What Remains I: The Griffon and Her Dweeb

Chapters

Figure on the Horizon
In the Presence of Mine Enemies
Negative Recollection
Leaving Centerpoint
A Friendly Distance
Dismayed Conclusions
Explosive Developments
Corrupted Restraint
Invisible Hand
Braced For Impact
First Strike
Retreating Fire
Insurmountable Opposition
Given Purpose
Doomed From the Start
No Distance Too Great...
Epilouge

Figure on the Horizon

Vilgen’s claws dug tightly around the edges of the frosted field glasses, with such force being applied that light scratches could already be seen along the object’s metal outer regions. He’d been staring off into the snowy abyss for the better part of a minute and he still couldn’t spot what his superior steadfastly claimed was there. The small lack of results bothered him greatly and he could feel his patience lower the more and more his search was in vain.

“Are you sure this is even here, Captain Machek?” he said with a queried tone over the howl of the snowstorm’s wind. “There doesn’t seem to be anything out there.”

Machek, a male griffon such as Vilgen, stood off to the side of the wooden guard tower and stared forth in the same general direction.

“Sure as the cracked teeth on my grandma,” he responded casually. “I can guarantee I saw something, silver and glittery around the edges to be precise. Keep looking, I’m sure you’ll find it.”

Vilgen wished to spin around and instruct Machek to continue the search himself, but the golden triangle across the bold guardsmen’s leather armor shattered such hope. Machek was a superior, and thus, his orders needed to always be taken in stride, even when those beneath him wished otherwise.

Sighing, Vilgen pressed the binoculars back to his large (quite literally) eagle eyes and scanned along the obscure perimeter the commanding officer had made with his claw.

He was met with nothing but blurred flurries of snow flying to and fro across the white hills. The gray cover of approaching evening hung above their heads solemnly as the promise of a temperature colder then it was now was nearly assured once night finally fell.

Thankfully, he’d be inside by then, with the night watchmen having to cope with the arctic vortex they called home. He’d be laying comfortably in bed, an adventure novel in one claw, and a blanket in the other, with only the bother of the next day to worry about.

But for now, he had to continue his pointless scan of the perimeter, looking for an invisible trick of the eye that, so far, was very shy about making a second formal appearance.

“I give up,” he declared with quieted exasperation as he brought the field glasses to his side. “Sir, I don’t think there’s anything out there. Nothing seems out of the ordinary.”

Machek raised an eyebrow. “Oh really, then what’s that?” he pointed a single talon out towards the blurry horizon.

Vilgen squinted his eyes forward but saw nothing. Looking back through the binoculars to get a better observation, he winced in surprise. Sure enough, he could see something through the misty screen of the blowing snow. It was an icy blue color, with silver glittering bits dotted around its center with a large circle of some sort taking up its near entirety. The object, whatever it was, brushed in the wind.

“Dear lord…” Vilgen murmured in unexpected shock. “What do you think it is, sir?”

“If you gave me the dang mirrors maybe I’d be able to see it a bit better, hmm?” Hildren held out an impatient and patronizing claw to match his tone.

Swiping the apparatus right out of his colleague’s claws, Hildren gingerly brought the field glasses into focus and observed the target area. After a moment, he brought the mirrors down and nodded his head conclusively.

“Just as I thought,” he stated simply while turning to Vilgen. “Get down to the alarm guys and tell them to sound the secondary bell. We’ve got company.”

“Who is it?” Vilgen blurted with a bit too much youthful enthusiasm for his own good. He realized this a bit too late from the glare Machek flashed in return.

“That’s not relevant to the duty you’ve been assigned. Now go, I won’t repeat myself.”

Vilgen didn’t need any more encouragement. Saluting half-heartedly, he took a single military step backwards and suddenly broke into a sprint down the stronghold walls. Looping around the stone compound, he finally reached an aged flight of stairs and began down it.

If the storm hadn’t been how it was currently he could’ve easily just dived off the guard tower and glided safely to where he intended to go. But the howling wind would’ve ripped him right out of his descent and sent him hurdling through the air whichever way nature intended him to go. So instead, he and the other attending griffons had to rely on their legs more than their wings.

Hopping down the last step, he bolted across the snow covered courtyard. As he ran, he could easily see the monolithic castle standing strongly within the center of the entire compound. It was a simple design, a large boxy structure that reached upwards toward the sky with a thickness that kept consistent no matter how high it got.

The masonry vault had been built centuries before as an observation post of sorts, a defensive rest stop along the typically isolated northern Griffon tundra. It served primarily as a deterrent and staging ground for a counteroffensive if any opposing faction ever intended to invade the kingdom through its most desolate point.

This had never been attempted before in recent history, but the ever tense relationship with Equestria always left the more cautious griffons with a driven urge to ensure their own safety, whether the threat be real or imaginary.

Reaching one of several stone structures that were separate from the castle itself but still serving their own special purposes, he knocked on the door urgently and waited for a response.

“State your business,” called a muffled voice from inside, the alarm operators clearly not wishing to expose themselves to the elements if they could. Vilgen wished he had such liberties.

Cupping his claws to his mouth, he shouted a response. “Something has been spotted along the northern perimeter. Captain Machek wishes for a secondary alert to be placed immediately!”

“Acknowledged,” said the griffon inside, their voice a bit more pleasant than their initial greeting.

But before Vilgen could even turn around and walk back up to his post, the deep and echoing secondary bells suddenly began to ring from atop the structure, alerting the entire stronghold to the threat. Nearly four dozen guardsmen immediately filed out of the stronghold castle, with backup units marching out of the smaller courtyard structures. Within seconds, the once desolate square of snow was filled with several organized lines of soldiers, each holding a glistening pointed spear in their right claw.

Vilgen realized he was now the only griffon not in proper formation, but before he could find a place to squeeze into, Machek stoically trotted towards the cluster. Standing between the lines of troops, he took one look amongst them and nodded.

“Griffons,” he announced with a steel commanding voice that howled louder than the wind. “An anomaly has been spotted closing in our location. From observation it appears unarmed and on diplomatic assignment. However, we cannot take any chances with allowing an outsider into our area. I want you to be on high alert, and, if the order is given, to attack swiftly and with tact. There’s no telling what this creep will pull. Understood?”

The rows of troops roared back. “Yes, sir!”

The Captain smiled as he looked over the organized crowd of his troops, until his gaze fell upon Vilgen, who was still nervously searching for a line to squeeze into.

“Private Vilgen!” his voice boomed cheerily as he strutted towards him through the gaps in the troop lines. “I was just looking for you.”

Before Vilgen had a chance to speak, Machek wrapped his arm around him and wrangled him towards the front of the lines with an uncomfortable friendliness.

“Troops!” Machek announced with a wide gesture to all of them. “This griffon right here was the first to sight the anomaly near the stronghold walls. Private,” he looked toward Vilgen with expectation, “what did the object specifically look like?”

He stammered for a moment but was finally able to manage out a response before his comrades began to snicker. “It was a cloth of some sort. An icy blue cover with several shiny silver spots along it. And in the center was a circle of some sort.”

Some grumbles went through the rows as the realization of where the diplomat was from slowly sunk in. Gasping as the reactions from everyone else confirmed his suspicions, Vilgen turned to his superior.

“Sir…do you mean—”

“Yes,” he said with a grim nod. “I do. An Equestrian diplomat is approaching our home as we speak. They should be here any moment from when I last checked.”

Vilgen’s eyes widened. “Sir, how could that be? What business would they have in our lands?”

“I don’t know. Whatever it is, it must be important. Those colorful little prats have always been picky about when they wish to deal with us. For now we wait and see. If they want trade, we pass them along to the capital, if they don’t, we’ll have to—”

The Captain was cut short by the one of the gate watchmen hollering across the courtyard as he ran to Machek. “Sir!” he yelled over his own heavy breaths, “the diplomat has arrived. He’s waiting at the gate.”

“Well what are you waiting for?” the Captain said sharply. “Let the whelp in.”

“You don’t understand,” the guardsmen said with another gasp of air. “It’s not a pony at all. It’s a human, and he wishes to speak with you.”

In the Presence of Mine Enemies

King Zahn (or Governor Zahn, as written on official government papers) saw himself as a just griffon. He punished when it seemed necessary, taxed when it seemed necessary, and if need be, killed when it seemed necessary. But most of the time he enjoyed relative tranquility in his borders, with only the occasional frost troll to keep the guards on the alert and well enough trained.

But when it came to more pressing matters such as trade, diplomacy, or internal affairs, he understood that the court aides who’d been assigned to such tasks more than likely could do a better job than he hoped to. He saw himself more as a war chief in the manner of his position; such had been the tradition of monarchs stationed at his current stronghold.

However, whenever the topic of battle meddled into any of the other more intellectual topics of leadership, he immediately knew that it was a problem he must face and not some egg-headed court poindexter.

So when it was announced that a human diplomat from Equestria had appeared at his stronghold walls, he immediately rose to his title. He ordered that the young man be treated with moderate respect, enough to not seem hostile, but enough to show that he was not very welcome in these parts. And, the boy was also to be brought before him as soon as possible for an immediate “discussion” between the two to personally discover what he was even doing here of all places in the world.

From the commotion he heard from nearly the other side of the castle; he knew his guest had arrived.

Down the main court hallway marched in two lines of guards adorned in full metal battle dress with their golden spears pointed skyward in anticipation of whatever may happen. Another cluster of guards in a box formation surrounded something small and bipedal, cloaked in a brown cloth that shadowed whatever was behind it.

The front line of guards dispersed to the edges of the court chamber while the boxed guards stopped a few meters from the raised King’s wooden throne. For awhile they stood in silence, with only the crackling of the large wall torches providing any audible sounds.

Before anybody could speak, Captain Machek strutted down the court aisle and passed the formation of guards. Stopping by the box of guards, he kneeled before Zahn.

“My liege,” he greeted formally with respect and caution in his tone. “He arrived not even twenty minutes ago. So far we’ve—”

“I am well aware of this, Captain,” he said with a raised claw. “I wish to speak with the…diplomat myself. Now, if your troops would be so kind…”

Machek nodded and gestured for his troops to disperse. Hesitantly obeying, they marched in formation back down the aisle and out of the court chamber, leaving the cloaked bipedal absently standing in a now very quiet empty space.

The Captain stepped out of the center aisle and up towards the raised area of the room where Zahn’s throne sat, and stood off to the monarch’s right, waiting for his next order to be given.

“Take off your hood,” commanded Zahn with an already impatient scowl. “I do not speak with masked beings.”

Slowly, the human pushed back the hood to reveal the entirety of his face. He was young, with light skin, chestnut hair, and a pointed nose that awkwardly clashed with the rest of his face. The boy looked up toward Zahn with a placid expression, a neutral stance that revealed nothing of what took place behind his small eyes.

“Excuse me for doing so,” the human responded, his voice boyish and green but with a weathered and aged edge. “I was not sure what you would find appropriate in your court, your majesty.”

Zahn snorted, finding the pleasantries patronizing to his own self-status. “If you were so concerned about the proper attire, then where is your diplomatic flag? Most griffons up here would kill you on sight if you didn’t have it strapped to your back.” He leaned forward in his throne to further emphasize his point. “This is dangerous territory.”

The human’s face remained composed but Zahn could see the front of his teeth begin to grit slightly with a subtle disdain. “Your guards confiscated my pack, the flag and its pole along with it.”

“That wasn’t intended,” the King said honestly with a disapproving shake of his head. “I’ll see to it that your belongings are returned to you once our business is finished.”

The human coolly raised an eyebrow. “Does that still leave the possibility for them to be searched?”

“Of course, you represent a slimy and dishonest faction that’s been trying to gain a foothold in our lands for years. Searching through your equipment is one of the lightest security measures we’d take on an Equestrian diplomat. See it as a compliment if you will.”

A light frown of disapproval crossed the human’s face but was quickly suppressed by an understanding nod.

“Very well,” he said with hesitant submission. “Your leadership is unquestionable, especially in your own domain. But if I may explain my reason for coming here today, perhaps you would be a bit more lenient towards my accommodations.”

“And what is your explanation?”

“A proposal of sorts.”

The monarch feigned absolute shock while dropping his jaw to further the exaggerated act. “Wow, a proposal from Equestria. This should be good.”

“I don’t believe you understand your majesty,” he said with a shake of his head.

“Oh, I understand,” Zahn retorted with poisoned grimace and an accusatory talon. “If you’re one of those namby-pamby slime balls that think they can sweep hundreds of years of history under the rug to establish your own masked sense of control over us, you’ve got a nothing coming, friend. My ancestors have dwelt with swarms of your alleged ‘diplomats’ for years and just because you’re a blasted human will not change my response.”

“Some of the other governors would say different,” said the human with a smirk. “Your opinion alone doesn't account for the entirety of the loose confederation your government claims is a united country.”

The griffon snarled. “Watch yourself, human. You’re a long way from home and your pretentious little title won’t protect you from everything. And considering your attitude, your lucky that it’s protected you this far.”

The human ignored the masked threat and pressed on. “Although your assumptions toward my business may prove true for my predecessors, I have a different request.”

“Then state it or get out of my sight, you’ve already outstayed your welcome, boy.”

The human briefly muttered something as he responded to Zahn with growing annoyance. “I require safe passage along your eastern front, three weeks of supplies, a well armed escort and a promise of further assistance once our goal is achieved in however long it takes.”

Zahn grinned smugly while rubbing the end of his chin. Leaning back in his throne to further the sense of control he had. “And why, of all things in this wide and wonderful planet, should I ever even consider granting you such outrageous damages?”

“Treasure,” the human uttered with a wolfish and excited grin. “Fantastic and immense treasure just waiting to be cracked open, right under the sliding ice of your very own territory. So easy to acquire but yet so difficult to reach.”

“How do you know of this?” Zahn demanded in sudden nervous rage, taken back that somehow the Equestrians had discovered something in his own land before him.

“Old maps and documents, dating back hundreds of years ago. They were recently come across in a crumbling Canterlot library that was scheduled to be demolished. From there it was quite simple, follow the dotted line till ‘X’ marks the spot.” The human smiled a confident grin, feeling some satisfaction in Zahn’s distress. “I assure you; our spies had nothing to do with it.”

“I would hope not,” he growled in response. “But…if the map is so easy for you to embark upon it’s given journey, why would I have any need for you if we—say—hypothetically go searching for this imaginary treasure without you? We could do it well on our own.”

“I was expecting you to say that. But in case you haven’t realized yet, I am here, with the map originally in my possession. If you were to follow through on this unapproved journey, I would simply return to Canterlot and report the theft of my materials and your deliberate rejection of any possible joint venture to search for the treasure, and in turn, share it’s contents equally once acquired. What position would that leave you in, especially with the other warlords that you all insist on calling ‘governors’?”

Zahn felt the words sting against his feathers but tried to put on his best face of pondering. No matter which we he saw it, the boy was speaking the truth, and the truth hurt. Of course he wished to uncover whatever the human spoke of, but considering it came from the mouth of Equestrian (a human no less) made him question his credibility entirely.

He knew that something was buried beneath his talons, but what it was remained to be seen. ‘Treasure’ to a pony could mean anything from the actual meaning of the word, to useless piles of books written in a dead language or a piece of canvas with a useless splattering of paint across it. If he was to put his reputation on line to find which of the two it was, he’d need to act in a more inconspicuous way than simply stealing the map itself.

“Tell you what,” Zahn said after his moment of thought. “I will grant you the supplies you request and the safe passage as well, but your travelling party must be reduced, I can’t go wasting my soldiers on wild goose chases now can I?”

The diplomat nervously swallowed and nodded his head, the color beginning to drain from his face. “Y-Yes, that will do quite nicely.”

The king smiled. “Wonderful, we will have your requested equipment ready by tomorrow morning. From then, you may leave whenever you wish. But for now, the Captain shall escort you to your quarters for the night.”

Captain Machek, who’d been standing watchfully by Zahn for the majority of the meeting silently stepped off the raised section of the room and nodded for the human to follow him down the court aisle. Quickly bowing to the king, he followed after the griffon officer.

Once he was sure that the two had left earshot, he snapped a talon expectantly. “Squire!” he commanded with a booming urgency that sent the young lad dashing off from the side of the room at a lightening pace.

“Yes, your majesty?”

“Fetch Corporal Gilda for me, would you? I wish to speak with her immediately.”

The squire nodded. “It shall be done, your majesty.”

Negative Recollection

The room accommodations hadn’t been precisely what Alistair had been expecting. What he expected was a stone floor and a blanket tossed in between a week-old puddle of water and some rat droppings scattered about, with a homely plaque titled ‘dungeon’ placed over a barred iron door that would be promptly shut by any nearby soldiers once he stepped in.

But the griffons had been civil, as much as they could anyway, and had assigned him quarters that were almost what he considered hospitable. A sink and mirror were absent from the room, as was any chairs or cabinets to place his recently returned belongings into.

All he had was a scratched up wooden table, a rickety looking furred bed (pillow included, thank Celestia), and a thick panned glass window that was half covered in the outside snow. A bright burning torch was atop the wall to his right, away from the bed and table to prevent any unfortunate accidents with a blistering open flame.

Throwing his army-green pack and Equestrian diplomatic flag atop the table, he saw no real reason to stay up any longer. He’d been trekking for the better part of the day and although he didn’t feel exhausted, keeping such feelings at bay would be his utmost responsibility in the days to come.

Stripping off his heavy brown overcoat, he discarded his heavy insulated boots along with his long winter pants. He left on his blue undershirt along with his undergarments and briskly moved over to the torch. Blowing it out with a single huff, he practically jumped into the bed.

He was surprised from how warm the fur comforter was along with the feathered pillow he rested his head against. He was even more surprised by the near blackness the room had been drenched in, with absolutely no light seeping in through anywhere. Perhaps he really was in a dungeon and just couldn’t remember.

But just as quickly as his silly pondering began, it faded out in time as an unexpected wave of drowsiness hit and set him drifting into sudden slumber.

A distant chattering buzzed abrasively in Alistair’s ear, the sound distorted and echoing as if coming from a great distance away. A gray fog surrounded him from where he stood, with silent wind pushing the fabric of his clothing to and fro.

He worriedly clawed the air around him in search of something solid and tangible, but all that he thrashed at was empty space. Turning around to look for something real, the ground below suddenly crumbled beneath him and he found himself to be falling.

He let out a terrified shriek as he fell through an empty of abyss of swirling gray fog. A white light appeared below him as he fell, slowly approaching from his rapid descent. Clenching his eyes shut, he awaited whatever came next.

“Why didn’t I see you at the coronation?” Twilight Sparkle asked with a dismayed frown. “You even had the VIP tickets to make sure that you’d get a seat, even if you were late.”

Alistair cheeks began to heat as he nervously wrung his fingers together. “My train was late; by the time I got there the cavalcade was already moving.”

Twilight crossed her hooves and turned away. “You still could’ve come. No pony was going to take your seat.”

“And I did!” he declared indignantly. “I pushed my way through a sea of ponies just to get right up close to the road. I saw you and the front stage clearer than crystal.”

“Then why didn’t you come to the VIP section? Spike, my parents, and everypony else was there. Why weren’t you?”

“I was late. By the time I would’ve looped around through the castle courtyard you’d probably be already on your way to the reception afterwards.”

Twilight’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t see you there either.”

“For Celestia’s sake!” he shouted while throwing his arms into the air. “Is the new rule with you that if you don’t see me at an incredibly crowded event suddenly that means I ditched? You know I’d never do that.”

“Then why didn’t you come and find me? It would’ve have been great to be with everypony instead of almost everypony.”

Alistair bit the end of his lip and shifted his weight to the other foot. “I…forgot.”

Twilight shook her head. “No, you didn’t. I’ve known you for this long, and telling me that an event that’s been brewing for over a month and one that has one of your closest friends at the focal point is nothing but a big fat lie. What did you really do?”

“I…” his eyes traveled to the recently formed set of Alicorn wings that sat folded on her sides. He swallowed painfully. “I forgot, that’s what happened.”

Twilight sighed. “If you’re going to lie I don’t see the point in even trying to find out. I came over just to tell you that me and Spike have some Princess business to take care of in Canterlot. We’re going to be gone for a few weeks but I assume you can watch yourself until then?”

Alistair nodded, but did not speak.

“Good, then I’ll see you when we get back.” Twilight turned and walked out the front door of the Golden Oaks Library. Shutting the door behind her solemnly, Alistair realized that neither of them had wished each other goodbye.

Alistair’s head jerked up in bed as his heart pounded silently in the shadowed room. A cold sweat seeped into his clothing and covers, and as he held his hands to his face, he could see that they were trembling.

“It was a dream,” he told himself aloud. “You’ve had this before. Just try to get past it and you’ll be alright. Get past it, get past it, get past it, get past it, get past it…”

He continued to utter his calming phrase to sooth the fear and despair that coursed through his veins, but no matter how hard he tried, the pain of what he experienced in the vision could not be soothed by his words alone. Slowly, as the phrase lost its meaning the harder he tried; he drifted back into an unstill slumber, ever fearful that he’d be forced to repeat his painful recollections of a past he could not change. It was a very long night.

Leaving Centerpoint

Alistair stood adjacent to Captain Machek by the stronghold gates as the icy wind continued to howl away like mad. They’d been waiting for the past half-hour for the other member of the expedition team to arrive, but at the rate she was going, they’d probably be there for another half-hour.

He didn’t mind this, however. The frosty Griffon environment was very quite interesting and the nearly endless expanse of snow was quite beautiful if examined in the proper way. Some in his position would simply see the long and grueling journey that laid ahead, he saw a casual winter stroll that lasted for a few weeks. Positivity really was everything.

But as the two beings stood apart from another, one human the other a griffon, no clearer difference could be seen between their mannerisms. The Captain, attentive and observant as always, peered around the castle’s perimeter for any approaching threat, whether it be real or imaginary. And Alistair, who casually inspected the blowing particles of snow almost with a haphazard disposition that lacked any real direction.

To break the silence, the wooden courtyard gate clicked and groaned open on one side, just wide enough for a single female griffon to slip through.

The two males turned around to face the new arrival, while inspecting her simultaneously.

A glare seemed to be permanently plastered on her face, with light purple circles over each large eagle eye and a disheveled head of feathers to boot. Her chestnut wings were closed tightly to her torso as a set of leather armor wrapped around her with a large green packed strapped to her back. Taking notice of their attention, she spoke.

“What are you dweebs lookin’ at?” she snorted with a gruff tone that perfectly complimented her hostile stance.

Captain Machek sighed and turned to Alistair. “This is your partner—human. Corporal Gilda. She’ll be accompanying you along the entire stretch of your mission. She’s already been informed of what’s at claw, so no need to tell her what she already knows. Although I don’t support frivolous missions—”

“Why are you now callin’ it a mission?” demanded Gilda. “The way I see it, it’s a wild goose chase you blockheads are sending me on to get me outta your feathers.” She shook her head towards the white sky. “Treasure—more like waste of time.”

“I’m still your superior,” Machek shot back sternly. “Which means you still have a level of respect to address towards me, specifically with that attitude of yours. Do I make myself clear?”

Gilda reluctantly nodded, feeling some of her pride already shaken away.

Machek nodded. “Good. Then I entrust the both of you to stay safe and perform what you’ve been assigned to the best of your abilities. So with my best wishes in mind—” Machek began towards the wooden gate.

“Hold on a second,” interrupted Alistair. “Is that it, just a quick introduction and then a goodbye? Shouldn’t you prep us on stuff? Explain the terrain and what we might face along the way? I don’t really want to go into this half-cocked and without a sense of what we should be watching out for.”

The Captain smiled arrogantly. “You know, for an Equestrian diplomat, you don’t know much about the griffons you’re dealing with. Quick tip, griffons don’t need to be prepped on something they already know how to handle. And whatever you face along your way I can guarantee Gilda’s done it at least ten times. So don’t worry.”

Before Alistair could tell him off and say that was the stupidest philosophy he ever heard, the griffon officer was already pushing closed the gate behind him, leaving the unsure human and apathetic griffon to stand alone.

Looking around the empty expanse, Alistair turned to Gilda. “Should we get going?”

“I’ll just do what you do.”

Taking that for a ‘yes’, Alistair unfurled the map from his overcoat pocket and quickly inspected it.

“To the east,” he announced while pointing in that direction. “Straight ahead.”

Gilda shrugged. “Alright, whatever you say.”

The two began forward.

They travelled for a majority of the day, with the slopping snow drifts and biting flurries of white powder the only thing that stretched before them. Alistair frequently inspected the map to determine if they were still heading in the right direction, which prompted Gilda to sigh obnoxiously each time at his insistent over-caution.

But even if they did stray from the given route, he doubted that they’d even be able to tell from where they stood. Everything looked the same, either brighter or darker shades of white that occasionally edged into the gray sector. If a single wrong step was taken, they’d be lost and alone in a matter of minutes.

Stopping once more, Alistair reached back down for the map from his coat pocket and unfolded again. Ignoring Gilda’s rolling immature eyes, he studied the map intently. Nodding to himself he placed it back where he found it.

“Shouldn’t be long now,” he announced to Gilda as he began walking again. “We’re coming up to our first stop, a cave network. Should be a good enough spot for the night.”

Gilda sneered. “I’ve slept in worse places. A cave ain’t a big worry. Just don’t get any ideas about ‘sharing’ my stuff. It’s mine.”

“Yeah whatever,” he mumbled shortly, his companions attitude already driving him to veiled infuriation.

And sure enough, after a few more minutes, a blurry mound appeared on the horizon. It was slimmer than a normal drift with a darker center that finally broke through the day’s normal color palette with a very much needed black.

Smiling that sanctuary had finally revealed itself, he hurried his pace as the oasis of sorts grew nearer and nearer.

A Friendly Distance

The two maneuvered cautiously down the cave’s entry slope, the mix of ice and snow making their descent all the more precarious with each passing step. The frigid wind howled behind them but did not attempt to fully introduce itself into the tight space, merely screeching from a distance at the forlorn travelers.

The cave walls were entirely composed of ice, with the reflecting light off their transparent surfaces giving them a powdered blue tint that more resembled solid sapphires than frozen water.

Gilda’s pointed talons scraped against the smooth surface floor, creating a long line of symmetrical white slashes that appeared lightly over the ground. Alistair, on the other hoof, glided over the floor along the soles of his insulated boots, leaving not even a single trace that he’d been anywhere near where he stood.

Reaching a small atrium that matched the passageway in all rights with an exception of much more snowed surface and higher ceiling, Alistair raised his hand to stop.

“This place looks good enough to set up camp,” he announced conclusively while turning to Gilda. “Any objections?”

Gilda sardonically rolled her eyes. “I don’t know, maybe I want to keep trekkin’ for another few hours through an ice cube cavern. Of course I want to stop, what else would you expect?”

Alistair sighed. “Remind me to not ask for your approval the next I decide something. It’ll save me the breath.”

“I don’t need any dweeb’s approval to do anything, especially not yours.”

“Yeah whatever,” he murmured as he unhitched his large green pack off his back. Dragging it across the chamber, he found a nice comfortable spot by one of the walls and briskly began to unpack its contents.

Gilda took notice of his position and moved to the opposite end of the space, as well beginning to unpack her bag’s contents. In a few moments, the two had sleeping pads rolled out, blankets set, and canned food opened. All of this was done wordlessly.

The griffon was the first to tear into her food, yanking open the can with an aggressive tug and downing the contents in a single brisk gulp. Grumbling to herself and scowling at Alistair, she turned her body around with her back to him and lay down huskily on her pad.

Gritting his teeth, Alistair too dug into his food but with a bit more tact and care than his counterpart, such as using actual utensils. But as his dull spoon scrapped against the red sludge’s cylinder can, he realized something important was missing from the rest of his supplies.

Anxiously tapping his fingers along his knee, he rose to his feet and approached the laying Gilda.

“Um…Gilda?” he called out timidly, making this the first time he’d ever uttered her name. “I, uh, have a question.”

Gilda rolled over to face him, contempt boring into him like a brick. “What do you want?” she answered impatiently. “Can’t you see I was trying to sleep?”

“Yeah…” he said with a distant look to his side, “I can see that. I just was wondering if you had something. I, um, realized that it seems your Captain forget to pack a few things I would care to have.”

She raised a sardonic eyebrow. “Didn’t I already tell you this before we left? You aren’t gettin’ any of my stuff, dweeb. Now buzz off.” She rolled back over.

“I’d be willing to trade!” he announced anxiously, as if somepony nearby was listening.

Gilda turned back to him. “What would you have that I could possibly want?”

“Anything really. And if I don’t have it with me right now, I could get it for you when we come back.”

Gilda rose from her pad and approached him with a quizzical stare. “What’s got you so stirred up? You didn’t strike me as the sort of dork to get scared by nothin’. What’s your deal?”

Alistair’s eyes sunk back into his head but he quickly shook his head in denial. “Nothings wrong, I’m fine. Just wanted to ask you for something, something small.”

“And what would this be?” said Gilda with a hostile stab of her talon to his chest.

“Meat,” he said with a sigh. “Red meat to be precise, salted is my usual preference.”

Gilda’s eye widened in disbelief as she took a few steps back. “You eat…meat? I thought you ponies didn’t touch the stuff. Herbivores and all that.”

Alistair gestured shortly to his entire body, using his hands to emphasize the point. “Do I look like a pony?”

“N-No, I just thought with all the laws there—”

“—that it would look bad if I was caught with a rabbit leg in my mouth?” he finished, now with his own hostility at Gilda. “Yes, I know they don’t like it. I understand that. I know it’s a crime with them, but I still do it anyway. Why argue, I’m an omnivore, just look at me.”

He shook his head dismally. “I was just hungry for some, no addiction or mad craving or what-not. Nothing fills you up quite like some legitimate protein so…yeah.”

Gilda was silent for a moment, then shook her head slowly in understanding. “If you’re hungry I can give some. It’s jerky.” She paused. “Just don’t make a habit of this alright? I don’t like givin’ handouts.”

Alistair smiled warmly. “Whatever you say.”

Accepting the few strips of leather-like meat graciously, Alistair downed them in single gulps without even the slightest consideration of actual taste. Smacking his lips, he beamed once more.

“I never thought griffons could cook so well,” he remarked excitedly. “From the records we have in External Affairs, it seems like you guys would have culinary cuisine on the last of your list. No offense.”

Gilda shrugged. “The food’s fine enough I guess. Don’t have anything against it, just gets kinda bland after awhile.

He nodded. “Well so does all things. If you stick with something long enough it tends to get commonplace after awhile. And there’s nothing wrong with that in any regard, that’s just how things go. I mean, if things always changed would people like that? No, of course not. Things have to have a sense to them, a consistency really. It’s what keeps you coming back for more.”

Gilda smirked slyly. “Never thought a dweeb could speak so fancy about beef jerky.”

“Never thought a person could ever have such a bad attitude,” he retorted offhandedly.

She balled her claw into a fist. “Keep on talkin’ like that and I’ll show you how bad this attitude can get. Understand?”

He raised his arms in casual defense. “I’m just saying that for a griffon solider you’re not quite what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“A stone-faced stalwart that’s polite and respectful but still able to take command when the situation calls for it.”

“Sounds like everything I’m not.”

“Point taken,” he said with a nod. “But for now I actually think we should get some rest, the descent through the caves isn’t going to be easy, and there’s no telling what might be down there.”

Gilda yawned. “Yep, whatever you say boss. Just wake me up when it’s time to go, I’ll be ready for anything.” She promptly strutted back over to her mat and without even a returning look towards him; she laid back down onto her mat.

Feeling a bit hurt by the lack of recognition, he slid onto his own mat and pulled the musty blanket right over the top of his head, blocking out the shiny blue cave lighting that seeped from every surface. Tonight, he wanted to sleep properly, no uncomfortable interruptions like last time. Celestia only knew if this would happen or not.

Dismayed Conclusions

The vortex Alistair awoke to was a darker gray mist than before, this time swirling at a much more aggressive speed that whipped the stray ends of his clothing in all sorts of directions. The chattering buzz from last time was no longer present, but replaced with a rumble that vibrated the ground below him.

Peering down, he saw the bits of gray earth beneath him slowly shatter along the edges, until they completely collapsed under and sent him hurtling back down into an abyss. He knew what would follow next, but the fear at the pit of his chest was not strong enough to break the pull the nightmare had on his mind. He would have to endure once more.

“I just don’t know what I’m going to do,” said Alistair hopelessly as he rubbed the end of his forehead. “It’s just so difficult living there, just being there. It hurts emotionally, you know?”

Jam Roly-Poly and Commodore Blip sat awkwardly across from him, his two best friends unsure on how to approach what he’d just said.

Jam was the smaller of the two, with a thinner frame and skinny legs that extended him above most other ponies he met. His fur was a bright crimson with a matching mane of maroon, all topped off with a circular set of glasses placed tightly at the bridge of his snout.

Commodore on the other hoof was a bit heavier set than his counterpart, with his height as well being a tad lower to the ground. His fur was a vibrant electric blue shaded by a spiky navy mane that swooped close down to the edges of his eyes.

The two milkshakes in front of them had been sucked clean in mere minutes from their delivery, while Alistair’s sat practically full, warming in the mostly vacant Ponyville diner.

“Well, have you tried talking with her?” suggested Jam. “Maybe if you just explained yourself she might change.”

Alistair grimaced at the thought. “Like that would ever happen. She’s changed alright, personality wise and not in a way that would be seen as harmful to most ponies. Just the way she talks, the way she acts, it’s different and I don’t like it.”

Commodore rapped his hoof along the table’s edge. “Are you sure it’s even that big of a deal? So she has a new title, so what? She’s still your friend.”

“You don’t get it,” he said with a hostile glare. “She carries this intelligence with her, this omnipotence that sets her apart from what she once was. She doesn’t make mistakes, she corrects them. Her emotions never get the best of her; she gets the best of them. And now with a position of authority under her domain it seems that her importance just keeps going up.”

He sighed dejectedly. “How can I continue to be friends with somepony after that? Somepony’s who’s changed so much over the time that you’ve known them. I understand that things never stay the same, but I swear she’s like a different person. More like Celestia than her old self. Perfect in all regards.”

“How’s that bad then?” remarked Commodore with positively. “She sounds wiser now, more of a role model than anything. Isn’t that good in friend?”

“I want a friend, not a role model!” he shouted with a slam of his palm against the table. “And when you’re too uncomfortable to even talk with somepony you’ve known for two years, maybe you’ll understand how I feel. I don’t like thinking about this, I’d prefer to ignore the problem all together, but putting up with it and telling myself that nothing was wrong and ‘everything will be fine’ for three months hasn’t changed a damn thing.”

“That what are you going to do?” demanded Jam, a bit off put at Alistair’s current attitude toward them.

He brushed a hand through his well combed hair, mussing it up slightly along the front. “I need a change, something different in my life, because I really can’t continue doing this. It’s worse living with her, which is probably why I’m bothered by this so frequently.”

He paused and looked out a nearby window, staring across the streets of Ponyville at something the two couldn’t see. “I need to leave,” he said quietly. “There’s no way around it.”

The two colts’ eyes flickered in confusion and were suddenly replaced with utter shock. Commodore stammered but was finally able to utter a dismayed response. “B-But you can’t do that, you’re just a kid!”

“Hasn’t stopped me before,” he said solemnly. “They’ve never made me go to school, or take standardized tests, or even register in a census if I don’t want to. I’m a ghost in several respects, and because I don’t look like the either of you I’m granted liberties. And then again, I’m condemned to other things. No pony would bat an eye if I ever decided to head off to parts unknown, get a job or something like that.”

“Is that what you’re going to do?” Jam asked, not as shaken as Commodore but otherwise still bothered by the news.

Alistair nodded. “I haven’t planned that far ahead, but that would be a must if I don’t want to be a professional pauper.”

Commodore, growing more anxious as he spoke, reached his blue hoof towards Alistair, desperation deep in his voice. “Alistair, please, you can’t do this. You’re our friend. We can all face this together. Time can change things, who’s to say this won’t apply to Twilight?”

Alistair wistfully shook his head. “It’s too late for that. I’d love to be hopeful, but nothing’s changed at all. I can’t stand seeing her like this; it tears me up on the inside, everyday.”

His stone faced expression broke suddenly, his composition snapping as tears began to roll down his face. Still, he forced his weakened voice onwards. “I love you guys. You alone have given me some of the greatest moments of my entire life. We’ll still be friends, I’m not ending this. I’ll visit every chance I get and that’s a promise.” He pointed towards them strongly, his eyes boring steel into both of them. “I’ll never abandon you guys, never.”

Jam and Commodore were quiet for a moment, not quite sure what to say.

“This is your choice to make,” Jam said slowly. “We just hope your making the right one.”

Alistair rose from his seat and wiped the ends of his eyes with his palm. “It’s the only one I’ve got.”

With a friendly wave to both of them, Alistair walked out of the diner, tears beginning to roll back down his face.

Explosive Developments

Gilda and Alistair walked single file through the large cave passageway. For awhile the chamber had been a narrow tunnel that had been slowly extending outwards, so much in fact that the tunnel gradually became a massive atrium of space that gave the impression of a deliberately hollowed-out network of sorts.

The walls of the space remained the same, glittering solid chunks of blue ice that resembled more sapphires than frozen water. Slight patches of snow dotted parts of the equally bright cave surface, but most of it was as well comprised of the jewel-like ice.

They’d been talking casually since they left camp just a few hours earlier, filling their expedition with some much needed liveliness.

“So you really don’t see movies all that often?” remarked Alistair. “Can’t that get kind of boring?”

Gilda shrugged. “We get a few reels every now and again. I could take another trip to Equestria if I wanted to. Not like anyone at the stronghold could stop me.”

“Then why don’t you? There’s more entertainment and excitement across the pond, believe me.”

Gilda solemnly looked toward the ground for a moment then quickly looked back to him. “I don’t have any business there. No real reason for me to go back. Would be just a waste of time really. Besides, I got enough to worry about with all the dweebs I have to put up with back here.”

He smiled. “I assume I’m no longer a dweeb then?”

Gilda punched him in the shoulder, not too hard but hard enough to prove her point. “You’re still a dweeb, I’m not denying that. Just less than the regulars.”

“And is that just other soldiers or everybody in general?”

“Everybody in general,” Gilda responded without hesitation. “They just don’t leave me alone. Sayin’ I’m doing this wrong and that wrong. And when I tell them off, it’s like I’m breaking the law or something. It’s really dumb. And they don’t let up for another thing, just can’t stop correctin’ me at every turn.”

“Well,” said Alistair with a patronizing pat on the back, “maybe you’d want to change that attitude of yours a tid bit. It can get in the way.”

Gilda glared at him. “You’re startin’ to sound just like them, you know.”

He threw his arms up in defense. “Just giving constructive criticism.”

“That’s what they say too.”

“Then I guess I’ll be quiet now.”

They continued to walk through the chamber, their eyes focused directly ahead at the seemingly endless passageway they traversed. Alistair had stated earlier that they’d be within the cave confines for quite sometime, but it seemed that even he wasn’t sure how long that would be.

Needless to say it was a healthy change from the grueling trek they’d made on the first day through the infinite span of the snow drifts and their accompanying wind vortexes. That had been truly miserable, with the biting cold and zero visibility making a single step off their given route into a hopeless trek to their doom. Thankfully, however, this didn’t happen.

Suddenly, Gilda raised a claw to the air. “Stop,” she said coolly with a commanding disposition he hadn’t yet seen. “There’s something up ahead.”

“Something?” he repeated skittishly. “What do you mean ‘something’?”

“Not sure what. Heavy footsteps. Multiple in several directions.”

Alistair sucked in a large breath of air and let it out slowly, trying his best to center himself under the stress. “Any telling what it is specifically?”

Gilda shook her head. “Can’t tell for certain, but I have a pretty good idea. Follow me.” She began to charge down the passageway without even a glance behind to see if he was following. Breaking into an equal sprint, he moved after her.

The passage stopped at a steep slope that arched upwards at a nearly forty five degree angle. Neither of them could see over its lip, but they both could tell that it led out into a much larger opening, with wide walls and a high enough ceiling to pass for an indoor auditorium.

Alistair’s shoes skidded to a halt in front of the icy climb, knowing he couldn’t make it up on his own. Gilda, who as well stopped at the incline, responded to his wordless thought.

“Get on my back; I can get us both up there.”

Alistair looked at her silently for a moment, his brain slowly processing what she just said. Realizing it, his cheeks began to blush.

“I don’t know about that…” he said meekly, a bit uncomfortable with the request. “I can just wait down here. I’d probably just—”

“Now,” she repeated dryly, staring up towards the large incline. “I’m not sure what were going to be facing, but I’d like it if it was the both of us instead of one of us. Got it?”

Alistair reluctantly nodded and eased himself onto Gilda’s leather armored back. Without a moment’s hesitation, she blasted her wings upwards and sent them hurtling above the slippery slope.

Landing just where the vertical curve ended, Alistair slid off her back smoothly. Looking around the massive open cavern, he froze.

Meandering around the space, moving passively between one another without a hint of noise coming from any of the creatures, was a large pack of snow trolls, so far unaware that two outsiders stood in their den.

They had about them thick white pelts of fur that encased them in a burly shield of matted insulation that both shrouded their bodies from the cold and adequately hid physical identification. What Alistair could tell was that they were massive hulking creatures, nearly twice his height and four times as thick as him.

A large set of black orbs accounted for their eyes, with two holes in the center of its face serving the purpose of its snout. And bellow both of these, protruding outwards in a horrid mangled mess of yellow and black splotches, were a massive set of sharpened teeth, their length and width crowding the creatures entire jaw span and causing them to always keep their mouths at least partially open, never fully concealing their greatest weapon.

Feeling a bead of sweat roll down his forehead, he turned to Gilda, speaking softly but with an anxious edge. “What—do—we—do?”

Gilda stoically surveyed the room with a turning scan and then responded calmly. “We wait for them to spot us. Until then, get ready.”

She lowered her head to her left side and tapped the tips of her talon across the large saber that sat sheathed along her belt. Tightening her grasp around its handle, she breathed patiently.

Alistair too was about to take her advice, when a movement flickered along the corner of his eye. Twisting his head around to face it, his heart quickly sank. Standing across the crypt, both empty eyes trained directly on him, was a snow troll, quietly observing him.

Alistair clenched his fists together to channel his magic directly into his palms, but without warning and breaking his conversation abruptly, the troll raised a claw in his direction, letting out a booming roar that split the air and alerted his companions to the intruders.

Swallowing nervously, he knew what was about to follow.

Corrupted Restraint

The closest snow troll began charging towards Alistair with a surprising speed for its large hulking frame. Bounding across on all fours, several more of its companions charged towards him and Gilda alike.

Unsheathing her sword without hesitation, Gilda raised it to the air in and readied the tips of her claws against the hardened ice floor as the stampeding rush came closer and closer.

Igniting the sparkling blue magic in the palms of his hands, Alistair too readied himself into a fighting stance, feeling a flowing power coursing throughout his veins.

Then, without hesitation Gilda leaped forward with the propelled force of her wings and began to slash madly against the trolls’ approaching lines. Smiling at her first strike, Alistair charged the power in his hands and searched for his first target.

Spotting the closest brute, he powered up the fizzing energy and pointed the tips of his fingers forward. On command, simmering bolts of lightening shot outwards from his hands and crashed directly into the monster’s chest. Howling in agony, the beast clutched the target area and fell to its knees, dazed.

Three more of the attackers circled in on him, each coming at a similar speed and well spaced apart from one another. Hopping into the air and charging even more power into his fists, he pointed his clenched palms downwards to the ground. Smashing into the cave floor with such force that the ice around him shattered under its power, a wave of electricity shot out from the impact zone and channeled up into the beasts like a mass conductor.

All three were thrown back from the shockwave and rolled like rag dolls against the sapphire-like ice. Turning his attention to the rest of the room, he scanned for anymore threats to annihilate.

He could still see Gilda dashing and rolling about as she thrashed away with her sword at several other snow trolls, the multiple slashes and stabs surely chipping the monsters down bit by bit. He needed a target of his own, one fresh and untouched.

Spotting a lone troll by the edge of the chamber, he magically leaped off from where he stood and landed meters away from it. Before it could even roar in intimidation, he raised the tips of his fingers and fired a continuous blast of electricity toward the creature.

The volts slammed into the troll, holding it solidly in place as the energy continued to scorch and zap it unmercifully. He felt a rush of excitement as the troglodyte moaned in pain from his magic, the bloodthirsty beast finally beginning brought back down to size by one much more powerful than it.

Suddenly, breaking his hold on the creature, an unseen beast swung at him from behind with a clawed arm, striking him across the face and sending him sprawling to the ground. He could feel the sting of a cut across his face and tasted the bitter iron of his own blood dripping down his face.

Gritting his teeth in rage, he felt the power within him swell as he rolled back to his feet. Channeling the magic back into his fists, he swung forward in his own strike and decked the attacking beast in the chest. The energy-infused punch exploded against the troll, as well throwing it backwards from sheer force.

Still feeling the rage pound up through his body, he peered viciously for the beast he’d been electrocuting prior. He spotted it, weakly bounding back toward the distracted Gilda, who still was keeping a crowd of five other trolls at bay with her single sword.

“No you don’t,” he growled, knowing all to well what the monster was attempting to do, “I won’t let you.”

Seething with anger now, he darted forward in a magic powered sprint and leaped at the trolls unguarded back. Grabbing two large tufts of its gangly fur, he erupted a wave of electricity through his hands and into the troll’s body.

The beast screamed in pain as its body was encased in a solid burst of energy. He could see the creature’s skeleton flashing in and out of focus as sparks jumped wildly off the edges of its body. A slight burning smell came from where he stood; still savagely clutching the monstrosity that had attempted to hurt his friend.

He knew that the creature was done for, yet he continued to send the electricity through its body, the hate towards the single solitary creature pushing him to limits he’d never yet felt. The power that he held in his hands, the rush that went through his body, it was exhilarating, powerful, and utterly fresh to when he normally attempted magic.

Suddenly, he remembered, from what felt like a dozen lifetimes ago, a lesson from his estranged friend and teacher, Twilight Sparkle. There have been wizards who've chosen that path, a most destructive and self-deprecating one, but a path nonetheless.

Alistair grimaced and shook his head, but he was unable to get the voice out of his mind. Never even consider what I speak of. Just because you are different from those in Equestria does not excuse you from what that darkness will bring. No matter if you’re a griffon, or dragon, or pony, it was always corrupt. Always.

The recollection of her words enraged him even further, and he increased the voltage he inflicted upon the hopeless creature. You left me he thought viciously towards the voice of Twilight, the closest manifestation of her he could get. Abandoned me, became your own god while leaving me to pick up the pieces. Expecting me to act like nothing changed. He snarled and let out one final surge of electricity. I hate you.

“That’s enough!” commanded Gilda, her voice booming off the cave walls. “Alistair, release him.”

He snapped back into reality and saw that he was still clutching the snow troll, its body now almost entirely charred and mangled beyond recognition. Slowly releasing the creature from his grasp, the lifeless corpse fell to the ground with a thud that too echoed through the cave.

Holding his hands out, he saw that the normally blue aura of energy in his hands was now a crimson red, with a black trail of smoke coming of its edges instead of the normal silver. Glancing at them in disbelief, he abruptly ended the channeling of the magic, making both auras disappear.

“What the heck was that?” she demanded aggressively. “You turned that troll into barbeque, what’s gotten into you?”

He absently looked down at the large smoking corpse, then back to Gilda. “I don’t know. It was going to attack you, and then I stopped it. From there…I don’t know.”

Gilda pursed her lip. “Are you sure? I mean, I wasn’t scared or anything, but you kinda freaked me out.”

He blinked blindly. “I’m sorry…I just…I don’t know…”

“Here,” said Gilda as she nudged Alistair forward through the atrium, “how about we set up camp pretty soon. You don’t look so good.”

Still being guided by Gilda, he passively nodded. “I think I would like that…a lot.”

“Good, then let’s get going.”

Gilda gently led him forward, his glazed eyes stuck open without a single blink between them. Looking back at his hands, he stared at them, feeling something utterly different now taking place.

Invisible Hand

A squad of six colts inspected the small cave chamber, moving to and fro from each corner of the space inspecting every inch they walked across.

Each had a heavy wool muffler about their face with snow goggles further shrouding them from official recognition. On their torso each wore a matching gray and blue garment, a survival vest of sorts with several small pockets and openings able to store a pack-full of necessary supplies.

A new pony entered the space, this one a mare but still with the same outfit as the rest of her companions. A lavender mane popped up through her pulled down goggles and gray fur could be easily seen beyond her unmarked vest. And despite her face being fully concealed by the cloth, her presence alone seemed to hold a commanding aura that prompted all the colts within the space to stop what they were doing previously and stand at direct attention.

“Where is your commanding officer?” she coolly asked through the muffled garment, her voice ringing through the ears of all who heard it.

“I am!” called a muscular earth pony from her right. “Is there something you request?”

“The items of interest you have recovered thus far,” she answered. “I wish to know of them and their importance to our search.” She leaned in toward the colt, her voice suddenly harsh. “I trust you have found something of significance?”

The colt nervously swallowed. “Yes ma’am. As of now we’ve located an opened tin can, a scrap of green fabric, a few small feathers, three threads of a chestnut mane—”

“They’ve been here,” she stated absently to both the colt and everypony in the silent chamber, “just yesterday if the feathers you located did not crumble from advanced exposure to the ice.” She sighed. “We just missed them. We’ll have to find another tactically viable location to begin our attack. Agents, lets get moving.”

Without hesitation to see if anypony would jump to the command, the mare began down the exit passageway in the chamber, going further into the bowels of the complex ice cave system.

She heard the wordless clicks of other sets of hooves behind, signaling that the agents under her domain were fast learners when it came to her instructions. She smiled wickedly beneath the thick wool muffler. That’s exactly what she hoped.

Alistair didn’t remember falling asleep, but the swirling vortex around him signaled that it some point it had gotten to him. The fog this time was blacker, an obsidian cloud that rushed around him menacingly, threatening to move in on where he stood and suck him into its dark embrace.

He didn’t even look down at his feet as the gray earth beneath him shattered, he knew he was falling once again into a blinding white light. But where he would end up still remained a mystery. He waited in freefall for the answer to be given.

“I’m leaving now,” said Alistair studiously as he clutched the leather suitcase tightly with sweaty palms. “The train’s pulling in at noon, just thought I should say goodbye.”

Twilight beamed at him, a joyful gaze that seemed to exemplify her kindness and wisdom outwards…just like Princess Celestia.

“Alistair,” she said brightly, “I can’t even say how proud I am of you, finally going off to make your own way in the world. It’s been quite a journey let me tell you.”

A slight, uncomfortable smile crossed his face as he nodded in acknowledgement. “It sure has been.”

Twilight sighed happily. “I remember first speaking with you that stormy night, how scared we both were of one another. Me more so than you if you can believe it.”

He rigidly nodded. “I bet.”

“We were so distant from one another, both keeping our space from one another. Such a strange time.”

She reached in with both her hooves and wrapped them around him, tenderly hugging Alistair with every ounce of her absent kindness. He quickly snaked his own arms around her, doing his best to match her action in tow.

As they embraced, he couldn’t help but swallow his own feelings as the recent addition of her Alicorn wings brushed against his side. Now was not the time.

“So what are you going to be doing once you arrive in Canterlot? I hope you’re not going to go at it too hard on your first day.”

He shook his head faintly, keeping glacially calm as he spoke. “I’m just going to settle in with the housing. My first day isn’t till tomorrow.”

Twilight shook her head in disbelief. “I just can’t comprehend it, my friend, an Equestrian diplomat. But I guess you know what it’s like having a friend in politics, right?” She jokingly nudged him, implying her own position within Equestria’s royal hierarchy.

He nodded tightly in agreement, Twilight’s passive implication gnawing slightly at him. “It’s not too difficult once you get used to it. Just go through the rounds every few days and then it just seems like commonplace.”

“I would certainly hope so,” she sighed once again. “Have they given you any idea where your first assignment might be?”

He shrugged. “They listed several possible places. The Vile Stretch, Griffon Kingdom, Dragon Territory, even the outlying regions of Tartarus if you can believe it.”

“The Vile Stretch?” repeated Twilight. “Why on Earth would they have you go there, that’s in Equestria?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if I had more assignments to other parts of the country. The ponies in the swamp regions don’t take very kindly to being bossed around by a city that’s thousands of miles away from them. They’ve always been an unruly bunch.”

Twilight shook her head. “I hope they don’t send you on anything too dangerous. You’re still a child after all, no matter how you look.” She paused. “But I shouldn’t keep you waiting; you’ve got a train to catch.”

He nodded, keeping an over courteous manner that he hadn’t used since first meeting Twilight all those years ago. He’d been scared then, unsure and plainly uncomfortable, cautious over how he acted and displayed himself. Oddly, that’s exactly how he felt now.

“I’ll be sure to write to you once I arrive,” he said as he turned to walk into the train station. “It’ll be short, but there will be more to come afterwards.” He began to walk towards the station’s double doors, not wishing to say anymore in his obligatory farewell to his old ‘friend’.

“Good luck!” she called cheerfully, unaware of his own intentions. Pushing against the glass door, he turned around and waved a farewell, a simple and dismissive gesture, but one that appeared legitimate and heartfelt.

Twilight of course took the bait, not even once picking up on the distant attitude he kept while they spoke or while she’d been a Princess for the past few months. Darkening at the thought of this, he steadily pushed his way through the door without even a backwards glance to her.

Alistair’s eyes twitched open and were met with a dim blue light reflecting off the cave’s ice walls. The dream had not come at much of a surprise for him at this point. The cycle of reflection had been spinning for nearly half the year, ever since he saw Twilight for the last time.

Ever since then he’d doctored excuses, overworked himself, and even made covert trips to Ponyville just to visit with his two pals Jam and Commodore and their ever increasing circle of other young colts they as well knew. Granted, Twilight did now have a new permanent residence within her whole kingdom, negating the entire need for secrecy in the first place.

He still wrote to the mare, keeping her informed of what was going on in his life while still maintaining a comfortable distance from her. It was much easier to write through pen and paper then to see her face to face, with her changed disposition and arching Alicorn wings to boot.

Interesting enough, she hadn’t even seemed to notice his shrinking presence from her life, not even realizing that he’d been along the fridges for so long, shifting in and out from their former friendship little by little.

That’s what him the most, that she hadn’t even noticed the gap that had formed, the fostered dislike that grew within him each passing day. And the whole business with acquiring her own kingdom didn’t help their relationship either, furthering an inadequacy that had started the day the golden tiara had been placed atop her head.

But he didn’t want to think about that now; he mulled it over in his mind too much on a daily basis, the thought never really escaping from the cage of his mind. The feelings that they brought were slowly engraving themselves into him, beginning to define him just as his own personality already did.

It was hatred, pure and simple. Although not red hot and simmering around the edges, the idea of it all was still there, cold and lifeless. He could stand writing to her, maybe even stand speaking with her once again, but nothing so far had shaken the deadness he felt towards her, a black void that had replaced the memories he once shared with her and one that grew in power whenever even her face appeared in his head.

But the most striking of it all was that it seemed he’d grown tougher from it, more weathered against torment whether it be physical or emotional. When he’d let the rage coarse through his veins during the snow trolls ambush, he felt a power never quite experienced by him before. It felt like control, like he finally had some semblance of representation in how things played out for him.

For too long he’d been running from his own life, not quite sure where to go or where to continue. He’d never formed a long term plan when living under Twilight’s wing, the sheer enjoyment seeming to negate any necessity of actually planning for one day leaving her. And unfortunately, it had happened and he had no tactic to go off of.

He was directionless really, without any real want or desire to go off of for the rest of his days. And all though some would see this as a positive mindset, one that encouraged humility and independence, he saw it as something different. He saw it as how life had been for him before Equestria, before he’d experienced true happiness and learned the magic of friendship as Twilight had described it.

Now, there was nothing for him. And even though he had other friends and other interests, something integral to his existence was gone, and without it he was lost.

Turning over onto his side, he forcibly closed his eyes, no longer wishing to reflect on his ever changing world. For now, he had a journey to complete and until then he had more important things to worry about. If only it could always be that way.

Braced For Impact

The glow of the crackling fire barely illuminated the close expanse that it set in, casting bleak shadows across the sapphire walls. From a distance away, a howling wind could be heard, giving hint that the long cave network Gilda and Alistair had been travelling through was finally coming to an end.

It was the first time they’d ever lit a fire pit along the entire trip, always deciding to deal with the nasty chill through blankets and warm clothing. But now, as it seemed that more casual liberties could be exercised, they enjoyed the greeting warmth it gave them, displaying just a mild amount of comfort that they both rightfully deserved.

“Shouldn’t be long now,” he quietly announced. “We’ll definitely be topside by tomorrow afternoon.”

Gilda groaned in recognition. “Great, can’t wait to finally get outta this stinking hole. Really been in here too long.”

“Agreed,” he said while shifting his sitting position. “From here it’s a straight shoot across the canyon. From there, all we have to do is prance right into the mountain and signal for the treasure’s pick up.”

Gilda smiled dryly. “You make it sound easy.”

“If it was this wouldn’t be a two person job, now would it?”

She casually slugged him in the arm. “I can handle without the sarcasm, dweeb.”

Smiling to himself while rubbing the impact area, he stared into the smoldering heart of the fire. Turning serious for a moment, he looked back to her.

“Gilda…there’s something you should know before we continue any further. And it deals with our trip.”

She shrugged. “Go ahead.”

“We’re being hunted,” he stated simply, not wishing to drum up or add to bravado to what he spoke of. “For how long I don’t know, but the fact that they haven’t made a move yet bothers me. The tension and all that.”

“Hunted?” she repeated, making sure she’d heard him correctly. “By who, some sorta monster?”

He shook his head wearily, seeming to age right before her eyes as he spoke. “It was a few years back. A group of some sort, paramilitary more than likely. Very well trained and very well equipped. I first crossed paths with them back in Ponyville. They captured me and stuck me in a crate bound to Celestia-knows-where. It was only though the help of two friends I was able to make it out of there intact. Derailed a train in the process.”

“Do you know why there were after you in the first place?”

“I wish I did,” he said with a dejected sigh. “They were surprising tight-lipped about their motives. Nothing like the evil masterminds from the movies. My only guess is it’s something involved with—” he gestured to his human physique, “—this.”

Gilda nodded in agreement. “That would make sense, lotta creeps out there interested in that kinda stuff. But…” she looked back to him, “why didn’t you tell me this earlier? It’s kinda important you know.”

He grimaced. “I forgot. I was planning on telling you the second day, but after what happened with those snow trolls…I lost track of things.”

Gilda felt a shiver creep up her spine, recollecting on the frightening encounter with the pack of snow trolls. But her discomfort wasn’t in the creatures themselves (which she’d dispatched with ease) but Alistair’s response to them.

The blind rage he’d been spurred into, the ferocity of his attacks, and especially the blood-red glow of the magic in his hands, a far cry from the normal silver-blue that he used. She was hesitant to address it with him, but she didn’t see another opportunity up till now.

“You know…” she said slowly, “you did kinda freak me out over that entire episode. Not that I was scared or anything, just sorta bothered me is all.”

“I’m fine,” he returned coldly, “just nerves. Nothing you need to worry about.”

Gilda bit the edge of her lip. “No, I think it is something I need to worry about. You looked like an animal out there. Snarlin’, your hands clawed, you toasted one of the trolls for crying out loud.”

“So what? They were attacking us. That one I burned with my electricity was coming right for you. There’s no telling what it would’ve done while you were distracted. I did the right thing and stopped it.”

“The point is,” she retorted, “is that you weren’t actin’ yourself. It’s like someone flipped a switch or something. I’m not tryin’ to be rude or anything, but I’m just worried about you. It didn’t seem right.”

His eyes drifted towards the ground as he slowly nodded his head, agreeing silently with her. “It was just something personal,” he said in a quietly modulated voice. “You won’t ever see it again, I can promise you that. But I would prefer if we changed the subject of conversation, for my own sake.”

“Sure,” she said offhandedly, “is it gonna be about this wacko group?”

“Yes. We’re going to need a plan of attack for tomorrow, something to counter whatever the other group tries. From past experience they’re more than likely going to attempt an ambush, probably from behind us since we haven’t run into them thus far.”

“Then what do we do when they attack?”

“Run,” he said tightly. “We can’t attempt a frontal attack; they’ll tear us to shreds in seconds. They use projectile weapons when they can. These little gold spheres that pick up speed the more they graze the ground seem to be a favorite, followed by blow darts, most likely with poison.”

“And from there?”

“Find a niche to settle in to, something with adequate enough cover. From there I can pick them off with electric bursts till their numbers thin out. Nothing too harmful of course, just enough charge to knock them on their backs.”

Gilda eyed him suspiciously, not wholly convinced be his assurance. “I’d hope so.”

“Now isn’t the time to be doubting one another,” Alistair said flatly, a bit off put by her mistrust in him. “If we’re going to get through this we’re going to need the utmost confidence in one another, no matter what.”

“Even if that might involve killing in cold blood?”

Alistair winced, his teeth now clenched in thinly controlled anger. “That won’t happen, I can assure you that. I have well enough control over myself now. I just wasn’t thinking then.”

“Alright,” she said shortly. “I’ll stick with what you’re tellin’ me for now, but I still got my doubts on you. Remember that.” She pointed an endearing talon towards him to strengthen her point.

Feeling some weight lifted from his shoulders, he couldn’t help to breathe out in relief. “Thank you, you had me worried for a second.”

“So did you.”

They sat in front of the fire for another hour or so, tossing in a few passing comments but with no real conversation being struck. Eventually, as the weariness of the past days began to burden them, the two quickly stamped out the fire pit and moved to their respective sleeping corners of the cave, ready to face the next day’s approaching battle with stride.

First Strike

The lead mare stood calmly at the edge of the ice cave overhang, inspecting the two travelling figures down below. Her face remained concealed behind a large wool muffler, with a set of snow goggles further masking any facial identification.

A group of six other ponies stood behind her, equally masked in similar attire, but overly anxious to begin what they intended to do. Sensing the growing tension, the gray furred mare spoke out calmly to her subordinates.

“We have to wait just a little longer for the attack to be ready,” she said evenly. “If not timed adequately, we will fail in what we intend to do.”

“But ma’am!” shrilly whispered an eager young colt to her right. “They’re right down below us. With surprise on our side, we can be finished with them in seconds.”

The mare did not turn to the colt behind her, but merely responded to the entire group as a whole. “Agent, the element of surprise has been lost to us for nearly two years. If we are to attack, that must not be our sole advantage.”

“Two years?” the colt repeated with youthful ignorance. “What do you mean?”

The mare shook her head, as if to remove a wave of memories that washed into her mind. “It’s not relevant. What should be our top priorities is tactical execution and skill. Stealth has already evaded us as an option.”

“What?”

“They know we’re here,” she answered coolly. “They may even know we’re right up here. But the both of them, the human and the griffon, know that they cannot dispatch us from where we stand. So, they’re hoping we make the first move. Reveal ourselves and give them the advantage of countering our attack with one of their own.”

The young colt still looked confused. “Then why attack at all if they’ll follow with their own right after?”

The mare smiled a wolfish grin under her muffler. “Because their attacks can only reach so far. The griffon—if you look closely—only has about her a single saber, no ranged weapon whatsoever. The human does practices magic and has a heavy lean towards distanced lightening bursts. However, those have their own disadvantages from a range.”

“How?”

“As the concentration of magic from its original sending point grows farther and farther, the more the magic itself dissipates. There are certain spells that are able to keep a very large charge to them and thus stay concentrated for a long period of time. Lightening spells don’t.”

“The energy quickly arches outwards—as does all electricity—and loses its power the further it is from the power source. Thus, not only is the energy from the spell weakened the farther it is fired, but is as well much more inaccurate. That is why we must wait, agent.”

The colt nodded. “I think I understand now.”

“Good, then let us continue.”

Gilda really just wanted to get this whole dang thing over with. They’d been walking in silence for nearly an hour, and if what Alistair had spoken of was true, than trouble was getting closer and closer with each passing second. And with each passing second, she could feel a nervous perspiration growing under her thick layers of feathers.

She could hear the familiar howl of the outside wind getting closer signaling that their long duration in the ice caverns was finally coming to a close. But the threat of attack removed any form of relief that she should have felt.

Waiting was the worst part of it all. She wanted to rush into the gaping maws of the expected ambush, to cut through the thick and annoying layer of suspense that seemed to only weaken her composition. Fighting was something every griffon was expected to excel at, but the more she nervously waited around the more she could feel her own abilities slipping by the minute.

Breathing in deeply, she did her best to center herself, to regain some control of her shaky nerves and overactive worrying. She was able to contain some of it, but she couldn’t shake the danger sense that kept nipping at her, reminding her that something was lurking nearby.

The mare could see that they were nearing the atrium’s exit, a simple slopping incline that led to the opening mouth of the cave. From there, they would have a straight shoot across Saber Canyon and right into the ancient mountain’s catacombs.

“Prepare you velocity spheres,” she ordered glacially. “I want two of them to be explosive, the rest keep on normal settings. We must time this perfectly.”
The ponies behind reached into their vest pockets and removed the shimmering gold spheres that were their weapon of choice. Holding them gingerly in their hooves, they awaited the order to commence.

“Now.”

Alistair heard the familiar hissing sound that sliced through the air, bringing back memories of his unexpected encounter with them two years before. And just as he made the mistake last time, he instinctively turned toward to the direction of the noise and was met with a rocketing metal projectile slamming into his face.

He stumbled backwards from the impact and fell flat on his back to the icy cave floor. His body lay sprawled out in all directions, his head buzzing and disoriented as he heard more hissings of incoming spheres. He couldn’t tell where Gilda was, but he assumed she was still on her feet and still facing an insurmountable opposition.

Slowly getting to his feet, he heard another sphere whizz past his head as he charged his magic to his palms. But before he could fire a returning burst of lightening towards wherever the spheres were coming from, an explosion rang out to his right. Frozen for a moment in confusion, another sphere impacted against his shoulder.

He groaned in pain as he fell to his knees, feeling a bloody and burning tear running up through his entire upper arm. He felt a clawed hand wrap around his uninjured arm as a familiar voice shouted something over another round of explosions.

“We have to get outta here!” Gilda said, her voice coming in shaky to his ears. Helping him back to his feet, Gilda and Alistair broke into a sprint up the exiting incline. Another explosion popped behind them, but they continued forward up the slippery slope.

As he ran, Alistair fired blast after blast of electricity behind him, hoping to flush out wherever the attackers were hiding. He slowed down his climb to try and get a better shot, but he still had no visual as to where to fire.

Stopping know, he turned around and fired a hail of shots to where he anticipated the sphere’s point of origin. He clearly hadn’t gotten a confirmed hit yet, but if he kept trying…

He suddenly felt Gilda’s clawed grip bite into his wounded shoulder and thrust him forward with a surprising amount of strength. Howling at the pain, he obediently broke back into a sprint with Gilda right behind him.

He could see the end of the cave now, the misty white sky peaking up with thick trails of wind thrown snow being tossed all around. He didn’t know what they’d do once they escaped, but his mind couldn’t even contemplate a plan. For now, he had to run.

“They escaped…” said the shrill colt with a bitter edge to his voice. “They made out of here unscathed and we’re right back to where we started.”

“On the contrary,” corrected the mare, now facing him calmly, “the human is weakened. In any case we’ve done exactly what I intended to do.”

“As we speak they are disoriented and confused with what has just happened. Trying to navigate the canyon pass can be done with such a mindset, but their progress while be severely hindered. That’s where we come in.”

“To attack them again?”

“No. To beat them to their destination. From there is where we will have an ending to things, properly this time.” She gestured out to the entire space. “Now, if there are no more questions we must continue on our way. We have a large endeavor before us and I’d like for each of you to be prepared. Do I make myself clear?”

All agents nodded.

“Good, then let’s get moving.”

Retreating Fire

Dressing injuries had never been a strong suit of Gilda’s. Doing it in the middle of a snowstorm didn’t much improve her abilities either. Still, fixing a wound with medical tape and disinfectant was a tad easier when applying it to someone else than to yourself.

Thankfully Alistair only winced one or twice as she worked on the impact area on his shoulder, for the most part standing as still as possible while keeping his mouth shut to prevent any distracting shrieks of pain from escaping.

Finishing her work, she stood up from her crouched position and nodded to Alistair.

“That’s about as much as I can do. You should be fine from here, nothin’ broken or anything. Just don’t touch it.”

Alistair gravely nodded in return, his face still paled from the horrid pain he had felt earlier. “I’ll do my best.” Slowly reaching into his coat pocket, he unfolded the small parchment map and studied it for a moment.

“We’re closing in on it,” he said with as much forced cheer he could manage. “We just need to continue along the edge for a few more miles. The mountain entrance should be right in the center of it, there’s no way we can miss it.”

Gilda bit her lip nervously. “What if we run into that pack of crazies again? I’m not sure we’d fare any better than we did earlier in weather like this.”

“That’s just a risk we have to take,” he answered with a shrug. “They could be back in the cave for all we know, or maybe they got a head start while we stopped. Whichever it is, there’s no way to tell.”

“Alright,” she said hesitantly. “I guess that’s all we can do. You want me to take go first? My eyes can see farther than yours.”

He gestured for her to go first. “Lead on then. I’ll try to keep out.”

The trek through the snow was even more difficult than their first day through the simple snow drifts close to Zahn’s castle. This snow was lighter, fluffier, and much deeper. Every step they took they had to practically plow through the layer of snow that nearly reached their knees, kicking up more snow flurries that were thrown around by the wind.

Still, something had most definitely changed from the first day they began. No longer did an overhanging air of mutual dislike hang between the two travelers, but instead a better understanding of the other. They’d of course talked and got to know one another better, but it was through the simple actions of how they walked side-by-side when they could or how their style of walking was starting to become similar to the others. Not only had a relationship formed between them, but as well a connection to the other, a synergy that had probably been the only thing keeping them going at such a great pace.

It did cross Alistair’s mind about what would particularly happen once all of this was over. He’d of course go back to Canterlot and be assigned some other diplomatic mission that would most likely put him on a boat to Celestia-knows-where. Gilda would most certainly go back to Zahn’s stronghold, continuing to be a soldier in his ranks and fighting of the occasional snow troll attack when the occasion would arise. But the real question was: would they ever see each other again?

Sure, they were friends, enjoyed talking with one another, and maybe would even like going an outing of some sort just for the heck of it. But were they really close enough friends to regularly keep in contact an ocean away? He assumed not, in fact, he assumed nobody was close enough friends with anyone to continue to try and salvage a relationship like that from such a long distance.

It wouldn’t be like they weren’t friends anymore, but there was really no feasible way to check in with another from so far away. And even then there were hurdles. Griffons didn’t particularly like outsiders, especially a human within their borders, and making a habit out of it, even on a weakly basis may not bode well with the higher command.

Well forget them he thought simply. You’re already a bit short in the friend department. Letting a pompous griffon monarch get in the way of that wouldn’t really help with your stock.

Nodding in agreement with himself, he moved his attention back to the task at hand, a bit embarrassed with how easily he’d gotten distracted. For now he didn’t have the liberty to have his head in the clouds. A treasure awaited him and Gilda, and was just nearly out of their reach.

By the time they reached the base of the mountain the polar wind had picked up drastically in tenacity. In turn, even Gilda under her thick layers of fur and feathers was starting to shiver at the gaping maws of the cold.

A large set of high reaching double doors signalized the entrance to the crypt, it’s rugged black wood some how standing up to years of a never-ending snowstorm. Small engravings appeared to have once been etched upon the outer façade of the doors, but the ambient rush of wind had dulled down whatever images had once been there and simply left it a bumpy mess.

“Guess this is it,” Alistair shouted over the screeching wind, his eyes nearly shut while facing the frigid wrath. “Do you think the doors are locked?”

“I don’t know,” she shouted back, “only one way to tell.” Approaching the entrance carefully, Gilda gingerly pushed against the doors and felt them slowly arch open. Gesturing for him to follow, Gilda went inside.

As soon as he too entered the space, Gilda promptly pushed the doors shut once again.

“Can’t give the wind any chances,” she said with a grin.

He giggled. “Thinking ahead, that’s pretty out of character for you.”

“Shut it, dweeb.”

The space they found themselves appeared to be some sort of cross between nature and deliberate architecture. The inner sanctum was comprised of hardened blue ice, but it had a grayish tinge to it that set it apart from the sapphire-like walls from the caverns and made it seem more like stone than anything else.

The room’s ceiling was something of a cathedral, with a spire like projection that just kept spanning upwards. A dim light shone down from the top of the chamber, giving the large bare space some form of illumination. But still, off to their sides was almost complete darkness, making the room feel even more brooding then the caves they’d spent so much time in.-

Little stone statues stood beside each door, abstract projections of something artistic that Alistair couldn’t quite put his finger on. The figures were aged, cracked at several parts, and lacking any color to distinguish it from anything in particular. He took note to examine them later.

“Pretty creepy…” Gilda quietly exclaimed as she walked to the center of the atrium. “It’s like bein’ in a castle with all the torches blown out. Feels like the walls are cavein’ in all by themselves.”

Alistair shivered and moved with her. “Please don’t talk about cave ins. That’s the last thing we need right now.” He stopped and did a quick take of everything once again. “I wonder where we should start looking.”

“Your map doesn’t tell you where the treasure is?”

He shook his head. “Just told us how to get here, finding it is our task.”

“You’re not serious…”

“Nope,” he said with another shake of his head, “if there was some record of where it might be, it’s in the ruined library the map was first found in…all the way back in Canterlot.”

Gilda groaned. “This is gonna take forever…”

“I wouldn’t expect so,” called an icy and unfamiliar voice echoing out from the shadowed sides of the chamber. “I’d say your trip is almost near its end.”

Insurmountable Opposition

“Who’s there!?” growled Gilda, drawing her sword aggressively.

The voice in the shadows chuckled, and then turned abruptly cold. “I have little time for your show of force, griffon. Drop your weapon, or face the consequences.”

Gilda grit her teeth. “You don’t scare me.”

“Really? Your companion seems compliant enough.”

She turned to Alistair and saw that he had not risen to the threat from the mysterious voice. In fact, his entire body seemed to be frozen in a state of internal query, his eyes glazed and absently searching for the mysterious speaker.

“That voice…” he muttered to himself. “That…voice…I’ve heard it…”

“What did you do to him!?” Gilda demanded, her voice beginning to crack in panic.

The mysterious speaker chuckled once again. “I have not done anything. The human’s response is simply due to my presence.”

“Who are you!?”

As if on cue, the figure stepped out from the shadowed outer rim of the large crypt and into the center sanctum’s light. It was a pony, masked by a large wool muffler over a majority of its face with a set of snow goggles tucked tightly over its eyes. The figure wore a blue and grey combat vest of sorts around its torso, with several pockets and zippers along each side, holding no doubt a nasty treasure trove of equipment.

But despite the veiled appearance, one could still tell it was a mare behind such thick garments, with a lavender mane and gray fur sprouting out from the several uncovered areas on her body.

Following close behind her, were several other equally masked ponies, all standing behind her at close attention and all staring silently toward where Gilda and Alistair stood.

“Surprised?” the gray mare said coolly, gesturing out to her phalanx of support. “You really did take your time getting here. Thankfully that gave us plenty of time to prepare.”

“I can still take you on,” Gilda shot back, her claw tightening against her sword’s hilt. “I can take all of you on. Just come at me and you’ll see, you won’t last a—”

Alistair kindly placed a hand on Gilda’s shoulder and spoke to her softly. “Hold on a minute Gilda. I can take it from here.” Stepping ahead of where she stood, he confidently glanced toward the masked mare with crossed arms.

“You can take the mask off; I already know it’s you.”

The mare shook her head. “Took you long enough. A few minutes of you standing there like an idiot and I was considering just telling you outright.” Reaching forward with both her hooves, she yanked the muffler down to her neck and positioned the goggles atop her forehead, revealing the entirety of her face.

“Shale,” he said with an awed wonder, his suspicions confirmed. “It really is you.”

“You’re quick as ever,” she said sarcastically with a smirk. “Did the fur give it away? The mane? Perhaps my charming personality?”

His expression darkened. “I can do without the sarcasm, witch.”

“Now, now,” Shale mockingly scolded him, “there’s no need to start calling me names. Especially when they’re childish and not very well thought out.”

Alistair’s face tightened. “What are you even doing here? I’d think that you and your band of losers would have something better to do than hunt me down again.”

“We’ve been keeping busy.”

“With what?” he snorted. “Preparing for two years just to try something that you know won’t work? Face it Shale, I beat you last time, I can beat you again.”

Shale’s eyes ignited with hatred, feeling a sting of her own at Alistair’s passing reference. “First, the organization we represent has several other tasks on its plate that don’t solely involve you. Second, it was the train derailing that stopped me, not your own combat abilities. And third, no, you still don’t stand a chance in Hades.”

“Big talk for somepony who doesn’t even know who they’re up against.”

“Likewise, human.”

Alistair smiled with ever-increasing confidence, evening himself into a spread stance. “If you’re going to attack I suggest you do it while you can. My friend and I are already prepped for anything you have to throw at us.”

“Funny,” said Shale firmly, “but I doubt you stand any better chance, companion or no companion.”

A glitter moved across Alistair’s eyes. “I guess we’ll see then.”

Silence hung in the air for a moment, both groups looking readily across from one another, waiting to see who would make the first move. Seeing that neither Alistair nor Gilda would take the initiative, Shale raised her hoof commandingly.

“Agents,” he said calmly, “attack.”

On command, with absolutely no hesitation within their ranks, the lines of agents charged toward Gilda and Alistair, swords and daggers raised high above their heads.

Gilda unsheathed her long saber from her side holder as Alistair quickly charged his magic to the center of his palms. Acting on what seemed like singular thought; the two friends began their own well timed defense.

Alistair unleashed a crackling wave of blue electricity across the first line of troops, stopping them dead in their tracks and causing the line behind them to as well stop their advance.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Gilda boosted upwards with her propelling wings and landed behind the second line. Slashing madly at the unsuspecting agents, Gilda cut a considerable path through the distracted force with excellent precession.

Alistair still held the first line within the confines of his electricity, but tactically concluded that he couldn’t hold them back forever. Telekinetically grabbing them (a spell he did not frequent), he lifted them upwards into the air and tossed them right over the still striking Gilda.

The helpless first line hurtled into the third line of agents, leaving only the fourth and final phalanx undisturbed by the two brave hearted heroes. Alistair could see Shale standing all the way at the back of the battle, speaking something to the waiting fourth line. Nodding to them, Shale took off galloping into the darkened out regions of the room.

“She’s getting away!” Alistair shouted to Gilda.

“Go after her!” she yelled back, ducking over a hail of slashing swords.

Just as the words left her mouth, the fourth and remnants of the third line chose that moment to charge toward the occupied Gilda, no doubt with the intention to overwhelm her abruptly.

“There’s too many of them,” he desperately declared, “you can’t fight them all!”

Gilda sidestepped an opposing blade and parried against another. “You can’t let that scum ball get away. No go, I can handle this!”

“But—”

“Go!”

Not thinking twice, he sprinted around the large cluster of agents surrounding Gilda and into the dark reaches of the crypt. As he ran, he fired a handful of lightening bolts into the agent cluster, praying that it would be enough to buy Gilda some time. Turning back around, he ran headlong into pitch black sector, completely unknowing of what lied ahead.

Given Purpose

Alistair shuffled slowly along the dark passageway’s wall, his right arm rested against the stony cold surface while his left was outstretched forward in detection. The distant echoing of Shale’s galloping hooves against the floor was becoming fainter and fainter by the minute, a clear sign that she was getting further and further away.

Gritting his teeth in frustration, he hastened his speed, hoping that the dastardly witch wouldn’t slip through his grasp once again. But as he took another step forward in the black and seemingly endless tunnel, he felt the supporting wall to his right suddenly disappear.

Stepping back in horror, he frantically felt around for the solid flat surface that had been his single guiding force for Celestia-knows how long. His palms rubbed against a blocky corner, followed with another wall that moved off farther in a different direction. Sighing dejectedly to himself, he knew all to well what this meant.

He was in some sort of room now, more than likely grandiose and decrepit as was the rest of the mountain’s inner décor. An echo of his own footsteps travelled around where he stood, giving evidence to a large chamber. Other than these possible assumptions, he had absolutely no idea where he was.

“Shale?!” he yelled out shrilly, praying that he hadn’t completely lost what he was looking for, and, that the only other pony who could navigate their way out of the crypt hadn’t disappeared.

“You lost?” echoed her mocking voice from somewhere in the chamber. “Want my help, even after all that talking about ‘beating you this time’? I’m getting mixed messages here.”

A bead of sweat rolled down Alistair’s brow as he stammered out a response. “I-I…w-we…could you just come out already? I know you’re in here.”

Shale chuckled. “And ruin the fun of watching you bumble around pathetically in the dark? Not a chance, kid.”

Alistair spun around searchingly, trying to detect some vague direction of where her voice travelled from. Problem was, it didn’t even seem to travel through the room, but instead boomed all throughout it, with no point of origin to go off of.

“So are you going to kill me then?” he retorted with as much strength he could muster into his words.

“Kill you?” she repeated. “I don’t want to kill you, at least not anymore. For now I have other purposes for you, specific ones in fact.”

“Such as?”

“A conversational sparing partner,” she said with a patronizing twinge and no doubt a big smile on her face as well. “I wish to talk, as friends if you’d like.”

“You’re no friend of mine,” he said harshly. “And you never will be.”

“Really? Because from what I understand you’re having a little trouble with companionship as of recent, especially with a certain Princess Twilight.”

“Don’t you even speak that name!” he snarled viciously with balled fists. “Leave that…mare out of this, now!”

“Interesting,” she said coolly, “most interesting indeed. I understood that you have a disdain for the pony but this is a very enlightening display indeed.”

“Shut up!” he shouted once again, his eyes now swiveling for her location with an animal-like ferocity.

“You don’t have to hide it, I’m already aware of your thoughts regarding her.”

“Shut up!”

“You hate her,” echoed her voice eerily but with a deeply soothing tone. “Ever since that fateful day when the crown was placed atop her head, you’ve hated her with every fiber of your being.”

“Stop it!”

“You’ve tried denying it, running from it, and yet she continues to act in the way you despise. Your once charming and kind friend replaced with a hollow shell of who she once was. Now a miniature copy of the all powerful deity she’s always aspired to be.”

“That’s not true!” he yelled indignantly. “She’ll change I know it, she’ll…” his voice broke off, the desperate wish dying even before he spoke it in full.

“Denying your true feelings will get you nowhere, Alistair. Embrace what you feel inside, acknowledge it, and grow to understand it. Even those cut off from the arcane can sense the rage within, seeping out from your very state of being, almost as if a tangible part of yourself.”

“I…”

“Accept yourself,” she said calmly, “and the pain you have felt for so long will finally set you free.”

“That can’t—”

“Let it go, you’ve carried this on for too long. She is not your friend.”

An icy emptiness slowly crystallized in the crest of his chest. A cold rage flowed back through his veins, the same feeling he’d experienced while viciously fighting the snow trolls just days before. He felt powerful and in control, some form of clarity pocking through the muddled cloud that had become of his mind ever since his life had fallen to pieces.

“It’s her fault,” he muttered, his voice beginning to darken past its normal tone. “She changed, her personality, her etiquette. So wise, so perfect…so detached.”

Alistair paused as he let the weight of his words bore themselves into his mind, furthering his rage toward the lavender mare that had abandoned and forgotten him so long ago. “She must pay.”

“What that be productive for you?” she asked evenly, sensing the rising emotion already clouding his senses. “Pursuing after her with an empty ambition of simply evening the score? That won’t change anything, in fact, it could make things worse.”

Alistair could feel his nerves beginning to cool, Shale’s logic calming him to a mildly stagnant state. Sensing that he was now listening, she continued.

“There are more constructive things for you to do with your talents, no matter what your anger tells you. You have acknowledged your true feelings, but you still fail to control them.”

“Then what should I do?” he asked. “I thought there was a point of you telling me all this.”

“There is, but you aren’t ready for it, not now. You have much to learn and much to reflect on. Specifically, who’s helping who.”

Shale tightly smiled, relishing in what she was about to say while throwing every bit of her own true passion into it. “You were new to the entire structuring of the society, or just the existence of society at all. You didn’t grow up with the benefit of learning about other forms of administration and control. You were unfortunately thrust right into its midst without any realization that something could be different.”

Alistair raised an eyebrow. “Are you talking about Equestria?”

“Yes, that is exactly what I mean. A country born off the literal personification of chaos and one shaped by the necessity of cooperation among those different from one another. A grand beginning to be quite honest, but one that is now shackled by inadequacy in the present.”

“Inadequate?” he repeated while scratching his head. “How is that?”

Shale stamped her hoof with a sudden anger when addressing the subject. “Because all those living in Equestria are unable to truly understand what they have before them, a nation of strength and promise, but also one of tyranny and spinelessness.”

“Griffon pirates continually raid off the southern coasts; dragons seasonally destroy whatever they come across during their migrations, creatures from Tartarus escape at random, Vile Stretch ponies continually causing political instability.”

“Almost every year some ancient threat arises along the kingdom’s fringes, an all-powerful force strikes unseen from the shadows and only through pure luck and the competence of a few ponies is the entire kingdom allowed to survive.”

“When the Changelings reemerged right under Celestia’s snout, what happened? Celestia was defeated by their queen, imprisoned, and left to watch as her student was able to salvage the situation and actually make herself useful. Is that what a leader should do?”

Alistair shook his head.

“Good,” she complemented with satisfaction, “you’re learning.”

“Has anypony ever challenged this?” the boy asked studiously, the facts supplied from Shale slowly beginning to make sense. “Surely somepony would be against how she’s handled things, especially as of recent.”

Shale sighed grimly. “Once—a very long time ago. It was her sister, Luna, the one who’s taken to being her lackey once again. Back then however, she openly challenged Celestia’s tyranny, tried to stop the evil that had become of her sister. They fought, but unfortunately Celestia’s power was too great. Luna was defeated, branded a traitor, and banished to the moon for an a thousand year imprisonment. A deadly message to all those brave enough to question the Princess of the Sun.”

“That’s insane!” cried Alistair indignantly. “How can she get away with something like that?”

“Because she’s the ruler of Equestria, and what she says goes.” Shale’s voice turned even colder than before. “The country you represent through your diplomatic matters is not a wholly sound one. It has the potential of a truly grand society, but the single mare who rules over it is both incapable to lead and mad with her own power.” She paused and exhaled deeply. “And need I remind you what her royalty did to you as well?”

A dark shadow seemed to cast itself visually over Alistair, one even darker and emptier than the endless crypt they found themselves in. “I remember, I remember all too well.”

“Than you understand who is at fault, both directly and indirectly? You understand the steps to what has led you to this very day, speaking with me at this very moment.”

Alistair nodded gravely. “Yes.”

“Than you have taken your first step.”

Alistair heard a clicking of hooves against stone followed by a large drop onto something solid. A few moments later, he felt a hoof rest against his shoulder.

“Follow me,” commanded Shale quietly, “I have something to show you.”

Nudging him forward with her foreleg, Alistair took a few steps blindly forwards. Placing her hoof against his back, she slowly guided him through another black abyss, a strange aura of trust tying them both together.

Doomed From the Start

Alistair stared out silently at the foreign chamber, query and intrigue in his eyes as they floated to and fro from the room’s center point. Straightening himself, he turned around to where Shale stood behind him, stoically inspecting him and his reaction to the space she’d brought him to.

“Is this it?” he said studiously. “This is what you wanted to show me?”

Shale nodded evenly. “Yes, this was our destination.”

“And…” he looked around the space another take, “is this it then? I don’t see much of anything around.”

“Do you?” she said coolly. “Inspect the space once again, pay attention to anything out of the ordinary.”

He didn’t see much of anything odd about the chamber itself, minus its complete contrast to the rest of the mountain’s underbelly. For one thing there was not the pitch black darkness that had soaked every corner of the stony expanse, but instead a bright bluish light that cascaded out magically from the chamber’s gleaming sapphire ice walls.

The chamber itself was positioned in a circular fashion, with a low roof and a single exit leading out into the passageway that had led them there.

One of the walls at the near back of the small room seemed to be missing a considerable chunk of its outer ice structuring, with even brighter blue light seeping out from the vacant space. A few paces away from the large hole in the wall was an odd patch of a spongy black substance of some kind, caked along two of the wall corners and seeping up towards the ceiling. It was frosted and cracked along the edges giving evidence to long environmental exposure to the mountain’s controlled but still cold temperature.

“That black material,” he remarked, “what is it?”

“Look closer.”

The gunk did look familiar to him, maybe more recognizable if not for the age to it, but he couldn’t help but recall seeing it somewhere before. It had a lunar look to it, with several gaping holes asymmetrically around each side with large jagged points jutting out at random. It looked insectoid to him, but he knew all to well that in no way could any bug that big could be native to the arctic vortex they were in, the climate simply uninhabitable to such primitive creatures.

“I don’t understand, is there something I should know?”

Shale grimaced, some discomfort coming from speaking about the foreign mass. “It’s from a large and simple-minded species in the distant nether-regions of the planet. For one who lives in Equestria, you should most certainly remember their reemergence.”

Alistair’s eyes widened. “The Changelings.” he concluded with a whisper. “They were here…for the treasure. Where is it now?”

“Gone,” Shale said coldly, taking a few steps back from behind him. Wishing to speak further on this he turned around and immediately felt a painful slam of something dense and metal against the side of his head. Lurching sideways, he collapsed silently to the floor, feeling any even greater darkness seep into his eyes.

It was difficult carrying the dead weight of Alistair along her back through the shadowed tunnels, even more so while remembering the precise way to get back to the entry sanctum. But as Shale neared the small opening out into the massive stone and ice atrium, she gingerly slung Alistair back onto the floor and simply dragged his small body along with her.

Coming out to the wide open space, she could clearly hear the still clashing and clanging of sword versus sword, no doubt the human’s griffon companion still refusing to abandon her pointless fight.

And sure enough there she was, still in the center point of the chamber, still impressively holding her own against at least twenty other agents and their assortment of bladed weapons. Thirty other agents lay sprawled across the floor, small and large cuts across their body’s as they moaned and griped in pain. Thankfully, there appeared to be no mortalities.

Walking into the brighter light that shone down from the high roofed chamber, Shale casually dragged the unconscious Alistair behind her, waiting for the foolhardy griffon female to finally notice what had become of her friend.

After a few more moments of rigorous sidestepping, countering, and her own hurl of offensive strikes, she briefly cast a tactical glance toward the placidly standing Shale…and the motionless Alistair who lay beside her.

A thousand different emotions flashed through the griffon’s eyes as her own assumption of what had happened set in. Settling on one of both rage and despair, she raised her sword barbarically above her head.

“Murderer!” she screamed in anguish, charging toward Shale with her sword outstretched in a wide swing.

Waiting for the creature to be just within reach of her, Shale gracefully sidestepped the griffon’s charge and swung her own hoof around right into amalgamated creature’s jaw. Buckling backwards while clutching its face, the stunned attacker slashed madly with her sword, unable to focus properly though the ringing in her skull.

Taking the advantage, Shale briskly leaped forwards into the air and planted another hoof strike to its face. The griffon stumbled back again, as Shale followed with a well placed hit to its stomach and finished with a devastating mule kick to the griffon’s shoulders. Collapsing harshly to its knees, Shale grinned with a glowing sense of victory.

“Murderer…” muttered the griffon weakly, looking down dismally at the floor. “You killed him…you killed my friend.” The griffon looked up at Shale with a fierce fire through eyes that nearly caused her to shudder in fear…nearly.

Shale, her wits fully gathered, glared back. “He’s not dead, he’s unconscious. Despite what you may or may not want to believe about my own code of ethics, I don’t kill without a good enough reason.”

“You’d make one up,” the griffon spat. “I can see it in you. You’re nothing but a psycho. You try to act all intelligent and calculating but you’re really just a punk who’s good at tracking people down and hurting ‘em.”

The griffon’s voice rose with an ever-increasing confidence. “I swear, when I get the chance, I will hunt you down. You think you can just do this to me? To my friend? You’re wrong. I’ll get the chance, and when that day finally comes I’ll—”

Shale slammed her foreleg’s elbow atop the griffon’s head, sending the bold female crumpling to the ground without another word.

“The day will finally come when you shut up,” Shale finished with a sneer, turning away from the unconscious griffon.

Shale briskly made her way over to the large cluster of now absently standing agents at the far side of the chamber, with several caring to their wounded comrades still laying on the floor.

“Who is the highest ranking of you all?” she asked tightly, not in the mood for having to locate the second in command herself. She never was in much the habit of learning her subordinates’ names, not specifically caring who they where, only wishing for them to fulfill whatever task she gave them.

“Me ma’am,” called a familiarly shrill yellow colt who slowly limped up to her. “Is there something you request?”

“Yes…” she said casting a look down at the helpless bunch of ponies not skilled enough to evade the griffon’s attacks. “How soon can we get the wounded into a transportable state? I’d like for us to be at least three miles out before those two wake up.”

The yellow colt pondered this and did his best to nod attentively. “From what I’ve seen so far it should take us no longer than thirty minutes to get everypony in working order. However, it may take us a bit longer to cover that sort of distance, even if the weather is permitting.”

“Alright,” agreed Shale, “that should be good enough. The pick up point is just down the ridge, but I assume we’ll be late on arrival as well?”

The colt nodded.

“No matter, we’ll definitely make it by nightfall.”

“But ma’am,” responded the colt shakily, feeling a vulnerability from questioning a superior agent’s judgment. “The human, shouldn’t we just take him with his? He seems in a feeble enough state.”

Shale shook her head. “Our mission was never to take him with us, only to interact when the time was right. The Night Lords have their own plans for him, not us.”

“And what if he comes after us?” the colt pressed. “Would we be able to stop him from doing any more damage?”

Shale smiled a wolfish grin, one that dripped with satisfaction and confidence. “I wouldn’t count on him following us, not after the conversation we had between one another. He’s already starting to see things properly.”

She looked back over to where the boy still laid, his head gently resting against the cold stone floor, looking ever so peaceful in a distant slumber. Smiling to herself, Shale knew what great things the boy would be destined for, all thanks to her guidance.

Turning back to the colt she patted his shoulder gratefully. “Go get some medical attention agent; you’ve earned it and you need it. I’ll deal with things from here.”

Saluting to her graciously, the yellow colt scurried back into the cluster of shuffling ponies.

Shale stood back, casually observing the fine progress her agents were making. A positive flow of happiness coerced through her body, lightening her mood even more than before. She recognized this feeling, understood and appreciated it whenever it made itself clear to her. It was the feeling of success.

No Distance Too Great...

Zahn smiled sardonically down from his throne at the sullen looking Alistair and Gilda, cherishing their expressions with his own self-entitled superiority over them. They had just arrived back at the stronghold gates not even an hour earlier and of course the regional “governor”—more so, king—wished to learn of their adventure and exploits. But most importantly, he wanted to know if the alluded treasure had really been successfully acquired.

The graying griffon male didn’t quite see himself as one to be too concerned with money and its loose promises, but what the human had described was an ambiguous wonderland of free and legal loot, all ripe for the taking to whoever came across it first. Instead, what he got for funding the escapade as well as supplying one of his own troops as protection was two stout-faced adventurers and not a hint of compensation

Sighing with an exaggerated heaviness, he mockingly shook his head. “And here I was thinking you two would actually succeed. Two able-bodied thrill seekers with stars glittering in their eyes.” He shook his head again. “Guess I thought wrong.”

“The treasure was gone when we got there,” said Alistair tightly, taking a few steps toward the raised part of the room where Zahn’s throne sat. “The Changelings got to it first, who knows how long ago but definitely not recently.”

Zahn snickered. “You’re joking, right? This is your joke, some elaborate way to make me forget about you failure? Because if it is…” Zahn’s eyebrows suddenly furrowed, “it’s not working.”

“I’m not joking,” he insisted. “The Changelings really were there. I saw remnants of a small hive within the treasure chamber. It was cracked and frozen over but definitely there.”

Zahn cocked an eyebrow while inquisitively leaning forward in his throne. “Changelings? In the Northern Griffon Kingdom? Impossible, they have no purpose in our land. Especially with treasure, I doubt they even use money.”

“I’m not lying.” Alistair said with quiet exasperation. “I really did see it.”

“Don’t test my patience, boy,” the griffon monarch retorted harshly. “First you try to tell me you were attacked by some imaginary group of murderers, now Changelings are in the equation too? I hope you’re not taking me for a fool.”

“There was an attacking group of ponies,” Gilda cut in, too taking a few steps towards Zahn. “They were really well trained, had equipment, weapons, even these weird spheres that bounced against the ground and—”

“Enough!” shouted Zahn, thrusting himself out of his seat aggressively while fully extending his wings outwards. “I’m not going to sit here and have the two of you spin obvious lies over honorably admitting to your mistakes. Get out of my sight, now!”

Both equally glaring daggers back at the aged griffon before them, the two friends turned around and walked out of the king’s court.

A few minutes later, the two friends stood casually in one of the castle corridors, blazing wall torches to each side of them.

“Is he going to do anything to you?” Alistair asked with crossed arms. “He did seem pretty mad.”

Gilda shrugged. “Probably gonna get a demerit, maybe extra cleanin’ duty or somethin’ like that. It won’t be anything that big; Zahn isn’t as bad as he wants you to believe.”

Alistair nodded. “That’s good to hear, especially since I’m still in his castle.”

“How long are you thinkin’ on staying anyway?”

“Not long,” Alistair said with a wave of his hand. “I’d like to be on my way back to Port Isaz by tomorrow morning. Not that I’m mad or anything, I just want to get this trip over with as soon as possible.”

“Well…” said Gilda cautiously, choosing her words more carefully than she normally preferred. “If you’d like, and if it wouldn’t be any trouble, I could come with you to Isaz if you want. It wouldn’t be for anything particular, just to give the both of us something to do.”

Alistair smiled, not even needing a moment to ponder his answer. “Of course I’d want that, Gilda. After travelling these past few weeks I’d feel like something was missing if you weren’t with me.”

Gilda could feel her cheeks begin to warm as she looked down bashfully toward the floor. “You…d-dweeb,” she stammered out in a way Alistair couldn’t help but beam at even further. “T-This isn’t—I j-just—what I meant to say was—”

“See you tomorrow?” Alistair finished with a twinkle in his eye. “Of course, see you then.” He slightly bowed his head to her and briskly walked back down the corridor, a smile stuck uncontrollably across his face.

Gilda sighed in relief and slumped her body graciously against the wall. She’d gotten through the entire ordeal with only minor difficulty and in the end she’d gotten an excuse to spend more time with her friend before he left. Although this should’ve been considered a bitter sweet moment, the positives in her mind clearly outweighed the negatives.

Alistair and Gilda quietly walked side by side down the rugged dock platform. Not much activity was present from they were, with only a single midsized passenger vessel moored in that section of the yard. Other than that, the murky blue waters of Port Isaz stretched out across the rocky bay, with the forested mountain crevices encircling almost the entire city, save for the small passage that led out to the ocean.

The late morning sun stretched above their heads at a three-fourths tilt, not quite reaching its noon position but very close to getting there. The handful of griffon dockworkers they passed while moving through the simple wooden platforms hadn’t even attempted some semblance of respect and blatantly stared agape at the sight of a real live human. The two responded by glaring back until whomever the longshoreman was got the message and scurried back to their own business.

The two stopped near the gangplank of the passenger ship, both inspecting it with passive interest.

“Not as big as I thought,” remarked Gilda. “You’d think with how long it’s gonna take you to get back they’d settle for something with a bit more leg room.”

Alistair shrugged. “It’s only about three weeks, and we stop at a few islands along the way. And even then, I find ways to keep busy.”

“Such as?”

“Reading, doodling, staring off across the endless abyss of water that covers the breath of everything I see before me, stuff like that.”

Gilda smirked. “Even before you leave you’re still able to bring out that unending dweebness of yours. It’s like a bottomless pit or something.”

“I try,” he said with feigned pride. “In fact, when I applied for External Affairs that was what I specifically noted to my boss, I’m very good at being a dweeb in the workplace.”

Gilda playfully slugged him in the shoulder. “I bet.”

The two stood by the ship for quite sometime, keeping a peaceful silence between them as they observed the easy goings of the small port. Even as the handful of other passengers (mostly ponies) boarded the vessel they continued to stand by its mooring, wishing to cherish this last time together.

But, as the departure bell rung abrasively atop the deck, Alistair knew it was time to go. Reaching out gingerly with his hand, Gilda tightly grasped it with her claw.

“This isn’t forever you know,” he said with a weak smile. “I can definitely apply for another trip over here, maybe even something with Zahn if I’m lucky.”

Gilda pursed her lip, doing her best to stay cheerful. “I hope so…I don’t have much of an excuse to go back to Equestria.”

Alistair squeezed her claw, feeling his throat beginning to choke up. “We’ll think of something.”

Staring into one another’s eyes one last time, the two friends slowly broke their grip in unison and moved away in alternate directions.

The passenger line was unhinged from the dock as the anchor was slowly raised out of the water. Setting the sails tightly atop its mast, the ship slowly began to chug out of the harbor, leaving the entirety of the Griffon Kingdom, and all those in it, behind.

Epilouge

Shale’s hooves clicked aggressively against the outer stone courtyard as she made her way across the large open space. Above her, the dark blue nebula of the night hung over the sky with a graceful intensity, each shimmering star all part of one single luminescent picture that normally would have awed any Child of the Night.

But tonight, as she approached a long black hooded pony staring absently up to the sky, she was anything but amazed by the spectacle.

“My lord,” she said with a forced courteousness that thinly veiled her incredibly apparent irritation. “You wished to speak with me?”

“Yes,” the hooded figure answered soothingly but with heavy crackles of age breaking through his voice. “Regarding your thoughts on your successful operation to the Griffon Kingdoms—excuse me, Kingdom.”

Not much could be seen past the figure’s sweeping black cloak, with only a ghostly grey snout and the frail frame of a stallion being seen past the almost obsidian-like cloth, seeming to gleam with a low blue light when looked upon closely.

Shale rolled her eyes. “I’d hardly call that region a single kingdom, the landmass is more fragmented than a broken mirror and just about as charming.”

The figure chuckled. “A success none the less. But, you seemed to have expressed some dissatisfaction in your after action reports. Care to explain?”

Shale sighed. “I don’t see why we couldn’t have just taken Alistair with us. He already seemed to understand what we’re trying to do. I didn’t go into specifics, of course, but I think I had him convinced.”

“Hmmm,” pondered the stallion. “And would you prefer that we took him along and suddenly had a change of heart? That he would rebel and force us to imply more drastic measures to ensure his compliance?”

This struck Shale uneasily, making her stammer out a response. “N-No…”

The stallion nodded. “Well there you go. If we were to act rashly and not consider every possible reaction to each action taken, we would surely be dooming ourselves from the very beginning. Careful planning and patience is what has kept us alive and unseen for these many years and will finally be the key to our grand success.”

Shale winced uncomfortably, the focal point of her dissatisfaction being touched upon. “But…my lord. Don’t you think we’ve waited long enough? It’s taken us two years to simply plant the seed of our cause into the boy’s mind. How much longer will it be till we actually bring him here to learn the necessary techniques? Another two years?”

“On contrary,” the figure countered coolly, “our timing could have not come at a better time. Take for instance the boy’s current situation. He feels cut off from the one he loves most, lacks direction in what to do with the rest of his life, is mildly disgruntled with the status of the Equestrian royalty and does not have any close connection with most ponies around him. Is not now the absolute best time to offer him a better life?”

Shale couldn’t argue with the logic presented, but, with stubborn insistence she pressed her single point further. “But how long will we wait for his inevitable arrival here? We must act now while his emotions and thoughts are still fresh in his mind.”

The stallion eyed her with a slight edge, beginning to find her indignant zeal to stress her point a very much bothersome quality when expressed in full. But, his face quickly softened as he reminded himself that the mare always meant well in her statements,

“Commander Press, you remember the operation former Intelligence Commander Blackletter approved of, the one that was instituted just a month after the human arrived?”

Shale couldn’t help but grimace at the painful memory. The operation in question was so far the largest blunder in the history of the order. What had started out as a discrete observe and report assignment turned into a full scale capture operation of the human Alistair. Any form of secrecy was cast to the wind when the train transporting the boy was derailed by him and his two rescuing companions, forcing the entire dispatched squad (Shale included) to stagger off into the Everfree Forest with the Royal Guards close behind.

They were able to elude the stone faced guardians of Equestria’s security, but how close they got to blowing the entire cover of the order was enough to shake the entire administration to its core. Commander Blackletter was terminated immediately from his high rank, both in terms of his position and in the literal sense.

Following this, the Night Lords immediately declared that all operations, whether they be arcane or simply agent activities, must be approved and overseen by them personally. Although most of the veterans in Intelligence had strongly opposed such actions, complacency was eventually established once the gravity of the situation had been made clear.

From there, Intelligence had been acting much more carefully in those past two years, dispatching even smaller groups to carry out espionage work against Equestria and the other countries of the world, while simultaneously growing in much more considerable strength then they ever had before.

“I guess…you have a point,” Shale said dejectedly.

Placing a hood upon her shoulder, the figure spoke with a tone that heavily suggested he was smiling beneath his cloak. “Don’t worry Commander Shale; we will not fret over technicalities for long. The boy shall be by our side quite soon, and then, the return of our queen will be nigh.”

Smiling in return, Shale and the stallion walked casually out of the courtyard, both beaming out how close victory would soon be upon them.