The early winter blizzard had stopped hours ago, leaving the mountain pass cloaked with the austere beauty of freshly fallen snow. The small stream cutting through the bottom of the canyon was hidden and still, sluggishly flowing under the thick ice that crusted its banks. Normally the stream’s babbling song was the cheery undercurrent to life on the mountain, but it had been lulled by winter’s kiss into a somber silence, leaving no sound but the keening wind and the solitary hoofsteps of a weary and failing traveler.
A lone unicorn stumbled slowly along the path, a fading line of hoofprints tacking erratically across the snow covered slope. Light flickered feebly from his horn. A blast of wind shrieked through the canyon and he hissed in pain as the icy crystals of the virgin snow whipped through the hood of his cloak and attacked his lavender hide. The crystals stung, but in a distant and discerning sensation that bordered on the pleasant. A spell crafted to pull the ambient heat around him had failed hours ago and he had let it be, having scant strength to hold the more vital spell granting his hooves traction on the icy slope. A small, frantic voice was telling him that he should fight the sinuous warmth that wound its way through his core, but the seductive lack of feeling made it hard to think, much less reason.
The unicorn took another step forward and found to his mild surprise that he was kneeling in the freshly fallen snow. A detached and vaguely annoyed part of him noted that his ebbing horn had finally failed, leaving him helpless in the snowy waste. It was almost a relief as the uncontrollable shivering that had plagued him since his heating spell had failed, eased and then stopped completely as he lay immobile on the trailside. The unicorn bowed his head in solemn defeat, his tear streaked muzzle falling tenderly to the icy trail. He had failed. Half heard voices borne on the wind taunted him, whispering as they played over his prone form. 'What have you wrought?' they asked dispassionately. 'Nothing. And now you will die a befitting traitor’s death.' The wind picked up, screaming around the unicorns shivering body as if angry at his silence. 'Say it. Say you are a fool, a liar, and a traitor. Say these words and then die here alone.' Unable to hear his own voice over the biting wind, he whispered with hoar-frosted lips slurring his words.
“Princess, forgive me. I have failed.”
And found himself swept in down-feather darkness.
----------------- CHAPTER ONE:
I am dreaming.
The unicorn colt lay nestled by an oak on the bank of the shady stream, idly flipping a sheathed hoofblade and savoring the sensation of the frigid water tugging at his lavender fetlocks. Summer had come with a vengeance that year and the sun was uncomfortably warm outside of the shade of the long, thin stand of trees and shrubbery that screened the space between road and river. The colt yawned. It was supremely peaceful on the bank, the dull drone of insects providing a shrill counterpoint to the river at his feet.
The natural peace was broken with the sound of steps on the dusty road. All pretense of calm discarded, the colt’s eyes widened and he froze in place, momentarily forgetting the sheathed blade he had just spun. Arcing lazily through the air, the hoofblade clattered off the colt’s head and fell into the stream with a loud plish. The colt clutched his head and swore in a disturbingly adorable manner. He hesitated after the fallen blade, but after a breathless moment of indecision pressed himself deeper into the oak’s protecting roots and strained to hear who was coming down the path. They were moving quickly, measured steps mixed with the sound of...bells?
The colt peeked around his tree and tracked the bizarre figure with wide eyes as it marched up the path. It was a mare. Seemingly unconscious of the heat, she was swathed horn to hoof in a massive cloak and hat in shades of a regal blue, embroidered with arcane abstracts of the stars, moon and sun. The imposing image was somewhat ruined by a feminine lace ruffle drawn around her gray neck and the unholy amount of bells sewn on every available surface. Barely visible underneath the bell decked hat, golden eyes, hard and deep as amber lay ensconced behind a small pair of steel spectacles. The colt leaned forward, fascinated. Although the mare was old and shabby from the road, she extruded a serene confidence in every jingling step she took. She paused just before the hiding unicorn, primped a little, coughed, and then sighed and addressed the air.
“Had your fill? Or are you scurrilous rascals going to gawk at my figure all day?” She swayed her wrinkled rump in a way that twenty years ago might have been alluring.
The colt stifled a giggle and the mare's ear twitched, homing in on the sound. A screaming blast of dust from the road whipped towards his hiding place. The colt cried out and covered his face as the miniature gale blinded him. Eyes stinging, he felt himself dragged from his hiding spot with a firm telekinetic grip on his hind legs and plonked in the middle of the road, just in front of the mare. She gave him critical look from over her spectacles, harrumphed, then turned away.
“Hmph. A colt.” she said, sounding disappointed, “and a scrawny one at that. I really was hoping for more bandits.” She briskly stepped around the colt and resumed her mechanical march down the road.
Vaguely offended, the colt ran after her, “Hey!” he yelled, “I'm not scrawny! And how do you know that I'm not a bandit!”
The mare called back over her shoulder. “Your mane is brushed, for one thing.”
The colt doggedly followed the mare, breaking into a canter to keep up with her long strides. “Well, m-m-maybe I like having my mane brushed! Yeah!”
“A colt at your age? Unlikely. Also, you show no signs of malnutrition, but have absolutely no scars or other visible injury to show how you seized all the well balanced meals you have been eating.”
“What if I'm just really, really talented at bandit-ing?”
“Talented enough to have a nice bed and live in a nice house?”
“What! How did you know that?”
The mare stopped and smirked at the astonished colt. “Your hooves were polished not too long ago to take the mud off. Either you are an obsessive hygienist, (Which is unlikely, considering the state of your hooves now) or somepony cleaned them off for you before you went inside last, probably the same person who trimmed your fetlocks. Bandits do not trim their fetlocks nor do they live in nice houses. Ergo: You are not a bandit”
The colt was weakening. “Well, just because I have a house and a mo- a somebody who wants me to look nice doesn't mean that I'm not a bandit! Wait!” His eyes brightened. “None of that stuff really tells you that I'm not a bandit! It just makes it sound like I'm not! You're just trying to confuse me!”
“Bravo!” The mare clopped her hooves together and smiled. “That is true. I freely concede that you might be a well fed, hygienic bandit who has a house to sleep in and a mother who cares what you look like.” she gave the colt a sly glance over her spectacles. “But you really aren’t a bandit, are you?”
“Well... no, not really.” the colt said, scratching at the road with a hooftip. A thought struck him and he perked up. “I have a hoofblade, though. A big one.”
“Terrifying.” The mare started off on the road again, subtly slowing her pace to one more comfortable for shorter legs.
As expected, the colt trailed after her. “Have you really fought bandits?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Hordes and hordes of bandits?”
In an impressive feat of acrobatism, the mare managed to wave a hoof around airily without breaking her mechanical pace. “My young colt, I have fought stacks and enclaves and veritable legions of bandits over the last few months. Harmony only knows where they all come from.”
The colt furrowed his brow. “Why?”
Fully expecting a demand for a lurid blow-by-blow of a recent encounter, the mare was thrown by his question. “I-I suppose you might call me an arbiter. A bringer of justice.” she clarified, seeing his confusion, “I've been clearing this land, trying to help the common folk. Greater good and all that harmonious stuff the Sisters prattle on about.”
The colt’s eyes widened, “You know the Celestial Sisters?”
She smirked wryly, “Why, yes. Their polite instance on said “greater good” is about the only thing that's stopping me from hoofing it back to civilization right now, if you want to know.”
“Is Celestia really eighteen hands at the shoulder and breathes holy sunfire when someone defies her undoubtedly just and holy decrees?”
“-Er-”
“Ooh!” The colt had a dreamy look his eyes, the type that usually ended with some lovestruck filly's father breaking out his pitchfork and a deep, cold pond. “And I heard that Luna is so quick and deadly with her soulwalking that ponies drop dead within a hundred miles around her when they just think a treacherous thought!”
A very unmagicianlike snort escaped the blue hat. “If she picked that up while I was gone it's going to be markedly quieter when I get back to Equis proper.” The mare glanced sideways at the colt. “Exactly where did you hear this?”
The colt shrugged, “The skysingers are always coming around with new ballads about the Celestial Sister's grace and beauty and all encompassing charity toward those they trample to a crisp. Battle Briar says I shouldn't listen to them, but you know that's really what they are like, right?”
The mare didn't have the heart to tell the colt of the embellishments skysingers inevitability brought to a tale. She coughed and looked away, then brightened as she spied a drop off in the road ahead. “Ah! It that your home?”
The colt grinned proudly, questions forgotten as the road stretched down into a massive valley settlement. “Yep! That's Castle Girtab, the most 'vincible fort in the outer lands.”
“Vincible, hmm? Let's take a look.” the mare mused as she looked over the valley with a practiced eye, tapping the side of her iron spectacles with the edge of her hoof.
Castle Gitrab sat on a steep artificial hill in the center of the wide valley, towering over the rude houses and newly planted fields surrounding its base. The main street of the large outpost directly below the gates was dusty, with groups of tired earth ponies trudging along it in a dance of solemn apathy. The stream that ran beside the road danced down the slope to cut the town in half and then pooled in a stagnating moat around the fort's base. Although there were no visible cloud structures, a few pegasi flew in formation around the castle, occasionally engaging in mock fights between squadrons. The few unicorns that could be seen picked their way quickly and carefully through the filthy streets, obviously uncomfortable to be in the town.
The mare tisk-ed briskly. “Frankly, I’ve seen worse. Population looks healthy, if a bit dispirited, and it seems they are rotating crops correctly, but Harmony, no septic system and the mill is using a undershot wheel on a slope for goodness sake. Castle looks like it knows its business, I shan't be needed there. And it looks like we've already been spotted.” She turned to the colt, who was scrutinizing the patterns on her cloak. “Friends of yours?”
“What! Who?” The colt jerked his head up. If the mare had been listening more closely she would have heard a faint trace of panic in those words.
She squinted and the air around her spectacles bent and shimmered like the air on a hot summer road. “A colt and a filly I believe. Both unicorns. One green and one purple. They seem to be-ack!”
Purple hooves hit the bank as the youngster scrambled off the road and dove into the stream beside it with an almighty splash. Gasping at the chill, he took a deep breath and bit several reeds off by the bank, then with a heroic grimace plunged beneath the water. Shocked silence reigned as the mare stood looking in bemusement at the rippling stream. After a breathless moment, the pair of ponies ran up. The mare realized that it would be a stretch of imagination to call the larger one a colt. Although he was still young, impressive muscles bulged under his leaf green coat and he stood tall enough to glare eye to eye with her.
The green unicorn snapped out, his voice surprisingly high. “Where is he!”
The mare frowned. “Well hello to you too.” she snipped, annoyed at his abrasiveness. “When dealing with strange ponies, I generally expect an introduction, or perhaps even a good morning or two before demanding information.” she thrust out her hoof roughly and gave him a dazzling smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. “Lovely weather today.” she said, gesturing sarcastically at the angry pony with her upraised hoof. “Now, you say something nice.”
The stallion knocked her hoof aside roughly and took a step closer, almost crossing horns. “I have no time for your games, jester.” he snapped, “I saw you talking to my brother. Tell me where the coward hid and I shall spare you the punishment you so rightly deserve for crossing the son of a starlord.”
The mare's eyes narrowed and she dropped her voice low. “The son of a starlord should know better than to cross another unicorn, especially one who has been wandering the outer lands alone yet not unaccompanied.” A solitary flash of magic pulsed from her horn, gray as winter's ghost, and the mare smiled a thin smile. “Take care my young colt, for there are forces at work through me that you cannot comprehend.”
The young stallion's eyes widened as the hairs on his back stood up of their own accord, but then narrowed again as he stamped his hoof and tossed his mane, “Spare me your riddles nag!” An unhealthy green shimmer of magic lanced along his own horn. “I have no need to exchange paltry boasts with a lowborn. Tell me where that little thief is or I'll-”
“Peace, brother!” The dark purple filly pushed her way between the two angry unicorns. To the mare's surprise, her brother backed up a step, but not before shooting a threatening glance at the elderly unicorn. The filly smiled sheepishly at the mare. “Sorry for shouting, it's just Nettle can be such a hardhead.” She smiled. “Da' says it comes from his earth pony blood.” Despite herself, the mare relaxed just a hair at the young filly's genuine smile. Although she was small for her age, the filly carried herself with a friendly confidence that put the mare at ease. “My name is Nightshade, and this is Nettle. I'm really sorry for my brother’s excitement. It's just our little brother has pinched something dangerous, and we're concerned he might hurt himself accidentally.” Shade looked at the mare with big, worried eyes.
The mare felt herself weakening. “This ‘something’ wouldn’t happen to be a hoofblade, would it?”
The filly frowned. “Yes.” she said, “A large one. Did he have it with him?”
The mare sighed and bit her lip. “No,” she admitted, “But if you want, I could-”
“Don’t!” Frantic splashing came from the river and the young colt surfaced, waving his forehooves frantically. “I’m right here! Don’t say anything!”
Instantly, Nightshade’s demeanor shifted from wide eyed concern to smug satisfaction. She smiled a thin smile and carefully picked her way towards the stream's bank. Sharing a glance with her brother, she dragged the colt out of the water, where he sat with his head down, refusing to look at his siblings.
Nettle took a deep breath, veins bulging from his neck. “You miserable little hollowhorn!” he shouted, “What have I told you about touching my stuff?”
The colt didn’t move.
Nightshade smiled and lit her horn. Instantly the colt flinched. “Look at your brother when he is talking to you, dear,” she said gently. “Now, what did you do today while Nettle was drilling with pa?”
“Nothing.”
Nightshade frowned and the dark violet light surrounding her horn grew by an almost imperceptible amount. The colt's body relaxed as if he was asleep and he let out a long, slow breath. Nightshade leaned in and lifted the colt's head up, forcing him to look at her. “We both know that isn't quite true, now is it Cloves?” She looked sorrowfully into his slack face. “You know how sad it makes me when somepony I love lies to me.” She looked at the colt with big, sad eyes. “Do you have something to say to me?”
“S-srry.” The colt slurred the words with numb lips.
Nightshade nodded in satisfaction and released her magic. Instantly the colt began coughing and taking deep, shuddering breaths. The mare frowned slightly, uncomfortable with the situation, but unsure how to respond. Nightshade smiled and patted the colt on the head. “Now, doesn’t that feel better than lying, little brother?” she asked cheerfully, “Now, let's try this again. What did you do today while Nettle was drilling with pa?”
“I-I took a h-hoofblade from his room.”
“Now, what have we told you about our stuff?”
“T-to not touch it.”
“Good.” Nightshade began walking slowly around the colt, and he flinched as her tail lightly flicked across his face. “So you stole something from your own brother, even though he had asked you to not touch it”
The colt raised his chin defiantly. “I didn't steal it!” he exclaimed hotly, “I j-just wanted t-t-t-” his voice slurred off and his eyes dilated, staring into space. The violet filly sighed and addressed the air.
“Please try remember how much I hate liars, my dear brother. You stole it.” Her eyes narrowed. “Say it!”
The colt voice was barely audible. “I-I stole it.”
“Yes. Yes you did.” The filly sighed and walked over to her brother, patting him gently on the neck. “And I'm afraid, little brother, that that makes you a thief as well as a liar.” Her eyes hardened. “And thieves and liars must be punished.” She turned to the green stallion. “Nettle?” he nodded, “Please show our brother how we treat liars and thieves in Castle Gitrab.”
Nettle grinned and stepped forward, brandishing his lit horn. There was a green flash, and a telekinetic blow hit the colt in the side of the face. The colt cried out. The mare bit her lip, her vague discomfort with the situation crystallizing when she glanced at Nightshade. An almost hungry look danced across the young filly's face and she leaned forward, smiling a slight, feral smile. The mare stepped forward and stood between the siblings and their brother.
“I think that is quite enough.”
The green stallion stopped moving forward, still holding the magic in his horn. “This is none of your business, nag. If you don't like it then leave.”
Nightshade smiled at the mare. “As much as I hate to say it, my brother is right. Please stay out of this. This is a family matter.”
“But-”
The filly cut her off sharply. “-And even if this wasn't a family matter, you still have no power here.” She glared at the mare, “No matter how much power you have in the center lands, no matter what prancing highborn house you consort with in your comfortable keep, you are nothing here!” she snarled, taking a step towards the mare, who took a step back, startled at the buried rage dancing in the young filly's eyes. “Nothing!” she hissed, lowering her voice, “And any claims made by an unknown unicorn against the two eldest children of the only starlord in this land simply won't hold, to say nothing of the damage to my father’s trust it would cause, trust that you need to survive out here.” As if putting on a mask, her hate retreated, and she smiled placidly. “You simply are helpless in this situation.”
The mare took a long slow breath through her nose, then turned with and looked at the filly with grim respect. “That is true, Miss Nightshade.” she admitted quietly, “You are quite astute. I would indeed be helpless if I was making claims.” Her eyes narrowed behind her spectacles.“I am not, however, making a claim.” Blinding white light lanced along her horn. “I'm making a threat.”
A high, keening shriek, mixed with the terrible sound of shredding wood tore through the forest. A streak of light moving almost to fast to track sped in a straight line toward the group on the bank, splintering branches and small trees in its inexorable path. Nettle had only time to widen his eyes before the tree beside him exploded in a shower of fragments and a hoofblade shot through, stopping a quivering hair from his panicked eyes.
The mare smiled, holding blade and wooden splinters in a telekinetic grip around the group. “Now,” asked the mare pleasantly, “Is this the hoofblade in question?”
Nettle gulped. “Yes, but-”
The mare cut him off abruptly, voice colder than a midwinter stream. “This. Is. Your. Hoofblade.”
He flattened his ears and lowered his head submissively. “Yes, mam.”
“Then take it and leave.”
Nettle gingerly bit the blade, glanced nervously between his sister and the mare still telekinetically orbiting hundreds of shards of wood, and ran back towards the road. Nightshade sat frozen by the stream, unsuccessfully trying to hide her look of wide eyed shock. Abruptly, she threw back her head and laughed long and freely. Chuckling, she turned and grinned at the mare. “It has been a pleasure talking to you.” she said, nodding her head respectfully, “I am truly glad I met you today.” Nightshade deftly threaded her way through the shards, and almost pranced her way towards the road, “Finally!” she whispered, still giggling like a schoolfilly.
As Nightshade left, the mare let the pieces of shattered wood drop to the ground and ran over to the colt. He looked up at her, eyes red with repressed tears.
“You ratted me out!”
The mare brushed aside his mane, looking with concern at the colt's eye, swollen from his brother's blow. “I did no such thing.”
“What?”
“If I remember correctly, you were the one who popped out of hiding, not me.” the unicorn snapped, but then hesitated and continued in a softer tone “I was just offering to find that blasted hoofblade. And- well,” the mare hesitated, “if it makes any difference, I was not expecting so...violent of a response from your family.”
The colt sniffed absently, using the puddle to examine his swelling eye. “S’ok” he said, “You didn’t know”
The mare's magic shimmered to life and a small stream of water slipped from the puddle and wound its way toward the pair. The mare tested the water with her skin just above her hoof and visibly unsatisfied, blew on it gently. The colt watched in fascination as spiderweb tendrils of frost skated across its surface, leaving the water frozen in a smooth disk.
“How did you do that?”
The mare waved her hoof vaguely as she concentrated on applying the ice to the colt’s face. “Oh, goodness, that was just a simple convection spell.”
“Convection?”
“The transferal of energy through a liquid. Although water itself is difficult to use magic on because of its conductive properties, due to the laws of entropy I can create a negative energy gradient in the surrounding air that will-” The mare stopped and frowned at the colt's confused look. “Ah... that basically pulls the heat from the water into the surrounding air.”
The colt smiled. “Oh.”
The mare stepped back, satisfied that the swelling was going down. “Now, that's that,” she said with a motherly smile, but then frowned as a thought struck her. “Nightshade will be going to your father, won't she?” she asked the colt. He nodded. The mare sighed and stood up. “I figured as much. I've got to go talk to him before any more damage is done.” The mare began walking quickly down into the village, but then stopped, hit her forehead gently with a hoof and turned back to look sheepishly at the colt.
“I can't believe I haven't asked this, but what is your name?”
“Clover,” the colt said proudly, “Lucky Clover of Starkeep Girtrab, eighty first in preci -um- precid- importance in the sky.”
The elderly unicorn turned a fraction, just enough for Clover to see the glint of her amber eyes in the shadow of her hat. “Well, Clover,” she said, with just the slightest sliver of a smile. “My name is Starswirl. Starswirl the -ah- Bearded, friend and humble student to their majesties Luna and Celestia. I have been tasked with overseeing the transition of this backwater waste to more modern methods, and I do believe we shall be seeing more of each other very soon.”
(Present)
When Clover awoke, his first perception was one of noise; a deep and almost inaudible vibration that he felt deep in his bones rather than heard. It rose and fell in simple repetitive patterns, gently soothing his weary body. It was warm where he lay, hot even. Bright and almost blistering heat filled his body, like noon on a summer's day. Clover arched his back and stretched luxuriously, reveling in the feel of the impossibly fine and soft grass he lay on. He hadn't felt this warm since leaving the Star Keep for the harmony forsaken wastes of -
Clover stiffened in shock as the events of the last months shot through his brain. His task to find the elusive storm king, leader of the griffon nation. His weeks of fruitless searching through the mountains, still thinking he could find their home before winter set in. Blizzard. Oh dear. He winced. That freakishly early blizzard had been an almost fatal miscalculation. By all rights he should be dead, but here he was, alive and…
He frowned. Where in Equis was he?
Stealthily, Clover opened his eyes. He was laying in a massive room with firelight flickering hypnotically against rude stone walls. Across the chamber, a firepit carved out of the same gray stone as the wall contained a roaring fire, the source of the intense heat. The light was blocked from reaching Clover's eyes by a large heap of shadowed rock that protruded from the center of the room, casting erratic shadows across the sandy floor. The ceiling arched high, decorated with woven tapestries depicting hunts and other warlike scenes. Clover squinted at the tapestries, trying to make out details. Although the senseless violence depicted would appeal to them, the brute pegasai or even the earth ponies lacked the skills and patience needed to knot something so intricate. A weaving so tight could only be done by magic or something much more dexterous than a pony. Dragons? Those cursed jewel hunters? Clover noted uncomfortably that the majority of the tapestries depicted ponies as prey animals. An awful thought shot through him and he looked to see what he was lying on.
Pelts.
He was lying on a dead animal.
Clover retched violently and whimpered, frantically trying to find traction to get off the fur without actually touching it. His struggles became more frantic as his back legs trembled and then gave out, dumping him back onto the pelts. Clover snorted, eyes wide. Why weren't his legs working?
A low chuckle filled the room and the vibrating hum that had filled the room stopped. Clover froze. The enormous backlit rock in the center of the room shifted and stretched feathered wings sleek as a fawn’s first horn.
“Sweet Harmony above.” thought the one part of Clover's brain that wasn't screaming in shock. “It's a griffon.”
Clover had thought he was prepared to deal with griffons. Flocks of adolescents occasionally flew over Equis, seeking trade and adventure, but this griffon towered over them like an oak in a sea of saplings. Standing on his hind legs, Clover figured he would just barely be able to touch the seated griffon's beak.
A voice deep as the mountains filled the room. “Ah, we see the pony has woken up.”
Clover nodded mutely, still sprawled on his belly. The griffon cocked its head and raised a shaggy eyebrow at Clover's undignified position. “Pony do not sit like that. Why is the pony on her belly?”
Clover gulped, trying to loose the knot in his throat. “My-my legs aren’t...”
“Ah,” The griffon nodded slowly, “The pony is wondering why her legs are not working, is it so?” Clover nodded again and began cautiously working his way back onto his hindquarters as the griffon continued, “Pony was frozen. When pony are left outside, back legs get weak.” The griffon took a claw the size of Clover's ear and scratched the ragged down underneath its beak. “Pony is lucky that her insides are not sick, or she would be dead.”
“Dead?”
“Aye. Pony is lucky Alrick found her.”
Clover found his voice again, curiosity aroused. “Alrick? Is that your name then?”
The griffon nodded, “Aye.”
Clover brightened as a thought struck him, “Is this the Skye Keep? Did I make it to your capital?”
“No.”
“No?” Clover's ears drooped. “Then where am I?”
The griffon began to turn away. “Pony is too tired for questions. Pony should wait for morning.”
Clover propped himself up on his front legs. “This pony would like to know where he is.”
“He?” The griffon stopped and chuckled, “Alrick thought the pony was a girl. Alrick asks the pardon of the pony, as the eyesight of Alrick is not what it used to be.”
Alrick stood, warbling in amusement at his mistake. Clover flushed with a hot stab of irritation and snapped out at the griffon, patience frayed, “I don't want your pardon, I want you to answer me!”
The griffin's laughter ground to a halt and he leaned closer to the irate unicorn, looking at him sharply with a golden eye the size of Clover's hoof. “The pony is not well, so Alrick will forgive his rudeness, but the pony needs to learn manners before Alrick wants to answer his questions.”
Clover met the griffon's flat stare with one of his own. “Manners?” he chuckled, a mocking sneer dancing behind his words. “From a griffin? Would an introduction please you?” he said in a singsong voice, drawing out the word just a second too long. “So be it.” Clover straightened himself on the fur as much as possible and then flared his horn, surrounding himself with an azure glow. “I am Lord Clover the Clever, Starswirl the Bearded's personal prodigy. I am chief adviser to Princess Platinum the Moon Raiser and ruler of the Unicorn nation. My family was the keeper of the star Girtab, eighty first in precedence in the sky for a hundred generations, but through my own merits, I am now guardian of Sirius, the fifth brightest star in the sky and one of the seven Lords of the Sun, charged with regulating the night and day even in this backwards little hole you call home! So now that we are quite clear who I am, who are you and where in Equis am I!”
Clover's magically amplified shout rang throughout the chamber. The griffon cocked his head sharply and glared at the sitting unicorn with an eye white with age. A long moment passed. Abruptly, the griffon sagged and let out a deep sigh, looking as old as the worn stone surrounding him. “The griffon's name is Alrick, watchman of the Dream Valley pass.” Alrick turned away and resumed his position by the fire. “And Alrick welcomes Clever Clover to Winter's Keep”
