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.