An Old Mare's Tale: Gadgets, Bringer of SCIENCE!

Chapters

Pfft, Screw Gravity We Have SCIENCE
You do have a plan, right? RIGHT?!
A History Lesson
In The Dark Places
Irony Sucks In Every Universe
Where Bad Things Come From
$#@% It, Let's Play God!
New Perspectives
Quiet You, I'm Doing SCIENCE
The Wind of Destiny
An Old and New Friend
An End to the Beginning
Those Pesky Backstories
I'm Sorry, I Can't Hear You Over the Sound off How Awesome I'm Being

Pfft, Screw Gravity We Have SCIENCE

"More heat, moar!!!"

"'Moar heat'? The hay is wrong with you?! The ship's on fire!"

"That means it's working!"

********

Minion stepped back, drawing a leg across her brow to clear it of sweat, and admired the result of two year's hard work. The Inconceivable, as Gadgets had taken to calling it, was massive, deadly, and above all, totally awesome. Five-hundred hooves from stem to stern and a hundred from port to starboard, it was the single largest airship ever created in Araea, having been designed to brave dangers nopony had ever imagined and armed to the bloody teeth with state-of-the-art weaponry.

The Inconceivable was comprised of four decks. The lowest served as a cargo bay, stocked to the brim with spare parts, medical supplies, and various heavy machinery and automatons. The second was devoted to a cutting-edge medical bay, galley, workshop, and recreation center. Then there came the crew quarters, comfortable sized cabins running down the entire length of the ship's starboard side, providing room and board for quite a number of ponies. Room enough for the friends Gadgets expected to gather over the course of their journey. The top deck was mysteriously devoid of clutter, it’s only real decoration the guard rail running along the edge.

The ship itself was shallow-bottomed and based off the designs of old sailing vessels they'd found in the Great Library rather than the compact, rectangular cabins hanging beneath gasbags that were so common these days. Said gasbags were conspicuously absent from this vessel, whose steel sides gleamed bright as the moon. Instead, the ship was held aloft by half-a-dozen gargantuan fans running up either side at regular intervals, and propelled by two larger fans attached to the rear. Numerous machine cannons and death rays covered the spaces between, allowing the ship to fire in any direction. A necessity should they ever be attacked by swarms of something. "Swarming. Is. Bad", as the old saying went.

The last fifty-hooves gave home to the raised captain's cabin, which housed the primary wheel, com station, back-up firing system, a command station that tracked the ship's many various systems (engines, targeting arrays, etc.) and a snack bar atop its roof. At the center of this cabin deckside was the stairway which led to to the interior, the cabin's actual door some ways to the right. An open space passing through all four decks, creating a giant hole in the ship, ran through the center. Just over a hundred feet long and fifty-hooves wide, its purpose was a mystery to her, but Gadgets insisted it was a vital part of the ship's design.

"But what if we have to land on the sea? Won't that sink the whole ship?"

"Got it covered."

And that was that. Still, the rest of the ship was impressive enough that Minion had no doubts as to the validity of Gadgets' confidence. Now all that remained was the greatest problem of all: convincing Mom and Dad to let them go on a perilous journey which was more than likely to kill them horribly...she should probably work on her phrasing before she told them that.

Her musings were interrupted as Gadgets' goggled head popped over the railing, face split in a smile so bright it banished the shadows of doubt from her mind and set her heart to soaring. With a completely unnecessary flip, he leaped over the side, gliding smoothly down to the cave's floor on his wings of gold, hooves clicking loudly against stone polished smooth by liquid flame (of which he was the source).

Gadgets had changed over the years, growing taller, more muscular (a result of the harsh training he and Minion had been subjecting themselves to) in preparation for the dangers they would face and the potentially fatal change in air pressure as they descended to the surface. His mane longer, his eyes sharper and more determined than ever before, though thankfully they had lost none of their childish excitement.

His outfit had changed as well. He still wore the same coat he'd always loved, though Mrs. Gears had had to readjust the size several times to keep up with his growth, but the rest had undergone a drastic makeover. His aviator's vest had been replaced by black chainmail, and he now wore even more belts, dripping with tools and weapons, slung across his shoulders and around his chest and gut. A small Gatling gun was mounted on his left shoulder, belt-fed with irradiated shells by one of his mysterious pockets, and his mechanical limb had been upgraded with a retractable buzz sword, coursing with electricity just for the hay of it.

Minion had undergone some not-so-minor changes herself. In addition to growing taller and stronger, her already athletic build had shaped out into a far more feminine shape, giving her the appearance of, as Gadgets had put it, a "sexy death goddess." Not that she minded, of course. She'd also trimmed her pink mane so that it would not obscure her vision in a fight or catch on protruding branches should they need to run away. Her cherry-red coat was now covered in black, complicated symbols of protection and courage her zebra friends had insisted she wear.

Her own outfit was, though thankfully less complicated than her friend's, still something to be proud of. A short white jacket covered her back and forelegs, two belts, one around her midsection, the other slung diagonally from shoulder to hip, held her tools and weapons, and a single buzz sword was sheathed down her left side. She had also obtained her own pair of extravagant goggles, currently hanging around her neck above the locket Gadgets had made for her, containing the only known picture of him with his parents.

"Oh Gadgets, I can't accept this, it's your most precious possession."

"No, I want you to have it, because you've given me something much more precious to hold on to."

And then he'd kissed her for the first, but certainly not the last, time. That had been last year, and the two had been happily dating ever since, though their romantic evenings did have a habit of ending with something on fire, frozen in ice, or flying through the air. It kept things interesting, to say the least and it wasn't like she could blame all their shenanigans on the colt. Minion had her own, well-deserved reputation for mischief.

"Wellp, she's ready. Time for the hard part," Gadgets voice broke through her thoughts, as he sidled up to her, his eyes already turned towards the early morning light seeping through the cave's entrance.

Minion's smile matched his as she cuddled up next to him and they began the trek towards home, stopping only for the briefest of moments to watch the sunrise, side-by-side, partners in everything from the day they met. The time had finally come to put their friendship to its greatest test.

********

"Okay."

"Now really, Mom, you need to accept that - wait, what?"

"I said okay."

Minion stared dumbfounded at her mother. The young couple had returned home not half an hour past to find that Mrs. Gears had prepared a veritable smorgasbord of breakfast for them, containing everything from seventeen different fruit dishes to stacks of pancakes a pony high.

The family now sat around the kitchen table, Minion and Gadget so close they were almost touching, Mr. and Mrs. Gears facing them, both looking oddly calm and resigned in the morning light seeping in from the windows. Mrs. Gears turned to address Gadgets, though Minion was certain she was speaking to both of them.

"When we were young, Jackies and Marith would always talk about finally leaving home and traveling the world aboard their own airship. When we grew up, that passion had only grown with the passing of time, and I have no illusions about how they must have planned to leave the second they could."

She shook her head sadly, blinking away tears. Mr. Gears placed a comforting hoof around her shoulders, drawing her close even as Minion did the same to Gadgets, who was staring at his adopted mother with utmost attention.

"But then Marith got pregnant and derailed their plans entirely. Jackies was forced to sell the airship they'd been building to cover the cost of raising a foal, but oh, they were both so happy when you were born! It was like their own dreams ceased to matter when they looked at you, like your happiness was the whole world to them."

Gadgets was sitting on the edge of his seat now, eyes shining like two little lamps in the night, and Mrs. Gears smiled at him through her tears.

"But I'd always suspected they'd never fully given up hope of going beyond Araea's borders, they were just waiting until you were grown enough to go with them. But then that terrible night happened and you came to us in the rain and I swore to do everything in my power to protect you, to keep you safe and happy until you were ready."

"Ready for what?" Gadgets whispered softly.

"Ready for this," Mrs. Gears slid from her husband's embrace and clopped softly up the stairs, returning moments later with a battered old shoebox sealed by an extraordinarily complicated, though clearly ancient, lock. Mrs. Gears removed a key from her jewelry box on the kitchen counter and the lock clicked open, its sound reverberating about the still room as if she'd struck a gong.

From the box she removed a journal, nearly identical to the one Gadgets possessed, though far more heavily damaged by age and the side-effects of science. Mrs. Gears carefully handed the tome to her son, who hastily cleared his place of dishes, knocking several to the floor where their built-in rotors easily righted themselves and set gently to the tiles, spilling nothing.

"This book once belonged to your father," she told him, opening it to display yellowed pages crammed with notes and diagrams. "He used it to copy down everything he'd ever thought of, including all of his plans for the future."

She pointed a hoof towards a small paragraph crammed in one corner; Minion leaned over her coltfriend's shoulder to read it:

Gadgets,

I write this to you knowing that if I never achieve my dream, you will. Life is complicated, life is harsh, and we frequently find ourselves having to choose between what we need and what we want. I wanted to go to the surface, I wanted to be an adventurer, I wanted it more than I've ever wanted anything, and I know your mother felt the same way. But then she got pregnant, and for a terrifying moment I believed that all my hopes were shattered. And then you were born.

I love you, Gadgets, and I know that no matter what happens to me, or to Marith, you'll grow up to be the greatest pony I could ever hope you to be. I will ask only one thing of you, my son, one thing that I want you to do. Go to the surface. Fulfill what I could not. Not for me, never for me, but for you. The world down there is a beautiful place and it's so very worth seeing, even if I've never been there.

There's more to the Event than we know, and I task you with the quest of finding out what. Find the Rainbow Bridge, Gadgets, find it and bring our ponies home; back to where we started and closer to where we began.

Gadgets stared in dazed wonder at his father's writing, so very like his own, too afraid or too reverent to touch the weathered pages, his tears now spilling unashamedly down his cheeks.

"I kept this from you, not out of fear, but so that you could grow up to make your own choices,” Mrs. Gears told him, closing the weathered pages. “I didn't want you to feel like you owed anything to your parents, like you had to complete their journey. I wanted you to live your life, just like they would have. I -"

Whatever else she might have said was cut-off as Gadgets hugged her, weeping into her flowery apron like a little foal. Mrs. Gears smiled and stroked his mane gently with a hoof, meeting her daughter's tear-stained eyes as she did. It was then that Minion understood. Her parents, being the brilliant ponies they were, had always known Gadgets would follow in his parents' hoofprints, and they'd fully expected her to go with him when he did. They'd known she'd love him even before she had.

"Your mother left you a gift, too, you know." Mrs. Gears said after a few moments, when Gadgets sobs had finally subsided. The young stallion blinked up at her, his goggles, to which his "mother" was now indicating, perched precariously on his forehead.

"We gave them to you early because we knew your father's spirit ran strong in you, and we owed it to him to help you nurture that gift as best we could, though we certainly didn't expect you to spend so much energy trying to fly."

Gadgets raised a hoof to gently touch the ruby-red lenses, the sharp clang of metal meeting metal echoing through the room as he bumped a dial. Mr. Gears, who had been watching the goings-on with a blend of sadness and fatherly pride, suddenly turned to address his daughter. He'd grown a thick mustache in recent years, but his sad little smile was clearly visible all the same.

"You see now why we accepted your declaration so promptly,” he told her, his voice wearied and scratchy with age but filled with warmth and compassion. “We've always known someday you two'd set out for the world and we've had time to prepare ourselves accordingly. The Princess's visit only helped speed things along."

Minion felt fit to burst with pride and affection for her little family as he continued.

"I won't pretend that we won't be sad to see you go, and I'll pretend even less that I don't think it's a stupid, crazy idea that's going to get the two of you killed before you so much as reach that ground we've never seen.

But," his own tears finally broke the dam of masculinity, "that's what it is to be a Gears, to be a pony of Punkstill. Being stupid and crazy and never letting anything get between you and your dreams, and to Tartarus with anypony who says not to shoot for the impossible!"

Minion shot around the table to embrace her father and within moments Mrs. Gears had pulled them into her own hug, squeezing the two brave, brave foals between their parents, wishing she could never let go.

"When are you leaving?" she found herself asking, even though she did not want to know the answer.

"The ship is ready, everything's packed; we'll leave as soon as we've said our goodbyes." Gadgets whispered into the stillness.

His tears had stopped, the time for crying was long past; he'd made his decision, and he would follow it through to the end. Wait for me, Equestria, he thought. I'm coming, and nothing in the world can stop me. My wish will come true. I will make it so, with these hooves of metal and bone, I will make it so.

********

It took almost a week to finish saying their goodbyes, and the better part of another for their friends (and more than half the population of Araea) to arrive. There to wave their final farewells and witness the maiden voyage of that legendary airship, The Inconceivable.

There was not a town in the land that had not contributed in some way to its construction, everypony more than willing to turn out their pockets to that crazy little foal who'd captured their hearts with his boundless enthusiasm and selfless actions. Some had donated large amounts of raw materials such as bronze, steel, wood, and the like. Others had sent labor automatons for the building itself. Not to mention the finest food, drink, and fabrics that had been flown in from the farthest edges of the country. Every inventor, farmer, or factory worker worth his hooves wanting to be able to say, "See that there, on The Inconceivable? I sent him that."

But even as they cheered its building, and beggared themselves to be a part of it, everypony felt, deep inside their hearts, the cold nugget of fear. Fear for the friend they loved, fear that his dream would fail, fear that he would never return. But no matter how afraid for him and his marefriend, they might be, everypony turned out to see him leave. With a smile on their face and hoof in the air they watched that great ship drift on rails of iron from the depths of the cave, and out into the bright noonday sun.

"All systems green, we are ready for launch, Captain." Minion reported, her eyes roving the dials of her command station, triple-checking everything. Gadgets smirked at her from the wheel, his forehooves resting gently on its spokes, his back locked tightly into the braces that would keep him steady.

"Alright then, we've done everything we can think of. Everything's ready, it's time to set sail. Celestia I hope this doesn't blow up."

"Wait, that can happen?"

Gadgets didn't respond, instead he barked an order at the Chief, the automaton he'd designated as being in charge of the crew, to raise the sails. The tiny machine, shaped oddly like a ball with stubby arms and legs, saluted smartly and rattled off to inform the others, snapping out its own orders in the curious, buzzing language of machines to its fellows.

Since the ship was without masts, Gadgets had designed a clever system of specially designed runners which pulled the sails across the length of the ship, before anchoring them down along its sides.

The sails themselves were a marvel of engineering fit to rival that of The Inconceivable itself. Massive, triangular pieces of canvas wide enough to stretch port-to-starboard across the ship, there were six in total running aft-to-bow, forming a sort of canopy. Orange-gold in color and designed to absorb sunlight, transferring the power down below to the engines providing a vast, renewable source of fuel. Rattling filled the air as they were raised, accompanied by the cheers of the spectatorponies.

Due to their shape, the sails were angled slightly to catch the wind, serving both to push the ship forward and hold it aloft, though despite their size their contribution was negligible, given the vast weight they were supporting. No, the ship's real flying power was held by the massive fans Minion had been admiring earlier. Though the science behind the devices baffled her, she had the utmost confidence in Gadgets technical know-how.

"Full speed ahead, Lieutenant." Gadgets called, “Let’s make history!”

Minion shivered in anticipation as she punched in keys, the sounds of her love's mad laughter filling the air about her ears. With a lurch smoother than she'd had any right to expect, the engines came to life and the dull thrum of a dozen gargantuan fans filled the air. The ship shot forward from its runway, speeding over the heads of its onlookers at a rate many, including her, would have thought impossible for a vessel of its size.

Minion thought she caught one last glimpse of her parents waving madly from the depths of the crowd before the town of Punkstill began to fade from sight. A number of smaller airships had flown up around them, their occupants waving frantically even as The Inconceivable easily outstripped them, racing ever onwards through the valley towards the cliffs, and the sea of clouds beyond and below.

Gadgets had chosen this route deliberately and Minion gazed with wonder as they passed over the same outcrop of rock where, just two years prior, Gadgets had learned to fly. She turned to see the colt grinning at her, which she returned with equal vigor. They'd done it! It had taken two years of their lives and a thousand years of their hearts, but they'd done it! They'd built themselves a flying machine and were even now heading out into the new world that awaited them!

"Where to, Captain?" Minion called over the wind, her voice high with joy and shaking with laughter.

"Forward and down," he called back, punching a few buttons on the wheel, "forward and down until we reach the sea!"

On cue, the nose of their great ship began to gently, but noticeably, point down. Down to the perpetual sea of clouds that surrounded their mountain home, obscuring the ground from its peak, and the peak from the ground. The sea none but Celestia herself, the most powerful pony in the world, had ever been able to safely navigate since the Event and the loss of the magical Rainbow Bridge.

"Aye, my love, beyond the sea and below the sky!"

You do have a plan, right? RIGHT?!

The first thing Minion noticed as they descended through the clouds was the complete absence of motion. Surrounded on all sides by white walls, all sense of time, movement, and awareness of the world itself disappeared. Were it not for the turning of the fans, scattering the mist about the ship and creating a bubble of clear air, Minion was quite certain she might have gone insane.

Even Gadgets, who had set the autopilot and detached himself from the wheel, took note of the stillness and felt it impress upon him. He had busied himself by bringing a number of spare parts out on deck and tinkering with them. Not really building anything, just keeping busy. Minion lay atop the stairs near the wheel, watching him with detached interest, grateful for something to keep her eyes on besides the unmoving whiteness around them.

"How long have we been flying?" she asked for the thirtieth time (she'd been counting). Gadgets glanced at the large clock above the captain's door,

"About thirty-six hours, twenty-seven minutes."

Minion looked at the clock as well, hypnotized by its beauty. Unlike normal clocks, with their mere twelve figures and two hands, this one, built by their father long ago and given to the ship as a farewell present, had no hands and no numbers. Instead, a dozen rings twisted and turned about in the center, each circled in turn by a small representation of a planet and artificial fire burned in the center, changing color depending on the time of day. Red for noon, blue for midnight, purple for dawn, and so on and so forth. It made no sense to anypony but them, but the two knew from experience that the clock was scary accurate.

"Well, that means it won't be too much longer, right? How thick can these clouds be, anyway?"

********

It’s amazing how unequivocally wrong a pony can be about something, Minion mused thoughtfully a week later as the unmoving mist surrounding them refused to change. Were it not for the hourly shows Gadgets had set their crew to performing, boredom threatened to kill them as swiftly as an engine malfunction. Thankfully, there was one thing at least that reminded them they were still moving: air pressure.

Minion had noticed on the second day that the further down they went the thicker, warmer, and moister the air became. Under normal circumstances, these changes indicated a storm was fast approaching, but the duo had learned from books and old legends that this was actually indicative of their approaching that legendary place: the sea. And while the prospect of seeing such a vast body of water was exciting, the ponies had begun seriously contemplating shooting the first thing they saw with a death ray.

Without warning, the clouds broke and The Inconceivable burst out into open air, the endless white mist receding quickly above them and salty wind assailing their senses. The intrepid adventurers barely had a moment to register this sudden change in their senses before a gruff, youthful voice snapped through the air.

"What the motherflam-"

A dark, scaly shape crashed through the port side railing and skidded across the deck, sending automatons flying as they leaped out of its way.

"-ow."

Minion leaped to the deck as the young dragon finally slid to a halt, heavily damaged. A cursory glance with the practiced eye of a field medic told her all she needed to know about their guest.

He was young, barely in his teens for a dragon, though all that meant was that he was anywhere from a few score to a few hundred years old. His right wing was bent at an unnatural angle, his black scales scratched and torn by friction, and his golden spines were chipped and broken. He was small for a dragon, though still several times larger than a pony, and his lithe musculature denounced a powerful blend of strength and agility that would make him quite formidable both in the air and on the ground.

"You okay?" she asked as he sat up, scratching his bruised head and inspecting his broken spines. Gadgets dashed to the helm and leveled out the ship, bringing it to a gentle stop as well.

The dragon glanced at her, the fury in his eyes cooling as he did a quick double-take of his surroundings, and when they finally returned to her, they were alight with curiosity.

"Flame that, what in the hay is this thing? It's amazing!" the dragon clambered to his feet, only to fall heavily back to the deck as his damaged wing snapped menacingly.

"Welcome aboard The Inconceivable, my draconic friend, but before we get into that, lemme get a look at your wing." Gadgets announced, appearing behind the dragon with a traveler’s bag of medical supplies he’d inexplicably acquired.

The dragon grumbled something about the disgrace of being helped by ponies, but another ominous crack ended with him reluctantly allowing the two to inspect his wing. Luckily, they had both had reason to come into contact with dragons in their time, in both peaceful and violent encounters, and the two had spent many an hour studying dragon physiology as a result. So it came as no surprise that in less than an hour they had effectively fixed the young reptile's wing. Snapping it back into the joint, patching up the holes in the membrane, and applying special healing salve to cuts and bruises.

As they worked, they talked, and after a few awkward moments the dragon joined in. His name was Darkfang and he came from a small dragon community further down the World's Spire, as the dragons called the great mountain.

"So what kind of a name is 'Darkfang', anyway?" Gadgets asked as the three grew more comfortable around each other. The dragon in question shrugged noncommittally, earning a swift reprisal in the form of a swat to the head by Minion, reminding him not to move.

"We dragons happen to be an unimaginative lot when it comes to naming things," he snorted. "You should hear some of the others."

"We've got time, impress us."

Darkfang shrugged again, eliciting another swat, and began rattling off the names of dragons he knew or had heard tell of from his fellows. Among the more amusing were Spiteyes, Globula, Old Beardedrump, and That One Guy. Minion, in turn, supplied the dragon with some of the names from Araea, eliciting bursts of fire from the laughing dragon whenever she mentioned one of particular mirth.

"So, what the flame is this thing we're on, anyway? Some kind of skyship?" he asked when the laughter had died down, gesturing vaguely at The Inconceivable.

"You curse alot, you know that?" Minion told him, raising an eyebrow. Mr. and Mrs. Gears had been very strict about appropriate language, despite the latter’s rather frequent use of expletives that would shame a sailor.

"Blame it on my heritage,” the dragon snorted. “More to the point, I believe you owe me an explanation of this-" he searched for the right word, "-monstrosity. Seeing as you crashed into me and all."

"Excuse me," Gadgets piped up from behind the dragon's back, where he was applying generous does of Maxillius's's Special Cure All to a particularly nasty gash, "you crashed into The Inconceivable. If it had been the other way around, there wouldn't be enough of you left to be having this conversation."

Darkfang scratched his chin thoughtfully; the scraping, grinding sound it produced oddly pleasant to a mechanic's practiced ear. "The Inconceivable, eh? Weird name for a ship, since it no doubt was conceivable."

Minion smiled up at him from where she was fixing the bandages, meant to hold the wing in place while they worked on it, across his thick chest. She quickly gave him the short version of who they were and where they came from, as well as a modest explanation of the ship and its functions, carefully leaving out the stupid amounts of firepower on board. Friendly manner aside, she still wasn't sure whether they could trust this stranger. Celestia knew he might just try to take the ship from them if he knew what it could do. Dragons were notorious for their love of destruction, after all.

"So," Darkfang said, staring up at the clouds, "there really is something up there, after all. I'd heard stories of course," he waved a claw in the general direction of his village somewhere to the west. "Old legends the elders would pass around the bonfire or mothers would whisper to hatchlings. Tales of legendary beings that could walk across the stars or fly through space and time on machines of magic, creatures that could shift mountains and shape worlds, beings made entirely of metal and oil but moved like the living. Hard to believe it's just some ponies with a fancy balloon."

Gadgets made an indignant sound and popped the dragon's wing into place without warning, causing the beast to gasp in pain and twist his head around to glare at the pony.

"It's not a balloon, it's a flying machine, and there's other things up there, too." the inventor rudely informed him, meeting the dragon's glare with one of equal fervor.

Darkfang's anger evaporated instantly as his curiosity piqued, "What kinds of things?"

Minion chimed up as Gadgets began unwinding bandages, "Oh, all sorts of things. Ponies, gryphons, parasprites," the dragon blanched noticeably, evidence he'd tangled with the nasty critters before, "manticores, Diamond Dogs, and a bunch of other stuff. Even," she added slyly, "some dragons."

Darkfang stared at her, and then back up at the clouds, "There are dragons up there? What are they like?"

"Probably the same as the ones down here," Gadgets declared, his hoof clicking noticeably as he paced around to the front, rolling gauze around a fetlock as he did, "rude, violent, aggressive, and completely obsessed with treasure."

"Oh." Darkfang sighed wearily, his head slumping forward. It took Minion a moment to recognize the disappointment in his voice.

"What's wrong? I thought you'd be excited at the prospect of dragons you'd never met before."

The beast, creature she stubbornly corrected herself, before her waved a claw disconsolately, "It's not that I don't like learning of their existence. It's just that," he shook his head in a weariness that had nothing to do with their ill-fated meeting, "I don't know. I was hoping that if I ever found other dragon tribes, they'd be...more advanced than mine."

"Advanced how?" Gadgets asked, his smile gone and replaced with a look of genuine concern.

Rather than answering right away, Darkfang looked up once more at the ever shifting mass of clouds, his eyes filled with sadness and regret, "I've always been different from my brothers, sisters, hay, my whole village."

"Different's not always a bad thing," Minion told him, her voice low and comforting.

"It is when you're a dragon, the only thing they understand is power, dominance, rage. No appreciation for anything that isn't rare or valuable, and no respect for anything that isn't stronger than they are."

"So what's different about you?" Gadgets was sizing up the young drake with a disturbing look in his eye, the same look Minion recognized from when he surveyed a particularly dangerous device he was about to take for a test run.

"I want to learn things, travel the world just for the fun of it, not so I can stake out new territory. I want to make friends with ponies, gryphons, Diamond Dogs, and what have you. Not fight them just so I can feel stronger."

"Interesting way of showing it, crashing into our airship like that and scaring everypony half to death."

"Har de har har, you two didn't look all that scared to me, offering to bandage up my wing and all. And that crash wasn't my idea. You hit me."

"Agree to disagree."

"Besides, I was actually on my way to Dragon's Breath before all this happened," he waved a claw around, indicating the airship, the ponies, and the damage his crash had caused, the sight of which caused him to drop whatever he was going to say. "By the light of the moon, the living metals do exist."

Gadgets glanced at the Chief, who was directing a small work crew half-finished with repairs to the damaged railing, having already buffed and cleaned the deck of scorch marks and scratches. "Darkfang, meet the crew."

The Chief gave an extravagant bow, ever the gentlepony, and returned to his duties with slightly more decorum than strictly necessary.

It took a few moments for the dragon to regain his composure, enraptured as he was by the sight of a living legend before his eyes. When he finally shook himself back to causality, Minion and Gadgets were already sharing a secret smile, their minds having reached the same conclusion as to what to do with their guest.

"So," Gadgets asked, idly inspecting his hoof for non-existent dings, "this 'Dragon's Breath', what is it?"

"A great desert, some ways to the East...are those...alive?" the dragon explained absently, ruby eyes riveted on the tiny automatons as they worked.

Gadgets ignored the question, still holding his hoof in front of his face to conceal his smile. "And you were going to fly there on those wings of yours, then go back home after a brief visit and continue butting heads with your relatives over who gets to eat the pony first?"

"What? No! I was actually going there to pick up some supplies, then I was going to go on to Icehoof as part of my journey around the world."

"Really now," the half-metal, half-crazy pony said, smiling at his partner-in-crime, a smile she returned with a grin of her own. "It just so happens that we were going to head that way as well, as part of our trip to Equestria to meet the Princess."

That broke the spell. Darkfang looked down at them sharply (even sitting down his head still towered a good ways above theirs), "Are you," he said slowly, "suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

Gadgets slapped him heartily on the back with his metal hoof, "Welcome aboard The Inconceivable, new friend. Glad to have ya."

With that, he cantered up the stairs and took control of the wheel from the three little machines whose turn it was to pilot. With a whoop, he spun it till the compass said East, the ship responding instantly to his touch. Thrown off balance by the sudden shift in motion, Darkfang was pitched forwards, narrowly missing Minion as she smoothly dodged out of the way.

The dragon came to an abrupt stop against the railing, his rear and head positions now reversed, but even upside down the incredulous smile on his lips shone clear as day, "You're serious, aren't you?! You're flaming serious? You really want a dragon as your friend? A big, scaly, fire-breathing bruiser on what I can only assume is this highly flammable piece of tin and paper?!"

"Why not?!" Gadgets called back, his voice filled with laughter as the wind howled about their ears. "It's not like you're the most dangerous thing I've let into my bedroom!"

Minion blushed furiously as she helped their new friend to his claws, "Come on, Darkfang," she laughed. "I'll introduce you to the ship's crew and find a place for you to sleep. Slop's at dawn, noon, and supper, so no time to be a lazypony!"

Rubbing his head and absolutely giddy with unexpected joy, Darkfang followed the strange red mare into the hold, marveling at the flame-less lamps that lit the roomy interior with even, cozy light. He didn't know what awaited him, and he cared even less, but one thing was certain in his mind: life was about to get a whole lot more interesting from now on.

A History Lesson

Darkfang strode out onto the deck of his new home in full regalia, gazing up at the massive sails thrumming softly overhead as the ship lost altitude. His new friends had supplied him with clothing and gear befitting an adventurer and in spite of the strange, almost itching sensation he felt from wearing clothes, he had to admit: the effect was pretty badass.

Since he preferred to go on two-legs, rather than the traditional four, Gadgets had adjusted his new outfit accordingly. A knee-length, chainmail kilt of deep, ruby red covered his lower body supported by a thick belt made of bronze segments. On his right hip was slung what Gadgets had called a "buzz broadsword", an abnormally thick blade covered in small rectangles which, with a slight shifting of his grip on the handle, would begin to vibrate with stupendous force, enabling the sword to slice through even thick steel as if it were butter. The weapon was far too heavy for even the strongest mortal to comfortably lift, much less use, but the dragon's great strength meant he could wield it with terrifying ease. Darkfang's darker nature greatly anticipated the day in which he used it and the fear on his enemies faces as, for the first time in history, a dragon did battle with more than fang, flame, and claw at his disposal.

Opposite the horrible weapon was a thick, compartmentalized satchel, filled to the brim with an assortment of explosives, gemstone snacks, and emergency medical supplies. A second belt was slung diagonally across his chest, this one holding a small buzz knife for close-quarters combat, and several other compartments holding a seemingly random assortment of small, sophisticated devices. His left shoulder sported a triangular plate matching in color to his kilt, atop which sat a larger version of the Gatling gun Gadgets wore, this one fed by the dragon's own explosive breath sealed into small containers that would explode with devastating force upon impact. All in all, Darkfang pondered with an evil smile, he was by far the deadliest dragon he'd ever heard of, despite his relatively small size.

As he stretched in the afternoon light, performing a few sword forms Mira had shown him out of a book, he looked out across the ocean towards Dragon's Breath, though the airship was still far too distant for him to see the shore, dragon eyes be damned. He chuckled with amusement at the memory of the childish glee with which his pony friends had leaped about the deck at their first sight of the endless expanse of blue water below them, and the expressions of shock and horror they'd worn when they tried to drink from it. That moment alone had made his decision to join up with them worthwhile, despite the cold looks and disdain he'd no doubt receive from his homeland (should he ever return there) when his fellow dragons learned he'd teamed up with ponies, no matter how amazing.

Mira was already on deck, checking the radar once again, determined to catch a deep-sea fish if she had to blow up the whole damn ocean to do it. The little red pony had insisted he call her Minion, like Gadgets did, but Darkfang had found he was uncomfortable with addressing his friend like a servant, no matter how she saw it. The mare had been understanding and invited him to use her actual name instead, nevertheless insisting he'd eventually start using her "normal" name like everypony else.

He gave her a wave, which she returned without taking her eyes from the bleeping screen, before sheathing the great blade and strolling to the prow, his legs unconsciously adopting the rolling gait of a long-time sailor at sea, even though the ship was steady as a rock, even in the fierce ocean winds. That had unnerved him at first, the complete lack of movement of the ship. The G-Force's of swift motion still assailed him on deck, but below and out of the wind it was disturbingly easy to forget one was actually moving forward at a pace few adult dragons would be able to maintain for any reasonable length of time, and fewer younglings could match. He shuddered slightly, for all its size The Inconceivable was easily the fastest thing he'd ever seen, and the more he learned of the science behind it, the more his cautionary fear of that land beyond the clouds increased. If they were capable of producing a vessel of this size and speed, and which destructive power Gadgets insisted was enough to level a mountain, what other mechanical monstrosities existed up there?

When he was younger, he'd listened to dragons, both young and old, swap stories about the place which was "beyond the sea and above the sky", and of how they'd love to conquer it, utterly convinced of dragon superiority in war. How wrong they'd been, he now knew, for there was nothing in the world he'd lived in that could match the sheer, overwhelming magnitude of The Inconceivable's power, and the knowledge chilled his bones. He knew, of course, that Gadgets and Minion would never go to war, not if they could avoid it, but the deeper, stupider part of his heart quaked all the same.

He was an old soldier, he'd dealt death before though he did not relish in it as his fellows had, and he knew the signs to look for in a creature's eyes. His two wild, crazy pony friends who marveled at the ocean he'd always taken for granted, and were naive enough to think they could drink salt water? They had the signs, the shadows in their eyes and the sureness of their stance screamed volumes at him: these ponies had killed before, they'd killed frequently, and they were ready to do it again, need be.

Darkfang shook his head roughly, banishing the thoughts that threatened to make him doubt his friends. The irrational fear that made him want to smash, flame, and slice the airship into a thousand pieces, and bury it at the bottom of the sea lest it ever decide to make him its target? Gone. Yes, his friends were dangerous, hay he was dangerous, but just because a pony could do something, didn't mean they ever would. Right?

"So," a light voice piped up behind him, its owner clicking his way to stand beside the dragon, who'd unconsciously folded his arms over his chest to ward off an imaginary chill that had nothing to do with the wind, "what's this place like, exactly?"

Darkfang glanced down at the much smaller pony; the very one he was so very secretly afraid of, eyes straying to the mechanical limb as they always did. He'd been reluctant to ask about it, the thought of steel and wire taking the place of bone revolted him, even as it fascinated him. It was unnatural, and he knew for sure the story behind it would only confirm his suspicions of Gadgets' character: this pony was utterly, completely insane, and reveling in it.

"Dragon's Breath, the Boundless Sands, it's a place of great mystery, and greater power," The dragon answered, turning his head into the wind, eyes straining to catch the first sight of land though he knew the airship's instruments would pick it up long before even his senses would.

"According to legend, it got its name when the Patriarchal Wyrm, Father of all Dragonkin, let loose his death cry over the land turning the utopian Forests of Cosmis the Benign to orange sand." It was a story he'd heard countless times in his youth and he believed every word of it. After all, he'd met the Matriarchal Wyrm. "Nowadays, it's a small province of the 4th Glorious Griffon Empire, though the dragons have a long-term agreement with its governors allowing them free use of the land so long as they don't interfere with trade or trouble the towns."

Darkfang didn't bother calling Mira over, the ship's communications systems, a network of pipes and mirrors that he did not understand, were open and he knew from experience that she could hear every word they said as if she'd been standing next to him. She was no doubt listening with rapt attention, and would probably have quite a few things to say over dinner.

"Why would the dragons need an agreement with the Griffon Empire? Why would they want one?" Gadgets curiosity was piqued, that wasn't good, Darkfang mentally prepared himself for a lengthy explanation.

It wasn't that he minded talking; in fact it was something he enjoyed greatly as it enabled him to share his knowledge of history, pretty much the only subject in which they did not leave him feeling the foal, with his friends. It was just that the sparky little Earth Pony was a notoriously bad listener.

"Sand, preferably from a desert so it's nearly devoid of all moisture, is ideal for cleaning scales, particularly when it's been heated in the sun for a long time. Many a dragon, myself included, would tell you there's no better feeling in the world than burying yourself in the middle of a desert and squirming around in the sand, letting it scratch all those hard to reach places."

Gadgets nodded solemnly, his eyes closed and his lips twitching in a smile, no doubt pleased with the image of the big, bad Darkfang squealing in joy like a filly. The dragon smirked in spite of himself as he continued:

"As to why the dragons would agree to a treaty when they pride themselves on taking what they want, when they want it, it's pretty simple. The Griffon Empire is big, and its powerful; its armies have been known to blacken the skies when they take flight and even the mightiest dragon would eventually succumb to sheer numbers. Much less bother to simply stay out of the towns in the first place and let the griffons have the tiny bit of land they can actually use; not like the dragons needed it anyway."

"You mentioned how it was the 'Patriarchal Wyrm's' dying breath that created the desert, just how big was this guy?"

"Remember that mountain you lived on?"

"Yeah."

"Legend says that was his tail."

"..."

"Exactly."

"And who was 'Cosmis the Benign'?"

"Father of the Stars, Lord of the Eternal Twilight, Guardian of the Night, or as most might know him: Father of the Sun and Moon Princesses, Celestia and Luna."

"Interesting, tell me more."

"Hm, where to begin," the dragon scratched his chin thoughtfully, a habit he'd picked up from a griffon he knew. "I guess you may as get the whole story while I'm at it, not like we'll be doing anything else for awhile."

A heavy plunking sound told him Gadgets had sat down, no doubt staring in rapt attention his eyes wide with anticipation, Darkfang paid him no mind, continuing to scratch.

"It all started a long, long time ago, back when dragons were architects and builders, their aggressive nature tempered by peace and the leadership of their ancient and wise rulers: the Matriarchal Wyrm, Celestia and her mate, Lunar. Back then, ponies as we know them today were but savages living out of caves, scavenging for food, lost, and searching for a purpose. That purpose would come with the arrival of the alicorns, powerful beings from a world far away. Nopony really knows where they came from; some have suggested another dimension entirely. I'm afraid not even the ones still alive today know for sure anymore, and if they do they're not telling. The alicorns were led by rulers as wise and ancient as the dragons themselves; their names were Cosmis and Galaxia.

The dragons at first felt threatened by the new arrivals, for it wasn't every day an invincible species of fire-breathing juggernauts meets a race every bit as powerful as they are. Many thought for certain that war would erupt, but even as the dragons prepared for battle their fears were set aside as the alicorns crafted a city from the clouds and set themselves apart from the world.

Eventually the dragons' leaders succumbed to the passing of time and entered the Deep Sleep, a near-permanent state of hibernation nearing the end of a dragon's life-cycle. The dragon kingdoms soon fell to infighting and bloody wars ravaged the world, eventually driving the once mighty race to near extinction, the survivors electing to lead lives of solitude or at most in tiny, hidden communities. It was at this time the ponies, griffons, and other 'lesser' races, crawled forth from their places of hiding and claimed the land formerly held by their masters, thus beginning the making of the world we live in today.

The alicorns, who had avoided the Dragon Degradations, as the series of brutal conflicts was now being called, suddenly found themselves jerked back into the world as adventurous pegasi discovered their floating city. Surprised to find beings so very like themselves in this world so thoroughly soaked with blood and ash, the mystical alicorns quickly adopted the few pegasi. They taught them to write, read, and think much like a parent educates their babes.

In time, the other pony races would study at the feet of the masters as well, and would hail the alicorns as benevolent deities come from afar to drag them into the light, which, ironically, they very much were, regardless of the 'benevolent deities' feelings on the subject. It wasn't long before the alicorns grew uncomfortable with all this attention and stopped receiving visitors to their cloud home, even going so far as to cut-off contact from the ground altogether.

This, as you can well imagine, had the opposite effect as ponies descended into barbarism, offering up unspeakable sacrifices to their absent masters and fighting amongst each other things became worse than ever as the three tribes vied for their master's attention. That is until the alicorn leader Cosmis stepped in and performed a feat of magic that has gone unchallenged to this day. He gifted the greatest treasure of the alicorns to the ponies: magic, more specifically, the power of Harmony which is embodied in the Elements of Harmony currently in the possession of Princess Celestia.

The power of the Elements was great enough to banish the shadows of evil from pony hearts and introduce a new era of peace and love. The unicorns, those ponies who had been most affected by Cosmis' spell, the pegasi, newly gifted with power over weather, and earth ponies, whose very presence would cause plants to grow, lived in unison with the alicorns. At the behest of their king, the City in the Sky was dismantled and the four pony tribes built new settlements where they could all live together. But this era of joy was not too last.

For you see, the ponies and alicorns had built their cities in the most fertile area they could find, what had come to be known as the Forests of Cosmis the Benign, which was situated directly over the resting place of Lunar the Absolute. And the Patriarch was dying."

Darkfang coughed slightly and wet his throat with the wine offered to him by an eager crewman, he dimly noticed almost the entire crew was in attendance now, listening as raptly to the story as Gadgets was. Surprising.

"It was not ill intent that destroyed the ponies nor was it evil, it was simply coincidence. Cosmis foresaw the death of Lunar who, according to legend, had contacted the alicorn via telepathy, a part of his vast consciousness still working despite his slumber, and told him of his impending death. Thanks to the warning, Cosmis was able to evacuate the Forests in time as the great death cry of the Father of All Dragons swept across the land, turning the trees to dust and the grass to sand.

Though devastated by the loss of their home, the ponies found refuge in the territory of Celestia, who offered sanctuary to the young creatures. Why? I do not know. Some legends tell of how, after the loss of her own children to their foolish greed, Celestia came to think of the ponies as her own, and of how she swore to protect them in atonement for how she had failed to protect her own young.

In gratitude, Cosmis the Benign swore to honor the dragons for all time and had his mate, Galaxia, name their two eldest foals, born several hundred years later, in honor of them.

Yes," he said as his audience gasped audibly, "Celestia and Luna, the two princesses who even now rule the Land of Ponies, bear their names as a result of this vow.

So you see Gadgets, Mira," his lip quirked slightly, "crew. This is why I seek knowledge. The history of this world is rife with stories and legends, some true, some false, all worth knowing. And I hope this helps you to understand a bit about where we're going," he turned back to face the wind, where a dark line could just be seen on the horizon, "Dragon's Breath, where gods go to die."

In The Dark Places

A corner of Gadgets' mind watched as Darkfang unfurled his mysterious message, formulating a thousand possible theories on its contents, and then discarding them all for a thousand new ones before it had been fully opened. Curious, he focused one eye on his friend's rapidly changing expression, while the other continued to scan books rapidly, accumulating as much information as possible.

As the dragon's expression became more and more disturbed, eventually morphing entirely into abject despair, Gadgets separated the majority of his consciousness from the wealth of knowledge before him, leaving only a small fraction to continue the task, and focused upon his comrade. The ability to close off parts of his mind to focus on certain things, leaving the rest of his consciousness free to wander, was a special talent of the inventor's. He'd gotten so good at it he could separate multiple parts of his mind from the others, allowing him to think on several different things at once without losing awareness of the world.

On a typical day, the pony's mind could be broken down to something along the lines of: 25% invention modification, 10% retracing every memory for new information, 5% fawning over Minion, 15% new ideas, and 45% watching the world.

"Gadgets," Darkfang was looking directly at him now, his voice cold, emotionless, his eyes burning with icy rage.

Gadgets set down his book and looked directly at his friend; the gesture was unnecessary but he'd learned long ago that others preferred that he looked like he was paying attention to them. He'd spent many hours in detention because a teacher thought he was ignoring them when his eyes were focused elsewhere, even while his ears were carefully taking note of everything they said.

"We need to go. Now."

Without another word, the dragon leaped from where he stood, scroll crumpled in his grasp, and dove over the edge. Gadgets closed his book without a sound and back flipped over the ledge without fully rising from his seat, signaling Minion on the fifth level as he passed her.

The mare immediately dropped what she was doing and leaped to a support beam, running down the outer edge as if she were taking a stroll. Her coltfriend snorted, he'd never been able to perfect wall-running during their training. The most he could do was dash along a vertical surface for short distances but Minion, on the other hoof, was able to cling to walls and ceilings as easily as if she were on a horizontal plane.

A meter to the ground, Gadgets activated his wings, breaking his fall with stylish flare; alighting upon solid stone he galloped out the doors, following Darkfang's trail of dazed ponies and flustered griffons, those unfortunate souls who had not managed to get out of his way in time. Minion appeared at his side just as he broke out into daylight, abandoning the comfortable cool of indoors for the blistering heat and stinging wind.

********

The Governor's Palace was every bit as large as the Library, the only real difference being it was about ten times as opulent. The capstone was made of gold and encrusted with diamonds, the statues were bedecked in jewels, and the magical runes had been written in expensive purple dye imported at great cost from far-off lands.

The entire place screamed unnecessary grandeur and stood as a monument to the power of the Griffon Empire even in this distant province. The arrogance of its builders sickened the humble pony, making him feel as if his self-supposed "betters" were attempting to impress upon him his own worthlessness at their hooves. Nopony should ever make themselves out to be superior to another.

It was one of the many things he greatly respected about Celestia that, despite her great power, beauty, and wisdom, a pony never felt as if she were looking down on them. True, she exuded the gravity and awesome magnitude worn by the truly strong, but a pony could be comfortable in the knowledge that said power was meant for protecting others, not for enforcing obedience. A trait that the Empire did not share.

Darkfang led them through the front hall at a breakneck pace, shoving aside anypony foolish enough to get in his way and flashing the seal on his mysterious letter frequently. They were rushed through without a word by guardsgriffons every time this happened, their expressions grim.

As they passed through hall after hall dripping with treasure and the fruits of a bountiful empire, Gadgets began to notice something strange. While the palace was filled to bursting with government officials, nobility, pages, and servants, the ambient noise so common to large gatherings was almost totally absent. Indeed, the mood was somber, almost oppressive, and it only worsened the closer they got to the pyramid's center.

Noble ponies and griffons crowded close together and spoke in whispers, guards gripped their weapons with more strength than strictly needed, and servants moved with quiet caution as if trying to blend into the scenery even more than they usually did. Interesting, Gadgets thought, what could have happened to make them act this way?

His answer was to come soon as it did not take long to reach the governor's study. They stopped before an elaborate, gilded door made of luxurious redwood which, after a cursory inspection by the soldiers guarding it, led to a small, round room filled with bookshelves and tables cluttered with odds and ends. The governor himself, an aging griffon whose feathers had turned limp and grey with the passing of time and whose beak drooped with weariness, sat behind an expensive-looking mahogany desk, surrounded by towers of parchment and ink bottles.

Also in attendance was Captain Grayshaw, who greeted the trio with a nod of his head, an elderly female gryphon dripping with gold chains and moonstones, clearly the governor's wife, and an aging pony whose immaculate mane and tail resembled the night sky.

"Darkfang," the governor addressed them, his voice tired and soft, "I'm glad you could make it so quickly, old friend."

The dragon approached the desk, crossing the large room in three strides. He stopped when he was about a hoof-length away and placed one clawed hand on its polished surface, leaning in so he could look the griffon in the eye.

"Gripeye? What happened to you?" He asked, his voice uncharacteristically low.

The griffon chuckled and laid a talon over the claw carving trenches into his furniture, "Fifty years is a long time for my kind, my friend, and not even the best of us can stay young forever."

"You two are friends and you haven't seen each other for fifty years? How old are you, anyway?" Gadgets piped up, confused.

Darkfang turned slightly to answer him, still not taking his eyes off Gripeye, "A hundred and nine. We've known each other since we were small, practically grew up together, before I left to take the Trials and we lost contact."

The griffon nodded, patting the scaly hand and smiling sadly up at the much larger creature, "The best of pals we were, but you can't blame yourself for not keeping in touch. That was mostly my fault, anyway."

"How so?"

"My father. He didn't approve of my friendship with a dragon, thought it might damage his career if it got out his son was gallivanting around with a "horned demon". I later learned he'd been intercepting my letters to Toothclaw Village, though by the time I discovered this you'd disappeared entirely."

Darkfang made a noncommittal sound in his throat, still staring intently into his friend's eyes. Gripeye's melancholic expression suddenly turned serious; he gestured for Grayshaw to bring him a box from one of the tables.

"But I'm afraid I did not summon you here to catch up on old times, I have a problem that threatens to destroy everything I've worked to achieve."

Grayshaw set the package down on the desk, then stepped back, his expression indistinct though Gadgets thought he saw a glimmer of rage in those hardened eyes.

"When I heard you were in town," Gripeye continued, opening the box and removing its contents: a map marked with a red X, a compass with three needles, and a scrap of parchment covered by a bloody paw print. "I knew you would be able to help. Please, I need you to save my daughter."

Gadgets stepped up beside his friend, who was carefully examining the items laid out on the table, and addressed the governor, "What makes you think we can help?"

"We?" Darkfang asked him, glancing sharply at the pony, Gadgets nodded.

"We."

The dragon smiled briefly before returning to his study of the strange compass. Gripeye cleared his throat noisily before answering.

"Three days ago, my daughter disappeared while returning from a frontier settlement where she was visiting my nephew. We only learned of the attack when one of her guards crawled into the city, Lieutenant Jawray was his name. His wounds," he blinked away the pain of the memory, "were horrendous. I'm afraid he did not survive long past telling us of the attack, despite our best efforts."

Captain Grayshaw stepped forward, "I served with Lieutenant Jawray myself; he was a good soldier, good griffon. There wasn't much he was afraid of, and even less he wasn't a match for. But those wounds," he shook his head sadly; "nopony, griffon, or even a dragon could've inflicted them. It was almost as if whatever killed him had started eating him alive."

Gadgets felt, more than saw, Minion shiver, and he retreated a few steps to draw her into his embrace, his own heart growing cold with dread. He'd once had an encounter with a nest of carnivorous slugs and though he'd escaped relatively unscathed, the bones filling their lair gave mute testament to their power. Some of them had been dragon bones, big ones. If they were dealing with something similar here, there wasn't going to be enough left of the princess to find, much less save. But when he gave voice to this idea, the governor shook his head and waved a talon at the bloody parchment.

"While I do not doubt your story, indeed I've heard legends of such creatures in some of our library's darker books, I'm afraid we are very aware of what we are dealing with. Jackals."

"Vicious scavengers," Grayshaw added, unrolling a scroll depicting the image of a strange, dog-like creature with an elongated face, pointy ears, and thin legs. "I've had dealings with them before. They are utterly merciless, cannibalistic, and very deadly. They prey on travelers, small caravans, anything they think they can get a quick meal out of."

"Of which a heavily guarded caravan escorting an important VIP is not. So why take the risk? Beakisburg could crush whatever tribe angered them like an egg," Darkfang cut in, holding the parchment up to his nose and sniffing at it. "Griffon's blood, doesn't tell us anything useful," he said, putting it back down.

"The princess was traveling with minimal escort," Grayshaw answered.

"Why?"

"The settlement is less than a day's flight from here, straight across the Greater Desert. Also, the princess is uncomfortable in large crowds and we were having problems at the time with a particularly rowdy band of seafarers led by a particularly bothersome griffon named Griffin. Not much could be spared outside her personal bodyguards."

"And how many of them were with her?"

"Twelve."

"Shit."

Grayshaw nodded, "We're not dealing with your average bandits or scavengers. These jackals are organized, well-equipped, and they're killing my people." The griffon's eyes were cold and calculating, Gadgets could feel the rage hiding behind them.

"I assume the princess wasn't traveling with alot of fanfare with such a small guard, so how'd these jackals get wind of her? Plus the griffons I know always flew everywhere and jackals can't fly...can they?" Minion piped up, speaking for the first time in hours.

Every eye turned to look at her, causing the cute pony to blush and inspect the floor, which had suddenly become much more interesting. The captain looked uncomfortable, having also taken an interest in the floor, and so it was Gripeye who answered.

"We believe they were attacked during a brief rest on the ground, not uncommon for griffons traveling long distances, particularly in the desert where the winds can be...unforgiving."

Minion nodded, "But that still doesn't explain how the jackals would have found them. I can only assume the guards were more than careful about where they'd set down."

The griffons exchanged an uncomfortable glance. Gadgets narrowed his eyes, there was more going on here than they were being told. Before he could raise these suspicions a smooth, silky voice reeking of arrogance cut through the room.

"Oh don't beat around the bush, Uncle, it's obvious they had inside help," the speaker, a new griffon, entered the room. His feathers were black, oiled, and stunk of perfume. The newcomer was swathed in rich robes of expensive purple silk and covered in more jewels than anypony Gadgets had seen yet that day, and that included the one wearing an outfit made entirely of rhinestones.

"Bluebeak," Gripeye greeted his nephew, his voice icy enough to freeze steel, "I was not aware you were coming."

The griffon known as Bluebeak snorted disdainfully, wafting a fan in front of his face as if trying to clear a foul smell from the air, inspecting the adventurers with thinly-veiled disdain. Gadgets had to forcefully repress the urge to open fire, it wouldn't do to splatter so many valuable books with various bodily fluids.

"Oh, Uncle, it's not like you were busy or anything and besides, I have information that could be very useful for your," he looked Minion up and down as if she were an ugly piece of art he was thinking about buying, "let's call them guests."

Darkfang's ears pricked up at this last comment; he turned slowly to face the spoiled noble. Low growling filled the air as the dragon stalked across the room until he was slightly less than a foot away, making it so the over-sized canary was forced to crane his neck back as far as it would go just to look into his eyes.

"Choose your next words carefully, little cub, and remember that I can eat you, if they are displeasing to me," he threatened, his voice filled with quiet rage.

"My, my," Bluebeak slurred, snapping his fan shut, "such harsh words. Are all dragons so violent, or is it just the ones who've been tamed by little ponies?"

"Bluebeak," Gripeye cut in, as Darkfang's claws closed about his sword, "if you do not tell me why you have come, I will have you removed from this chamber. I do not have time for your petty games; a griffon's life is at stake."

"Oh, I know, Uncle. Though you should really work on your terminology, Princess hardly qualifies as a griffon."

"Speak or leave, Nephew."

Bluebeak rolled his eyes, either unaware or unaffected by the murderous glares being shot at him from around the room, "Fine. I had my scouts track the jackals to a cave at the base of the Forbidden Mountain. I think it's likely that Princess is there."

"And how," Grayshaw stepped forward menacingly, "did you acquire this information when my talonpicked soldiers found no trace," he loomed head and shoulders over the oily noble, "at the site of the attack, which is a closely guarded secret?"

Bluebeak smiled coldly, "Do you really have time to be asking these questions? Princess is probably dead by now."

With that, he spun in a flourish and strutted out the door. Gadgets glared after him.

"We should kill him now," he said to nopony in particular, "he could be annoying later on."

Gripeye's audible sigh caused him to turn back around and face the aging griffon.

"I know he's unbearable," the griffon murmured, "but he's still family, and more importantly his information is the only lead we have. It's at least worth investigating."

"What information? He left before he actually said anything useful, the prick."

"That information," The griffon pointed a talon at Darkfang, who started and looked down at his claws. In his left he was clutching a scroll made of high-quality parchment and sealed with golden ribbon. Hesitantly, he unrolled it and stared at its contents for a few seconds.

"It's a map, and it's got what would appear to be your daughter's location. How in the nine rings of Tartarus did that slime-sucking scuzzbag get this into my claws without me noticing?"

Grayshaw took the map from the dragon's grasp before his rage could destroy it. Laying it flat on the table, he studied it intently for a few moments, before nodding once to himself.

"Bluebeak's alot more powerful than he has any right to be," he announced to the adventurers. "He's got no skill with a blade but he's trained with the priests since he was young. He's one of only twelve master sorcerers in the entire Empire, something he takes no shame in flaunting over the rest of us common soldiers."

Darkfang snorted, "Griffon magic, mere sleight of hand and basic alchemy, hardly worthy of the name. It barely qualifies as a children's party trick."

Grayshaw looked at him sharply, "You underestimate them...you should not. The griffon priests may have little in terms of actual destructive power, but what they do have they use with deadly precision. More than one sorcerer has been known to topple even a mighty dragon."

"Doesn't matter, we've got a few tricks up our sleeves as well and, much as I hate to admit it, the spoiled shit was right. We don't have the time to stand around asking questions."

The ponies, griffons, and dragon gathered about the map, staring intently at the golden X which marked their destination.

"Well," Minion gave voice to the thoughts of the room, "guess we know where we're going next."

Irony Sucks In Every Universe

Minion hated the desert, she hated everything about it. The sand that had been so pretty from far away was itchy and got into places one couldn't easily reach with hooves, and while she enjoyed the thought of enlisting Gadgets' help cleaning it out later, she had to admit: crossing a desert is a thoroughly miserable, time-consuming activity nopony should ever do.

But do it they would to save a perfect stranger from a grisly fate. Not that it would be the first time she'd risked her existence for the sake of somepony she'd never met. The citizens of Araea looked out for each other, especially when the danger was real and the world was looking that much darker.

"So," she called out over the wind, "how much farther have we got to go? Everything looks the same from up here."

"Up here" was on board the same junk she and Gadgets had used to enter the city, empty now from all unnecessary items after a quick trip to The Inconceivable. They'd originally planned to seek out the jackals' lair aboard the mighty airship itself, but Captain Grayshaw had warned them that jackals were extremely cowardly, and the sight of a full-blown warship descending down on their heads would scare them so deep into their caves they'd never be found.

The very same captain now manned the wheel, steering the ship towards its ultimate destination: Forbidden Mountain, where the Dead One sleeps. Grayshaw had proved to be a surprisingly adept pilot, mastering the complicated controls within minutes of first laying talons on them, driving them forward with the practiced ease of a veteran aviator.

Gadgets stood next to the griffon, smiling happily as the wind blew bugs into his teeth and whipped his mane back so hard Minion felt herself wince with pain each time she saw it. Minion herself was lying beneath the sail and behind a number of barrels blocking out most of the wind, grateful for the shorter manecut she'd adopted for traveling. The thought of what might have happened to the absurdly long style she'd worn in Araea in this heat hardly bore thinking on.

Darkfang, their erstwhile draconic friend, was sprawled along the bow, soaking up heat and looking for all the world as if he were in the peak of bliss. Minion silently hoped he'd get bucked off by the junk's fierce bouncing as it made headway against the beginnings of a sandstorm.

Grayshaw had been the only griffon soldier to accompany them on this rescue mission, a fact that, while odd, made the adventurers somewhat more relaxed. In point of fact, the captain had insisted on coming alone, even when his entire squad badgered and pecked at him to bring them along, citing the need for speed and stealth lest the princess be harmed in a firefight between two larger armies.

The griffon had dressed himself in a bronze cuirass worked to resemble individual feathers and a winged helmet shaped to fit his head perfectly and outfitted with a length of metal plates to protect his neck. Bracers covered his front eagle legs and back lion paws; even his wings had been out-fitted with incredibly light copper plating to protect the sensitive joints from harm. The entire ensemble was covered with magical runes in muted colors of brown and black, the wisdom of which had not been lost on the mare. The armor itself was polished to a blinding shine, but the runes gave it the appearance of dappled sand, meaning the griffon would be all but invisible in the desert.

The unicorn had studied a great deal of the science behind enchantment during her brief time in the library, and she knew that those gaudy, self-serving symbols painted in expensive dyes were far more than they appeared. Unlike unicorn magic, which relied on inner strength and willpower, griffon magic focused more on the gathering of energy into specific items through the use of complex rituals and equations, performing subtle, potent spells of offense or defense.

The captain's spear, one of only two weapons he carried, the other being a large knife tucked into his cuirass, was a good example of the former, bedecked as it was runes of combat, particularly those dealing with lightning and penetration. The weapon, currently strapped to its owners back, crackled and popped with electricity, small bolts of red lightning could even be seen sizzling down the haft to the tip.

"According to Bluebeak's map," Grayshaw gestured at the two pieces of parchment currently sealed within the glass podium behind the wheel where its contents would be in easy view of the pilot, "and the information we already had from the Governor, we're about twenty leagues away. Normally that would be a few hours' journey in this weather, even for the fastest fliers, but with this ship," he patted the wheel affectionately, "we should be able to make it in less than one."

"So tell us, Captain," Darkfang called, rousing from feigned sleep to look back at the helm, "what's the Princess like? I've never heard of her."

"The Princess is young, barely more than seventeen years old, and she's weak and sickly much of the time, so she doesn't travel much," the captain answered, making a few small adjustments to their course. "She's also one of our greatest healers, though not much of a fighter."

"And what makes you think she's managed to survive when twelve elite soldiers obviously didn't?"

Grayshaw chuckled, "I said she wasn't much of a fighter, I didn't say she was defenseless. The princess is the only master of Suk'ruk Gui currently in existence."

"Suk'cruck-what?" Minion called out, confused.

"It's old Imperium for 'The Ultimate Defense'," Darkfang explained, "it's an ancient martial art focusing on personal safety, but it's got no attack moves at all. That being said, a master of the art would be basically untouchable on any normal battlefield. It was practiced mostly among monks during the wars of old, so that they could defend themselves without breaking their vows of pacifism."

"It's unpopular nowadays," Grayshaw continued, nodding slightly at the dragon for his explanation. Minion thought she saw a glimmer of affection, though it might just as easily be respect, in his eyes. The captain had never been rude, unfriendly, or even disrespectful, but she'd also got the impression he didn't care much for them, that seemed to no longer be the case.

"Most youngsters just want to learn how to crush their enemies, show off their strength, and that's exactly what the military teaches them. But the Princess is a kind, gentle soul, heck she's even a vegetarian; I don't think there's a being alive she could bare to harm. Even Bluebeak has never been able to make her angry, and everypony who meets him wants to kill him, myself included."

"So if it's so unpopular, where'd she learn it?" Gadgets asked, joining in on the conversation.

Grayshaw blushed sheepishly, making imaginary adjustments to the steering to buy time. "I taught it to her," he said at last.

"You?" Said everypony at once.

"I...dabbled... in the art myself sometime in the past. I thought if I learned a few of the basics it'd give me an edge, I was right and wrong on that score. There's no better way to get yourself out of a jam than Suk'ruk Gui but it's so damn intensive it's impossible to do anything else while you're using it. Meaning you're absolutely safe from everypony else, and everypony else is absolutely safe from you; the perfect technique for a pacifist like the Princess."

"Sounds useful," Minion mused, "not every fight has to end with somepony getting hurt."

The captain shrugged noncommittally, concentrating on his steering, signaling that he was done speaking on the subject. The crew left him to his privacy, Gadgets launching into a tale about how he'd gotten inspiration for a mustard cannon from a kitchen mishap when he was seven, and the resulting explosion that left Punkstill stinking of cheese for six weeks. Eventually though, even he drifted off and another half-hour passed in silence, everypony mentally preparing themselves for the task ahead.

"So," Darkfang said, his voice uncommonly loud in the quiet, "these jackals. What can we expect from them in terms of weaponry?"

Grayshaw's hooded eyes grew bleak as he contemplated the question, "The jackals are scavengers, they take whatever they can get in terms of lethality, and they're notoriously good at fixing what's broken or damaged. They'll have all the weapons the Princess's personal guards were carrying, their armor, and whatever else they might have had on them. We can also assume they'll have a wide variety of spears, swords, bows, and whatever else they've managed to take from trade caravans. It's best to assume they're as well equipped as any modern army, then work from there."

"Sounds like fun."

"Dragon hides are legendary; you won't have much to fear from physical weapons like steel and bronze. But you two," he looked from Gadgets to Minion, "are in danger not only from physical wounds, but poison as well."

"They use poison?" Gadgets asked sharply, looking suddenly alert. Grayshaw nodded, and the smiling colt dived into one of his many pockets. After a minute he found what he was looking for: a small yellow vial filled with what appeared to be amorphous gas.

"Drink a sip of this - just a taste on your tongue - mind you," He told them, handing the bottle to Darkfang, who took it gingerly, holding it at arm's length as if expecting it to explode, change into something else, or start calling him names. Minion understood his trepidation, but she recognized the substance within and knew that this time, there was no danger. Well, depending on what one meant by "danger".

Steeling his courage, the dragon uncorked the vial and raised it to his lips. The moment it touched, he blanched violently and tossed it away, coughing and spluttering; the mare caught the concoction nimbly with her magic.

"What the hay?! That tastes like rotten smurfberries!" The dragon shouted, glaring daggers at the innocently smiling Gadgets, who was doing a good job of looking for all the world as if he'd had no idea of what would happen.

"Rotten-what?" Minion asked, bringing the bottle to her own lips and taking a sip, bravely holding down her gorge as the vile substance rotted her tongue.

"Long story," he gasped, eyes spinning in opposite circles as he grasped the railing for support.

Minion shrugged and floated the harmless looking vile over to the griffon captain, "You next."

Grayshaw looked first at her, who gave him what she thought was a reassuring smile, unable to tell as she could no longer feel her lips; then at Darkfang, who was retching what looked like every meal he'd ever eaten over the side, and finally at Gadgets, who was literally bouncing up and down with glee.

"What is it?" He asked, taking the vial and peering at it with a practiced eye.

"A special cure-all I developed," Gadgets explained, still bouncing, "makes you completely immune to all toxins, poisons, diseases, and infections for thirty-two hours."

The griffon stared at the vial for a moment more, then shrugged and quaffed it, apparently deciding if it was going to kill him, he'd be better off doing it himself. A second later he was halfway over the rail, screeching and spluttering as his stomachs emptied themselves all over the innocent critters below, the vial flying through the air as reflex tossed it as far away from his body as it would go.

Gadgets nimbly caught the vial in the air as it passed him and raised it to his own lips, drinking deeply before re-sealing and returning the wretched substance to his pocket, grabbing the wheel as he did to keep them on course, seemingly unaffected. The speed at which he did this was near blinding, occurring in less than the whole of a second, though Minion was pleased to note she could follow it all perfectly, even if she still couldn't feel her face.

"Never," Darkfang gasped, "again. I don't care if I die. Never. Again."

Grayshaw made what sounded like an agreement before his voice was once again over-taken by the sounds of retching. Minion tried to laugh but soon ended up next to the griffon as her own intestines threatened to escape through her mouth. Gadgets succeeded where she'd failed,

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

The only response he received was several groans and more vomit.

********

"There it is!" Grayshaw, who stood at the prow alongside Darkfang, announced.

Before them rose the tallest sand dune Minion had ever seen, almost twice the size of its neighbors, and completely smooth, the colossal behemoth cast a shadow the size of Beakisburg across the entire land for miles around. The wind seemed not to reach this place, even as it howled about the ears of the little junk's crew.

"There is dark magic in this place," she murmured to nopony in particular, "I can feel it in my horn. We should not be here."

Grayshaw nodded, his eyes cold and intense, the brief moments of joy and vomiting forgotten as their destination loomed in the distance. The griffon stood side by side with Darkfang, and Minion noted how naturally the two looked together, almost as if they'd been comrades for years instead of hours. Their stances perfectly balanced, complimenting each other's strengths and defending their weaknesses. She wondered briefly how a dragon and a griffon would kiss, taking into account the sharp beak of one and the pointy teeth of the other, before a hoof on her shoulder broke through her fantasies. She turned slightly to look into Gadgets' eyes, and shivered at what she found there.

Gone was the crazed brilliance and boundless enthusiasm of the inventor she loved, replaced only by the hard, merciless power of the Deathsmith. It was the same expression he'd worn six years ago, when he'd committed genocide against a manticore pack, wiping out the old, the young, the strong with his death rays, obliterating them before they even had a chance to scream.

The act had been one of mercy, not cruelty, and there-in lay the difference; the difference that kept him from becoming a monster. For the manticores had been infected by plague, a plague engineered by pony hooves, which drove them mad and caused them to attack anything in sight, even their own babes.

The greatest minds of Punkstill had worked round-the-clock for over a month, searching for a cure that did not exist. But when the manticores broke free from quarantine and threatened to kill innocents, something everypony knew they would never have done under their own will, the time had come to act. For that was the true horror of the plague: it didn't destroy the body, it destroyed the mind, and there was no cure, magical or otherwise, to heal such wounds.

So Gadgets had gone away, and the Deathsmith had taken over, killing without hesitation, saving pony lives, and sparing the manticores the horror of what they might have done. His people had not called him a hero, for there was no heroism in what he had done, but they understood the necessity; indeed, many of them had been preparing to do the same. So there was no celebration thrown, no awards given, the ponies had buried the dead and the tragedy was never spoken of again.

The Headmaster had eventually discovered the culprit behind everything. A mad doctor obsessed with his own greatness, who had been banished for unethical experiments over a decade ago, had engineered the plague in an ill-conceived plot for revenge against the town. What followed was the first, and last, execution within Punkstill's walls. The Headmaster himself had wielded the death ray which turned the gibbering pony to dust, and the horror in his eyes as he did had haunted Minion's dreams for many years.

"Gadgets," she called to him, "it's okay, we're not here for violence. We're just going to get the princess back, no need to go crazy."

Her love looked into her eyes and blinked, slowly, but when he opened them again the Deathsmith was gone and Gadgets had returned. More serious than he usually was, perhaps, but Gadgets nonetheless, and for that she was grateful, Celestia only knew what might happen down on the sands. All she knew was that she'd rather face it with the pony she loved, than the pony she feared.

Grayshaw and Darkfang, who had taken note of the affair, and thankfully stayed silent throughout, spoke up only when they were sure the moment had passed.

"This place is rotten," they said in unison. The duo blinked and looked at each other, perplexed and embarrassed by the coincidence. After an exceedingly awkward moment the dragon bowed slightly, gesturing for the griffon to go ahead. The captain nodded in acknowledgement and cleared his throat before continuing.

"It is called the Forbidden Mountain for a reason; dark things are known to have happened here. Tragedies that are never spoken of in polite company, events so terrible mothers refuse to use them to frighten children, and tales to turn the heart of even the most stalwart killer; it is an evil place."

"How can a mountain be evil?" Gadgets asked, his seriousness, though undiminished, losing the battle against impulsive curiosity.

Grayshaw shook his head, "I do not know. There are many legends, each with their own outrageous yet weirdly plausible explanation, yet they all agree on one thing: terrible magics were wrought in this place, powers so dark and corrupted they would melt the mind of any magician stupid enough to tap them. What those magics were is unknown, though many theories have been proposed over the years."

The griffon stopped and looked expectantly at Darkfang, who took the hint and the story, "Some legends speak of how a young unicorn, blinded by rage and grief, called upon the dark powers of the very beings that had driven the alicorns from their first home.

The reasons behind this hypothetical summoning are unknown, though almost every source I've heard of agrees it had something to do with the Event, though was not in fact the Event itself. Anyway, the dark beings mere presence on this earth was sufficient to taint the ground forever, which I suppose is reason enough that ponies stay the hay away from this place. I don't think there's a pony alive, Celestia herself included, that could stand up to whatever power was horrible enough to drive a race of near-immortal demigods from their home."

The crew was silent for a time after this; the only noise was Gadgets activating the junk's cloaking field, a device which would render them invisible to any prying eyes below. His timing, as always, was flawless, as not a minute later they came upon the jackal camp.

At the base of the Forbidden Mountain was a massive cave easily large enough to comfortably house an adult dragon, gathered just outside of which a number of creatures was silhouetted by a massive bonfire. The jackals themselves were eerily similar to the drawing Grayshaw had shown them: sleek black fur adorned with golden chains, anklets, and hats built to resemble eagle wings. Their jewelry was studded with lapis-lazuli, moonstones, and occasional jets; the jackals seemed to prefer darker-colored stones to contrast the shiny gold; Minion wondered if that was a cultural trait or simply unique to this tribe. Most of the jackals looked to be barely the size of ponies, though a fair number would have towered over even the largest of griffons.

The weapons Grayshaw had warned them of were in abundance: rackets of spears, swords, axes, and a hundred other types of lethal toys were scattered about the camp and every jackal seemed to carry some sort of smaller armament amongst their jewels. Minion gulped; they had stopped almost directly above the bonfire and the stealth field was hiding their presence, giving them a priceless advantage in surprise, but their odds of getting through this uninjured once the fighting started were steadily dropping.

Movement in the corner of her eye caused the mare to turn around to look at Darkfang who was writing fiery letters in the air with a glowing claw. The magical fire was bright, though nothing Gadgets technology couldn't handle, and Minion immediately saw the brilliance of what the dragon was doing. If jackals were anything like Diamond Dogs, their hearing was incredibly sensitive, so any noise the crew made would be picked out almost immediately. They had only remained undiscovered for so long because the junk's engines were very close in sound to the desert wind, and the jackals were making enough noise down below they hadn't been able to tell the difference. A voice on the other hand, particularly from a pony or griffon, would be picked out almost immediately and the relaxed mood of their enemies would instantly become one of high alert and suspicion, ruining their only advantage.

"We need to be careful," Darkfang wrote, "I don't see any sign of any griffin down there, well, a living griffon, anyway."

Minion gulped, the jackal camp was littered with the bones of past meals, some fresher than others. The fate of their owners did not bear thinking on.

"I suggest we make our way to the cave as quickly as possible," the dragon continued. "There may be more inside, most likely the chieftain and his elite guard. Once we're in we'll have an easier time holding against those numbers. Agreed?"

Everypony nodded, none daring to speak. Darkfang drew his weapon, the others following suit. Minion gripped her buzz sword tightly in her teeth, Gadgets released the electrical blade hiding in his mechanical hoof, and Grayshaw gripped his fearsome spear in his talons. One more round of nods followed, and the two largest members of their party vaulted over the junk's sides simultaneously, Minion and Gadgets following suit a moment later as startled shouts began to fill the air.

Darkfang landed lightly on the ground between two of the most heavily armored jackals, claws and sword flashing, the only sound two muted thumps as a pair of heads fell to the ground. The dragon was utterly silent as he parried a clumsy spear thrust, following through to impale his attacker with the same smooth motion, buzz blade slicing through bronze, flesh, and bone as if they were paper.

Grayshaw was equally impressive. In the first second he'd pinned a jackal to the ground with a single thrust of his spear through its head, in the next he'd bodily thrown one valiantly attempting to gnaw his ankles into a gathering group, before a particularly large specimen wielding a golden scimitar tackled him from behind.

Minion was forced to look away from her friends battles as a small female jackal closed in, her foaming jaws clutched around a claymore far too big for her. The pony dodged the first clumsy thrust with ease, spinning down the blade before slicing through her midsection, her far superior weapon meeting no resistance. Minion felt bile rise in her throat at the ease with which she'd killed another living creature; no matter how vicious and ferocious their attacks were, the jackals were simply outmatched. This point was driven home when ten were mowed down in seconds by Gadgets, his Gatling gun a new, fearsome weapon the poor creatures had never imagined, much less prepared for, in their entire lives.

Minion killed three more opponents without hesitation and was hunting for more, instinct and bloodlust overriding her senses, before she realized the battle was over. Thirty dead jackals littered sands thoroughly soaked with blood, and her friends were all panting heavily on the edge of the cave beside her, their bodies having unconsciously followed the plan even as their minds were lost in the haze of battle.

"Well," Darkfang, the first to speak, said brightly, "so much for that plan."

Grayshaw rolled his eyes, idly cleaning his spear by stabbing it into the sand, "Stupid beasts, why didn't they just run away when they realized they couldn't win?"

Minion nodded, as did the others, their hearts weighted down by guilt and nausea at the slaughter. They had agreed when they left Beakisburg that any enemies they met would be spared upon surrender or flight. Governor Gripeye had not been pleased by this plan, but he'd eventually buckled under the stern glare of the assembled warriors. They were not murderers, Grayshaw had said, they would not kill those who otherwise might be spared. It was a terrible shame no jackal had tried to test that mercy.

Minion looked down into the cave, pitch-black despite the bright sun over-head. "The princess must be down there," she announced to nopony in particular, "we need to find her before whatever's left of the pack has time to prepare for our arrival."

The others nodded, and with silent precision they swept into the cave, leaving behind the the warmth and the light for the cold, oppressing blackness.

********

The cave turned out to be a tunnel winding down, down into icy darkness, no end in sight. Darkfang and Minion did their best to provide adequate light by which to see, the latter conjuring balls of energy that cast everything into stark relief, the former lighting his spines with magical dragon fire. In the comfortable gloom of twilight aboard The Inconceivable, the party would have had a grand time laughing about how he resembled a Hearth's Warming Eve decoration, but here in the terrible stillness they were thankful for the flickering flames.

They walked on for what seemed like hours, moving quickly yet stealthily, every sense primed. Luckily, the tunnel had only one path so there was no chance of getting lost, but that was small comfort. There were no stalagmites, stalactites, or indeed any other permutation natural to the walls of caves; the entire tunnel was smooth as glass, perfectly circular, and unnatural in every sense of the word. It looked as if it had been carved by some colossal body eating its way through solid rock, smoothing out every imperfection in its wake.

Perhaps the most disturbing thing about the place was that it was not constructed of sand, as the mountain was: it was black, moist stone eerily similar to the rock Minion and Gadgets had grown up around. The resemblance did not bring any comfort to the mare; there were things in the caves of Araea that answered to no master but themselves and who enjoyed devouring anypony foolish enough to wander too close to their dens.

Darkfang, in the lead, raised a claw and the group came to an abrupt stop. The dragon pointed ahead, where just the faintest glow could be seen against the tunnel walls. The light was unmistakable. Somepony had lit a larger version of the bonfire outside, as if its creator had been afraid of the dark. Or what might be lurking in it.

Minion heaved a mental sigh of relief; as terrible as the prospect of more mindless bloodshed was, this fire was the first evidence of life in they'd come across. Wherever the princess was, it had to be here. Wherever here was; the group had been journeying so long the mare was beginning to wonder how many miles from the entrance they might have come.

Darkfang made another gesture and the party started moving again, much slower this time, weapons at the ready. It took over thirty minutes before they came in sight of the flames, though they'd been able to hear their crackling for much longer, and they came once more to a halt twenty meters away, hidden in the gloom. Jackals, significantly larger than any they'd encountered before, lazed around a towering inferno, seemingly bored as their chief slathered and drooled over a young griffon tied paw and talon, her eyes wide with fear.

Interspersed among the jackals were more weapon racks, crates filled with loot, small sleeping pallets holding the remains of a feast, and the corpses of what looked like their chieftain's other playthings. Minion felt the collective shudder of her friends at the end which awaited the innocent girl if they failed in their mission.

The jackal chieftain himself was nearly twice the size of his fellows, though this girth was almost entirely fat, and wore enough jewels to make even Bluebeak swoon with envy. His jowls quivered and his tiny eyes bugged as he ran his tongue over his helpless captive, matting her feathers and fur in slimy, greenish saliva, the sight of which caused Minion to shiver with revolted excitement.

The griffon herself was blue, a color the pony had never seen on one before. Her lion half was a wonderful shade of cyan, her eagle beautiful indigo, her eyes were electric and frightened. Her talons had once been polished to a gleaming shine, though the right was heavily scarred with hundreds of small slashes. Minion wondered what could have done that, immediately ruling out a suicide attempt; many of those slashes were years old and looked as if they'd been made to deliberately draw out non-lethal amounts of blood.

The princess, for she could be nopony else, was staring in muted fear directly at the adventurers, her eagle eyes cutting through the gloom. Grayshaw gave her a reassuring nod, which she returned unnoticed by the chief or his warriors, the latter being far too busy enjoying the show.

Even if her own rage was not tingeing her vision with red, Minion knew there would be no mercy for these, a single glance into the captain's eyes told her that much. She noted that Darkfang and Gadgets' expressions matched her sentiments perfectly. This was going to be over quickly.

As one, the group covered the remaining distance, silent as ghosts. They burst into the light without noise, falling upon their enemies with all the lethality of the Reaper; metal flashed and jackals screamed, cut down as they reached for their weapons. The chieftain stared in mute horror as his greatest warriors, tested in a hundred battles, fell like wheat before the harvester.

He turned to grab a heavily-jeweled greatsword in his jaws, but his weapon was gone, kicked away by a scaly foot as the dragon reached him first. Grayshaw finished dispatching the last of the warriors and advanced on the whimpering creature, murder in his eyes.

"Wait!" Minion called, wrapping the chieftain in her magic and lifting him high into the air where he was safe from her friends.

"Why?!" The griffon demanded, glaring up at the captive for a moment before remembering the princess was at his feet. He quickly bent back down, discarding his spear in favor of his knife as he began to saw at her bonds.

"We still need him," the unicorn explained, lowering the jackal back to the floor, binding him tightly in ropes of energy she conjured from her horn as she did. "We need to know how he found out about the princess, and how many more of his tribe there might still be in this place."

Grayshaw struggled with himself for a moment, cutting through the last rope holding his charge and beginning to massage the life back into her limbs. Finally, he swallowed his rage and nodded, once. Minion smiled at him and turned to address her prisoner.

"Tell me everything you know, starting from how you found out about where she," she pointed a hoof towards the recovering griffon, "would be vulnerable enough for you to attack."

"The grey bird-creature," the jackal gasped, alternating between staring in fear at Darkfang, and horror at Grayshaw. "The old grey one told it to us."

"Grey?" Gadgets asked sharply, "Not black?"

The chief nodded vigorously, "The old bird-creature tells to us places of meat, weapons, treasure. He tells us to kill the blue one and all would be ours. But he lies," his fear turned instantly into rage, "the grey one tells us easy prey he does. But not easy prey, we lose twenty of us to the fierce ones!" He began wailing and writhing on the ground, struggling to break free of his bonds.

Minion, Gadgets, Grayshaw, and Darkfang exchanged a dark glance; they had been so convinced it was Bluebeak who'd set the princess up, Celestia knew he'd given them enough reason to think so! But it would seem their preconceptions were mistaken.

"So," the mare gave voice to their thoughts minutes later, "what happens now?"

"Now?" Darkfang said to her, though he was really addressing the entire group. "Now we get back to Beakisburg and get some answers. It would appear my old friend has some explaining to do."

The others nodded; Minion turned back to address the chief, only to discover to her horror he'd managed to chew through his bonds. Before she had time to wonder how he'd managed to do that, her attention was forced back the way they'd come, where the jackal chieftain stood on his hindlegs, front paws raised high above his head, clutching something.

"Death to the enemies of the True Race," he screeched. "Death for victory, death for vengeance, death for the Dead One!"

"Bomb!" Darkfang shouted, seizing Minion and Gadgets in his claws and hurling them farther back into the cave, "Get down!"

As she flew time seemed to slow, and through her slowed perceptions she saw the dragon dive after them, Grayshaw scoop the princess into his talons to follow suit, and the madness etched into the jackal's face as his weapon killed him.

Even years later she did not remember the explosion; all she knew was that when it happened, for it must have happened, everything went black...and then everything went very, very cold.

Where Bad Things Come From

The first sensation Gadgets felt upon returning to consciousness was the absence of pain. Indeed the only thing he could feel was a series of warm, steady waves expanding throughout his body originating somewhere on his left shoulder. His first thought was that he had died as that would explain the absence of pain, but he then reasoned that if he were dead he would be aware of it and therefore since he could question whether or not he was alive he could not be dead. That settled, he cracked open his eyes.

A beautiful blue griffon loomed above him, her eyes filled with concern, her right talon stretched over him and out of sight, directly above where the warmth was coming from. Gadgets opened his mouth to speak, but the princess shook her head, indicating that he should remain silent, before gesturing a wing over to where his friends were. They were huddled together with their backs to him, whispering to each other, glancing fervently over their shoulders at something behind him.

Minion, his beloved Minion, was the first to realize that he was awake and rushed over to him, her eyes filling with tears. She was quickly followed by Captain Grayshaw, whose armor was missing, and Darkfang, who had lost his Gatling gun and most of his kilt in the avalanche. The avalanche!

Gadgets sat bolt upright, the princess dodging smoothly out of his way; looking around wildly, he quickly took note of his surroundings. They were still in the cave, light being supplied by the number of glowing orbs floating overhead, but it was not the cave they had entered all that time ago.

The shape was still the same, but now the walls were cracked and a new one had been added, this one made of rubble and dust rather than featureless stone. It was this wall of debris his friends had been looking at, as it sat right in the way of their only known exit, and even from the quick glance he spared it the pony could tell there was no way through, around, under, or over. Further down the tunnel was similarly blocked, meaning they were trapped in what would appear to be a small air bubble in the middle of Celestia knew how many millions of tons of rock. Perfect.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice coming out surprisingly steady and energized, not at all like he'd just nearly escaped death and fought off an army of vicious savages. Gadgets blinked, then ran through a quick mental checklist of his body: all four limbs accounted for, no damage to vital areas, mane and tail operating at peak efficiency. He blinked again, despite the ordeal they'd been through he was completely unharmed! Neat.

"Jackal chieftain blew up the cave," Grayshaw told him, gesturing sarcastically at the rubble around them, "rotten little bastard had the bright idea he'd kill us all along with himself. Guess that didn't work out."

"I dunno," Gadgets said brightly, "half his plan succeeded."

His friends smiled at that and they all basked in the brief, unexpected happiness before Gadgets continued, "But what I really want to know is how we're all fine. I've been in my fair share of cave-ins and nopony ever comes out looking this good."

He waved a hoof at the group, all of whom were in varying states of disrepair and distress from the cave-in, but were otherwise unharmed. It was Minion who answered him, pointing a hoof at the princess, who was slowly bandaging a fresh cut on her leg; the same leg which was already home to more scars than he'd ever seen on everypony he'd ever met put together.

"She healed us."

"How?"

"Blood magic," Minion shivered, "it's an ancient, powerful form of magic that's forbidden to use."

"Why?" Gadgets noted that Grayshaw and Darkfang were looking at his marefriend with equal interest; the princess, meanwhile, was blushing furiously and attempting to hide beneath her wing.

"Blood magic is extremely potent because blood is the physical link of the soul to the body. It's the essence of life itself. To use blood magic, one weakens the ties between soul and body, drawing upon the limitless power of the soul to perform acts of great good...or great evil.

It's different from unicorn magic which relies upon willpower, or even griffon magic which uses complex rituals and symbols to draw the power of the elements into itself. It's primal, chaotic, and even the simplest spells can drain the user's life-force completely if they're not careful.

Fifty-percent of all ponies who try it die in their first attempt, ninety-percent die in their second, and ten percent don't try for a third time. I've always heard mastering it is impossible; even the alicorns don't dare to make use of it unless under the most extreme circumstances, and I'm not talking about life or death here, I mean fate of the entire world extreme. But...I suppose...if anypony could master it, I mean truly master it," she stared at the shy princess with an expression of utter horror tinged with fascinated amazement, "they'd have power beyond even the Sun and Moon Princesses."

The blue griffon squeaked and tried to run away, bouncing off a wall after two steps. Gadgets laughed, breaking the somber mood as the cute female clutched her head in her talons, moaning softly. Soon everypony was chuckling; even the princess once she'd recovered, though her laughter was soft to the point of being mute.

"Well, horrible potential aside," he said, when the mirth had subsided, "I believe we all owe you a great debt, Princess. Without you we'd probably all be dead."

"Hey, what about me? I made the air bubble thing," Minion piped up, pointing a hoof towards the roof of their sanctuary.

Gadgets laughed and kissed her; his friends (how could Grayshaw and Princess be anything but after all they'd been through?) watched with small smiles on their faces, as much a part of the two's love as they were, even if they didn't get all the physical benefits. Those belonged to him.

"Well, sentiments aside," Darkfang mused after a few minutes, scratching his chin and surveying the inescapable cell that had saved their lives, "we're still trapped here. I figure we've got a few hours of air before we suffocate, and there's no way we can dig through the rock, even assuming the entire tunnel hasn't come down on us. Even if it hasn't, I think it's a safe bet we're royally screwed."

As if on cue, the ground began to rumble and a rectangular hole, just big enough to allow the dragon through, opened on the far-side of the room, the beginnings of a dark passageway, Darkfang glared at this unexpected development.

"Seriously?" he asked, "We're all doomed to die horribly and suddenly this happens and its going to save us? What kind of stupid bastard falls for something like that?!"

"The ones who don't have any choice?" Grayshaw offered, starting towards the mysterious portal, followed after a moment's hesitation by the princess, and then by Minion and Gadgets.

Darkfang pondered on this for a moment, then shrugged and followed his friends in, bringing up the rear. To their surprise, the door did not rumble shut behind them but then, it didn't really have to. There was no going back from this point on.

********

They traveled for what felt like days, always moving down in a slow, unending spiral. They found nourishment from the strange fungi that grew along the dirt walls which, they discovered early on, were not only very nutritious but also extremely juicy, removing the need to search for water.

As they traveled, they talked, mostly of the past: Gadgets and Minion regaling their friends with tales of their homeland, Grayshaw telling dramatic stories of battles from his days as an Imperial Guard, and Darkfang telling them more of the dragon's history. They learned much about each other from these stories and soon, all pretense of the fear and mistrust so rampant between their species forgotten, they slept cuddled together around the magical campfire the dragon made whenever they stopped to rest. Their periods of rest became night for them, and when they awoke to begin their journey once more they decided it was day. Never stopping, never looking back, always moving forward.

It was on what Gadgets presumed to be the second day (all his equipment, including his watches, having been destroyed during the cave-in), that he asked the question that had been bugging him since the beginning of their mission.

"So what's your name, anyway?" He asked the princess, who blushed and hid her face in her wing, as she often did when talking to somepony. She mumbled something he couldn't quite make out, so Grayshaw answered for her, though he looked distinctly embarrassed when he did.

"Bluebutt," he told them, looking straight ahead and deliberately not meeting anypony's eyes. "Like Darkfang has said before: griffons...they're not good at naming things."

Gadgets chuckled and draped a friendly hoof around Bluebutt; miraculously, his mechanical leg had come through unharmed, "Don't worry, Bluey," he told her. "Yours isn't the weirdest name I've ever heard of, just wait 'till I tell you about Sir Moustacheface."

The princess smiled shyly at him and nodded. She never seemed to speak if she could help it, and when she did it was usually so quietly nopony could hear her anyway. They continued like that for some time, Gadgets talking and Bluebutt listening. He told her all the stories he'd heard from Darkfang, all about how Mr. and Mrs. Gears had seriously considered naming Minion "Pinkie Pumpernickle", and of how pretty she was. He did not think anything of these idle compliments, though apparently his marefriend did as, after about an hour, she rounded on them with barely cooled fury.

"Gadgets, you do know that 'she' is a boy, right?"

Gadgets blinked and looked directly at his new friend, who had slipped out of his hold and was doing 'her' best to bury 'her'self inside the wall.

"Za?" He asked, dumbfounded.

"I had hoped you wouldn't find out," Grayshaw told them, glaring slightly at Minion, who started whistling as if she had no idea what she'd done, "the Princess's identity is a closely guarded secret."

"Again. Za?"

The captain sighed and indicated that they should sit, "We might as well get comfortable, this is going to take awhile and it's about time for a rest, anyway."

The group made themselves comfortable as Darkfang breathed a small, green flame onto the dirt, which stayed there with neither fuel nor unicorn magic to sustain it, providing comfortable warmth and light. Grayshaw wet his throat with a morsel of fungi he tore from the wall, then started.

"There is an ancient law, dating back to the 2nd Glorious Griffon Empire, that states all male griffons born in Imperial territory must enlist in the military. The purpose of this law was to ensure that the Empire would always have sufficient military power to defend its borders and enforce proper order."

"Just males? What about girls?" Minion asked, the griffon acknowledged her with a nod.

"Females at the time were considered too valuable to waste in such a dangerous pursuit. Though nowadays they are just as common as males; a bit more violent, perhaps, but common all the same."

Minion nodded back, evidently pleased, and motioned for him to continue. Gadgets noticed a small grin playing on the griffon's beak as he took another bite of his beverage.

"When the Princess was born, the Grand Sage of the Beakisburg Temple himself presided over the birthing. The Grand Sage is well-known for his gift of prophecy and he foretold the babe would grow to be strong but would undoubtedly die in the military.

Fearing this, Governor Gripeye made a secret deal with the priests, the details of which I do not know, but the prince's identity was entered into the records as female, and he was subsequently raised as such. When 'her' gift of magic was discovered, she trained with the priests and became a powerful sorcerer, despite her natural timidity and inability to function properly in large crowds.

Do not mistake this shyness for cowardice, however, Bluebutt is one of the bravest griffons I know. Not everypony could put their own life and soul at risk for the sake of perfect strangers, as you all witnessed when she healed us."

The others nodded; nopony there would ever doubt her courage. Not after what she'd done for them.

"I just have one question," Darkfang cut in, speaking for the first time since they had entered the tunnel, "how do you know all of this?"

Grayshaw nodded at the dragon, he tended to do that whenever speaking to someone new, "A fair question. Governor Gripeye told me all of this himself three years ago when I was reassigned to oversee the docks of Beakisburg. His intent was to have me help protect his son in an unofficial role, which I have gladly done ever since."

"And why were you reassigned?"

"I was serving in the Imperial Guard when I pissed off a certain noble and was sent to the lowliest post he could find. Luckily for me, a certain somepony we all know and hate was looking out for my interests and I landed more or less on my paws down at Beakisburg."

"Bluebeak helped you? Why would he do that?"

"Bluebeak may be a colossal, arrogant pile of dragon dung, no offense --"

"None taken."

"-- but he knows how to recognize skill and talent when he sees it. For all his posturing, he does care about the Empire, and he didn't want to see a soldier of my reputation wasted in some swamp. Or so he says, I've often had the feeling his motives were not entirely unselfish."

"He certainly gives that impression."

"Nevertheless, I was grateful for the change in scenery, however it came about. I'd never felt right spending all my time protecting nobles who didn't deserve to be protected, or enforcing the petty laws of an Emperor who'd never been outside the palace."

"You don't sound like you care much for your leader," Gadgets noted.

"I am loyal to the throne, not whatever ass is currently sitting on it."

The pony shrugged and scooted closer to Minion, cuddling up beside her for the night. Princess Bluebutt slept near Grayshaw, who rested almost side-by-side with Darkfang, though neither seemed aware of this as they bedded down for the night.

********

It was roughly a week after this incident, by Gadgets' estimate, that they came to the tunnel's end. Without warning the dark, cramped space in which they'd been living opened out into a vast cavern. More fungi, the smallest easily the size of The Inconceivable, provided sufficient light so as to impress upon the party the sheer size of the place.

All of Beakisburg could have fit inside with room to spare, and like the tunnel into the Forbidden Mountain, the walls were utterly smooth. In the distance, a colossal pillar of ice, nearly half again the size of the mountain somewhere far overhead, loomed menacingly, emanating a despair that gripped at their hearts.

Gadgets whistled appreciatively attempted to take a step forward...and discovered to his horror that he could no longer move! It was then he noticed the vast, alien consciousness digging through his own, spreading through his limbs, taking control of his body; even his eyes were frozen in place.

When the icy, black despair of the whatever-it-was had threaded itself throughout the entirety of his flesh, his legs started moving again, bringing him closer to the icy colossus in the distance. The sounds of hooves, scales, and claws scraping and clicking against stone told him his friends were in a similar predicament.

Gadgets had experienced the joining of another consciousness with his own once before, a year ago when he and Minion had made love for the first time. It had been a normal day working on the airship, bringing it closer and closer to the completion and the beginning of their dream. At sundown, they stopped and rested outside the cave, watching as the stars came out, perfectly at peace with the world.

"I have something to show you," Minion told him, pulling away. "It's a new spell I learned, it'll let my consciousness join together with yours. We can share everything, our memories, hopes, dreams, our very thoughts in a way we never could before."

Gadgets, intrigued by the possibility, agreed immediately and watched in fascination as her horn began to glow with gentle, purple light, which continued to steadily build. When the light was near-blinding she leaned in and kissed him.

Their lips met with the warm, comforting passion they always had, but there was something new. Before the pony could identify what that was, his mind was flooded with a thousand images, sounds, and smells. Suddenly he was looking through two sets of eyes, one was his own, gazing at Minion, in the other he could see himself.

With a start, he realized he must be seeing through her eyes and she through his, and then the memories came. He saw every moment of their lives up to that point; he could hear her thoughts, her dreams as she lay in bed at night, her most secret desires, and it was beautiful. He'd never loved her more than he had at that moment, and through her mind's eye he could see that she was looking into his own soul, and what she found there scared her. But the fear passed as quickly as it came, and there was only love.

They had made love, then, beneath the stars, on the edge of the place where his parents had met their end and where their dream continued to live. The memory of that time was his most treasured possession, and one he would carry with him to his grave, perfect memory be damned. This was his choice to keep, not the whim of nature that had blessed and cursed him with this mind.

But this invasion of his soul was not the same, this was not the joining of two lovers beneath the moon, at peace and content with the soul they melded with. This was power, authority, dominance, seizing control of his will and body as it would a plaything, and even as his heart trembled with dumb fear at such absolute power, he could feel only rage. Rage at the will which bound his friends, rage at the interloper that would dare intrude upon his, and more importantly Minion's, most private places.

Gadgets blinked as the little party entered an ice-field and his emotions were swept aside as the scientific part of his brain began to wonder how such a thing, obviously requiring immense cold, had managed to form when he felt only comfortable warmth in the air. Massive blocks of jagged ice rose from the ground, and within them he could just make-out the dark silhouettes of creatures belonging only in the blackest of nightmares, trapped forever within their frozen prisons.

But even as that primal part of him fluttered with terror at the malice and hate etched in their faces, the intellectual side of him knew that none of these monsters was capable of the vast, terrifying will which kept him and his friends moving. Not that that made them any less horrible to behold.

Many of the creatures were draconic, all scales, fangs, and spines, some of the larger ones easily the size of the Governor's Library, if not bigger! But there was something...wrong about them, as if they had been warped by foul magics meant to bring about the darkest part of their nature.

In a few of the smaller blocks he identified vaguely pony-shaped figures, the silhouettes of griffons, Diamond Dogs, buffalo, and a thousand other familiar races. They too had been changed by the wrongness, the cause of which Gadgets was certain was what the presence in his mind was driving them towards, and he was equally certain the whatever-it-was was housed within the colossus so far in the distance and yet so close to his soul.

It took hours of walking until they began to get closer, the creatures trapped within the ice growing steadily more hideous and malevolent as they approached the mountain's base. Hours more passed before they began to be able to make out details in the ice.

It was not, as it had appeared from the tunnel, one solid, featureless piece. The ice was, in fact, badly cracked and even half-melted in places, as if whatever had been sealed inside had been fighting until the end, or the more terrifying option: that the whatever-it-was was trying to get out. Clouds of frost rolled down the sides, shrouding its base in dense fog and chilling the stone beneath their hooves.

They came to an abrupt stop some twenty meters from the edge of the mist, lined up side-by-side, their heads tilted to stare directly at the center of the colossus, where a dark shape could just be seen in the otherwise uniform pale-blue of the ice. Gadgets stared at it intently, not that he had any choice, struggling to make out what it was.

The minutes rolled by until his eyes adjusted enough that he could see it at last. A massive alicorn, several times again the size of Celestia, was sealed at the heart of the colossus, and even from miles away Gadgets could feel its power. This alicorn was clearly male, being far broader of chest and thicker of limb than the Sun Princess had been, though it possessed an odd sort of violent, almost feral, beauty. Its coat completely black, its mane, tail, hooves, and the edges of its wings made from purple fire. Its eyes a slightly darker shade of the flame, and glowing with malevolent power; power that was reminiscent of the dark will which bound the adventurers.

"Be welcome, my little ponies, in the place from which all bad things come."

The voice crashed through Gadgets skull like a freight train, ripping his thoughts to pieces and setting his head to bursting. If he could move any part of his body, he would have screamed and attempted to tear out his own brain with his bare hooves. Anything to make it stop.

"Speak your questions, little ones; I would hear what you have to say."

Gadgets gasped as his head dropped to his chest with a thunk, suddenly returning to his control even though the rest of his body remained beyond his will to make it obey. Similar gasps echoed from either side, showing that his friends had been similarly released.

"W-Where are we?" He heard Minion say, immediately turning to look at her.

Her eyes were wide with fear and her voice shook, but otherwise she looked fine. A quick glance at the others confirmed that they were all in similar states: shaken but unharmed. He didn't know whether to be thankful or worried about that. If they hadn't been harmed, it meant the Voice wanted them for something, and whatever that "something" was, he was pretty sure it wasn't going to be good.

"Tartarus," Darkfang gasped, "it's got to be. No place else would have such monsters hidden beneath the earth."

The Voice laughed, a sound that was all the more terrifying because it appeared to come from genuine mirth rather than the cocky, self-aggrandizing chuckle reminiscent of third-rate stage villains. Apparently their captor had a sense of humor. Brilliant.

"Tartarus is but a pale imitation of this place. Built to house the petty, insignificant creatures your kind deemed worthy of the title 'monster'."

"So if it's not Tartarus, where are we?" Grayshaw cut in, his eyes locked on Bluebutt who was valiantly trying to shake uncontrollably with fear, yet only succeeding in vibrating her head at sickening speeds.

"The Great Beneath, built to house me and mine until the Fall of Forever when we would be finally destroyed by the Eternal Setting Sun."

"And who are you?" Gadgets asked, "You're obviously not just an alicorn."

The Voice laughed once more, "You are half right, my little inventor, I am not like the others of my kind. Indeed, many of them would not tell you of me at all.

I am the Forgotten, which all races once feared. Slayer of Cosmis the Benign, Raper of Galaxia the Brave, and Keeper of the Darkest Day they called me, but alas, time has not been kind to my memory.

Gadgets shivered, from all he'd heard about the two alicorn monarchs, the duo was a force to be reckoned with. If what the Voice said was true, they weren't just dealing with any old ancient evil, they were dealing with a creature right out of Celestia's own nightmares.

"If all that's true, and you're so powerful, how'd you end up here, imprisoned in the bowels of the earth?" Grayshaw demanded, his only defiance against such absolute power his ability to ask sharp questions. The Voice took no note of him, continuing with its tale as if the captain did not exist.

"I was once a unicorn, like you," Minion cringed at the comparison, "and in pride or lust I studied magic forbidden by the Maker himself. Death magic.

Mine was the power to kill with but a single glance, to fell armies with a gesture, to crush the mightiest wyrms beneath my hooves like beetles. But I was a fool, and I erred.

In my arrogance, I thought myself beyond the reach of my enemies, and so my beloved fell to their spears and primitive attempts at magic.

In my rage I called upon powers I did not understand and wished to destroy all that which had harmed me. Unaware of who had done the deed and uncaring as to who had not, I slaughtered thousands and raised their corpses to kill thousands more. I began a war to end all life, all existence, to destroy the world so cruel as to take her from me.

I would have succeeded had it not been for Cosmis, who dared to lead the alicorns against me, my war would have devoured the world. As it is, our duel above the Great Wastes, that which you now call Dragon's Breath, was legendary, and the magics we brought to bear linger there still. An eternal testament to my power.

In the end, I destroyed him, but in doing so I was mortally weakened, doomed to never again wield the powers which might have brought me unquestioned victory. But I had my revenge, for as we battled, a part of me slipped away, the barest trace of my essence flew to the City Beyond the Skies where Galaxia lay heavy with child.

My essence invaded her, the lightest breath upon the wind, the gentlest sip of cooling water, and reached down into her womb and the foal which lay sleeping there, tainting it and forever staining the innocent creature with my essence. I am ashamed to say I do not know what became of it, I wish I did.

And so, in time, my armies of death fell to the Disciples of Starlight, as the armies of Cosmis began to call themselves, and my body and spirit were sealed here, in this place. As were my greatest lieutenants, those whom you see around you."

Gadgets shuddered involuntarily; the Voice's story had come with pictures. Memories that were not his own flashed through his mind: visions of vast armies clashing in oceans of blood, of two alicorns dueling in the skies above what would later be re-named the Forbidden Mountain, and of a heavily pregnant mare weeping bloody tears as the soul of her beloved, unborn foal was violated.

"Alright, so all that happened," he spoke up, "but why are we here? What could you possibly want with us? And how did you open the tunnel that brought us here?" A horrifying thought struck him, "You're not really as trapped as you claim, are you?"

"Hmph, you are a smart one, aren't you? No matter, you are correct. I did bring you hear for a purpose. As to the tunnel, even bound as I am, I am far from powerless. For I, as the raging sea, can never be fully contained.

You will take from here a certain item, and you will bring it to the sun and the open air. You will do my will in this, but afterwards, what to do with the item I will leave to you, for I will have no more interest in it."

"And what makes you think we're going to do that?"

"Because you want to live, and because I can keep you here for as long as I desire until you agree."

"And what if we die before we agree?"

"You won't."

Gadgets paused, he had no idea what the Voice was capable of; the possibility that it could keep them alive forever was disturbingly real.

"That aside," he continued cautiously, "why would we help you unleash unspeakable evils on the world? How do we know that this thing you're giving us won't just kill everypony?"

"Your perceptions are clouded; I have no interest in the world above, for I have found peace here, in my prison."

"Unlikely."

"Believe what you will about me, but know that what I give to you is no direct threat to anypony. It is not a weapon or a spell, it is alive, and I would have it be free to make its own choices. If it is evil, then it is because the world in which it lives is evil."

"What is it?"

"My son, dormant and sleeping yet ready to awaken and live at my command."

Gadgets stared around at his friends, all of whom looked as perplexed and dumbfounded as he felt.

The Voice was silent for a time, and when it finally spoke it was filled with sadness and unimaginable regret, "I have done unspeakable things in my time. I have committed sins for which there can be no atonement, and I am paying for them here in my prison. But my son, my Heart, the last bit of light left in my soul, is innocent of my crimes, and yet punished for them all the same.

I desire what all fathers' desire; for my child to laugh and to grow and to be merry, to be free live his life. You will take him from this place and you will set him free into the world; I do not care what you do after that, abandon him if you wish. My child is not so weak as to die before his time, what little of my power he has will make sure of that."

Gadgets ignored the Voice and addressed his friends, "What does everypony think? It doesn't sound like he's lying."

Grayshaw stared intently at the frozen alicorn, then nodded, apparently reaching some kind of internal decision. Bluebutt looked him in the eyes and nodded as well.

"I don't know if he's lying or not," Darkfang said, "but we're not getting out of here unless he says so. I guess we'll just have to do it and hope for the best. Who knows, maybe everything will work out."

Minion was the last to speak, and when she did she spoke slowly, as if unsure of what she was about to say, "I don't know if this is the right thing to do. The child he speaks of could grow to be just as evil as he is, if it isn't already, and if we were the ones who set such evil loose on the world, I'd never forgive myself. But, on the other hoof, the chance to redeem such ancient power is definitely worthwhile. If we could raise the colt to be good, to make his own choices, to not follow in the footsteps of his father and hate the world, I think that'd be just about the greatest thing we could ever do."

Gadgets agreed, "Everypony deserves a second chance."

He turned back to face the Forgotten and the Deathsmith spoke, loud and clear, "Very well, we will take your son to the surface. We will raise him, nurture him, as if he were our own, but if he becomes evil, if he becomes like you, we will do our duty to the world and strike him down. Deal?"

"Then let it be."

The mist before them turned black as the blackest heart and began to coalesce. Tendrils of dark fog curled together, forming around a purple light, shaping into a cocoon. The egg-shaped thing floated toward them and Gadgets reached out to take it in his hooves, newly freed, as the Voice retreated from his mind and body.

As he touched it, heat pulsed through his body, eerily similar to the blood magic which had healed him an eternity ago.

"It feels," he murmured, "alive."

"The deal is struck, the doors are open, let the world tremble at my return. Good luck, my little ponies, your trials have only just begun."

Purple flames erupted around them, a swirling maelstrom of raw power, crushing their senses and driving them to oblivion. Gadgets screamed along with the others, as everything they were was ripped apart.

********

Gadgets blinked and opened his eyes. He was lying on something blistering hot and very scratchy. Sitting up, he blinked in the sunlight of early afternoon and took note of his surroundings. Everywhere he could see was sand, the sun was high overhead in the blue sky, and his friends were lying all around him, still unconscious. The egg he'd been given was roughly a hoof away, the sand around it turned to glass by the heat of their arrival.

The junk was still flying overhead, quickly descending under the expert command of its mechanical crew, but the corpses of their battle were nowhere to be seen. In fact, looking around, Gadgets realized the cave entrance was gone as well. He had a brief moment to wonder if it had been buried in the sand along with the bodies, most likely by the sandstorm that had been brewing when they first arrived, before stirring amongst his friends distracted him. He quickly climbed to his hooves and trotted over to Minion, nudging her awake with his snout, "Minion, we're back in the desert. No time to be a lazypony."

The mare mumbled something in her half-sleep before opening her eyes and looking at him, "So we're back in the sand?"

Gadgets nodded.

"Great." Minion mumbled something offensive he couldn't quite make out under breath as she sat up, rubbing a hoof against her temple. "So where are we?" she asked, looking around as Darkfang and Grayshaw climbed shakily to their, the latter helping Bluebutt stand as well.

"Where we came in at, but nothing's as it should be," Gadgets answered, their ride home thundering to the ground several hoof-lengths away, its crew waving frantically in joy at the master's return.

The mare mumbled something else as she stood up and walked slowly to the ship, climbing aboard with only a minor amount of difficulty. Satisfied that she was okay, Gadgets trotted back to the egg; he contemplated it for a minute before asking Darkfang to carry it to the ship. The dragon stared at him for a moment, then picked up the pulsating sphere without a word, grasped the railing in a claw, and swung himself over. He was closely followed by Bluebutt, Grayshaw, and finally by Gadgets himself, who stopped briefly to cast one last glance around.

No sooner had he boarded the junk then he was nearly bowled over by Minion's shout of disbelief, "A month?! We've been gone for nearly a month?!"

The mare was at the wheel, staring in consternation at the shipboard calendar presented to her by three mechanical crewmen standing one atop the other. The tiny machines had apparently been keeping track of the days until their master returned, yet another quirk of the intelligence programming that made them such excellent subordinates. They could get lonely. Every eye on ship looked to her, every expression puzzled.

"That's actually not too unbelievable," Darkfang said after a moment, breaking the silence. "Who knows how long we spent traveling down that hole."

Minion shook her head once more in disbelief, then started giving out orders to the crew to make the ship ready for the return journey.

As they lifted off and turned towards Beakisburg, Grayshaw stepped up beside Darkfang, who was drowsing against the rail, "What are you going to do when we get back?" He asked.

The dragon cracked one eye open, "First I'm going to pay my old friend a visit, and find out if what the jackal said is true. Depending on his answer, I'm either going to eat him or I'm going to set the town on fire."

The captain nodded, "I hope you won't mind if I offer to join you for that?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

********

The return journey took almost three hours; the party spent that time resting, drinking and eating from the ship's supplies. Most of their perishables had gone bad but the tiny airship also carried a number of non-perishable food items, and Gadgets patented Super Canteens meant the water was still fresh. So it was that by the time they came within sight of Beakisburg they were all feeling rather refreshed, rested, and ready for answers.

Gadgets flew the long way around town, rather than passing directly overhead, and settled the junk down at the wharf without incident. The party disembarked immediately, Grayshaw waving off the intrepid soldiers who attempted to confront them. Strangely enough, the moment the young recruits got a look at the old veteran they turned stark white and dropped their spears, looking for all the world as if they had seen a ghost.

The trip to the city was eventful only in that everypony who saw the group had the same reaction. Shopkeepers who Gadgets had spoken to stared dumbfounded at him, while the noble lady who had nearly struck Minion took one glance at the mare and promptly jumped into the Turbin. The adventurer found all of this very strange. Yes, they had gone missing for a month, but that wasn't uncommon for ponies in their line of profession, and it wasn't like anypony here actually knew them well enough to miss them.

With a shrug, the eternally optimistic inventor discarded his worries and concentrated on being angry at Governor Gripeye. It was high time they learned the truth of things.

At the palace they were waved threw by grim-looking guards, different ones than Gadgets had seen the last time he was here, though he figured they probably rotated out every once in awhile. The darkly suspicious glare in Grayshaw's eyes when he saw them, however, quickly cast shadows of doubt on this theory. The whispering nobles were still present, many of them pointing at Bluebutt before giggling behind raised fans, as if they were all in on some private joke.

It was not long before they reached the study and were ushered through by the chamberlain, the aging pony that had been in attendance the first time they had been there, and into a room filled with bristling spear points. Over a score of griffon soldiers filled the tiny space; Governor Gripeye was still seated behind his desk as calmly and sedately as ever, but his wife was nowhere to be seen.

"So," the governor said, his voice still sad and soft but edged with menace, "you survived, and I see you rescued my daughter. Unfortunate. Guards," he waved an idle talon at them, returning his attention to the pile of parchment before him, "kill them all."

$#@% It, Let's Play God!

The room exploded into chaos. The thick wooden door, the only way in or out of the Governor's study, slammed shut behind them, Darkfang roared crimson flames onto the assembled guards, Gadgets lobbed a make-shift grenade at Gripeye's desk, and Minion conjured a glowing wall of energy around her friends.

Griffons screamed as they were cooked alive inside their super-heated armor, Governor Gripeye squawked as the powerful explosive blew his desk to splinters, and Grayshaw impaled two soldiers on their own spears, stealing their swords as he did. Twisting around, Darkfang blasted the door with more fire, scattering droplets of melted gold and charred splinters all over the outer hall.

"Move!" He shouted, grabbing a startled guard in either claw and hurling them out the door into a crowd of panicking nobles.

Gadgets slid out the doorway quick as a whistle, hooves clicking against stone as he scampered towards the exit, "To the ship!" he cried, "We need more firepower!"

Bluebutt followed next, taking flight to avoid the confused, milling nobles; Grayshaw burst through the doorway after him, a spinning wheel of death with his dual swords. Darkfang went next, blasting the study one last time with his fiery breath, Minion bringing up the rear; as she left she conjured a wall of lethal energy in the door frame. Anypony stupid enough to touch it was in for a nasty surprise; that should help cut off pursuit.

"Seize the interlopers; they mustn't escape!" Gripeye called after them, completely unharmed by the explosion even with his desk in splinters and what was left of the surrounding guards silent on the floor, dead.

As impossible and fascinating as it was, Minion did not have time to ponder how he had survived as she burst into the main hall. Her barrier would last for only a few minutes, and reinforcements were pouring from every doorway, window, and other conceivable opening. The time had come to leave Beakisburg.

The mare peered ahead, following closely on the tails of her friends, though they had far outstripped her in their haste to escape. Bluebutt and Grayshaw soared through the air, the high ceiling providing more than adequate room for flight, the princess using his Suk'ruk Gui to nimbly evade pursuit, the captain merely smashing anypony foolish enough to get close to him out of the air. Darkfang bowled through the crowds like a juggernaught, knocking aside nobles, servants, and soldiers like bowling pins as he charged towards the entrance.

Gadgets was far ahead of them all, nimbly weaving through the crowd with practiced ease, completely unnoticed by the crowd as he made shameless use of their blind spots to hide himself. Minion smirked and decided to use her own special talent, mounting the wall without breaking stride, galloping along the vertical surface as if it were a flat road, climbing steadily until she was running upside down along the ceiling. Griffons and ponies alike stared at her in shocked amazement, completely dumbfounded at this amazing display of acrobatics.

A few brave souls attempted to catch her by taking flight, but a few well-timed lightning bolts, conjured from her horn, sent them plummeting back to earth with bone-breaking force. Nopony could stop them, anypony who tried was killed or crippled, but the vast difference in numbers was beginning to take its toll; if they did not reach shelter soon, they would die there, their dream unfulfilled. There seemed to be no end to the griffon guards; dozens littered the ground, dead, unconscious, or too injured to move, but more continued to pour into the main hall.

Minion circled around the circumference of the wall back to horizontal ground as the exit approached rapidly closer, a nervous barrier of soldiers blocking their way. The foolishness of their endeavor pressed upon the crowd as a combination of dragon fire, unicorn lightning, and another of Gadgets' make-shift explosives tore their line to bloody pieces, the adventurers bursting out into open air more or less unimpeded.

"Quickly, to the docks!" Gadgets shouted, rocketing off down the central thoroughfare, stunned civilians knocked aside as he pushed through, the others following closely on his hooves. When they were several blocks from the Governor's palace a gleaming, and strangely familiar, talon shot out from an alleyway, grabbing the pony by his coat and pulling him in with a startled yelp.

"Gadgets!" Darkfang and Grayshaw shouted simultaneously, rushing to their friend's aid, Minion and Bluebutt close on their heels. What they found there made all of them stop dead in their tracks. Gadgets back was to them, but the griffon who had grabbed him was facing them dead-on; his face was partially obscured as it was pressed right up against the side of the pony's head yet unmistakable all the same.

Bluebeak was whispering frantically in Gadgets ear, and the little pony seemed to be listening intently to whatever the griffon was saying, nodding every now and then.

"Alright," he said, "let's go. Come along, everypony, Mr. Sneaky here is going to help us."

Without another word, the two dashed down the alley, Bluebeak sparing them only a glance and a beckoning gesture. Not having much choice, the rest of the group followed suit, down twisting, spiraling alleys filled with garbage and old crates. Minion took this opportunity to get a closer look at the noble, noting how remarkably fit he was now that she could see his body.

Gone were the copious amounts of jewelry he had worn when they'd first met an eternity ago, as well as the swirling purple robes and elaborate magical inscriptions. From the smell she could also tell he was not wearing any of the expensive perfumes nobility used to disguise the inherit rankness of their personalities. Indeed, had she not recognized his sleek black feathers and unconscious, natural poise, she would never have recognized him for the arrogant, condescending noble she'd hated at first glance.

The griffon sorcerer was dressed in a form-fitting black tunic trimmed in gold, a generously enchanted claymore strapped to his back, and a number of braided anklets made from the hair of some animal she could not identify, holding polished moonstones and rubies. Despite technically being considered jewelry, Minion was quite certain these pieces were heavily magicked for any number of nasty purposes that coupled with the huge weapon sheathed across the griffon's shoulders could mean only one thing. The master sorcerer was dressed for war.

Bluebeak led them along for another hour, down more dirty alleyways, across rooftops mostly hidden from street view, and back and forth across the river several times, always checking for more pursuing guards every time they turned a corner. Finally, they seemed to arrive at what he had been looking for, a blank stretch of wall down a filthy gutter, completely identical to the thousand others they had already passed.

The griffon priest looked quickly over his shoulder at the group, making sure they were all still there, before drawing a stone dagger from within his tunic, slashing it quickly across his palm to draw blood, and pressing the bloody talon against the rock. Glowing purple light appeared beneath his claws, spider-webbing out across the blank stone until it formed what appeared to be a doorway.

The rock shuddered and began to disappear, eventually opening up enough space for Darkfang to just barely squeeze through. Bluebeak nodded at the door he'd made, apparently satisfied.

"Quickly," he told them, his voice sharp and commanding, holding none of its old silky smoothness and disdain, "inside before the guards see."

Gadgets ducked through the hole immediately, followed a moment later by Minion and the rest, though none of them without reluctance. They had no idea what they were getting into, after all, and no way of knowing if the noble was leading them into a trap. The griffon in question quickly sheathed his knife and stepped in after them, resealing the doorway with another press of his bloodied palm to the rock.

"I realize you do not trust me, and I am fully aware of the reason being my fault." His voice came from somewhere behind and to the left of the mare, unable to tell the exact location as the place they'd entered was utterly dark. "Please, make yourselves comfortable."

There was a distinct cracking sound and the room flared with light. Minion blinked at the sudden change, her eyes quickly adjusting as she scanned the place to which their "savior" had led them, and she felt her mouth drop open in astonishment. The room was utterly gorgeous!

Whatever else Bluebeak may be, he certainly had good taste in decor. The furniture, of which there was plenty, was gilded in expensive gold leaf, the couches and chairs upholstered in royal purple fabric decorated with golden constellations, and numerous pots, vases, and other aesthetically pleasing pieces were scattered about in a strangely relaxing manner.

"Nice safe house, prissy," Darkfang muttered, taking a seat on one of the couches, which promptly broke under his weight and crashed to the floor, the dragon leaping up with a curse. Their host gave him a long look before taking a seat of his own, waving at the others to do the same.

"Now, you're all probably wondering why I'm helping you," he said once everypony had taken a seat.

"Not really," Minion murmured darkly, "we all just figured you were waiting for the right moment to stab us in the back. You certainly made no secret of how we disgusted you the last time we met."

Bluebeak eyed her up and down, his look appraising, though it was not the same as the one he had given her the last time. That time he had been judging her value as a commodity, now he seemed to be reassessing her value as a pony.

"Yes, I am well aware of how my actions have affected your attitude towards me," he continued when he'd finished. "Let me start things off with apologizing for my earlier behavior. My outer persona sometimes gets the best of me."

"'Outer persona'?" Darkfang cut back in.

Bluebeak nodded, "In my line of work it is often necessary to wear many faces. It's alot like a game really; though sometimes one character will inadvertently burn a bridge another must rely on in the future."

"Why don't you start from the beginning? I think we're all interested in who the character we're dealing with right now is."

"Fair enough," the griffon said, rising from his seat and moving towards a corner cupboard, "but I think some refreshments are in order first. Escaping the pride of the Empire is no easy feat, even for individuals of your particular talents."

He removed from the cupboard a number of boxes, decanters, and water jugs, which he laid out on the tables closest to the group. The boxes were filled with an assortment of sweet meats, preserved fruit slices, and bread fresh from the markets, the decanters filled with an assortment of wines, brandies, and various other liquors enjoyed by the social elite.

After a quick spell to be sure of the integrity of the food, Minion dug in with a will, mumbling a mostly-sincere thanks through a mouth full of fruit and bread, the others following suit. Bluebeak gave her a nervous smile, carefully averting his eyes from the less-than-perfect table manners of his guests; for all that the griffon might be more than he seemed, the incessant tidiness of the highborn was still present.

"Yes, well, now that that's out of the way," he continued, re-taking his seat, "I suppose I may as well reintroduce myself. I am Agent Bluebeak, Imperial Intelligence, Master Sorcerer of the 4th Glorious Griffon Empire, nephew to the illustrious Gripeye, and Right Wing of the Emperor.

I am here in Beakisburg undercover, investigating certain claims that the governor here has been abusing his power. Among other, petty examples of fraud, larceny, and general disregard for regulations, I've discovered he's been using his influence and connections to perform illegal searches of various ruins, particularly those around the Forbidden Mountain."

"This is the first I've heard of this," Grayshaw interrupted, "and I've been a part of the Governor's inner circle ever since you," he gave the noble a very direct look, "got me sent here in the first place."

Bluebeak nodded, "I'm not surprised you knew, Captain, my uncle is well aware of where your loyalties lie, and he is not so foolish as to even try and sway them. I'm afraid your reputation for valor and commitment to duty are what have kept you from being able to be of more use to the Empire in this regard.

Had you been any less than what you are you would have been the perfect candidate for this task, alas because you are you the duty of finding out Gripeye's plans fell to me, his nephew."

"Well that sounded vaguely insulting," Grayshaw snorted, "are you sure the spoiled noble is just a character you play?"

The younger griffon grinned wryly, "Well there does seem to be that rumor going around that I'm an ass, now isn't there?"

"Fair enough."

"Wait, wait, wait," Darkfang shook his hands emphatically, causing the wine goblet he was holding to splash its contents everywhere, effectively ruining thousands of bits worth of furniture. "I know Gripeye; I've known him since we were kids, there's no way he'd be a traitor."

"You are half-right, Mr. Dragon," Bluebeak told him, sipping from his own goblet, pointedly ignoring the damage being done to his possessions. "But I'm afraid that the Gripeye you speak of was a child, and though it may not seem so to you, to us mortals fifty years is a great deal of time. The cub you knew grew to adulthood and the changes that come with it, as we all must do; in the end he was not the same griffon you knew. But you are right in that my uncle would never betray the Empire, his sense of duty and love for our people was far too strong for that."

"You said 'in the end'?"

"Indeed I did, and that brings me to the most important bit of news I have to tell you all," the griffon closed his eyes and took another sip of wine, completely in his element as he allowed the suspense to build. Minion glared at him, changing view of his personality or not, he was still a prick where it counted.

"My esteemed uncle, Governor Gripeye the Wise, has been dead for over seven years. The creature sitting inside the palace and passing out orders is an impostor."

Stunned silence filled the room following this announcement, nopony daring to speak as the implications of what that could mean sank in.

"What," Grayshaw spoke up after several minutes, "makes you so sure about that?"

Bluebeak cracked open one eye to look directly at him, "My uncle has an injury on his right paw; the corpse of a griffon with similar injury was found sealed in unnatural ice one year ago, in the Cold Mines."

"The 'impostor' has the same injury."

"Indeed he does; the evidence lies in that the impostor's injury is three millimeters shorter than the medical reports of my uncle's state it to be, and it has grown point-three more millimeters since I arrived here, three months past."

Everypony was silent once more. Though the evidence sounded thin, they were all aware of one crucial fact: limbs didn't grow back, no matter how the rest of the body changed with time.

"Could," Minion murmured into the stillness, hardly daring to hope, "could it be magic?"

Bluebeak did not answer her directly, instead he turned to address the only griffon present who had not yet spoken, "Princess Bluebutt," he said, "you are a master sorcerer, as am I, and the greatest healer the Empire has seen in generations. Does a magic exist to allow the regeneration of body parts and do the griffon priests possess knowledge of such magic?"

Every eye was on the shy little princess as he shook his head, eyes filled with fear for the fate of his father.

"There you have your answer," the agent said, his voice flat, "Governor Gripeye can only be a pretender. A pretender whose motivations and purpose I can only begin to guess at."

"Well, that's a start, isn't it?" Gadgets piped up, speaking for the first time since they had entered the safe-house.

"It is at that," Bluebeak agreed, "but my investigation has been ongoing for over three months, and I'm still just grasping at straws."

"Just give us your best guess."

The griffon shrugged and began to tell them everything he'd managed to gather. "Since our best estimate of the time of the assassination and subsequent placement of the impostor in Gripeye's place, there have been twelve unexplained deaths in the Imperial Court alone, sixteen attempts on the Crown Prince's life, resulting in the deaths of thirty-one royal guards and a half-dozen concubines, and three on the Emperor's.

Since my arrival here, assassins in the dark have attempted to destroy me on thirteen different occasions, the culprits having escaped after each failure. Five attempts have been made on the princess's," Bluebutt gasped, "all of which I have managed to stop before they could get very far.

This latest attempt with the jackals, however, put him beyond my reach for the first time in months and I feared that this one had finally succeeded. Your safe return has settled those fears to rest and for that, you have my sincere thanks."

"I thought you didn't like Bluey."

"My personal feelings in this matter are unimportant; the loss of such a powerful healer would have been devastating to the city and the Empire as a whole."

"That's an answer, I guess."

"Answering a question without really answering it is a talent of spies like me."

"Ha!"

Bluebeak smiled slightly, "Quite. Assassinations aside, the Governor has been moving around alot of different shipments meant for various border outposts, redirecting a great deal of resources to excavating the ruins I mentioned earlier. I'm ashamed to say I've discovered diddly squat on that front, other than that these particular ruins are said to be tied in some way to the Event and the Forbidden Mountain. What those two have to deal with the impostor's plan, I have no idea."

"The Forgotten would probably know something about that."

"The what?"

Gadgets quickly filled him in on what had happened to the group after they left the city on their mission to rescue the princess. Bluebeak was silent throughout the tale, listening intently to the tale as Gadgets recited every detail perfectly from memory. Minion shuddered as she was reminded of how helpless they had been before such terrible power, and of how the egg still lay on the junk, safe and comfortable in a box full of rags.

"So," the noble said hours later, when Gadgets had finally finished, "you struck a deal with a confessed monster in order to save your own lives and fulfill your mission."

"Yeah that pretty much sums it up. Neat, huh?"

"I won't pretend to agree with your choices, but I understand why you made them, and I must confess I almost certainly would have done the same in that situation. It also may be for the best that it was you who was chosen to care for this...let's call it a child, rather than some opportunistic slime that would raise it to do his bidding and use its power to threaten the Empire."

"Yep, I don't need an alicorn baby to destroy the world."

Bluebeak stared at the earth pony, whose eyes were swirling in a cyclone of clashing colors, "That thought terrifies me in ways I cannot describe, but you are correct."

Everypony was silent for a moment, faces smiling but inside their hearts were cold with dread. None but Minion had ever seen what the little pony was truly capable of, but everypony there could sense the truth of his words.

Grayshaw was the first to resume the conversation, "So, now that everypony's up to speed, what are we going to do about that imposter? Normal weapons don't work on him; I saw that bastard take an explosion to the face and his feathers weren't even singed."

"We aren't going to do anything," Bluebeak told him, his voice once again assuming a tone of unquestioned authority, "You, all of you, are going to get to your ship and get the hell out of this city and as far away as you can before the imposter can get his claws on you."

"Not bloody likely," Darkfang rumbled, slamming a scaly fist down on the table, shattering it, "you expect me to take the murder of my friend lying down? I'm going to rip that imposter's head off his shoulders and eat it."

"Listen to me," Bluebeak snapped, leaning forward, "you believe my evidence, but Gripeye is an incredibly respected individual, whereas Bluebeak the noble is hated and despised by most of the Empire, and Bluebeak the Imperial spook is not bloody likely to hold much more sway. There is no way in hell any reasonable court would convict the imposter of treason, and at worst we'd all be executed for slander!

No, all of you need to get out of the city as soon as possible, particularly after the fiasco in the palace; every guard is going to be aiming for your head. Nopony yet knows I've helped you so I'll be able to join in on the hunt and resume my duties more or less unsuspected. Meanwhile, the five of you will be safely away from the imposter and whatever he's planning and I can get on with my life without worry."

"I will not abandon an ally, my honor will not allow it," Grayshaw stated, his tone leaving no room for doubt. Heads nodded around the room in agreement; they may still not particularly like Bluebeak, but they'd stick with him until the end if they had to, he'd earned that much.

The noble sighed, reached inside his tunic and pulled out a stack of leaflets, "I was hoping not to use this, but take a look."

He tossed the stack at Grayshaw, who snagged it nimbly out of the air and began to flip through the pages, curious. After a few moments his eyes began to sharpen, eventually culminating into icy rage.

"These are KIA reports," he hissed darkly, "where did you get these?"

"KI-whats-it-now?" Gadgets asked, scratching his head in puzzlement.

"'Killed In Action'," Bluebeak sighed, "Governor Gripeye issued them a week ago; according to them the five of you perished in the cave-in which sealed the Dark Pass. A ceremony was held, in which you were buried with honors befitting a hero of the realm, for your heroic mission in avenging the princess. The service was lovely."

Five sets of eyes stared at him in shock; the griffon shrugged and waved a talon at the papers, "As far as the government is concerned, all of you are dead and your rights forfeit. Gripeye is completely within his authority to do whatever he wants with you should he catch you. Yet another reason for you to leave immediately."

Grayshaw swallowed and stared at the papers, "I guess we have no choice," he said after a moment. "How soon should we head to the docks?"

"We'll wait until midnight, tonight's a new moon so the only light will be the city's and the docks, and those can be avoided, if you know the way."

********

They had spent so many hours talking that night seemed to come in an instant, or so Minion thought as the group crept along dark alleys, holding their breath until the frequent patrols of griffon guards flew by overhead or passed along on the streets. There was no doubt who they were searching for, and even less about their orders regarding the 'deceased' fugitives.

Bluebeak led them with practiced ease, avoiding populated areas and guiding them from shadow to shadow. The city was beautiful at night, lit by countless torches that cast dancing shadows along the streets, giving them a festival feel even in the humdrum of normal life. Huge braziers lit the base of every bridge and the middle of every plaza, though Minion caught only the barest glances of these as she was hurried along.

Their trip to the docks was uneventful, the majority of the city's residents having retired to their rest long ago, only the beggars, the vagabonds, and the miscellaneous still prowling the streets. The trip had taken hours, and hours more every time they were forced to stop until a group of rowdy drunks or grim soldiers stood between them and the next patch of darkness. But at last, they reached their wharf where the junk still sat, bobbing in the waves.

Minion wondered how it had remained untouched by the guard; surely Gripeye, or whatever his name actually was, wanted the technology aboard? But no sooner had this thought entered her mind than she noticed the deep gouges in the cobblestones and the scorch marks decorating surrounding buildings. Somepony had obviously tried to board the ship and just as obviously been repulsed by its crew.

"Alright," Bluebeak whispered to the party, "now come's the most dangerous part. We've got to cross the last bit of open space to your ship, and we'll have to go all together."

"Why all together?" Grayshaw whispered, "Shouldn't we go one at a time to avoid suspicion?"

Bluebeak shook his head, a dark blur in the shadows; his black feathers rendering him nearly invisible when he was still, "No. One at a time would just make it more obvious we were up to something and besides, it'll be dawn soon."

To prove his point he pointed a talon beyond the city walls, where the sky was growing noticeably brighter. They had no time to waste.

The party nodded their heads as one; they were ready for what was to come, having equipped themselves from a secret armory within the spy's safe-house. Everypony carried a sword and a spear, and wore light armor made of thick, dark cloth; chainmail would have been too noisy and conspicuous for sneaking and so they had been forced to forgo heavier protection.

"Alright, let's move." Blubeak motioned forward with his talon and the party stole silently across open ground for the first time that night, praying to their respective gods they went unnoticed. Their prayers went unanswered.

Alarm horns shattered the stillness of pre-dawn just as the group reached their salvation; a dozen bonfires roared to life, their light reflected by a dozen massive mirrors directly into their eyes, and armored griffon soldiers sprung up from a thousand hiding places, completely encircling the dock. A hundred more thundered through the air behind them, blocking off any escape through air or sea.

Before anypony had time to do more than gawk at the stupidity with which they'd allowed themselves to fall into such an obvious trap, the sound of a hundred crossbows being fired simultaneously shook the air. Minion erected a barrier as quickly as she could, stopping a dozen, Bluebeak snarled something and swept his claymore before him, shattering a dozen more, Darkfang hissed as his scales rebounded the attack, bruised but unharmed, Gadgets chuckled as missiles swept past him, and Grayshaw grunted in pain as six heavy bolts slammed into his chest.

The old veteran had interspersed himself between Princess Bluebutt and the lethal bolts, instinct taking over as his charge's life was threatened. Grayshaw fell backwards to the ground, blood pooling under him as his life drained out onto the uncaring stone.

Darkfang screamed, a sound of pure rage, golden flames spewing from his maw to cover his body in unbridled fury, "Fools! Treacherous, rotting fools! How dare you harm that which is mine!" his voice cracked stone with its force, the shockwave unbalancing the flying soldiers, sending them crashing into one another and opening a path to The Inconceivable and safety.

"I will break, tear, rip, gut every one of you! My fury will set the skies aflame and cover the world in ashes! Behold. My. Power! Unleash the --!"

The flames disappeared and the dragon stumbled as a heavy wooden cudgel wrapped him smartly upside the head. Bluebeak tucked the weapon away inside his tunic, its strange blue light disappearing as he did.

"Are you calm now?" he asked nonchalantly, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Darkfang rubbed his head, wincing slightly as his claws came into contact with the lump forming there, "Yeah, actually," he said after a moment, his voice back to its normal, rough, gentle tone. "I feel fine."

"Good, good," Bluebeak nodded sagely. "Now that's over with. GET YOUR ASS IN THE BOAT!" The dragon winced slightly at the noise, "Your friend can still be saved but only if you get him out of here now!" Darkfang continued to stare at him, "Do it!"

Still wincing, the dragon moved quickly to aid Bluebutt in carefully lifting the dying soldier's body up into the junk, where Gadgets was already preparing the ship for take-off, barking orders at the crew with uncharacteristic venom. It was at that moment the soldiers on the docks began to regain their composure, their commanders bellowing orders to reform ranks and prepare to charge.

"It's time for you to go, too," Minion started at the sudden address, staring blankly at Bluebeak as Darkfang had done. The griffon glared at her, though there was kindness and affection in his eyes that she had never noticed before, "Death is not your destiny today."

Minion blinked away tears she did not know she was shedding, "But what about you?" she asked, though she already knew the answer, "Aren't you coming with us?"

The noble spy shook his head, "My duty is here." he told her, "I cannot leave until my mission is complete, and it would seem that mission now is to rid this place of its corruption."

"If you survive, you'll be executed."

"I know."

"If you don't they'll record you as a traitor; your name will be hated for all time."

"That is my duty."

"So what will you do?"

Bluebeak stared out at the massing soldiers, his eyes sad yet filled with unwavering resolve, "I will face my destiny."

Minion hugged him then, an action that surprised them both; she hugged him with all the love in her heart. Bluebeak tensed at first, and then he wrapped an arm around her, hugging her back with surprising strength.

"Go to Icehoof, look for a pony named Wellread, he'll tell you everything you need to know about the Event, and about the Rainbow Bridge."

"How do you know about that?" she asked him, genuinely confused, pulling away to look into his eyes.

The griffon winked at her, he looked oddly roguish in the firelight, "I can read minds, it's my special talent. Now go."

With reluctance she did not think she would ever have thought she'd feel, the mare let go of her friend and stepped away.

"Fight with honor;" she told him, before leaping into the junk, just as it started to take off. Bluebeak nodded at her, his eyes shiny with tears.

"What's going on?" Darkfang asked, leaving Grayshaw's side to join her at the railing, watching as their newest friend prepared for the end. The griffon reached once more inside his tunic, and drew out a talon-full of glittering purple sand, which he scattered to either side. A dozen other Bluebeaks rose from the pavement, and took their stances beside the original, ready to face the incoming charge as the griffon commanders finally got their troops ready.

"He's staying behind," Minion told him. "He's giving his life to buy us time to get away."

"Damn prissy bastard," the dragon muttered, though the mare could hear the grief in his voice. "He's always got to be better than us."

The tiny junk shook as the crew fired upon any griffon foolish enough to pursue them, down below the sounds of battle filling the air as a thousand soldiers met their match against the might of a master sorcerer.

Minutes later they were half-landing, half-crashing into the mineshaft as quickly, and gently, as Gadgets' expert piloting could do. Said pony immediately leaped off the ship, screaming orders at the Chief to get the airship moving, the tiny automaton saluted smartly and dashed off.

Gadgets looked back over his shoulder at his friends, "Bluey, Darkfang, get the captain and follow me! Minion, prep the Eclipse Engine!"

"What?!" Minion shouted, "You're really going to use that?! Even you said the chances of it working were only fifty-fifty!"

"We don't have time for that now; Grayshaw's dying and we're going to save him!"

Minion thought for a moment, weighing the fate of the entire world against the life of one friend. The choice was obvious.

"Aye, sir!"

********

Twelve hours later, dawn had risen and The Inconceivable was a hundred miles from Beakisburg, gliding over the rolling sands of Dragon's Breath, completely isolated from the world. The crew had spent seven hours assisting Gadgets in his operation, trying desperately to keep the captain alive until the Eclipse Engine was fully charged. It had been harrowing, and everypony was exhausted, but they had done it; even now the wonders of science were repairing their friend to his former glory and then some!

Gadgets alone had elected to remain below, monitoring his creation to make sure everything went smoothly, while the rest of them had retired to the top deck, to relax in the cooling breeze and catch some much needed sleep. Minion lay at the top of the stairs to the command deck, as was her want, having used the last of her strength to drag her body up them so she could watch the world pass by below.

Darkfang was sprawled on deck, his tail twitching fretfully in his dreams; he had been more worried than any and had often proved more nuisance than help as he hovered over Grayshaw's unconscious form. Much like a mother hen over her hatchlings, Minion mused.

Bluebutt, having used a dangerous amount of blood magic during the operation, was recuperating under an awning constructed by the fascinated crew, who were wholly enamored with his beautiful blue feathers, being spoon fed special restoratives. Minion had watched with tired amusement as the tiny little machines scuffled frantically over who would have the honor of feeding the beautiful blue griffon.

It had been five hours since their rest had begun, and for five hours they'd each lain with their own thoughts, lost within their minds as they waited for good news. As they had ever since she'd come out on deck, Minion's thoughts drifted to Bluebeak, and how he'd sacrificed himself for them, ponies who had hated him until mere hours before. She wondered how things would have turned out if they had been able to know each other longer, if he had come with them aboard The Inconceivable, and of what he had meant about the Rainbow Bridge.

But mostly she thought of the regret she'd seen in his eyes, of the tiny beginnings of bitter, hopeless love for somepony he could never have, and she wondered. If she had not met Gadgets, could she have loved him back? But these thoughts were pointless, as so many things concerning love were. She had Gadgets, and he was all she wanted and besides, Bluebeak was dead or good as. There was no point in maintaining a fantasy of a romance that would never be. But still, the question was there. Could she have loved him?

The click-click of metal on metal jarred her from her thoughts as Gadgets swaggered out on deck, looking extremely pleased with himself.

"Attention, everypony!" he called. Darkfang sat up immediately, staring at the stallion intently, his eyes puffy and bloodshot from lack of sleep; to his credit, Bluebutt managed to raise his head ever so slightly, drained as he was. For her part, Minion simply continued to watch him from her perch, hardly daring to hope about what he might say.

"It gives me great pleasure to announce the newest member of our little crew," he paused for infuriating dramatic effect, "Feathers!" he pointed a hoof at Bluebutt, who blinked.

The grinning stallion rounded on the griffon, "Yeah, let's face it, your name is terrible and since you're going to be with us from now on, you need a new one! Whatta ya think?"

The newly named Feathers blinked again, more slowly this time, then gave a small smile and a nod of his head.

"Now is really not a good time for jokes, Gadgets," Darkfang spat, "what happened to Grayshaw?!"

"Oh, he's dead," Gadgets said matter-of-factly. The dragon imitated Feathers and blinked slowly as the pony continued, "Yeah, side effect of the Eclipse Engine. I totally burnt out all his Moon energy so I had to supplement it with an excess of Sun." He waved a showpony's hoof at the entrance to the ship, "So, ponies, dragons, griffons, machines of intelligent nature, I'd like you to meet: Crimson."

A beautiful red griffon stepped forth from the shadows, its feathers a deep, powerful shade of red, its fur bright and glowing, brushed to a gleaming shine, its talons immaculate and gold as the sun, and obviously female.

"It's embarrassing," 'Crimson' said, "but I guess since 'Grayshaw' is technically dead, in just about every sense of the word, 'Crimson' is as good a griffon to be as any." She looked directly at Darkfang, who was staring dumbfounded at her, his jaw threatening to touch the floor. "I hope," she started, blushing slightly and looking away, "that this doesn't change the way you see me. I realized that when we were together you --" she trailed off and hid her head in her wing much like Feathers did.

"H-How --" Darkfang began, unable to form a coherent sentence, enraptured as he was by the formerly male griffon's beauty.

"'How in the bloody hell did this happen?'" Gadgets finished for him, popping up beside the dragon, who nodded mutely, still unable to speak. The pony tapped a hoof against his chin thoughtfully,

"I actually have no idea. While the Eclipse Engine was repairing Grayshaw's body it drained what little remained of his Moon energy to power the healing process, now naturally since Moon energy comes from Cosmis its the dominant form of life-force in males.

Well, since Galaxia is female Sun energy is naturally the dominant life-force in females and since females and males only differentiate by one gene, I figured, why can't I just replace the lost Moon energy with Sun? So I did and the results. Were. Amazing!"

He gestured once more at the red griffon, who was back to staring into Darkfang's eyes, "Crimson is totally female, right down to her DNA, yet she is also totally the same pony we all knew; all that's changed is her body, the soul of Captain Grayshaw is still right where it belongs. Oh, and she can have babies! Totally boring, non-mutaty-eat-your-face-off babies!"

Darkfang did not appear to be hearing a word of this as he continued to stare, open-mouthed, at his friend. Finally, he swallowed and crossed the distance between them, taking her into his arms, and leaning in so they were eye-to-eye.

"To answer your question," he told her gently, "it doesn't change anything."

And they kissed, a perfect kiss that finally answered the question Minion had been pondering all those weeks ago, back when they had first set off on that fateful journey across the sands. How could a dragon and a griffon kiss? Perfectly.

New Perspectives

Crimson groaned and rubbed her head. Last night was a blur of carnal bliss and she was fairly certain there'd been pony-shaped fireworks and a river made of taffy at some point. Sitting up, the griffon looked over the half-drunk, unconscious dragon sprawled out beside her on the floor; the bed having been torn to splinters in the midst of last night's, ahem, celebrations. It wasn't every day you escaped from certain death, joined up with a roguish band of adventurers, and were resurrected as a female, after all!

Letting a small smile play on her beak, Crimson rose to her talons and began absently preening at her feathers, marveling at them as she did. While Grayshaw had never been unattractive, his rough good-looks and battle-scarred visage could never compare to the fiery, ferocious beauty of her new body. She must remember to thank Gadgets for his taste in griffon flesh the next time he was coherent enough to understand the meaning of words.

Still smiling, she strolled over to the trunk she'd been presented with (during one of the few moments of the past three days she could still remember) since The Inconceivable had departed Beakisburg, on its way to nopony knew where. The trunk was a massive piece of sturdy oak, covered in elaborate bronze plating, various mechanics, and clocks, no piece of Gadgets' engineering would be complete without an absurd amount of time-keeping devices.

Crimson tapped a talon against the lock, which sprung open with the whirring of gears and the clicking of small steam pistons. The interior was multi-layered and additional storage space popped out on springs and folded out over the sides, providing far more room than is closed form suggested. The contents were sparse, for the moment, consisting only of what she'd been presented with over the past few days by her friends: mainly gear, weapons, and various mechanical devices.

She took a moment to admire its contents: the weapons, the vials of different potions, books, machines, and the... miscellaneous. She blushed slightly as her eyes roved over those; it was amazing how, even when most ponies in the world went about naked anyway, the right outfit could still bring about a heightened sense of erotica. But those were for another time, right now what she needed was the familiar weight of steel around her flesh; a life-time of soldiering meant that the absence of armor left the griffon feeling positively vulnerable.

Gadgets had based her new outfit on the custom armor she'd worn to rescue Feathers, though this new set was iron-grey and lighter than anything she'd ever worn. Bracers covered her legs and talons, a chest-piece made of hundreds of individual metal feathers, a winged helmet complete with protective neck plates, and plating around her wings. The entire ensemble together weighed less than her original chest-piece alone and was far more durable to boot!

But armor wasn't the only thing she'd been given: her weapons had been upgraded as well. Gadgets had designed a new buzz spear, an elaborate piece of bronze-work complete with a triangular head covered in more of the vibrating rectangles that made these strange weapons so very, very deadly. The spear was also coursing with electricity, courtesy of the generous number of enchantments Feathers had been laying on everything he could get his talons on.

The spear was not her only weapon, though, she'd also received a large knife, several grenades, and a steam-powered repeater pistol holstered around her hindquarters. The weapon had been made to fit her talons, but its unfamiliarity made it uncomfortable, particularly when Gadgets demonstrated its awesome power by shooting straight through a replica of her old armor as if it were made of tissue paper.

Chuckling at the irony of being afraid of her own weapons, Crimson slung the spear through the harness on her back and stepped out of the cabin she and her dragon lover shared. The hallway was well-lit as always, so she had no trouble navigating around the piles of machinery which littered it, many of which got up and moved out of her way.

When she emerged on deck it was the dead of night, a cool wind was blowing, and the sand resembled a sea of silver in the moonlight. Feathers was asleep under an awning constructed by the ship's crew, several dozen of which were scattered about him in varying states of what passed for sleep among the tiny machines. Satisfied and at peace with the world, the griffon glanced up at the moon...and her tranquility shattered.

"All hooves on deck, all hooves on deck!" She cried, racing to the command center and slamming a fist down on the shiny red button she found there.

Alarms blared along the length of the ship, searchlights sprouted from any number of concealed areas, lighting the night sky in gold, and muffled cursing could be heard as the crew was torn from their comfortable dreams. Feathers was the first to arrive, trembling and shaken from the rude awakening.

Gadgets and Minion appeared next, clambering up the stairs, followed quickly by a grumbling Darkfang, nursing his hangover by rubbing a scaly claw against his temple, claws digging so deep it was a wonder he wasn't bleeding. The sudden appearance of the two naked ponies caught Crimson by surprise; it had never occurred to her before, but she could not recall one other time she'd seen their cutie marks.

Minion's was made of a strange, clock-like mechanism sending off waves of blue electricity with six hands made out of varying weapons, which appeared to be moving! Gadgets' cutie mark was a mysterious device that appeared to be every conceivable tool Crimson had ever heard of, and a dozen she had not. But that was not the only thing strange about the naked Earth Pony.

Where his mechanical limb normally was was a large hole encircled by bronze, the leg itself having been removed for the night. A black leather harness extended out across his back and stomach, wrapping around each of his other limbs as well as the base of his tail. Crimson theorized that the purpose of this was most likely to counter-balance the weight of the unnatural appendage he must feel, though she had to admit to a certain amount of revulsion at the gaping, metal-lined intrusion into his flesh.

"Crimson? What the hay is going on?" He asked, leaning heavily on Minion for support as they reached the command center.

"Look at the moon," the griffon answered, pointing a talon at the silver circle in the sky.

Everypony looked up simultaneously and for a moment there was confused silence, then several audible gasps.

"What happened to the face?" Gadgets asked, looking back down to face his friends who met his eyes with shock and a little fear.

For indeed the silhouetted mare's head was gone from the face of the moon, leaving the white surface completely unmarred. Nopony had an answer, though Darkfang attempted to venture one.

"It's the Summer Sun Celebration today," he said, "it's in some place called Ponyville, so I think it's a safe bet Celestia did something to it. Maybe she just decided the night needed a change of pace."

Several heads nodded in agreement, though no heart was particularly relieved at this somewhat unbelievable theory. The ruler of Equestria did not simply change things on a whim without warning anypony, particularly things that affected the entire world.

"Whatever's going on," Minion told them, her voice echoing loudly in the stillness, "one thing is for certain. The world just changed; the world just changed in a big way."

********

Crimson stood on the prow of The Inconceivable, her feathers ruffling in the wind as the massive airship sank lower and lower as it neared the next town. Morning had come late, much later than usual, but it had come, and the world had continued on as it always did, as if the sudden change in the appearance of the moon had never occurred. The rest of her friends were on deck as well, the entire crew having stayed up all night preparing for what might happen.

They all looked a little worse for the wear, having gone almost an entire night without sleep, but otherwise completely fine, each of them looking particularly formidable in their new gear. Gadgets, having taken the loss of their weapons in the cave-in rather personally, had decided to take the opportunity by the horns and revamp each of their outfits.

Darkfang had replaced his shoulder-mounted Gatling gun with an over-sized, six-barreled repeater holstered on his right hip across a brand new broadsword. He had also added a grenade-belt across his chest, the explosives containing enough destructive power to level a small building. A thick, gem-encrusted knife was strapped to his left shin, courtesy of the Beakisburg markets, though Crimson privately suspected its purpose was more as an emergency food ration than an actual tool for the art of war.

Feathers had been outfitted with armor similar to the veteran soldier's own, though his was far lighter and silver in color, bedecked in colorful cyan designs. Twin knives hung from a grenade belt across his lower body, though they were unlikely to ever see use. The young griffon was minus a helmet and instead wore a jeweled circled upon his brow, the large purple gemstone at its center glinting in the sunlight with thinly-veiled malevolence. Crimson had seen this gem once before and knew its terrible secret: the gem was not naturally made, it was not even technically a stone, it was blood. Alicorn blood.

Minion and Gadgets bore the least visible changes, though their new clothing was particularly fiercer in appearance and their weapons slightly larger, sharper, and all-around more dangerous looking. Everything, of course, had been heavily enchanted by the crew's resident master sorcerer, whose potent spells had drawn more than one maniacal laugh of approval from their very own mad inventor.

They were, without a doubt, the best equipped gathering of particularly deadly individuals she had ever heard of, but they all knew from experience just how little that meant in the face of chance. The jackal chieftain's suicide attack had taught them that lesson well.

"So," Minion asked, stepping up beside the griffon, "what's this town we're stopping at?"

"Nothing special," Crimson told her, "it's a known tourist attraction because of its unique location, but other than that it's hardly worthy of being on the map. We're just going there to get some information."

"Information on what?"

"Mainly, on what Gripeye's doing about the stunt we pulled in Beakisburg. I can hardly imagine he's going to take the destruction of an entire dock lying down, and he can't just blame it on us since we're already 'dead'."

"Hm, maybe he'll think we're zombies!"

The griffon shivered, she'd met the undead once before, and she had no desire to do so again. The mare, however, seemed positively giddy at the prospect as she bounced back down the ship towards the helm, where Gadgets expertly piloted them through the brutal desert winds.

Darkfang was the next to join her, "What do you think it means?" he asked, "The moon changing like that?"

"I expect we'll find out sooner than we'd like, but if the old tales have any wisdom to give, it has something to do with the Mare in the Moon."

"Ah, the old tales of how Princess Luna became corrupted and transformed into a monster intent on bringing about night eternal."

"Something like that."

"Well, it'll certainly make our lives that much more interesting."

Crimson nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She had faced down monsters, ponies, jackals, hay even a bonified demon god, yet this unexplained change in something she'd always taken for granted terrified her in a way she could not explain. The world wasn't supposed to change so suddenly and so quietly like that.

"Soup's on, everypony!" Minion called from the snack bar, where she had been hard at work fixing a breakfast fit for a king. Or a certain princess.

Allowing Darkfang to slip an arm around her, Crimson jogged down the deck and up the stairs to join the gathering of friends. When they were all seated around the table the Chief had brought out for them (the crew was partaking of their own meal in the galley where their constant fighting would not disturb their masters), Gadgets raised a glass of orange juice.

"A toast," he declared, "to good friends, good food, and an uncertain future."

The others raised their glasses nervously as he continued.

"No matter what comes, we will face it, together! United we stand, hoof in talon in claw, until the end of everything! We will never fall!"

The resulting laughter nearly bowled him over as his friends drank deeply, their heaving sides spraying an assortment of fluids across the table.

********

The kingdom of Guasta was poor. So poor that nine out of every ten ponies could not afford to eat more than once a day. While the remainder could afford more food than they knew what to do with, and could often be seen throwing it away. This was because the ruler of Guasta was a horrible dictator, who used his armies to oppress and enslave his subjects.

"1, 2 skip to the rue..."

A dark figure lay on a hilltop three miles outside the town of Paintedfeathers, where "Emperor" Guacamol Molalol was set to make an appearance. As she waited, the figure made her final adjustments to the strange weapon she carried.

The weapon was unlike anything the downtrodden citizens of Guasta had ever seen before, for it was neither sword, nor spear, nor bow. It was a steam-powered, long-range rifle, courtesy of a crashed airship the figure had come across many years ago, sealed in a crate with a particularly complex lock.

"3, 4 everypony's at war..."

The crimson shards of a fire ruby glittered along the weapon's barrel, stock, and scope. One for every success.

"5, 6 all it takes is a bag of bits..."

Emperor Guacamol's pegasus carriage alighted in the town square to the awed gasps of the few hundred ponies assembled there, wearing only thin rags and gunny sacks against the cold. The emperor himself stepped forth from the carriage onto the wooden platform usually used for the public hanging of anypony unlucky enough to draw the ruling noble class's ire.

"7, 8 they're fueled by hate..."

The figure did not know who had hired her, nor did she care, such was the way of the Black Hoof, the global organization of assassins, feared by one and all ponies with...wealthy enemies. The dark figure on the hilltop made one last, minor adjustment to her preferred tool of murder, before lightly squeezing the trigger just as Guacamol reached the edge of the stage and opened his mouth to speak.

"9, 10..."

Ponies gasped in horror and elite Imperial Guards, raised since birth to serve their emperor and only their emperor, rushed forward as their "beloved" leader's skull exploded.

"...drown in sin."

The figure put away her weapon with her other supplies: some rations, a few knives, a pair of katanas, and spare ammunition. As she got up to leave, her business concluded, a scroll materialized from grey-and-green smoke before her. Snagging it out of the air she broke the seal and unfurled it, scanning the contents of her new contract quickly.

This had always been the way her masters' contacted her, a simple scroll containing a name and general location, appearing from nowhere by some form of magic she was unfamiliar with. Another scroll would come after confirmation of the kill by a second agent, which would contain information on the dead drop where she could obtain her pay.

This new one looked pretty simple, a typical "Search-and-Destroy" order, no special parameters, no restrictions, just find the target and eliminate him and his companions. The dark figure did not know who this "Gadgets" was, nor did she care. She only hoped he enjoyed his last few days in the world of the living; it was always better to kill someone who was enjoying themselves, so at least their last memory would be a good one.

Quiet You, I'm Doing SCIENCE

"Ok," Darkfang growled, kicking another pegasus off the side of The Inconceivable, "this is getting annoying."

"Agreed," Crimson murmured, deftly parrying a clumsy sword stroke with her spear before unloading her pistol into the unlucky bandit's chest cavity.

"Oh, I dunno," Gadgets called from the command deck, where he was fending off a dozen burly pegasi...with a spork. "I find their attempts at robbery quite flattering."

The Inconceivable had been under attack by these ruffians for the better part of the last hour, ever since the crew had accidentally killed their leader when he flew too close to the giant airship's port side fans. They were ill-equipped, dirty, and obviously suffering from malnourishment, as were most criminals in the 4th Glorious Griffon Empire.

They were also having their flanks routinely handed to them by the far-superior adventurers.

"I feel kind of sorry for them," Minion said, dodging and weaving beside Feathers, who was surrounded on all sides yet completely untouched. "I mean, they're so outmatched and outclassed, it's a wonder there's still any left."

"Stop ignoring us!" Shouted a particularly large specimen of equine flesh attempting to sneak up behind Darkfang.

"Oh, we're not ignoring you," the dragon told him, absently picking up the pony in one claw and hurling him across deck into the group harassing Gadgets. "We just really don't care."

"You missed the group," Crimson told him, impaling another bandit on her spear.

"Yeah, looks like he's dead-on for the Chief, though."

Everypony on deck winced visibly as the pegasus made contact with the tiny automaton, promptly exploding in a fountain of red sludge. The leader of the buzzbots (as they were now being called) stepped forth from the muck, his steel body completely spotless, brushing his hands as if to say "a job well done".

This unnecessarily brutal display finally drove the attackers over the edge. Screaming, pushing, and cursing, the bandits dove over the railing and out into empty space.

"Rude," Gadgets said to nopony in particular, strolling down the steps to join his friends on the main deck, "they didn't even take the bodies."

Darkfang shrugged and began heaving corpses over the side, "I'm more worried about the mess. You loose your bowels when you die, you know."

Feathers shivered and stepped around a steaming pile of something, making his way to the prow and the relatively fresher air blowing away the scents of battle. The sounds of retching quickly followed.

"Oh, Feathers, not into the wind!" Minion cried, dashing forward to lay a hoof around the griffon's heaving shoulders.

Crimson chuckled drily, she'd always found it ironic that a blood mage would also have a blood phobia. Letting the unexpected smile play awhile longer on her lips, she joined her lover and the crew in clearing the deck of bodies. Attacks such as this were not common to Imperial territory, the military made certain of that, yet they were not unheard of, either.

This particular group of ruffians, for instance, should have been destroyed utterly and without mercy long ago, yet they had been allowed to grow large and powerful enough to threaten an airship. Granted their leader's initial attempt at halting them had ended with him being turned into soup, but the feeling was there. These bandits had not been afraid of over-whelming retaliation.

Crimson was darkly certain of what that meant. Gripeye's redirection of resources was having an adverse effect on law enforcement, and she shuddered to think of the consequences that would mean for helpless civilians. But that was why she was here, aboard The Inconceivable; while she may no longer have an official role to play in the defense of her people, the role of an adventurer meant she would always have plenty of chances to help.

********

The small town of Moon's Eye had been built in a ravine between two sand mountains, so deep that sunlight barely reached it, thus shrouding the town in eternal twilight. It had been built from bright grey stone around a massive natural lake, its waters black and still in the absence of wind and sun. A thousand lanterns burning in a thousand colors covered the town, making it resemble a massive, circular rainbow from the air as The Inconceivable made its way through the mountains.

Crimson had visited this place several times before, due to its popularity among soldiers for its saucy reputation and lax laws regarding bordellos; it was not the kind of place one traveled when in polite company. However, it was the perfect place when one wanted to obtain information on the workings of the underworld...or high society; many a noble enjoyed visiting this place in disguise.

She looked back at her well-armed friends wearing varying expressions of excitement, trepidation, and indifference. Feathers had never been permitted to travel here before, and his blushing cheeks told her all she needed to know about what he'd heard of it. The others, with the exception of Darkfang, looked positively giddy at the prospect of a “pirate town”.

"Welp, time to hit the whore houses," Gadgets said brightly, jingling a full purse of bits.

"No," Minion told him, smacking his head lightly and pocketing the bag when the stunned pony dropped it.

"Aw, you just want to keep them for yourself."

"...Yes."

Crimson rolled her eyes, not bothering to ask if they were serious, and not wanting to know the answer if she did. The two teenage ponies had a habit of being more serious than they should be in situations like this. She also knew any prostitute unlucky enough to catch their eye would find themselves on fire, frozen, or covered in marzipan. Weird things happened around those two.

"You guys do what you want," Darkfang muttered, "I'm going to the library; I want to look some stuff up about the Forgotten."

He fitted his own allowance into his belt, kissed Crimson's cheek as goodbye, and dove over the edge. The griffon blushed slightly and readjusted her own gear, including a bag of bits courtesy of Gadgets seemingly inexhaustible supply of gold. Not that she had any intention of spending it, however; she preferred to make her own money, and there was always a million ways in a town like this, especially for somepony with her skills.

"So, meet back here at dusk; which is in," Gadgets glanced at the ship's clock, "twelve hours."

Four heads nodded, the inventor smiled, "And if anypony isn't here, we raze the town until we find them."

Four wicked smiles played on the faces of four dangerous individuals, quickly joined by a fifth as Darkfang (who had been hovering beneath the deck) popped back up over the railing. A moment later they were all jumping over the edge, wings of flesh and bronze allowing them to glide safely to the ground to the startled (and a little bit awed) gasps of the various petty criminals, prostitutes, and lazy citizens of Moon's Eye.

The adventurers shared one more nod then separated in five different directions to explore the town; their pockets jingling with enough coin to draw the eye of every cutpurse in the vicinity, and bristling with enough weaponry to kill those thoughts in their gestation.

********

The asassin stepped forth from the black waters of the Moon's Eye with neither sound nor the slightest ripple, emerging out onto the docks and scaring several lazing laborponies, a pair of lovers, and a number of prostitutes halfway out of their skin. The clattering of hooves and talons on stone, the shrieking of rather high-pitched voices and the fading sight of several varieties of tail was the only greeting she received.

Smirking at the fear she inspired, the assassin adjusted the dark hood which hid her face from view, the rifle on her back, scratched her furry chin, and dipped a paw inside her pockets for the letter...simultaneously. Each of her four arms moved as if they possessed minds of their own.

A quick scanning of the scroll bearing her current contract and a glance at the sky told her all she needed to know. The massive, flying ship high above the town matched the description of her mark's vessel perfectly, which meant her targets were somewhere in the town.

The assassin put the scroll away and placed a hand on her furry tummy as it growled obnoxiously; her duties to the Black Hoof would have to wait. Scanning the docks quickly, her eyes settled upon a particularly seedy-looking building from which her sensitive nose and ears could detect any number of appetizing smells and arousing sounds.

Letting a cruel smile play on her lips, the assassin strolled over to it, moving with all the lithe lethality of a natural predator. First she would slake her physical thirsts and hungers, then she would satisfy the Tenets of her Order. Glory to the Dreamer, glory to the Forgotten!

********

Darkfang was bored. He had never been to Moon's Eye before, he had never wanted to, and now he understood why. There really wasn't anything here that a dragon would care for. No gem stalls, the food was mediocre at best, and the prostitutes lining the streets did not interest him. Pony flesh never had, and any griffon flesh that was not connected to his beloved was equally unappetizing.

The library was worse; a dingy little building crammed with moldy texts (most of which could not be read), stuffed into a terrible corner of a tiny back alley, and utterly devoid of life. Ponies did not come to this town for literature, after all.

He was just turning onto the street which would lead him back to The Inconceivable, and the nap he needed after this pointless venture when a group of grimy ponies huddled in the corner of an alleyway caught his eye. Curious, he headed towards them, keeping quiet as a mouse so that he could overhear what they were saying.

"You owe us big, pipsqueak," one of them, a blue unicorn with a greasy mane and oil stains on his coat, said. He appeared to be addressing something in the center of the group, something small and obviously pressed up against the wall.

"Hehehe, pipsqueak," a very stupid-looking Earth Pony slightly bigger than Crimson was saying over and over again, his voice low and thick, "widdle birdy not gunna fwy away home?"

Darkfang rolled his eyes, whatever was going on it was clear this group of thugs was harassing some poor defenseless filly, and being the gentledragon he was, he was going to have to get involved. His suspicions were proven correct as a very young, very female voice piped up from somewhere around the grown pony's hooves.

"I don't owe you nothin', Big Buck, and shut your mouth Dubbagrin, I ain't no bird! Why, you wouldn't know a bird if he came right up and kicked that tar pit you call brains right outta your head!"

The dragon chuckled as he drew ever closer; the filly had spirit, he'd give her that, but she really needed to learn when it was best to keep your mouth shut, especially when everypony else was ten times your size.

"What did you say ta me, pipsqueak?!" The one identified as Big Buck snarled, lowering his horn threateningly, its tip beginning to glow. It was then Darkfang decided to intervene.

He stepped up behind the ponies, utterly silent, and stuck his head between the two speakers, "I think she said you're an idiot."

The stupid-looking one named Dubbagrin screamed something along the lines of, "Bigger dragon!" and took off running down the street, while the others stared at the massive intruder in dumb horror. Their intended victim's, a tiny pegasus, eyes were filled with amazement and wonder, rather than fear.

"W-We're not afr-fr-fr-fraid of you," Big Buck stammered, his eyes growing large as dinner plates.

"Really?" Darkfang asked, nonplussed, drawing his weapons. "You're really not afraid of me?!"

The unicorn whimpered and began to cast some sort of spell, his horn glowing weakly, the dragon gave them his best evil grin and flexed his muscles slightly, shattering the feeble enchantment as it crept along his body. That was the last straw and five ponies were suddenly galloping down the streets after their companion.

Darkfang chuckled and turned to the filly, who visibly swallowed to regain some of her composure and glared up at him with fiery determined eyes.

"What was that for?!" She shouted, "I didn't need nopony's help, and I certainly didn't need nodragon's help, neither!"

"You have terrible grammar," the dragon in question pointed out, amused.

The pugnacious little filly stamped her hoof in what she evidently thought was a menacing gesture, though due to her diminutive size it came out just looking adorable. "I don't care about that! I was fine handling things on my own, just like always, so thankya very much and good day Mr. Intruder!"

She turned in a huff and began heading out into the street. Darkfang let her take two steps before he plucked her off the ground by the scruff of her neck and brought her to eye-level with him. Buzzing filled the air as the little pegasus flapped her wings madly, kicking and struggling, trying with all her might to escape. After far too much of such hilarity she was exhausted and breathing heavily, hanging limply in the dragon's grasp.

Now that he had her close he took a better look at her. The pegasus's coat was a vibrant shade of red, her face and hooves bright gold; her mane, tail, and wings lined with more of the same. All in all, she greatly resembled the phoenix Darkfang had once encountered during the Centennial Dragon Migration one-hundred years ago.

When the little filly had regained some of her composure she began howling obscenities at the dragon, using many colorful words he doubted she knew the meaning of, and quite a few even he did not know.

"You're quite the little firestarter, aren't you?" The dragon asked when she stopped for breath.

"What did you call me?" she asked, her anger evaporating as quickly as it had come.

"You like it?"

The filly nodded to herself for a few moments, eyes slanted away as if forgetting he was there. Soon, however, she remembered she was trying to escape and resumed her tirade, "Put me down! Put me down so I can bite your ankles off!"

"Unlikely on both accounts; dragons are known for their durability."

"Well," she screeched, "if you're not gonna put me down, what are ya gonna do with me?!"

Darkfang shrugged and dropped her onto his other palm, "You," he told her, "are going to show me around town. I'm bored as Luna on the moon and since you're from around here, you probably know where everything interesting is."

"And what do I get out of it?" She asked, her eyes filling with opportunistic greed.

The dragon shrugged and removed a ruby the size of a goose egg from his dagger, the gem popping out from the metal with a sickening sound. "Does this strike your fancy?"

The little filly's eyes filled with open want and she nodded vigorously, her enthusiasm threatening to send her toppling out of the dragon's palm and onto the unforgiving pavement far below. Chuckling slightly at how much the pegasus resembled baby dragons, Darkfang gently lowered her to the ground, where she hopped off his hand and swaggered out of the alleyway, heading back the way he had come.

"As you'll see over here," she told him, gesturing grandly, "that there is a pile of dirt. Now, it may look like any old pile a dirt...that's just cause it is, but if you look over here, you can see some premium dirt."

Chuckling, he followed her out of the alley, taking one step for every twelve of hers, "So what's your name, squirt?" he asked when she paused at a junction.

"Firestarter," she called back over her shoulder, heading on.

********

Crimson stood at the center of a large plaza, before her an iron pillar covered with parchment; some old, some new, all bearing the likeness of a wanted criminal and the reward for their capture or death. Such bounty boards were common across the Empire, particularly in rough-and-tumble places like Moon's Eye, where the lawless and their hunters gathered.

None of the current marks looked particularly promising; mostly mediocre rewards for petty criminals that had irked some bureaucrat or snotty nobles. One particularly amusing specimen was a fierce-looking little pegasus that had "unlawfully assaulted the son of His Lordship Crustawigon", a noble belonging to House something-or-other, the bounty promised a reward of three-hundred bits. Quite a sum for such a young filly.

Crimson ignored this obvious misuse of power by the ruling class and instead grabbed a poster of a greasy-looking hippogryph that ran some petty guild of thieves in the darker areas of Moon's Eye. At the very least busting up a crime-ring would give her something to do, and the pay wasn't half bad either.

The walk through the streets was uneventful and shameless use of back alleys filled with soon-to-be-dead thugs and gangs brought her quickly to her destination. A ramshackle building made of rotting wood, barely three stories tall, the windows shuttered and the lights out front extinguished.

Without hesitation, Crimson mounted the steps and shoved the doors away, revealing a dark chamber, almost utterly bare of all furnishings. The only decoration a thick mahogany desk behind which sat the hippogryph from the poster, the only light a single lantern resting on said desk, illuminating a small circle in the center of the room. The griffon's night vision was perfect, however, so the numerous ruffians hiding in the shadows were clear as day to her.

Crimson smiled to herself, this was going to be easy.

********

"No."

"Why not?"

"I like my spine where it is."

"What about your liver?"

Minion smacked Gadgets lightly with a hoof, causing him to drop the absurd-looking corset he'd grabbed off a street stall to the muddy pavement. The griffon owner squawked angrily at them, causing the mare to reach inside her coat for the bits to cover the merchandise they'd ruined. Their debt repaid, the couple continued on down the busy streets of Moon's Eye.

"I can't believe you bought it and won't wear it," Gadgets complained, eyeing the golden monstrosity evilly.

"I tell you what," Minion told him, "you wear it then I'll wear it."

"Deal!"

The mare sighed, she should've seen that one coming. As fun as playing dress-up was, the idea of squeezing her internal organs out through her mouth cast a bit of a shadow on things but...such were the games of love. Besides, she'd often fantasized about dressing Gadgets up as a mare; he definitely had the face for it.

Grinning wickedly to herself, she failed to notice the stallion in question staring avidly at a pile of garbage. When she did he was already half-buried in it, only his bottom wiggling in the air could be seen.

"What are you doing?" She asked him, raising an eyebrow.

"Science!" He emerged triumphantly holding a shiny trinket.

Minion stared at him for a moment, then her own face split in a wide grin.

********

"So," Darkfang murmured, looking around at the crew, "just what the hay did you idiots do?"

"The idiots" in question were assembled directly beneath The Inconceivable and all appeared to have come out the worse for their adventures in the shady town. Crimson was bedecked in garish jewelry and shamelessly admiring a diamond the size of an ostrich egg; Feathers was covered in what the dragon sincerely hoped was mud and attempting to hide himself in his wings. Gadgets and Mira both wore crazed grins and were coated in refuse, the fruits of their labors stood between them: a life-size hippogriff made out of garbage and moving under its own bizarre power.

"The city is a fun place," Gadgets said brightly.

"Right," the dragon muttered, sharing a look with Firestarter, whom he'd brought back to the ship with him. The tiny pegasus rolled her eyes at the crew in a gesture that spoke volumes.

"So who's the runt?" Crimson asked, breaking herself out of her self-admiration to glance at the little filly.

Darkfang cleared his throat and waved a claw around, "Everypony, this is Firestarter. Firestarter, this is Crimson, my lover," the red griffon bowed slightly, "Princess Feathers, a mage of some notoriety," the sorcerer blushed and waved, "and of course the...miscellaneous." Gadgets and Mira both waved frantically.

"Hello everypony," the pegasus greeted them, waving a cute little hoof. She was glomped seconds later by Mira.

"Squeeeeee! You are the cutest thing ever!" The mare shouted, spinning her around and around and around.

After about five minutes of such hilarity, Darkfang deftly plucked the choking pegasus from the unicorn's grasp, replacing her with a stuffed bunny he'd found earlier in the trash. Mira did not seem to notice the difference as she continued to spin.

"Your friends are nuts," Firestarter gasped.

The dragon nodded solemnly, "That they are but they're good ponies, and they can be your friends, too."

The filly raised an eyebrow, Darkfang shrugged, "That is, if you want to come with us. I know you don't have a family waiting for you."

"How'd you know that?"

"Let's call it 'intuition'."

She blinked and looked at him, then around at the crew, and finally up at The Inconceivable far overhead. "I," she said haltingly, "I don't think I can."

With that, she turned and ran away, disappearing into the crowd. Darkfang watched her go, a number of feelings welling up in his heart, "I don't understand."

Crimson was at his side in an instant, "Not everypony is ready for change, and not everypony is ready for the things we do. Someponies just can't leave what they know."

"I don't think that's it," the dragon muttered, "I think there's more going on here than we know. We need to find her."

"Welp," Gadgets declared, striding up from behind, "I guess it's time for the old fallback."

"What fallback?"

The inventor's eyes glittered with mad fire, "Raze the town until we find our friend."

The dragon's vicious smile was mirrored on every face as the crew turned as one to face the city.

********

"What's going on?" Commander Cairn, head of the Moon's Eye Defense Force, demanded as another explosion racked the city.

"Sir," a private saluted him, "one third of our forces are incapacitated, another is currently pursuing the fugitives through the Rag Sector, and the rest are being eaten out of what appears to be a giant block of marzipan."

"Marzipan, you say...wait, why are they being eaten out?"

The private saluted smartly once more, "Sir, it's really, really good marzipan."

The commander eyed the private up and down, noting the red frosting in his wings and beak. "Right then, private," he crisped, "gather what troops you can and follow me. We've got to rescue those soldiers!"

********

"Listen, haysucker," Crimson growled, shaking the Lucky Old Mare's Orphanage caretaker violently, "you can deal with me, or you can deal with that."

She jerked a talon out the grimy building's smashed front door at Gadgets and Minion, the latter of whom was shouting "It's alive, it's alive!" as their garbage monstrosity stomped through the streets, breathing fire.

The griffon patron gulped and shook his oiled, balding head, a dozen or so emaciated children stared with wide eyes from behind a dresser at the intruders to their home.

"We don't know where she is," he squeaked. "She hasn't returned for three days; I thought she was dead!"

"Wrong answer!" Crimson roared, tossing him onto a sack of rotten turnips heaped in one corner, "And if you don't start taking care of those pups, you'll answer to me!"

"Take care of them with what?!" The caretaker demanded, "We hardly have any money to pay the gangs, much less buy food!"

The red griffon cocked an eyebrow and tore up a floorboard, exposing a secret stash of gold and gems the corrupt patron had been secreting away from the government stipend his business received. The griffon in question gulped noticeably and nodded slightly, smiling guiltily.

"And don't worry about the gangs," she called over her shoulder, heading back out, "I took care of them already."

As she stepped out into the pandemonium of the streets she noticed that Minion and Gadgets were still wreaking havoc, Feathers was watching them, but Darkfang had disappeared completely.

"Oh now where's he got to?" She muttered to herself, springing down the last few steps to the street and heading off, away from the flames.

"I dunno," Gadgets answered, looking at the quickly disappearing griffon, "how'd we get here, anyway?"

Minion shrugged and squealed with laughter as another cart exploded.

********

Darkfang had, in fact, found Firestarter behind a stack of barrels, far away from the chaos his friends were causing.

"Found you," he announced, sneaking up behind her and scaring the little filly so bad she flew into the air instinctively.

Before she had time to fly away using her newfound power, the dragon plucked her from the air and deposited her gently in his palm, "You want to explain to me why you ran away?"

The filly glared up at the much larger creature, "You want to explain to me just what the hay your friends are doin' to mah town?!"

Darkfang dismissed the question with a wave of his claw, "They're just having some fun, not important. What is important is why an orphan would decline the chance for friendship and adventure through the wide, wide world aboard something as cool as The Inconceivable?"

Firestarter averted her eyes, "You wouldn't understand," she mumbled.

"Then explain it to me until I do," the dragon said sternly, setting her atop the barrels and taking a seat on the pavement beside her.

The filly, realizing the futility of attempting to run, sighed and continued to stare at the ground, "I've never had anything before. I've always been alone, so Ah've always taken care of myself, never depended on nopony.

It's not a good life, I guess, but it's the only one ah've got, and I just can't see no end to it."

"Is that why you ran away?"

She shook her head, "No, I guess not. I grew up in an orphanage, you know; it was dirty and cramped, and there was hardly any food to go around. The caretaker, he'd make us work all hours of the day and night and beat us when we were slow.

Said he was taken care a us, that he was makin' it so somepony'd want to take us for our own. Lyin' bastard. Nopony ever came in that wasn't a part of some gang or business the caretaker was involved in. And all they ever wanted was workers for a day or two, then we'd be right back in the orphanage; starvin' for love and food.

Nopony that ever needed love ever found it, and whenever somepony actually came that was looking for a filly or a colt or a pup why, the one that they picked out just disappeared 'fore they could get to 'im."

"Disappeared?"

"I don't know what happened, and I don't think I want to, either. One night they'd be all happy as can be, the next morning they'd be gone without a trace; sometimes the parents'd come back, lookin' for them, but the caretaker'd always say they just ran away."

"And the Empire never looked into it?"

"Well how were they supposed to?!" Firestarter demanded, looking at the dragon for the first time; Darkfang noted that her eyes were brimming with tears. "We're just fillies, colts, we're little and we don't matter! We don't understand how ta solve our problems or how to contact the ponies who do!

And besides, the caretaker's paid up with the right ponies; ain't nopony ever gonna come and help us. So we took care of ourselves, we made our beds and we kept quiet and we didn't listen to nopony. 'Course...now there's just me, the rest is gone. Gone forever."

"Ah, I think I understand," Darkfang said; the filly gave him a questioning look, which he met with one of kindness and genuine affection, "You're scared that if you escape from that life you'll be letting your friends down."

"How ya figure?"

"You spent so long surviving, trying to get from one day to the next, that you never stopped to realize someday it all might end. You escaped, you're free, but you're too bound up in what you've been doing for so long that you don't see it."

"I still don't understand."

Darkfang shrugged and stood up, offering her his claw, "Maybe you don't right now and you never will if you stay here. But if you come with me, someday you'll realize what I mean."

Firestarter stared at him for a moment, then down at his extended claw, then back into his eyes. Slowly, oh so slowly, she climbed into his palm and the dragon set her on his shoulder.

"Now," he said, "let's go find our friends."

********

A dark figure stepped out of the lakeside brothel, enjoying the feel of fresh evening air rustling through her naked fur. A cruel smile played on her lips as she looked to the sky, and froze. The airship was gone.

Raising an eyebrow she snagged a passing unicorn in one paw and brought him up to face her, his eyes wild with fear as he looked into hers, "Where'd the big airship go?" she asked.

"The-The what?" he stammered.

"Oh, great, he's stupid," she gave the blue pony a violent shake. "The giant-floaty-metal thing in the sky! Where did it go?!"

"It-It-It just turned east and flew away, about an hour ago. I dunno where they went."

The assassin rolled her eyes and looked deep into her prisoner's, who shrank back as much as he could, "If you saw them go east, you saw where they went," she informed him darkly. "You just don't know where they're going; but you've still managed to make yourself useful to me and for that...you get to live."

Without sparing the pony a second thought, she reached deep inside herself to the magic which dwelt at her core, opening the flood gates and allowing its power to suffuse her being. Without sound or any perceivable movement, she stepped into the wind and disappeared.

Leaving behind only a very startled unicorn, a brothel filled with any number of foul smells, and a number of sapphires littering the ground, which the stallion quickly scooped up and pocketed before anypony else could see.

The Wind of Destiny

Firestarter woke in a bed that was not her own in a place she did not recognize. The walls were made of polished wood and covered in bronze pipes that hissed and clattered as steam ran through them, the floor polished steel, numerous lanterns covered the walls, though no discernible light source (such as a flame) could be seen within. The unnatural devices fascinated her, even as they disturbed her inner heart. This place was definitely not the orphanage.

Her "bed" itself was a commodity she'd never imagined before: a crimson hammock strung from the ceiling by hooks shaped like dragons and chains instead of the usual ropes, who woulda thunk it? Even if it was the only thing of interest in the otherwise bare room, it was still the nicest place she could ever remember waking up in. At least there were no rats gnawing on her mane.

The filly blinked as she got her bearings, the memories of the day before flooding back through her mind. The city she'd called home in flames, the orphanage where she'd learned to survive being torn apart by a rampaging garbage monster, and the horrible figure of a massive dragon extending the hoof of friendship to her.

Firestarter shook her head and sat up, causing the hammock to sway wildly and dump her to the floor. The pegasus yelped and screwed her eyes shut tight in preparation for the pain of face-to-floor contact... which, seconds later, didn't come. She opened her eyes and discovered that she was floating safely in a purple energy bubble several feet from the unforgiving steel.

"Landing on your hooves is better than landing on your face," said a familiar voice, "but I like your initiative."

The unicorn magic flipped the little filly right side up so she could face her savior. Minion's face bore a knowing smile as she deposited the younger pony gently on her hooves.

"Hi, Minion," Firestarter greeted her friend. "I guess I'm still not used to my room moving."

The mare shrugged and indicated for the filly to follow her out into the hall, "Don't worry, you'll get used to it soon enough."

"Ah guess so," she murmured, her tiny attention span already abandoning this topic to gaze at the wonders surrounding her.

The hallways of the massive airship were paneled in dark wood and lined with more of the pipes and flameless lanterns she'd seen in her room. The floors were made from steel and covered in elaborately decorated rugs, except for a pair of tracks running along either side; their purpose eluded her but she had the sneaking suspicion she'd find out sooner than she'd like.

The spacious area was far from empty, as buzzbots scurried up and down alongside massive machines that defied description and carts laden with supplies which moved under their own power Firestarter found herself playing a continuous game of Chicken-Chaser just to keep pace with the older mare. These wonders of technology amazed the little filly; she had always loved tech and the gizmos pervaded by traveling fairs had always been a prime target of pick-pocketing. These small treasures had been well worth the severe beatings she received upon the caretaker's discovery of her actions; he didn't like them stealing without permission, after all; especially not "worthless junk" he could not sell on the black market.

To her surprise, Minion did not lead her out on deck but instead continued on deeper into the ship, down towards the hold. They descended via a number of stair cases, moving platforms, and once even a steel pole poking upwards through a series of small holes. Large as the ship was, it could be traversed rather quickly, and so it was that it took them not more than ten minutes to reach their destination: the cavernous chamber that housed the airship's larger machinery as well as Gadgets' laboratory.

The hold was curiously devoid of inhabitants, which the filly attributed to the crew spending most of their time on deck as they watched the world moving beneath them.

"Why'd ya bring me down here?" The filly asked, throwing a questioning glance at Minion, who smiled and waved her over to a complicated chest wedged between several tons of machinery, which hissed steam at random intervals.

"Since you're going to be traveling with us," the older mare informed her, popping open the chest and digging through its contents, "You need an outfit worthy of The Inconceivable!"

With that, she set to her work with a will, tossing items over her shoulder as she dug, sending Firestarter scurrying as she dodged the rain of heavy clocks, outlandish weapons, and the occasional plushie.

"Do I really need an outfit?" The filly asked, eyeing a particularly fearsome stuffed bear nervously. "I mean, isn't some of this stuff kinda...dangerous?"

"Don't be a baby," Minion quipped, closely inspecting a large rifle covered in blades before tossing it aside, causing the weapon to discharge and very nearly decapitate the younger pony. Luckily she managed to duck in time. "You're a rough-and-tumble street pony, I'm sure you're no stranger to a bit of danger."

"Oh I've been in my share of scrapes, that's for certain," Firestarter responded, "It's just I'm not entirely certain what a lot of these things do."

Minion made a noncommittal sound in her throat as she inspected a deceptively-innocent looking alarm clock, which promptly exploded upon contact with the ground. It then proceeded to reassemble itself, broken parts crawling across the ground to fit themselves back into place.

"Pish, posh, applesauce, silly filly," she murmured, inspecting a miniaturized cannon that was spouting purple bubbles. "Nothing here can hurt you unless you let it hurt you."

With that, she tossed the contraption over her shoulder, where it cracked on the ground and promptly exploded.

********

Minion had finally managed to remove the last of the jelly from Firestarter's mane and the filly was now snoozing restfully on deck with the crew. Things were as quiet and peaceful as they ever got on The Inconceivable; what with Gadgets' constant tinkering, Crimson's ceaseless training with her new weapons, and the ever-present buzzbots hovering around Feathers, but that peace was about to be shattered. Not ten feet away from the filly's nose, the air shimmered and the strangest thing she had ever seen stepped forth.

The creature walked on two legs, had four arms, a long cat-like tail, and vaguely feline features. Her (for it was obviously a she) entire body was covered by light-brown fur bedecked with swirling black tattoos. Her tangled hair was ruby, however, and her belly and chin were a clean white. She was tall, slightly bigger than a griffon, though still fairly tiny in comparison to a dragon.

Firestarter shivered with fear as the creature's green eyes roved around the deck, her predatory gaze freezing the filly's limbs and making it all but impossible for her to move.

"Two things," it said, her voice an odd blend of sultry seduction and icy lethality. "First, this is The Inconceivable as belonging to the pony Gadgets, correct?"

"Yep," the pony in question told her, smiling brightly.

"Excellent. Second," her expression suddenly turned pleading as two of her hands grabbed her stomach and she began squirming where she stood, "can I use your bathroom?"

"Uh, sure?" Minion answered, perplexed, "It's down the stairs, third door on your left."

"Thank you," the creature said, rushing into the airship's interior faster than Firestarter's eyes could follow.

"Well that was weird," the filly noted, raising an eyebrow at the trail of dust the figure had left in her wake.

"Actually, for us, that was pretty normal," Darkfang told her, striding up to get a closer look from where he had been lounging in the sunlight.

"Still though."

The dragon shrugged and motioned for the little filly to be quiet as the furry creature waltzed back on deck, looking vastly relieved.

"Oh you have no idea how good that felt," she said airily, "I swear I've been holding it in for three days. Ever since I got the contract to kill all of you over in Guasta I have been traveling non-stop; you would not believe how hard it is to travel half-way around the world, even when you can teleport."

"You've been hired to kill us?" Minion raised an eyebrow.

The assassin shrugged, "Yep, pretty standard procedure for the Black Hoof. Somepony with more money than sense wants a rival or an enemy taken out all quiet-like and bam! the next thing you know the Dreamer shows up and within the week an agent gets sent out. You guys must've pissed off somepony really important; they don't call me for just any country bumpkin."

"So who hired you?"

"No idea!" She waved a paw breezily, "The big dogs don't tell us little cats the why, just the who and the where."

"An assassin seems an odd career choice for one of your kind," Darkfang cut in, gesturing at the furry creature.

"One of my what now?"

The dragon raised an eyebrow, "Brownies. Nature spirits...are you telling me you don't know what you are?"

The...brownie... shrugged again, "Not a clue. I was raised by the Black Hoof to be a killing machine since birth; my species wasn't exactly high on their list of teaching materials."

"So you've been doing this a long time than?" Gadgets asked, strolling down to face the killer.

"Ever since I was seven, yeah."

"And do you enjoy it?"

"Not particularly. There's not much satisfaction (or fun) to be had killing ponies you've never even met."

"So what do you do for fun?" Darkfang asked.

"Drink, whore, gamble, drugs, brawls. You know, rampant hedonism, that kinda stuff."

"Sounds like an empty existence."

"It's not like we get a choice in what we do."

"What makes you say that?"

The assassin looked to the sky, "Destiny is written from the moment of our birth. Our actions are preordained. We are all but puppets, on the master's strings."

"I don't believe that," Gadgets told her, his expression suddenly becoming serious.

"It doesn't matter, we all must die someday."

"Before we go any further," Minion cut in, "where are your clothes?"

The assassin raised an eyebrow, "What are you talking about?"

"Clothes. You know, those things we wear so we're not running around naked?"

"Well obviously they're right --- Celestia's burning hindquarters!" The brownie screeched as she looked down and saw that she was, in fact, quite in the buff. "What in Discord's name happened to my stuff?!" She paused as her eyes slid away in thought.

"The brothel!" She exclaimed, pounding two fists into two palms, and promptly disappearing in a flash of light.

"Well," Firestarter murmured, "that was...odd."

The brownie popped back into existence moments later, her arms filled with a variety of items. Grumbling incoherently about whores, fungus, and...chocolate sauce? She dressed quickly in a simple black robe, brown trousers, and a pearl-studded leather belt.

"So who are you, anyway?" Minion asked, settling down comfortably on the stairs.

"Calamity, or Cal to my friends," she replied. "Well, if I had any friends. Also, none of you appear to be taking me seriously, why is that?"

Firestarter looked around at the crew, all of whom were in varying states of lazing about or idly cleaning weapons. Gadgets was the only one who appeared attentive; his gaze had not shifted from "Cal" since she had re-appeared. The stillness of the normally tornado-like Earth Pony disturbed the filly in ways she could not explain.

Darkfang shrugged, "We've fought an entire tribe of jackal cannibals, been crushed by a mountain, and escaped the clutches of the finest military in the world."

"And we destroyed Moon's Eye," Crimson chimed in, smiling grimly as she ran a whetstone down her spearhead.

"That too," the dragon acknowledged with a nod of his head; turning back to the assassin: "We're pretty confident about our survivability. Also, you're not exactly at your most threatening when you show up completely naked and asking for the bathroom."

"Huh," Cal blinked, "that's a pretty impressive list."

"Thank you."

"But...I'm afraid I'm a little better than you give me credit for."

"How so?"

The brownie drew four swords from within the depths of her robe. The blades were of an Eastern style Firestarter had once seen in a book...katana she thought they were called. Single-edged and made for slicing, the swords had been crafted from a strange, crystal-like material that glowed with white light. The swords were undecorated with handles made from ebony and bound in wire.

"Arcanium," Darkfang said darkly, "never thought I'd see it outside of the stories."

"Arca-what-now?" Firestarter raised an eyebrow at her giant friend, who nodded.

"It's a legendary material that's said to be able to cut through anything," Crimson informed her; her eyes were glued to the mysterious weapons as well, her expression grim. "But that's not the worst of it."

"Than what is?"

"They absorb magic," Cal cut in, "and what's more, they can redirect it."

Gadgets whistled in appreciation. The brownie simply shrugged and flourished her blades.

"So," she asked, "who's first?"

"We're taking turns?" Minion raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Sure, why not? I'm not exactly opposed to you all coming at once, either. But I like the idea of an epic duel."

"Weird hobby."

"I normally just shoot my targets from a distance with my rifle," she gestured to an elaborately jeweled weapon in the pile of her stuff, "but since even I can't hit a target this fast and this far away, I'm stuck doing paw-to-paw combat. So I figured, 'why not make it more interesting'?"

"So what happens if we beat you in this duel of yours?"

"You won't."

"Interesting!" Gadgets cried out, striding towards the assassin, "Care to bet on that?"

Cal's ears pricked up, "I should warn you, I'm not exactly a bad gambler."

"Neither am I."

"Alright then, what are the stakes?"

"If I win, you inform the Black Hoof to tell whoever hired you he can shove a pineapple up his glory hole."

"Hmm, and if I win?"

"Than you'll have fulfilled your contract on my life and you allow the rest of my friends to disappear."

The assassin's eyes flickered briefly to Firestarter, then to Minion, and finally back to Gadgets; it was worth noting that for the second they'd rested on the filly her expression had softened considerably.

"Deal," she said, after a moment.

"Why so sudden?" Darkfang asked, his expression indiscernible as he looked their potential killer up and down.

"I don't kill children, and I like killing their mothers in front of them even less," her eyes flickered between the two female ponies on deck.

Firestarter looked at her "mother", the older mare looked remarkably flustered as she met the filly's gaze. Minion gave her a blushing smile before turning away.

"Then why did you accept the contract in the first place?," Darkfang leaned against the railing, crossing his arms, making sure his weapons were in plain sight. Firestarter even thought he was flexing a little.

"They neglected to inform me there would be children involved. I was told I'd be fighting a group of seasoned warriors only."

"Fair enough."

"So...me and you...eh, Cal?" Gadgets grinned, leading the brownie out away from the command deck where they would have more room. The brownie shrugged noncommittally.

"Actually, it's just me. Your destiny was written the moment I arrived on-board."

"I never cared much for destiny," the Deathsmith's eyes glittered gold and red in the dwindling light as storm clouds began to gather overhead.

A fierce wind blew crossways on the deck, completely at odds with the airship's trajectory. Firestarter noted with fear that the brownie's eyes were beginning to glow, her fur standing on end. She was performing magic, powerful magic, even the filly's untrained senses could not mistake the waves of power rolling off her.

"Destiny is written from the moment we were born; nopony can change that."

Cal took a deep breath and began to wave her swords in a lazy, complex pattern, their light leaving shining trails in the unnatural dark.

"Where have all the good colts gone and...where are all the gods?"

Her patterns picked up speed as she continued to sing; Gadgets unsheathed his buzzblade and the two began to circle each other.

"Late at night, I toss and I turn and I dream of what I need..."

The two leaped forward simultaneously, meeting in a clash of sparks.

"I need a hero! I'm holding out for a hero till the end of the night!"

They battled fiercely across the deck, their paw and hoof strikes beating out a staccato rhythm on the polished steel. Ducking, weaving, dodging, neither able to lay a blow on the other.

"He's gotta be strong and he's gotta be fast and he's gotta be fresh from the fight. I need a hero!"

The two moved across the deck as if they were dancing, blows coming within a hairsbreadth only to be turned aside at the last second.

"Somewhere after midnight, in my wildest fantasy. Somewhere just beyond my reach, somepony's reaching back for me."

The battle slowed down as the two separated, still slowly circling each other; Cal backed away, nearer to the railing, her fur singed and her face lit up in a predatory grin.

"Racing on the thunder and rising with the heat, it's gonna take a supercolt to sweep me off my paws!"

The brownie began waving her swords once more in that ghostly pattern, so fast as to be a blur in the air. The wind became even fiercer, threatening to blow Firestarter straight off deck and into empty void below had she not found herself nestled safely in Darkfang's arms.

"But where the mountains meet the heavens above and where the lightning splits the sea!"

Cal crossed her swords over her head; a bolt of lightning cracked down from the sky and struck the blades, sending electricity ricocheting across the deck, scouring trenches in the steel and snapping away a number of heavy cables as if they were made of string. Her blades now coursing with the purest power there is, the brownie charged and the two began their conflict anew, the tempo rising with renewed intensity.

"Through the wind and the chill and the rain...and the storm and the flood! I can feel his approach like a fire in my blood! (Like a fire in my blood, like a fire in my blood, like a fire in my blood!)"

The combatants were beginning to falter: Cal lost part of an ear to a blow she should have been able to dodge and it appeared as if her lower right arm was broken, Gadgets was bleeding from a dozen small cuts, his fur singed and burned by electricity. His expression was one Firestarter had never expected to see before; it was a kind of mix between pity and self-loathing.

"I need a hero! I'm holding out for a hero till the end of the night! Oh he's gotta be strong and he's gotta be fast and he's gotta be larger than life! Larger than life."

The two sprung back simultaneously and glared at each other over about ten hooves of open space.

"Nothing can stop destiny, Gadgets!" Cal shouted, speaking for the first time since the battle began, "Not even you!"

"Destiny is a toothless, dying hag!" The pony responded, his red eye shut tight against the pain.

The brownie screeched, her eyes mad with rage, "Why should you get to live your life the way you want to?! Why should I be wrapped in chains while you get to be free?! Tell me!"

Gadgets charged, his golden eye blazing with resolve, "We make our own destinies! We define ourselves! You're the only one who ever made you a slave!"

The two met with a clash of blades too fast for the filly's eyes to follow, though the sound nearly deafened her. They continued past each other for a ways, finally grinding to a halt at the opposite position of where they'd been.

Cal looked up at the sky as the rain began to fall, the blades she carried in her lower arms shattering with the tinkling of glass. Ignoring this, or possibly not even aware of it, she stabbed her remaining swords into the deck, where they stood quivering from the force of the blow.

"I understand," she murmured into the wind, so quietly the filly wasn't even sure she'd heard it at all. The sad figure fell to her knees, a mortal wound erupting across her chest from shoulder to hip in a fountain of more blood than Firestarter had ever seen in her entire life until today.

"I wish...I'd met you...sooner..." she fell to her back, no longer breathing. A single tear, red with the sins of a life of misery and bondage, rolled down her cheek, untouched as the rain drove down with ever greater force. Nature itself mourning the passing of its lost child.

An Old and New Friend

Alive.

Calamity’s eyes snapped open. She was laying on a large, comfortable bed and in a strange room tastefully decorated with bronze furniture covered in gears that clicked and whirred softly in the dim light being supplied by a ring of glowing orbs set at what would be shoulder-height had she been standing. She was grateful for the dimness as her eyes did not yet feel up to the harshness of the sun.

The brownie groaned and attempted to sit up, but something tight constricting her chest made this action impossible. Blinking slowly, she craned her neck down to see her chest bound in clean white bandages. Memories of the previous day came flooding back. Her arrival aboard The Inconceivable, her duel with the tiny earth pony, and the blow he’d struck against her. Cal trembled at the memory, by rights she should be dead. That she wasn’t was either a cause for concern or the result of all the alcohol in her system keeping her alive. But if the latter were true, where had the bandages come from?

With tense, awkward movements, Cal swung her legs over the side of the bed, set her paws against the cold floor, and raised herself gently until she was standing tall. There was no pain from her chest but her limbs were stiff and sore, as if she hadn’t moved for days. How long had she been out?

Cursing under her breath at the stubbornness of her own body, Cal stumbled to the door, and after a moment of fumbling with the latch, managed to swing it open and step out into a spacious hallway. The plush carpet was filled with warmth, as if heated from underneath, and the walls were lit by more of the flameless lanterns. To her left, a shaft of light coming from above lit a small staircase.

Raising a hand to her chest to make sure the bandages stayed in place, Cal shambled along the hall, leaning against the wall for support as she made her way to the light. Climbing the stairs was difficult, but not as impossible as she might have thought. She emerged moments later into glaring sunlight and the thrumming sound of...giant fans?

A familiar dragon was leaning against the railing some distance away, watching her with heavy lidded eyes.

“So,” he murmured, “you survive.”

Cal grinned at him weakly, “Surprised?”

“Not particularly. Gadgets has brought ponies back from worse.”

Cal grimaced and slid down the wall, “Why am I alive?”

Darkfang raised an eyeridge and strode over to crouch in front of her. “Because Gadgets desired it, and because he thinks you could be saved.”

“What makes you think I need saving?”

The dragon’s expression was unreadable, “I know what happened to the brownies. I know where you came from. I was there.”

“Good for you.”

“The Black Hoof was never family for you. They used, corrupted, and almost destroyed your soul. But you survived, and that means not all of you has been lost.”

The brownie glared up at the much larger creature, his words cut her to the core but she would be damned before she let him know that!

“What is it that you want from me?” she snarled.

“It’s not what I want,” Darkfang muttered, “it’s what you want.”

“And what do I want?”

“To be free.”

Cal looked at him, her heart fluttering despite her will. Freedom was a concept she had never entertained, not since the Dreamer had shown her how easily replaceable she truly was.

“At what price?” she whispered, so quiet as to be imperceptible to pony ears.

The dragon extended a claw, “Your friendship.”

Cal hesitated for a moment, then clasped his scaly hand with her furry one. “Deal,” she said.

The ship exploded into noise as fireworks crackled in the air, streamers and confetti exploded from every surface, and half a dozen noteworthy individuals sprung from their hiding places.

“Welcome to the crew!” shouted a lithe, red griffon, clasping her paw with enough force that the brownie worried it was now broken.

Hundreds of tiny machines poured out of dozens of hitherto unnoticed maintenance hatches scattered about the deck, carrying with them all the materials necessary for a grand celebration. Heaps of fresh-baked goods, platters of fruits and vegetables, banners of silk reading “WELCOME ABOARD, NEW FRIEND!”, and of course, new clothes.

For the first time in a long time, Cal smiled with genuine happiness as she accepted the new garments. Of her original clothing, only her trousers remained, the rest had been destroyed during her battle with Gadgets (who was currently on the losing end of a drinking contest with a blue griffon), but her surviving katanas had been returned. Her beloved sniper rifle was there as well.

A new, short-sleeved coat, made of a shiny black material she didn’t know the name of, fell down to her ankles. Along with it came gilded tekkai, made of meteoric iron, along all four forearms, and shins. A faux-leather, pearl studded belt went around her waist, a pair of bronze repeaters holstered on either hip.

With a grin, she allowed the pegasus filly she’d agreed to spare to braid her hair with some dark string. A single braid framing either side of her face, and the back of her neck. In gratitude, Cal kissed the cheeky little foal on the forehead, eliciting a stream of giggles from the adorable fiend.

Feeling the weight of a life of solitude and despair lifting from her heart, the former assassin turned her face into the wind, letting it wash over her in its loving caress. Things were going to be better from now on, she could feel it in the wind. As if mother nature herself was rejoicing with her lost child, now found.

An End to the Beginning

Long ago, the great kingdom of Araea was connected to the world by the mystical Rainbow Bridge, a magical artifact of unbelievable power. But one day, an Event happened, and the great bridge fell into the sky, never to return again.

In the beginning of history, many a brave and daring pony attempted to reach this place of legend, but their courage was doomed from the start, for none could brave its dangers. Eventually, after many hundreds of years, the memory of its wonders of steam and metal became the talk of stories, told by elders around the campfire at night.

And so, the land atop the forlorn peak of the World’s Spire faded from pony memory, disappearing into the mists of time as if it never were. But this story is not about this, this story begins...

"You do know you're insane, right?"

"Hopefully, otherwise this is probably going to kill me."

Mira "Minion" Gears shook her head in disbelief as her best friend double-checked the straps attaching his ill-conceived, and highly dangerous, attempt at a personal flying machine to his back. For as long as she had known him, Gadgets "The Deathsmith" Gyros had been building one crazy, suicidal contraption after another in his grandfather's workshop, always with the same dream: "I'm going to fly to Equestria and meet the Princess, then I'll get my wish!"

But none of them ever worked and most of the attempts had only flown the adventurous earth pony to the nearest hospital; some he almost hadn't come back from entirely. It wasn't that he was stupid, in fact, Gadgets was the smartest pony Minion had ever met, it was just that he had never understood the importance of actually testing his devices before trying to use them.

The stallion's enthusiasm and will were unbreakable, however, often to the point of sheer folly, and he had bounced back after each failure more determined than ever before.

"Okay, Minion, prepare to be amazed. This time, I'm gonna fly!" with a snap of his neck, Gadgets yanked the final cord and punched the bright red button.

Several things happened at once: the backpack like device on his shoulders exploded to reveal a pair of glittering bronze wings, Minion gasped, eyes alight with horrified anticipation, and the never-say-never colt shot into the sky.

For a moment, all Minion could hear was the fading sounds of her best friend's insane, bubbling laughter in the wind, and the beating of her own heart against her ribs. Then with a whoosh a black, vaguely pony-shaped something rushed by her face, barely missing her snout.

"It works! It wo-o-o-orks!" came the cry of triumph over the wind.

Minion found herself laughing and crying at the same time as her greatest, craziest friend soared through the air on wings of gold and copper. Gadgets flew with all the skill and ease of seasoned cloudshepherd, artificial wings catching the sun and refracting it into a thousand spotlights on the cliffs below, dazzling dozens of critters with their splendor.

"I can't believe you did this, you crazy fool! You're flying! You're actually flying!" Minion jumped up and down on the forest loam, waving her hooves in the air as the dream of a lifetime unfolded before her eyes.

Landing with an easy grace, his metallic hoof clicking against bare stone, Gadgets returned to earth. With the barest flick of his neck, he folded the wings against their master's back. The colt's triumphant grin turned into one of pained shock as his ribs were crushed against his aviator's vest by the bone-shattering hug Minion tackled him with.

"You idiot! You absolute, hoof-clenching, mare-biting, dunderheaded, feathers-for-brains, idiot! You did it!" Minion could not adequately express her joy as she spun the stunned stallion around and around. Screaming insults and compliments at him as the fears and worries of a lifetime of failure flooded away. Gadgets allowed his friend to do as she pleased, his smile returning even as what little air remained in his lungs screamed at him to detach the squealing thing from his throat.

At last, the cherry-red unicorn realized her mortal friend was dying of asphyxiation and released him, coughing and spluttering (but still grinning), to the ground.

"How did you do it? What went right this time? How come you didn't tell me sooner that you'd figured it out?!" The barrage of questions went on and on, Minion's girlish excitement dissolving into scientific curiosity as the engineer inside her took over.

Gadget rubbed his throat gingerly with his left forehoof, jingling the dozen or so watches that adorned his remaining limb as he did. "I found a new metal, light-weight and immensely strong, hidden under Grandfather's old forge. After that it was a simple matter of re-distributing the weight to counterbalance the distribution of a pony-in-flight and after a few adjustments to the controls, bingo bango. I can fly."

Gadgets buffed his mechanical hoof against his vest nonchalantly, smirking at his own cleverness, his green and turquoise eyes sparkling with mad fire. Minion rolled her eyes in mock annoyance even as her own grin threatened to split her face into two. They stood like that for a few minutes in comfortable silence until Minion draped her hoof around the slightly smaller pony's shoulders and steered him towards home.

"Alright, Mr. I-Can-Fly, Mom and Dad are probably worried sick about you. Let's get home and share the good news."

Gadgets grinned mischievously and raced off, toppling her into the dirt. Through the muck and the dust she heard him calling: "Loser tells them I went flying again, winner gets to say it worked!"

With a laugh that swept the shadows from her heart, Minion charged after, hooves pounding the forest loam furiously. Back to home, back to what little of her family she had left, and back to the workshop in which she and Gadgets had built their dreams together.

Those Pesky Backstories

"...absolutely the stupidest thing I've ever heard of! Have you no common sense in that head of yours?! You could have been killed! You could have been hurt! You could have gotten lost!"

Mama "The Indomitable" Gears' fury broke over her adventurous foals with all the force of a tidal wave, threatening to send them sprawling upon the wood paneled floor or out the window into the cobblestoned streets of Punkstill. Gadgets and Minion had returned home some time earlier with the unicorn just barely scraping a win in the final stretch, and now her friend was paying the price of his own bet.

"How could you have been flying again?! Have you learned nothing, my little pony?! What were you going to do if you lost more than a leg this time?! I-"

"Yes, Mom, you're completely right. But there is just one thing we should mention-" Minion cut in.

"And what is THAT?!"

"-this time it worked."

Mama froze, and for a minute or two, the house went silent as the full implications of what had happened on the cliffs sank in. Minion was pleased to note that her father, Mino "Dominoes" Gears, was staring dumbfounded from his cushy armchair, his jaw threatening to touch the floor.

"It...It worked?" The older mare managed to stammer out, dark blue eyes shifting from one innocent face to the other and back again.

Gadgets nodded solemnly before breaking into a huge grin as his adopted mother crushed him in a fierce hug, joined not a moment later by the white, black spotted form of his "father". Minion was pulled moments later into the squealing, bucking maelstrom as her parents danced round and round, squeezing her "brother" between them in sheer bliss.

"It works, it works! This little pony flies! This little pony we all knew could see beyond the rise! He stamps, he sings, with all those things, this little pony guy! With bells and whistles, steam and bronze, this pony built himself some wings!"

Minion felt tears of joy trickling down her cheeks as the family chanted their terrible song, knocking over several tables, a lamp, and even Mr. Gears' favorite armchair as they celebrated with the wild abandon that only comes from a decade of failure followed by unquestionable success.

That night, Mrs. Gears cooked Gadgets favorite dish of honey porridge and blueberry muffins with hot cocoa and cold vanilla ice-cream. Mr. Gears got out his old guitar and led the family through a number of songs concerning the values of friendship, hard work, and bravery, and Minion sat with her foreleg around the little pony who, just twelve years prior, had forgotten how to laugh.

It wasn't long before the neighbors grew curious as to the commotion and came to investigate, knocking politely at the door and calling for somepony to explain. They were greeted by Mrs. Gears, who quickly told them "It works!" shortly before slamming the door in their stunned faces. Tonight's party was just for family. The ponies of Punkstill, all painfully acquainted with the little family and its youngest son's penchant for disaster, were soon laughing themselves as they raced to spread the word.

Soon the entire town was celebrating, the festive mood spreading from door to door on wings and hooves as stallions in thick coats and mares in coveralls ran door to door, shouting "The crazy foal's actually done it!" Fireworks of a thousand shapes and sizes whizzed down alleyways or shot into the air to rain light and noise over the heads of the ponies crowding the streets, shaking hooves and dancing to the sound of a dozen different bands.

Well past midnight the party was still going strong. It's celebrant, exhausted by the events of the day and the subsequent celebrations, was collapsing on his hooves when Minion finally guided him upstairs and into bed. As they clopped up the stairs, hooves ringing on the polished steel, Minion thought back to when she had first met the colt who would become her world. It had been dark that night, as dark as it gets.

The wind of the storm howled outside, carrying away anything not bolted to the ground whether that be stalls, tables, automatons, or any pony foolish enough to be outside. Storms such as these were common to the mountains, nature easily rebuffing the efforts of pegasi to temper its fury, but the citizens of Araea had found ways to combat them and Punkstill was no different.

Through the use of their advanced knowledge of science and magic, ponies had developed houses that bent and swayed with the wind and lightning rods that drew the electricity from the air, gathering it for tamer purposes. The inventors used this natural energy to power the heavy machines that built and defended the town. Massive automatons the size of houses, trucks and tanks that could reshape mountains, and walls of bronze and steel riddled with traps and other anti-monster devices.

Minion sat in the parlor of her childhood home, directing two small ponybots against each other in a mock duel. Mr. Gears relaxed in his armchair, idly reading the paper while sipping coffee, Mrs. Gears busy in the kitchen preparing dinner and cursing noisily every time the thunder made the flighty machines who assisted her jump and spill their contents. The heavy pounding of hooves on wood broke the comfortable monotony of a family waiting out bad weather.

Curious, Mr. Gears laid down his paper and walked over to the door, horn shining with power as the lock unlatched. Immediately, the fierce winds blew the door in, exposing the soaking wet colt on the other side, completely still despite the rain and the cold.

Minion had seen this pony once before, at a dinner party her parents hosted a few years back in celebration of her first successful magic trick: floating a bottle of baby formula across the room to her cradle. He was just a little colt, a few years younger than her own five. He should've been inside with his parents playing on the hearth room rug, but instead he was soaked to the bone, wearing only the tattered remains of a blanket against the pounding storm. His eyes cold and dead as polished stone.

"Gadgets," Mr. Gears asked tentatively, staring at the colt with a mixture of disbelief and dawning horror, "what are you doing out there? Where's Jackies? Marith? Why aren't you wearing the new coat they gave you?"

Minion peaked around her father, her eyes seeing only the lifeless pony in the doorway, rather than the cutie mark of a chair and rapier emblazoned on his flank which fascinated her. Without a word, Gadgets stepped past his father's oldest friend, his wetness staining the freshly-cleaned carpet, his hooves making no sound on the plushy fabric. Mr. Gears closed the door with a brief spurt of magic, never taking his eyes off the little pony.

"Who is it, dear? Did somepony get lost in the storm?" Mrs. Gears called from the kitchen, poking her head around the corner to see into the room. Her cheery smile faded as her eyes lit upon their visitor, her expression morphing instantly from that of a blissful housewife to a scared and worried mother.

"Gadgets? What's wrong, dear? Are you hurt? Sweetie, what happened?" She rushed into the room, scattering Minion's toys as she did, and assaulting her husband with questions. Under normal circumstances, the little filly would have found this lack of respect for her things highly rude and scolded her mother accordingly, but even she could tell these circumstances were anything but normal.

"Dead. Everypony's dead."

The small voice cut through the room like a super-heated knife through butter. Everypony turned at once to look at its source: the blank stare of loss and pain etched into the features of a newly orphaned Gadgets.

Minion shook herself, cutting off the train of painful memories. That had been long ago, and Gadgets was no longer the miserable little colt that had appeared on her doorstep in the rain. He was a big pony now, strong and tough and crazy.

It had been painful, more painful than she could have ever imagined at the time, but he'd pulled through. It had been six months before he'd learned to smile again, and a year before she'd heard him laugh, but he'd done it. Now his laugh was like music to her ears, never ending and always bubbling beneath the surface of that brazen smile.

But as they reached the landing and Minion directed her drowsing friend into his room, stepping over the piles of scrap and tools that littered the floor, the memories came unbidden. Gadgets' parents, the nicest unicorn/pegasus couple a pony could ever hope to meet, had died during the storm in a rock-slide brought about by a malfunctioning steam engine and a sudden ground quake.

The Gyros family had been sheltering in one of their many secret hideaways, having been caught in the storm on return from aiding the nearby town of Rocketplaza with a sudden infestation of parasprites.

The citizens of said town had often been heard to blame themselves for the accident, insisting they could have done something even though nopony had ever blamed them in even their darkest, most private moments. Gadgets himself had threatened to thrash anypony who dared say a word against the townsfolk, themselves included. He did not blame them for his parents death, and woe be unto anypony who did.

"How much farther to the town," Marith "Magicka" Gyros called ahead to her husband over the howling wind, clutching the hammock that held her most precious burden ever closer to her chest. Her horn glowed bright as the sun, serving both to light their way and shield their son in a layer of magical protection, keeping safe his dreams from the horrible storm.

Jacqueline "Jackies" Gyros spat out a glob of something or other, his eyes idly registering as it was whipped away by the very wind that had hurled it into his jaws. "About a hundred yards,” he shouted back, “but I don't think we can make it in this weather, not with Gadgets."

The pegasus cursed vehemently to himself, why hadn't he seen this storm coming? Why hadn't he insisted they stay in Rocketplaza for a few more days? But he knew the answer to that, as he always did.

Pegasi could shape the weather and lessen its effects, not predict its whimsy. This rule was even more so in the mountains, where the fierce winds made cloud-shaping all but impossible. As to the second, Marith had wanted to be home in time for Gadgets' third birthday, and he'd been quick to agree with her, especially since his father would be in town for the first time since their son was born.

"Damn it, what should we do?!" Marith called, her light a mere twinkling in the distance, even though he knew she was less than a few yards behind him. Jackies cursed silently to himself once more, scanning the area with his goggled eyes. With a whoop he found what he was looking for: an oddly shaped obelisk rising between the trees, placed there by somepony ages past.

"Honey look, our old sign! The hidey hole's nearby; we can rest there till the storm lets up!"

Marith's reply was lost to the wind, but the movement of her light indicated she'd heard him and the two soaked, thoroughly miserable ponies trudged their way to the obelisk and its promise of safety.

With her magic, Minion carefully removed Gadgets’ aviator's vest, goggles, and mechanical wings, and levitated him gently into bed. Ignoring his feeble protests about subtests and the importance of science, she drew the covers up to his chin and watched until he finally drifted into sleep. With a loving hoof she brushed the hair from his eyes, tucking it behind an ear, though she knew the gesture was futile.

Gadgets' hair was one of the things she loved best about him. It was pale-gold, almost white, the tips always black no matter how often it was cut, and it absolutely refused to do anything you told it to. It was, in many ways, as wild and free as the head upon which it grew.

Hanging his first successful flier up beside the charred, broken, and occasionally half-melted remnants of a thousand failures, Minion was about to flick off the light when something caught her eye. It was a book, an old, faux-leather bound tome as thick as a filly's leg, battered and worn, and covered with symbols and equations that baffled the mind. All written in shiny gold ink that refused to fade, even after all these years.

Levitating it from the shelf, in the process displacing perhaps a dozen different inventions Gadgets had crafted during school from bits of wire and scrap metal, Minion left the room, closing the door softly behind her. Heading back to her own little piece of paradise, she heard the soft click of her parents' door closing, heading off to bed as well.

Minion left her door open, as she had every night since the time Gadgets had crawled into her bed after a terrible nightmare and fallen asleep, curled up against her tummy. This had happened three more times that week, until Mr. Gears had finally built a bunk bed on top of Minion's own, and Gadgets had moved into her room semi-permanently. She hadn't minded, she enjoyed having the colt close to her. It gave her something to hold, something to love, something warm and real where before there had been only plushies and the occasional pillow.

But five years later, Gadgets had moved out, citing the need for space and a desire for a place to call his own. Minion had objected to this, stating she would happily give him as much space as he needed, but the stubborn pony would have none of it, reasoning that he had already asked for too much of her life. Mrs. Gears had cleaned out the old storage room down the hall, and Gadgets had been moved in within the week, leaving a sad and lonely filly behind him.

Those feelings had changed quickly, however, once she’d gotten a good look at what Gadgets had been doing with his new space. He had filled the drawers and shelves with inventions and parts from his grandfather's workshop, covered the walls in diagrams of fantastical machines and buildings, and littered the floor with so much discarded parchment and scrap metal a pony could hardly tell it was there at all. It was then that Gadgets had expressed his desire to fly through the skies on the wings of his father, proudly displaying his half-finished prototype and the dozen plans he'd already drawn up in anticipation of trying it out.

Since then, Minion had always accompanied the roguish inventor on his many misadventures with the science of flight and the far more successful ventures in the fields of automatons, heavy machinery, and household tools. But no matter how skilled in every other field of science and engineering he became, the power of flight eluded him. From his farm equipment that doubled harvests, to his medical machines that restored life to terminally ill patients, his inventions revolutionized the life of Punkstill, yet his goal continued to elude him.

Mechanized flight was nothing new to Araea, airships having been invented long ago. Most were small, one cabin things used largely for leisure trips between towns, and even the largest, made for transporting heavy machinery and automatons, were rarely more than fifty-hooves from stem to stern. The small size was a necessity of navigating through the jagged, dangerous peaks of their mountain home.

But Gadgets hadn’t wanted an airship, declaring them "unfit" for his purposes, and turned his attention to constructing a method of flight focusing more on the speed and agility enjoyed by pegasi. These efforts had cost him dearly, but a hundred broken bones, a few dozen concussions, and one missing limb later, he'd done it; he'd literally built himself into a pegasus. Foregoing the use of magic, gas, or any other conventional means, he'd found a way to fly through the sky as perfectly as those who had been born to it, as Minion herself had witnessed mere hours ago.

Climbing lightly atop her bed, the mare settled herself comfortably onto the covers, levitated the book to a comfortable height, and began idly leading through it. Passed dozens of thick pages depicting countless equations, diagrams, and notes on various inventions (written in the spider-like writing Gadgets had perfected in detention), she finally came across something that sparked her interest.

An old photograph, taken nearly ten years past, wedged between the pages. The photo had been taken on an old-fashioned pictograph and was cracked and faded with time, but its image was still clear as day to those who knew how it once looked.

The photo depicted a much younger Gadgets at the tender age of five shrouded in his father's old coat, goggles resting on his forehead, face split with a grin, and his eyes burning with the manic fire of a genius or a madpony. Behind him stood Minion and her parents wearing their absolute best, sporting strained smiles at the familiarity with which their adopted family member treated the picture’s only other occupant. A strange pony who smiled down at the young colt with a mixture of motherly understanding and friendly affection, and towered over even the adults by a few good hoof-lengths.

Princess Celestia, from the faraway land of Equestria, had arrived in Araea that day on official business. Though separated by incalculable miles of ocean and earth to the point where Araea had had little to no contact whatsoever with the magical land, or with anypony else for that matter, Celestia had traveled to them of her own initiative with the noble goal of spreading friendship and trust throughout the world.

Princess Celestia, ruler of Equestria, Keeper of the Elements of Harmony, and beloved matron of all ponykind, alighted upon the cobble-stoned streets of Punkstill to the awed gasps of the town's assembled citizens. She had landed in the middle of the town square after circling overhead several times, marveling at the stone-and-metal houses covered with thick iron pipes and machinery whose purpose she couldn't even begin to guess at. She couldn't help but laugh silently to herself as a number of ponies collapsed outright, overwhelmed by the shock of seeing such a legendary figure.

Among the assembled townsfolk were machines the immortal princess had never imagined: robotic ponies several sizes too large, ape-like automatons with oversized hands and cannons on their shoulders, copper birds, critters, and dragons, and countless other devices that defied logical description.

As the awed stillness dragged on, Celestia began to feel slightly uncomfortable and she shook herself violently, if her potential friends were too scared to speak than she would be the one to greet them. Just as she opened her mouth to make her first attempt, however, a harassed-looking stallion pushed his way through the crowd. He was an old earth pony with a dark blue coat, silver mane and mustaches, monocles over both eyes, and a tailored jacket set to emphasize his cutie mark (a quill and spear). On his collar he wore a gold name tag reading "The Headmaster". Looking around, Celestia could see that everypony in the crowd was wearing one as well. How odd.

"Good day," Celestia began, extending a hoof, "I apologize for my sudden arrival but you of all ponies must know how difficult it is to travel here. I am Princess Celestia, and I have come to offer the Hoof of Friendship to you and your people."

It looked for a moment as if this had broken the spell. Ponies began to whisper among themselves, pointing or smiling nervously, still too nervous to speak directly to her, but comfortable enough to let go of their silence. The Headmaster tentatively extended his hoof to hers, opening his mouth to speak, and managing to muster up a weak smile.

Sensing that things were going well, Celestia gave him her most encouraging smile, which instantly turned to sour surprise as he toppled over, unconscious. The Princess sighed and gently levitated the sleeping pony onto a pile of cushions she conjured from nowhere with a flicker of thought. The muted whisperings ceased immediately, everypony no doubt thinking she had cursed their leader and was going to curse them next.

"How come you have wings and a horn? Were your parents a unicorn and a pegasus? My parents were a unicorn and a pegasus but I'm an earth pony. How's that work anyway?"

Celestia started in spite of herself and began searching frantically for the source of these questions, eyes scanning the crowd as he her wiggled back and forth. Nopony in the crowd had moved, still too afraid to speak, though a family of unicorns almost directly across the square was staring in dumbfounded horror at something near her hooves.

"Look down, silly filly. Can't ya see me?"

The voice popped up again, and this time Celestia managed to identify its source. Looking down at her right hoof, she saw a slightly smaller than average colt staring up at her with wide, eager eyes of blue and turquoise.

He was dressed in a dark green jacket several sizes too big for him, covered in pockets and what looked suspiciously like burn marks, a pair of ruby-red goggles festooned with switches, dials, and smaller lenses around the edges rested on his forehead. His coat was a shining bronze color, catching the light of her sun and giving him the illusion of a magical glow, his mane a mysterious shade of white tipped with black.

"Hello, my little pony," Celestia greeted him, struggling to remain calm as the colt grinned up at her, his open friendliness amongst so much suspicion threatening to throw her off balance. "I'm afraid I can't answer that question. I'm a bit different than most ponies, you see."

The colt nodded solemnly as if this made sense, though Celestia herself was at a loss as to how to explain her origins to this little foal. He kept nodding for a few minutes, head bobbing up and down as if it had a mind of its own. Celestia barely managed to catch herself in time to stop her own head from joining his as the mesmerizing sensation continued for a few minutes.

"Well, you're obviously different from other ponies, since you're all immortal and stuff. Even though Mrs. Gears is always telling me nothing lasts forever, I guess that doesn't apply to you, does it?"

For once, Celestia found herself at a loss for words. She stood in dumb silence, unsure of what to say to this curious little colt.

"Well, not entirely my little-" she glanced down at the name tag he wore, "Gadgets Gyros", "-Gadgets. I'm afraid everything ends at some time or another, even for ponies like me who have lived for a thousand years."

The colt waved a hoof as if dismissing the subject, "Immortality's over-rated, anyway; what's life without the fear of death? It's the briefness of our time on this world that drives us to make as big an impact as possible. If nopony ever died, nopony would've ever accomplished anything worth talking about."

Celestia blinked, completely stunned by this little pony's astounding grasp of the nature of the world and even more surprised at how greatly his views on mortality reflected her own.

"You're quite clever, Gadgets, I don’t think I’ve ever met a pony quite like you before," she told him, gently rubbing his mane with a hoof.

Gadgets grinned up at her, "If you think I'm clever, wait till you meet my family. They're something else entirely."

With that, he quickly turned and called across the plaza to the horror-struck unicorn family she'd noticed earlier, "Mom, Dad, Minion, come over here and meet the Princess!"

With slow, nervous hoofsteps, the family departed the safety of the crowd, hooves clicking loudly in the stillness. With a flash of sympathy and heart-ache, she noticed that the tags of both the ponies he addressed as his parents read the surname "Gears".

Minion started awake with a shudder, she hadn't even noticed she'd fallen asleep. But with the light peaking through her window and the noises of her mother in the kitchen, she was forced to confirm that it was indeed morning. With a groan and a stifled yawn she pulled herself out from the tangled mess of sheets, tucking the picture of that first, awkward encounter with the Equestrian Princess back into Gadgets' journal. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she levitated a comb to her mane and prepared to greet the day.

As she shambled along the hall towards breakfast, she was jerked suddenly awake by the banging of a door behind her. Turning quickly she found Gadgets, fully dressed in his jacket over his aviator's vest and numerous belts hung with various inventions and tools, grinning at her from behind his goggles. The same jacket he’d worn all those yars ago, now far more heavily patched and singed, the pockets bulging with Celestia-knew-what.

"Minion, come here, I wanna show you something,” he disappeared moments later as something behind exploded. The mare sighed and trotted over to his door, her scientific curiosity dampened by the lethargy of interrupted sleep. She ducked reflexively as a metal sphere attached to a propeller whizzed over her head and into the hall, a thick scroll clutched in its tiny hands.

Gadgets himself stood beside his suspiciously uncluttered desk, a charred and incredibly sturdy piece of equipment that had withstood the test of time and, more importantly, the test of being the property of a mad inventor. Where normally the polished finish was hidden by layer upon layer of schematics, tools, and spilled breakfast, today there was only one abnormally thick stack of parchment laid neatly in the center.

"What is it, a time machine?" Minion asked sleepily, stifling another yawn as she slid into the chair and glanced down at the first page. Gadgets snorted and simply waved for her to begin reading.

Minion scanned the page quickly, her eyes growing larger and larger in shock as the work of a lifetime unfolded before her. Suddenly it all made sense! Everything about Gadgets life had been leading to this, this thing contained on the parchment, these plans for the impossible. His determination to fly, his constant fiddling with machinery, his midnight discussions with the Headmaster in the aging pony’s lab, his pursuit of a gasbag-less airship, and his unwavering courage even in the face of crippling disaster.

"Gadgets," Minion said in a very small voice, her mind already working frantically, piecing together the puzzle of just how these plans could become reality, "you can't be serious, this...this thing...it's...it's inconceivable."

I'm Sorry, I Can't Hear You Over the Sound off How Awesome I'm Being

The smile on Mira's face as The Inconceivable finally came into sight of Dragon's Breath might well have beggared the sun for its brilliance, that is, if anypony had been keeping score. The vast sea of sand stretching far as the eye could see in every direction was certainly something nopony born and raised in Araea could ever have imagined. Dunes the size of mountains rose up to challenge the sky, rivers of quicksand slurred slowly but surely across valleys of stone, and the thick, scraggly brush found only in the harshest of climates dotted the landscape in green.

Here was the place a god had gone to die, here was proof that there were powers in this world nopony could ever dream of, here was where ponies had learned to love and build together, and it was beautiful to those who knew its story and could look past the scorching sun and blistering winds to see its glory. The Desert of Jewels, the few who had managed to tame its power called it, and justly so. In the dawn light, the sea glimmered as if made of gold.

"There you have it, Dragon's Breath, the Boundless Sands." With a grandiose wave worthy of a seasoned showman, Darkfang presented to his friends one of the world's greatest natural wonders.

"It's beautiful," the ponies said in unison, their eyes large as dinner plates and sparkling with wonder.

There was little time to gawk, however, as the airship righted itself and began to ascend back into the sky. The town they were headed to was called Beakisburg, a prosperous port strategically placed on several trade routes, and the ideal place to gather information and supplies before journeying in any direction. Griffons, like dragons, were notoriously poor namers, Darkfang mused thoughtfully as the city shrunk beneath them, its large harbor clustered with over a hundred ships from across the world, though not one of them could match The Inconceivable for looks or speed.

"What are you doing?" Darkfang called, as Gadgets swung the wheel around, bringing The Inconceivable's nose forty-degrees to port.

"We need to be higher up or somepony on the ground might start shooting at us before we can explain!" he called, "the dock's too small for us to land in properly, so I'll park it a ways above and descend via landing craft!"

"Parking" the massive airship turned out to be far simpler than Darkfang would have thought it had any right to be. All that was really required was to simply shut down the propelling fans and make a few minor adjustments to the stabilizers to keep the airship from drifting in the wind. The real trouble came when a squad of disheveled, nervous griffon soldiers arrived on deck, claws gripped around the assortment of spears and scimitars they carried, eyes darting nervously around the deck.

The leader, who was a head or so taller than the others, (though that only meant he was about level with Darkfang's stomach) stepped forward. His claws, beak, and silver feathers were immaculate, as was his uniform and spear, sharpened to a lethal point that gleamed with menace. If a soldier could be judged from how he kept his weapon, this one was Grade-A, cream of the crop, badass. Glancing at the numerous medals and ribbons adorning his blue jacket, the dragon recognized him to be a military griffon of some worth, though what he'd done to be assigned to dock duty was a mystery. While not exactly a poor post, particularly in a city the size of Beakisburg, the Griffon Empire was legendary for its military, and the more decorated the officer the more important and dangerous a post he commanded. So what was such a veteran soldier doing in an out-of-the-way town like this one?

"I-I am," his voice cracked noticeably and he took a second to noisily clear his throat before continuing. "I am Captain Grayshaw, official Overseer of Beakisburg Docks, representative of the 4th Glorious Griffon Empire, upon whose space you are currently intruding, please identify yourselves and sub-submit," here his voice failed him, "to-to inspection."

He was forced to crane his neck upwards as Darkfang approached him, his eyes becoming noticeably wider though, to his credit, his trembling was near imperceptible. The dragon gave him a smile, careful to conceal his teeth, no sense in scaring the poor fellow into doing something stupid, and bowed slightly, raising one hand to his chest and spreading the other one wide where the griffons could see he was not reaching for a weapon.

"My name is Darkfang, of Toothclaw Village, far to the West and South." Okay, that was a good start; he noted the easing of claws upon weapons and the relaxing demeanor of the overseer at the familiar name. "My friends' names are Gadgets and Mira." He gestured at the ponies standing some ways behind him, one of whom was waving frantically, the other attempting a deep curtsy.

He was tempted to snort with amusement at which did which, but thought better of it when he realized the flame might be misinterpreted. Celestia knew the last thing they needed right now was for somepony to take fright and set off the inevitable chain of events that ended with half the ship on fire, a dozen dead griffons, and Gadgets firing up the death ray on the innocent ponies below.

"We are not here for trouble, we intend to stay only long enough to re-supply, and perhaps gather some news on recent events. That is all."

Captain Grayshaw nodded, though from the far-away look in his eyes, it was clear he had not heard a word said and was instead staring intently at the buzzblade in the dragon's belt, no doubt wondering what kind of destruction the strange weapon was capable of. Darkfang dearly hoped the griffon did not try to disarm him. It wasn't illegal to carry weapons in Imperial territory, so long as they remained sheathed, but the military had been known to appropriate rare and advanced arms from no-name travelers. Their carriers were given a choice of either accepting compensation for the loss of their things or thrown in jail for a few nights on charges of disrupting the peace until they agreed to leave town.

Either way, the dragon was certain his friends would react poorly to the idea of what could only be described as blind robbery, and he was even more certain what would happen if anypony was stupid enough to actually try and arrest them. Thankfully, the captain merely nodded again, blinking rapidly to bring himself back into focus, and continued to address Darkfang, whom he obviously thought captained the vessel.

"You are, of course, more than welcome to stay in Beakisburg for as long as you need, but I must warn you that any and all misbehavior will be met with swift retribution." The dragon nodded. "And I must ask that you submit yourselves to a cursory inspection of any and all cargo you may be carrying, and despite the, er," he glanced around nervously, "nature of your vessel, you are still required to pay docking fees. Please register at the official docking platform at your, er, earliest convenience."

"But we're not using the docks," Gadgets had finally had enough and decided to join the conversation, his mechanical limb drawing every eye as it clicked against the deck.

After a moment of semi-awkward silence, Grayshaw managed to tear his eyes away from the unnatural appendage and look into the pony's eyes, which were currently in shades of amusement blue and building curiosity orange. "Yes, but you are in Gryphon space, and the law states all ships, including airships, are required to register their name, place of construction, government allegiance when necessary, and captaincy at Customs when they arrive in port."

"But we didn't arrive in port, we arrived over it."

The captain looked baffled, completely at a loss for words at the strange pony's disarming logic and relentlessly upbeat tone. Gadgets laughed at the griffon's expression, and Darkfang was relieved to see a number of soldiers' beaks turn up slightly in what passed for a smile among their kind. Still chuckling, the pony draped his real leg over the captain's shoulders, steering him towards the entrance hatch that would lead them below decks.

"Right this way, Captain, I'll give you the grand tour; oh, and your friends can come too. I think you'll be suitably impressed."

Grayshaw glanced over his shoulder, once again dumb with shock, at his soldiers who, after a brief moment's confusion, hurried after him. Darkfang watched them file down the stairs, easily walking two abreast in the spacious hall. They could've walked three, it was, after all, big enough for the dragon to fit comfortably inside, though he was forced to go on all fours everywhere except the cargo bay. But he got the feeling they were bunching up more out of fear than military discipline.

"Well, that went well," Mira, speaking for the first time that day, said as she walked up to his side, "thank Celestia you were here to put 'em at ease."

"Huh, a dragon putting griffons at ease, there's something for the history books. Somepony should probably write that down."

Mira snorted and clopped him on the shoulder, "Come on, silly filly, let's go prep the landing craft. Time to go shopping!"

Darkfang felt his smile stretched into a full-blown grin as the deliriously happy mare clapped her hooves together in glee, eyes twinkling like a thousand fireflies, before dashing down the stairs, leaving behind only the echo of a surprisingly feminine squeal. Dropping to all fours, tucking in his wings, and carefully adjusting the buzzblade in his belt with a flick of his tail, he raced after her, leaving a throaty chuckle in his wake.

********

Gadgets "landing craft" turned out to be a small junk rigged with one solar sail and two small fans for propulsion. While tiny compared to the mother ship, the little vessel was more than big enough to comfortably accommodate two ponies and several hundred pounds of luggage. Darkfang had taken one look at the thing and immediately elected to fly down on his own wings, he trusted Gadgets engineering but that primal part of him screamed bloody murder at the sight of what appeared to him as a matchbox held together with glue and tape.

Captain Grayshaw and his squad had departed a few minutes ago, having not gotten through half the tour before griffons started fainting from over-stimulation as entire walls, or what they thought were walls, began to get up and move around. Before he left, the captain had managed to extract a solemn oath from The Inconceivable's crew not to, under any circumstances but open war, turn their weapons upon the city, trusting them to keep to their word. The captain was no fool, even a cursory glance had been enough to tell him neither he, nor his entire command (not to mention the city garrison) had the power to fight against them.

"Welp, time for first official contact with ground ponies." Gadgets announced grandly, wrenching the last wench into place.

"What am I, chopped liver?" Darkfang asked from where he was leaning against a support beam, arms crossed and heavily-lidded eyes watching with detached amusement as his friends scurried about. It never ceased to amaze him how dexterous they were, fingers and thumbs be damned.

"We met you in the sky, you don't count, Commander Comet."

"Commander Comet?"

"Yeah I don't know where I was going with that one but! Look at this,"

With a flip, he dismounted the junk, landing lightly several feet from the dragon's position. His face disappeared as he shoved his head into a pocket, drawing forth a heavy cloth purse, jingling noticeably with the sound of gold, moments later. With a flick of his neck he tossed the purse to Darkfang, who snagged it effortlessly out of the air, loosened the drawstring, and dumped half its contents into the palm of his hand. Heavy gold coins sparkled up at him, each worth at least ten bits in any reasonable market, double that with proper haggling.

"What's this?" The dragon asked, though he was quite certain he already knew.

"Allowance!" Gadgets announced happily, producing an equally heavy purse from his coat, while waving a hoof towards Mira, who flashed yet another before returning her attention to the dozen little automatons that would crew their landing craft.

"For what?"

"Shopping!"

Darkfang grinned at the overly excited stallion, his eagerness at the prospect of shiny new toys infecting him as if it were the common cold. Laughing, he jogged towards the center hole, which Gadgets had christened "The Mining Shaft" and, flipping for good measure, dove down through the belly of the ship and out into open air just as the pony re-boarded his own vessel, which promptly dropped from the mooring cables. The thunder of the fans roared as the junk took flight, easily outstripping the free-falling dragon, who chuckled and spread his wings, beating them furiously against the rush of the wind to catch up.

Though not far away, relatively speaking, The Inconceivable had been parked high enough in the air so as to provide a complete view of the city and, even though he'd seen it several times before, the sight still took Darkfang's breath away. He could only imagine how his friends must be reacting at their own first glimpse of how civilized ponies lived down here on the surface.

Beakisburg had been built across a wide river, officially named after an obscure griffon emperor nopony remembered the name of, but affectionately called the Turbin by its residents. The river opened out into a large, natural harbor sheltered by colossal sandbanks circling out to form a massive oval; entrance was allowed only by a thin gap between their far ends, large enough for ships to pass comfortably through but small enough that it was still defensible. The Turbin also provided the interesting geography that had caused the town to be split down the middle, connected by numerous lofty bridges, wide enough for carts to trundle along two-abreast, and high enough for all but the most grandiose sailing vessels to pass under.

The griffon architects, inspired by ancient ruins found beneath, and in many cases carved into, the deep desert, had made shameless use of the pyramid when designing buildings. Massive structures of golden sandstone towered above the smaller, squarer homes of the poor and middle-class, capped in crystal and gold, and covered in elaborate statues and runes depicting the many griffon gods as well as elaborate magical rituals.

The city was not all stone, however, for the Turbin's banks had long ago been covered in hardy trees, green shrubbery, and the thousand other varieties of plants that thrived in desert oases, and the ancient griffons had sought to improve upon this natural beauty, rather than crush it beneath their own ideals. Countless gardens, filled with a thousand exotic smells and colors, encircled the pyramids or crowded along the rooftops; Darkfang was pleased to note that many of the larger structures had been built with ledges and over-hanging balconies upon which grew small fruit trees and flowering bushes. That was new.

Landing the junk went fairly smoothly, evidently Greyshaw had informed the dock workers and officials of the strange circumstances, so the fainting and caws of terror were kept to a minimum. Gadgets tipped a group of bored-looking laborer ponies to stick around and help carry their bags when they returned from the city. Their leader, once the initial shock had worn off, had glared at the little pony as if he were insane. That skepticism had evaporated the moment he got a good look at what he was being offered. It was amazing how gold had that effect on ponies; well on everything really.

A few of the laborers had exchanged dark glances, no doubt wondering if they could get away with robbing the two obviously naive, trusting adventurers. A brief glare from Darkfang and a few muted warnings, kept low so his dazzled friends bouncing about the docks trying to see everything at once couldn't hear, and that plan disappeared before it truly began. It was convenient being four times larger than everypony else at times, even if it did mean he bonked his head often enough to justify wearing a helmet full time. Not that he'd be caught dead wearing such a thing, to hay with how drunk he was at the time.

Darkfang took the lead, leading the small group towards what he'd been told was the customs office. A small wooden building facing the wharf, its door guarded by two griffon soldiers, their steel chestplates and caps gleaming in the sunlight, handled the majority of the dock's daily business. The ponies ooh'd and aah'd appreciatively at the shiny warriors. The Empire took grooming very seriously, and even in the most out-of-the-way, backwater outpost, one could find gryphon soldiers looking for all the world as if they were going on parade through the swamps.

Customs itself was simple: the stuttering clerk, a small, greasy-looking pony wearing a dark-brown vest with sandy fur and a well-oiled, sweaty mane, simply passed them a scroll and hesitantly led them through the proper procedure. Nothing he said was particularly new, Darkfang made a mental note to thank the captain later for his quite informative explanation. The dragon simply scratch his name, their ship's name, and a brief summary of their business in Beakisburg, before the clerk rolled the scroll back up, tied it with a blue ribbon, and handed it off to a pegasus page.

As the crew of The Inconceivable made their way back out, they noticed that for the ten minutes of their stay in the customs office, all business had ceased as every eye in the room stared at them. They felt oddly flattered, an opinion Gadgets gave voice to as they joined the main thoroughfare on the west side of the Turbin.

"I think they like us."

Darkfang made a noncommittal noise in his throat, head swiveling around, nostrils flared, eyes moving so fast it threatened to make him dizzy, looking at everything he could and searching for the tell tale signs of premium shopping.

The thoroughfare was crowded, ponies rubbing shoulders with griffons in the streets or crammed in front of stalls admiring priceless jewelry, beautifully elaborate rugs, or thousands of tiny statuettes made of every kind of stone and gem imaginable. Even the occasional Diamond Dog could be seen striding through the crowd on their own errands, easily identifiable as they towered over the crowd by a head-and-a-half, gems gleaming at their throats or dripping from countless belts, bracelets, and anklets.

A million smells battled for dominance with the sights and sounds of a thousand creatures haggling for wares or bragging about where they'd be spending the summer. It had never ceased to surprise Darkfang the variety of dishes ponies were capable of producing, taking into account their rather limited digestive capabilities. He spotted fifteen different dishes made of the same weirdly glowing green fruit, fifty using apples as the main ingredient, and a hundred using only vegetables beginning with the letter t.

Despite being from a primarily carnivorous species (gemstones being largely regarded more as a rare treat rather than a meal unto themselves), Darkfang had forsaken the consumption of other living creatures as part of his attempts to appeal more to the gentler races. Nevertheless, he felt his mouth watering as the smell of cooking sausage assaulted his senses when the group passed one of the few restaurants in Beakisburg which served meat as its primary dish. His pony friends deliberately avoided the place like a plague, odd mixtures of disgust and morbid curiosity painting their faces.

The dragon surveyed the place with an idle glance: the restaurant served primarily griffon customers, as expected, though he did note a few Diamond Dogs among the outdoor tables and peaking through the windows. He was forced to double-take, however, when a plucky griffon waitress delivered a steaming plate of venison steaks to a particularly feral-looking pony sitting in the darkest corner. Just as he was beginning to wonder how a pony could eat meat, the mare in question opened her jaws, revealing row upon row of jagged teeth, and began tearing into the red meat with ferocious vigor.

Darkfang made a mental note not to mention this disturbing sight to his friends, who were thoroughly entranced by a flute playing desert griffon charming a snake in a basket, making it dance in time to the music. Beakisburg attracted creatures from all walks of life, and the wide world was filled with the unexpected, and as an adventurer, he was quite certain a meat-eating pony was the least strangest thing he was likely to see this week.

"Soo, where should we go first?" Gadgets, whose saddlebags were already laden with all manner of interesting things, suddenly spoke up, almost directly behind the dragon.

Darkfang whirled on instinct before he could stop himself, claws rising to strike at whatever had the nerve to sneak up on the top of the food chain. The tan little pony blinked up at him, his smile as disarming and confident as ever, completely unaware or the more terrifying option, completely unfazed, by how close he'd come to being mauled.

"You really should not sneak up on dragons." Darkfang muttered, sheathing his claws and tail spikes with a shiver. Gadgets shrugged and stepped up beside his giant friend, gesturing a mechanical hoof at the city, alive with the sounds of wonder and aflame with the smell of adventure.

"We've got an entire city to explore, and a full purse of bits to spend on whatever takes your fancy. Gotta start somewhere."

The dragon thought for a moment, going over a mental checklist he'd compiled of all the places he'd gone to last time he was here, "The Governor's Library is pretty noteworthy; a pony could learn alot about the surface from there."

"Than that's where we'll go! To the library!"

Gadgets had galloped all of four feet before screeching to a sudden halt, realizing he had no idea where he was going. He looked back over his shoulder at Darkfang, who was clutching his gut in a transparent attempt to stifle laughter. The adventurer pony rolled his eyes in mock annoyance, then pointed a hoof up the river.

"Lead the way, Oh-Knower-of-Things-I-Do-Not."

Still stifling his mirth, the dragon took the lead, beckoning Mira, who forcibly tore herself away from a dazzling pair of sapphire earrings, to him as he did. The Library would be crowded this time of day, but the vast pyramid housed one of the largest collections of books and scrolls in the entire world; there would be room enough for two ponies and a juvenile lizard somewhere.

********

Actually getting to the building proved to be an adventure unto itself. Although Darkfang could wade through the crowd with ease, his pony friends could not. Numerous times Gadgets, and to a greater extent Mira, found themselves performing stunning feats of acrobatics simply to avoid being squashed by heavy carts towering high with goods, or pushed into the river by griffons who believed themselves too important for manners. To their credit, the ponies took it in stride, still too enamored with the unfamiliar city to realize they were being regarded as unsavory tourists by the natives.

Had he been in their position, Darkfang doubted very much he would be able to do the same, particularly when a griffon lady, swathed in gaudy emerald robes sewn with pearls, nearly backtaloned Mira into a wall with a sniff of disdain. He was almost ready to go and lecture her about the importance of manners (which basically meant he was going to see how much of her he could set on fire before she dove in the river), when Gadgets solved the problem for him. The clever pony had seen the affair for what it was, even as their friend apologized profusely for what she believed to be error on her part, and surreptitiously placed an egg-shell like device into the lady's handbag which exploded moments later, showering the lady, and her neighbors, in black ink.

After hours of walking, a number of humorous mishaps involving more ink bombs on the unsuspecting nobility, one flaming hat followed by a quick dip in the Turbin, and a dozen gentlepony's calling for guards, the trio finally reached their destination. The Governor's Library was massive even by griffon standards, second only to the Governor's Palace in terms of sheer size, though in Darkfang's private opinion, it ranked first in beauty as it housed more than a fat politician and his eleven squalling brats.

Like the other pyramids, the Governor's Library was made of golden sandstone bedecked with statues of gods, goddesses, and famous griffons, even a few ponies could be spotted here and there, and was over-all a drastic representation of the Empire's absurd wealth. Though he marveled at the beauty of the place, the dragon could not help but wonder how many starving innocents could be fed or sheltered with even a fraction of the funds needed to build it.

Although the world at large had enjoyed an unprecedented era of peace and prosperity, ever since Princess Celestia took the throne of Equestria and ended the reign of Discord, within the Empire's borders the poor and the infirm still suffered. Even here, in one of the world's greatest trade cities, beggars lined the streets: old veterans too injured by fighting bandits and monsters for conventional work, mothers struggling to feed their young when their husbands abandoned them, and urchins with no place to call home.

It wasn't right and it wasn't fair that these unfortunate souls should be left to suffer in the gutters of their betters, surrounded by life-saving food on all sides but starving all the same. Darkfang did what he could to help, he gave generously of the money he carried, and he saw his friends do the same. He purchased food for the hungry cubs, even knowing that tomorrow would simply see the cycle of death repeat itself and any hope he gave them was false.

He saw, to his joy, a number of shop owners selling food far below market price to those who wore little more than rags against the wind and, to his rage, he saw ponies and griffons slip into dark alleys to trade their finery and jewels for deliberately dirty rags and take advantage of this kindness for their own greed. Without thought, he confronted these cheaters, and if they would not confess their crime to the owner, return what they had stolen, and pay their dues, he threw them into the river and paid double what they owed, usually from the purse he snatched while they were learning how to fly.

A number of these would-be thieves had attempted to call the soldiers down on him, at least until they realized what kind of a monster they were really dealing with. It was amazing how many shades of white a creature could turn when it suddenly realized that unkempt ruffian it was shouting at was three times their size and had very, very pointy teeth. Those few who still attempted to "bring him to justice" found themselves hauled away instead as an entire block of grateful shopkeepers rallied to his defense, many of whom had relatives in the military or were personal friends of Captain Grayshaw. Apparently word of his visit to the massive airship had spread like wildfire and numerous civilians flocked to see just what kinds of creatures would live aboard such a thing.

That name was steadily becoming more and more familiar, Darkfang mused as he stepped through the heavy oaken doors and into the library common. The pyramid which housed the Governor's Library was completely hollow and constructed of many tiers, each covered in historical artifacts housed in glass cases interspersed among shelves crammed full of books, all circling a central shaft of open air. Gadgets and Mira's shocked gasps quickly faded into oblivion as the duo shot off in different directions, ripping books off the shelves as they went, though the dragon did take note of the exceeding care with which they handled said tomes, even at those speeds.

Chuckling, Darkfang strolled into the library proper himself, idly watching as griffons and pegasi fluttered up, down, and between tiers, taking advantage of their natural wings to move about with that much more freedom. For everypony else, the library came well equipped with numerous magical pads, which elevated up and down of their own accord, wench-and-pulley systems operated by more bored-looking laborer ponies, or the old-fashioned favorite: stairs.

After about an hour of aimless wandering, taking his time to appreciate the works of art and history that decorated what might otherwise be any other musty old warehouse of knowledge, Darkfang finally came once more upon Gadgets. They were somewhere on the twelfth tier, right near the edge, and the dragon had a moment to wonder how the currently grounded Earth Pony had managed to get up here so fast. Mira had insisted the flying machine not be used during their trip into the city, scared it might frighten somepony or worse, make somepony jealous enough to try and steal it.

It was then he noticed one of Gadgets' most peculiar talents: the pony could read an entire book cover-to-cover simply by flipping through the pages so fast they all blurred together. Not only that, he could also memorize the book, word for word, and recite it perfectly to himself even as he picked up another. The dragon was about to call out to his friend, but before he could a tentative tug on his kilt caused Darkfang to look down into the terrified eyes of a young griffon page. Giving what he thought was a relaxing smile, though he quickly abandoned the attempt for a look of neutrality when the cub shrank down even lower, the dragon asked,

"Yes, can I help you?"

With trembling talons, the griffon removed a scroll from its carrier bag and, when the dragon eased it out of his grip, swiftly vaulted over the railing, gliding smoothly down to the floor before dashing out the doors. Darkfang glanced down at the message and froze with dawning dread.

The scroll was tied with black ribbon and sealed with Governor Gripeye's own private crest. That couldn't be good.