sudden revelation. “But... but you’re a pirate! Rob from everyone, and keep it for yourselves, and all that!”

“I may be a pirate, but I have standards, son. Besides, kill you? Of course not, dear boy: why would I ever want to kill you?” the captain said, his voice sounding like he was speaking through a smile. “You, as are the rest of your crewmates, far more valuable to me alive than dead. I too have some friends, captured you see by the same ponies that employ you, and with you as my prisoners, I can exchange you for their freedom. Think of it as a win-win situation: I get what I want, and once you’re free, you’ll be well on your way to do whatever it is you wish.”

He leaned in a bit closer. “I suggest becoming a carpenter again: a much safer career path, my boy.” With that, he stood up, looking around at his boarding party of a crew: they were waiting for him.

“Well, take them down below, lads: make sure they are plenty comfortable with their fellow shipmates.” The crew nodded, some chuckling at this, as they were wont to do. With that, the chained prisoners were led off, under the watchful eye of the captain. “Be sure to attach the tow lines securely to these ships: it’ll be a tough load to haul, but they are worth far more in this state than in pieces,” the captain added as several of his crew brought out chains and large bundles of rope.

“Sir, it was a good thing you arrived before she did,” Grund said as the last crewmate left the ship, jerking his head out towards the calm waters far beyond the horizon. “Otherwise, these ships would be at the bottom of the sea, useless and in pieces, and the crews of both would likely be all dead.”

“I know, Grund, I know,” the captain said as they walked across the plank back onto their own large pirate ship, the Sea Wraith. “It does not bode well for the region for her to act so careless with the lives of others, even for a pirate. I guess I’ll need to have a “discussion” with her on that sometime in the future.” He didn’t dislike the mare of which he spoke: he just saw things differently than she did.

The first mate only smiled at this: the captain was well versed in negotiations of all kinds, and the witch somewhere out in those waters would be no real problem for him.

Author's Note

Well, thought I'd try my hand at something with a bit more flair, and a bit more... adventure. So, what do you think?