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!