Starting from the background.

The world was pain. The world was blur. The world was ringing in the ears, vertigo and overall nausea. The world also contained a certain cheery pegasus that I really, really want to hit with something heavy the moment he gets into his own, separate head.

"Rise and shine, Alex, we have a world to save!" chimed the foul creature. "The sun is up and we must thank Celestia for the new beautiful day!"

"I'm not sure we can really blame it on her," I replied with a groan, trying to lift my head and to not throw up in a process. "Why are you so happy all of a sudden?"

"I'm always happy in the morning. What's wrong, Alex? You sound unhealthy." At least, he had the decency to sound a bit concerned.

"Have you ever felt like someone is trying to use your head as a tennis ball?"

"More times, than I care to admit. Why?"

"Because someone just won some big tournament with mine," I groaned as naturally, as my mind voice could allow. "And it feels like he's going for an encore."

"Hmm... that would explain this ringing noise... and the..." Strict went into incoherent mumbling for a moment, and then laughed. "Oh! Great news, my friend, you just got something that divide a colt from a stallion!

"A herd of six and fifteen foals?" I admit, in my state I wasn't thinking very clearly.

"What? No, no, eww!" Stricts voice shuddered at some unpleasant image. "It's not the Paleopony Period, you know. For a pegasus the rite of passage is his first real concussion."

"That's a most asinine thing I've ever heard, and I had once worked as a first line tech support," was my immediate reply. Probably not very honest, but hey, I was the one suffering a rite of passage there.

"That's tradition. Most of them are like this," replied the evil one, adding a feeling of a shrug to the words. "Normally it happens when you are able to fly good enough they start to let you visit the ground on your own. Clouds are more forgiving than trees, houses, or mountains. Don't worry, it'll pass in a day. Just don't go to sleep in the meantime. And don't wake up Mist, she looks like she sleeps off hers. Lucky mare, she have a chance to not even notice it."

This reminded me of the second member of our suicide team, that happily (and rather loudly) snored next to me in the nest, made of... magazines? Looking around once more I discovered, that about a half of the container we were in was filled with crates. One of such crates was broken, probably during our landing, and it contents were used to make a bed for a batpony. The nest was neatly made, showing the skill Maire wasn't supposed to have, so apparently, Mist was in control during that. Another hint on that was the contents of the magazines. I highly doubt that Maire would've thought of making her bed out of high quality porn.

The mare herself, though, was not looking that good. Her coat was messy and tangled, her mane and tail was one big knotted disaster area, she had multiple shallow cuts on her legs and her head sported two rather painful looking bumps - one, apparently, from the P.A.P.A. hospitality. Still, most of the cuts were covered in bandages and band-aids, even the bumps were treated with some kind of ointment. No matter how much Blue Mist were hurt by our "rescue", she was persistent enough to only pass out after taking a good care of the immediate concerns. Quite unlike that one guy I know, shame on him. In fact, looking at myself I've noticed, that my own wounds were treated the same way. Considering that she had done that with hooves, mouth, suffering from a head trauma and in complete darkness, made me really envious of Maire. She had gotten the competent one. Well, at least Strict can punch holes through sheet metal with his head and live, so maybe it wasn't so bad. Looking at the hole we made, I've noticed, that for some bizarre reason someone had taken the normal steel door of a freight container and replaced it with plywood. Still impressive, but my respect for white pegasus durability went down a bit. In any case, we were impossibly lucky to ram into the only container in Finland, or even in the world, that had such an "upgrade" and hit dead center of the plywood door on the first attempt, while flying blind. Also, the container was only half-full, with most of its empty space situated right in front of our entry point.

When the sheer improbability of this event had caught up to my concussed brain, I thought that I've heard a content chuckle. It wasn't me, Strict or Maire/Mist, the voice was all wrong (still, somehow familiar), and there were no one in the container except us. I've shrugged that as unimportant and probably just a trick of my imagination, and made an attempt to make at least some sense of our current situation, while searching the saddlebags, that we managed not to lose in the blizzard, for some food. My first discovery was that I don't really know how to use hooves for anything above walking. The second one was that I'm not that good at thinking while recovering from a concussion.

Strict was not a big help with the hooves part, he was nearly shocked into silence by the idea that someone may have a problem with grasping things with his limbs. But even with his helpful insight on how every foal is better in being him then me, the old and bumpy road of trial and error have prevailed. Maire was kind enough to get the bags with one simple clasp and a zipper, so it took me only ten minutes to figure out how to properly open the container. Inside there were a simple medical kit, most likely the one the bandages came from, four wallets (one for each bag), a water bottle, and several fist-sized cloth bags, tightly filled with a mix of grains, dried berries and nuts, the sight of which returned Strict in the good mood. It even managed to lift mine a bit, after a day on hay and straw the thing tasted divine. Surprisingly, contents of just one bag was enough to completely silence my stomach, a big surprise after the amount of hay required to do the same. After breakfast I climbed back into the "nest", trying to ignore the pictures on it's sides. Pegasi may be cold-resistant, I had no problems with being exposed to the cold air despite not having any clothes, but that doesn't mean they don't enjoy being warm for a change. And at that moment the only way to get warmer was to lie side-by-side in the confines of the nest. Considering I woke up inside of it, Mist or Maire had no problem with a little cuddling for the warmth.

"Man, that food was good," I said with a content burp, enjoying the feeling of a full stomach. "Mist must be one good cook, despite all her high military facade."

"Mist can't cook at all, if you wouldn't consider her home cuisine food, of course", immediately retorted Strict. "You wouldn't believe what they eat in those caves of theirs. Have you seen her teeth? There is that nut, looks like coconut, but with harder shell, to keep rockbiter rats away. They bite right through it like the thing is made of paper! I nearly lost half my teeth the first time she cooked for us. It also have a strong laxative effect on the pegasi. No, whoever made that meal, that wasn't her."

"Couldn't be Maire either, I'm pretty sure humans can't eat raw oats. Wait, she cooked for you? Why?"

"Well, you know, it is a custom for a married couple to share a meal now and then. Of course, being in the Guard, we rarely cook for ourselves, still, it's nice to do once in a while. Too bad I can't eat what she makes, I'm not much of a chef myself.

Suddenly, all the effects of the concussion went on pause.

"Married?" That was, probably, not the smartest question, but I needed a bit of a time to really process the implications.

"Erm... yes? Strict answered cautiously, catching something in my voice.

"Any reason you couldn't fill me in earlier?"

"Umm... classified? weakly whispered the winged ass, finally realising, that I'm not happy with the revelation at all.

"Yes, right. And I'm an orc's mother-in-law. You do realise what I made poor mare to go through because you failed to mention this little bit? I was wondering why she winces every time I speak, nothing pointed at the reason. Well, now we have a reason, and man, it's a good one! She met someone she knows, someone she cares about, and that someone is suddenly not what she had expected, but me. Guess how long it took for her to realise that I can talk to you? Damn, you nearly made me turn her away! "

Strict had fallen silent. After a long while, I heard a quiet whisper from him. "I've screwed up, didn't I?"

"My best guess is yes, you did," I sighed, feeling the sudden clarity leaving it's place to the concussion dizziness. "I'm not in any state to help you right now, but when she wakes up you better not only be sorry, but also know how to say it to her."

Suddenly, Mist stirred beside me and groggily opened her scary eyes.

"He's sorry?" she asked me, yawning.

"Sounds sorry to me," I admitted, still unsure, how much of my angry monologue she had heard.

"Buck him for me and say, that when we'll get home, he'll get the shovel. Now, please, pipe it down and let me sleep," with that she turned and resumed snoring.

"Well, that went well," I had to admit. "I don't even want to know what the shovel means, but seems like she's more forgiving than I've thought possible."

"That's because you don't know what the shovel means. Still, it could've been a flugelhorn, so I guess, she's not that upset," Strict's mood had considerably brightened. "In fact, since we're are clearly in an unfriendly environment, and on what can be considered an official mission, we are on duty and are supposed to conceal our personal relations."

"Hold on to that thought, it may save you from the flugelhorn. Now, since you are now aware of how keeping vital information from me could bear unwanted consequences, could you please try to share at least some of it? You can't be all that confidential, your country can't be all that secret, there ought to be at least something you can tell!"

"All right, all right, you win," groaned the secretive pegasus. "It's just that my job is keeping secrets. My entire life purpose, my destiny, if you like it more that way. I have to keep a lot of secrets, so it's not very easy to discern what is a secret and what isn't. It will be better to start with a little history, so you'll understand, why there are things I can't tell you.

"It all began back when the three tribes were yet to find harmony, peace and, of course, Equestria itself. It was an age of strife, unrest and, more often than modern historians care to admit, war. Pretty much every disagreement ended in an armed conflict. It never lasted for too long, even back then every tribe needed the other two to survive, but since it was happening for a long time, ponies got pretty good at it. We had filled Tartarus with most of its current inhabitants during that era, despite them being scary monsters and evil demigods. That was the time when the word 'pony' was one of the scariest words around.

"But at last, that story with windigoes happened, Equestria was founded, the princesses took the throne, and suddenly there were peace everywhere. All of the weapons, all of the combat magic, all of the knowledge of war, became useless but still remained dangerous. Now, what I told you before, it is in every history book, the next part is not. It's not a secret, it's just deliberately forgotten. Weapons were mostly destroyed, of course, but the knowledge, while being much more dangerous, was also much more valuable. It was considered a waste to get rid of it. Who knows when ponies may need it again? But to leave it widely available was too risky, so it was divided and hidden. Hush The Mute, my ancestor, was the one who came with the way to keep it handy, but still out of sight and with the way to limit the access only to those who would not misuse it. Since that day his descendants keep his legacy and the horrors our race came up with, hidden. At least it's so for the pegasi, but I know, that others also have their ways."

"Sounds too paranoid for me. It was how long ago, hundreds of years? I interrupted.

"Thousands, answered Strict.

"Even better. What kind of secrets could it be? How to sharpen the sticks the right way?

"How to destroy an entire town with an army of one well trained pegasus, for example. You've seen one of the ways to do it yourself, that's the weakest of the tricks stored in there. Alex, I don't know about humans, but us ponies, when we're good at something, we are really, really good at it. Be it making rainbows out of a cloud or ruins out of a city. In fact, there is a way to do it all at once. Every pony possess powerful magic, and every kind of it is insanely dangerous if you know how to properly misuse it.

"We'll have to return to that magic stuff later, it sounds like fun. But please, continue."

"That was pretty much it. My duty is to keep it hidden, so please, don't even ask. It's not like you can use it anyway," this reply made some pieces click together.

"Why can't I use it?"

"Most of those techniques require years to learn. Some require a certain set of hereditary traits my body does not possess. And all of them are based on the basic knowledge of the pegasi magic you don't have."

"So, basically, all that highly secret knowledge no one should know about is a pile of useless outdated junk?

"No! It's... it's... Damn you, Alex, and your Tartarus logic! Yes, it's useless, most of the time. But only most, and keeping it hidden is only a part of my real job. There is always a chance somepony will stumble on something from it. It was discovered once, after all, it can be done again. Why, only recently the Sonic Rainboom was reinvented - and believe me, there are not a lot of things more dangerous than that one. When something like that happens, I have to inform the Princess of the possible consequences and take measures to prevent it from spreading. That's why when I'm on duty, I'm rarely out of her earshot, unless someone else from the family is covering that.

"Mostly it's pretty boring administrative work - you know, a filly who have the right magic for the thought projection, or somepony breaking Mach 3 in Cloudsdale residential areas, handled by shifting some papers around. That Rainboom case was the biggest in centuries. Half a family had to spread rumors that it's a fake the first time that filly did it, and Her Highness had to claim it's something only one in many generations can do when she did it again. Good thing Celestia have the benefit of everyone believing her, that cursed mare doing rainbooms almost daily now."

"Enough with that, then. I don't understand half the terms you are using, and I have a feeling, that if I'll ask you to explain, you'll just claim it's a secret. Let's get back to the history. You mentioned some story with the windigoes, what's that?"

What followed was a long recollection of Equestrian ancient history. It was pretty interesting, but it is not relevant to this story, so I won't put it here. It took us a few hours, and that, surprisingly, was enough for the concussion to fade. Pegasi heal fast, if you believe Strict. Mist were peacefully snoring all the time, and from the looks of her, also got better. Her awakening was what interrupted our history lesson, mostly because it was Maire who woke up. Her last memory was of falling asleep on the bale, so she was surprised to find herself in a completely different place, and sharing a "bed" with a stallion. She added some new bruises to my extended collection, threw the "bed" overboard, and refused to talk to me for at least a full hour, sulking in a corner of the container. By the time she decided to listen to my explanation, it was nearly night. By that time a realisation hit our concussed brains.

We were on a ship. And we had no idea where it was or where it headed to.