The rebellion had many more concerns than simple strikes back at the ruling order. They had a population to care for, including a large number of non-combatants, who were so due to age, infirmity or simple inability. Most were the free population of Equestria, while some were the refugees that came after, from many points. The overlap was significant.

There were, for instance, the survivors of the Stalliongrad Massacre. Being the closest Equestrian city, Stalliongrad was the first one invaded by the Crystal Empire/Caribou forces. In retaliation for the Red Legion holding back the invasion and helping numerous citizens flee the city the forces of the Stag King not only instituted standard torture for females but also killed half the surviving males.

Other refugees poured in from captive areas. Zebras fleeing the collaborationist regime, for instance. Aegeman citizens escaping their conquered homeland, telling suitably epic tales of how mighty King Minos and the whole army of Concrete fell in glorious defense of the escapees. And Diamond Dogs, plenty of them.

When the United Colonies fractured, the collaborationists attempted to capture the free Dogs. They were to give them over as tribute to the caribou. Fortunately, with most of the educated ones being free of control it was easy to outwit the collaborators and flee en masse.

The tunnel works of the free Dogs helped very much, but were often insufficient for proper housing. The rebellion couldn't let their most helpful allies live in cramped squalor where it could be avoided. The relocation policies of the caribou regime provided a solution.

With all the forced removals and concentration into camps, combined with the general slaughter of the resisting where killing was the expedient solution, whole villages had been completely depopulated. They stood, ruined, dotting the landscape of Equestria like zombies. They were dead but still they stood and held some semblance of life.

Some of those villages were outside of patrol routes, with buildings that were less ruined than others. They made for a perfect opportunity. Given repairs by those to inhabit them they would become an above-ground home for a Diamond Dog population.

The small village of Trout, arranged beside a large lake that retained its beauty even in spite of the caribou, was such a place. Dog refugees had been moved in with spare parts and tools, and offered the location for a new home. While they also added an extensive underground network for part-time habitation, they still fixed up and inhabited the areas above.

The village again was made of thatched roofs and white plaster, bolstered with dressed marble and granite, the wrought iron lantern posts restored and embellished into a new glory. As symbol of the rebellion's touch, brass and steel decorations shone everywhere, suns and moons polished to glowing perfection beside hammers and sickles.

The new village sang with the sounds of glowing metal shaped between hammer and anvil, the tinkling tone of gems finely shaped with chisel and wheel, the barking call and happy howl of the Dogs as they went about their business, glad to have such a place to call their own.

Not long after proper settlement and repair, the village received a very important pair of visitors. The Black Knight, who had planned all of the relocation; and Maureen sen Kate O'Bald, Bean Sidhe member, dispatched by the griffin High King himself to help train and condition the rebels so they could sooner give aid to the griffin kingdom. They arrived largely without preamble or warning, thought not without notice.

The pair of important rebel figures found themselves faced down at the outskirts of town by a smiling canine figure. She was a rather unusual Dog, of the jowly, small breed of Dog. Her coat was the silvery shade of some metal, a very rare color. It was more than a simple gray; there was a certain shimmer to some of the hairs. She was lank and trim, looking especially gangly and young, though something about her indicated she was, in fact, a fully fledged adult.

Her sudden appearance before the Black Knight and Maureen had been mildly surprising. Her next action was charmingly unexpected. She strapped on a collection of crystals and metal tines, rapidly attaching the whole collection like an odd suit to her body. Then then started to tap and pluck the strange collection, the metal tines humming like a Grand Veldt kalimba, while the crystals rang with a beautiful clarity. Occasionally vibrating metal would touch singing crystal, the harmonies carefully matched to create a unique tone that seemed especially resonant.

“Welcome to pretty town, are glad to see and hear!” The Dog sang as she danced and played her odd instrument-suit. “Welcome griff and pony, are glad both are here! Welcome, come and have fun! Welcome, come and stay! Welcome griff and pony! Welcome, welcome welcome, never go away!”

The Black Knight and Maureen both gave a round of applause to the performance, Maureen giving a high and happy skree. “Sure and that was beautiful, my little colleen. Whereabouts may we find the head of this town? Important matters to discuss, we have.”

“Village council meet in town hall. Mayor Goethite there now,” the Dog said cheerfully, loping off suddenly with her attire playing a cacophonous clattering as she moved. “Come! Will show important guests!”

“She's a right cístín baise,” Maureen noted to the Black Knight with a smile playing around her beak. “So this is what ya give me fer workin'? A town o' that?”

“I think she's... very special,” the Black Knight noted, carefully watching the Dog leading them. “When compared to the rest of the town, I mean. I'm sure you'll find them very like other Dogs. Don't worry.”

“'Don't worry,' he says ta me...” Maureen grumbled. “I obey the High king and not you. I'll worry as much as I like until there ain't reason fer it.”

“By your leave, Bean Sidhe O'Bald,” the Black Knight said with a nod. “I was only trying to explain it will be no harder than any other training you have undertaken.”

“Don't you give me that, ya slíbhín, I know these folk are here because they ain't the kind ta fight,” Maureen groused. “Before ya had me training them as could at least tell the pointy end of a pike.”

“I'll take that over 'cladhaire' because there are too many meanings to make it kindly,” the Black Knight said with a wink. “But I promise you, truly, you will find the work to be easier than you may think it.”

Maureen let out a screeching laugh at the comment, clapping the Black Knight firmly on the back. “Sure and I should have seen it from ya. Ya must know every word fer what ya are in every tongue o' this world.”

“I do like to know when I am being spoken of,” the Black Knight sniffed, in a blatantly faux-posh tone.

“Right then, slíbhín, I take ya at yer word, which one ought not normally do with yer sort,” Maureen said with a lingering mirth. “It won't be such a hard thing ta teach this lot.”

The journey was short after the conversation finished, through the populated streets in the wake of the energetic Dog's headlong rush to the center of town. Through the small square with its new-made statues of Celestia and Luna, respectively holding two hammers and two sickles across their chests, there was seen the town hall, a building larger than the rest. It was enhanced with an ornate collection of decorative stonework and elaborate metalwork, with gems spread throughout, both in the Diamond Dog style of mathematically precise and exacting angles without any artificial curves.

The style was the same on the inside, lots of straight lines and precise angles going on, though more common Equestrian touches were much in evidence like colorful rugs and wall-hangings as well as paintings saved from scrapheaps and firepits. A single Dig Dog male sat behind the front desk, looking attentive. He had on a rather sharp red vest and black trousers.

“Welcome, Black Knight and strong griffin! Mayor Goethite waiting for arrive,” the Dig Dog barked, rising and motioning for the two arrivals to follow.

“Work is done! Go now and play more!” the silver Dog barked before dashing out of the town hall.

“She'll do herself a mischief one of these day, I can see it,” Maureen noted.

“Somehow... somehow I doubt that she'll be the one afflicted by such a mischief,” the Black Knight mused.

The two were led by the Dig Dog to a basement area, lit by torches and glowing fungus. It consisted of a single, large chamber containing a huge triangular table. A single dog sat at the center of the far point, looking over some papers. He was an older dog, lank and very tall, with jowls and floppy ears. His coat was pale from age, but still retained some of what was presumably a stronger brown ochre shade. He was clad in an austere outfit of gray tone, trousers, a long shirt and a black vest.

The Dig Dog released a short howl and a few yaps, along with sounds out of hearing range for the Black Knight though Maureen tilted her head at some. He then turned to the two and bowed. “Are announced.” With that, he walked back up the stairs.

“Traditional Dog-tongue, is good know still remembered in bad age,” Goethite said, slowly rising from the chair he was at and walking over to the two. “Is good you come, Black Knight, friend of all. Have heard of griffin but not know name. Only know is strong, good fighter.”

“My reputation seems intact,” Maureen said with a flex of her arm. “Maureen sen Kate O'Bald, Bean Sidhe division of the Tuatha dé Danann, Royal Griffin Army, loyal soldier o' his majesty Padraigh the XVI.”

Goethite dipped his head. “Good meet. Now, why Black Knight come? Said was urgent...”

“It is somewhat a pressing issue but I must ask... do you know who that charming silver-bodied Dog was that met us at the outskirts of town?” The Black Knight asked. “She had a very... interesting suit of metal and gems...”

Goethite laughed heartily and slapped the tabletop. “Oh yes. Know. Is Ruthenium, or Ruth. Good girl, happy girl. Like sing, make songs, is good with funny suit. Daughter of Doctors Bowieite and Osmiridium. They deep-level researchers before, protected from change. Escape with others to Paddock, then join rebels. Are scientists for rebellion.”

“So are they here now, doin' their science work from long distance?” Maureen asked.

“Oh no, still live with other scientists with rebels,” Goethite explained.

“What? They let that young thing be alone out there while they're still workin' away?” Maureen queried, incredulous.

“Well... why should not? Is adult, by laws of Colonies and Equestria. Wanted to come, did not like being stuck there. Wanted beautiful place to play music, run around, have much fun, and work when must,” Goethite replied.

“Hardly seemed it, eh?” Maureen asked aside at the Black Knight. She looked aside when no reply was forthcoming and noticed that the stallion seemed lost in thought. She nudged him sharply in the side. “Mind on the mission, slíbhín.”

“My mind is very, very much on the mission...” the Black Knight said quietly, before shaking his head and turning a serious look on Goethite. “There is word that the caribou may or may not know that this town exists and that it is composed of free Dogs.”

Goethite looked a bit confused by the statement. “Should not be worry. Was said... sloppy. Not by rule, or by square. Is only way to know.”

“Usually...” the Black Knight said, agreeably. “However, the sloppy imprecision that we usually count on from those sex-addled new order folks works the other way. What they know or don't know very often depends on how lucid some sex-fiend happens to be on any given day. In a way that's good, it means reports are garbled, misplaced or inaccurate. But when we capture intelligence it also means that there is a degree of uncertainty.”

“They could use the discipline of the R.G.A, that's fer sure. But I'm sure glad they haven't got it,” Maureen added.

“There are some unclear references to 'escapees', which is sometimes contextually used to mean free Dogs. We believe that is the case because there is a lake mentioned, as well as references to fish,” the Black Knight continued.

“Yes. Fish in lake. Dogs live by lake. But how is..?” Goethite began.

“The fish references are placeholders, in some sense. They say 'fish' but it is clear a proper name is meant. The report was compiled by a caribou; being herbivorous northmen they would be unfamiliar with something like trout, and likely have a collective word for all fish. This also means that hearing a local name would mean nothing and be hard to remember,” the Black Knight explained.

“It's a lot of mess is what it is,” Maureen noted with a scowl. “But it makes sense. They're stupid, but not too dumb to know we're out here. Never mind the propaganda, you never under-think yer enemy. Give 'em more credit than they need and then ya can beat em every time.”

“It's not rule and square, as I know Dogs prefer when thinking about plans, but we often have to operate under this sort of uncertainty. What is most worrisome is that the intercepted materials were being sent for review. They had already passed the eyes of higher level military folk. It would seem to indicate they are asking permission for some kind of invasion force. They're sending more than slavecatchers and scouts. They're sending soldiers,” the Black Knight said, darkly.

“Can be more certain than guess, yes?” Goethite asked.

“Much more. Their channels may be wobbly, clogged and sluggish but they still operate,” the Black Knight said.

Goethite took a seat again, looking down at the table with furrowed brows. “What can do?”

“No two ways about it, Mayor, ya gotta fight,” Maureen insisted.

“But we... we come to Trout not to fight,” Goethite replied. “Cannot. Have young, have old, have Dogs that cannot fight, not want fight, want peace.”

“Peace sometimes needs a bit of a donnybrook, Mayor; it don't always come by itself,” Maureen said. “Ya got shades and soldiers even in the peaceful times. These ain't peaceful times.”

Goethite slumped in his chair, the mature Dog looking even older in the slumped and defeated posture. “Is not good. Not want war for Dogs here. Want peace, happiness. But if must fight... what can do? They not know how...”

Maureen strutted forward proudly, and smiled confidently. “That's why I'm here, Mayor. I could train a cloud ta be a soldier. I'll turn yer folk inta fighters. And I do it not because I want to, ya understand, but because I want yer folk ta live and be strong and happy.”

“Happy, yes...” the Black Knight said, stroking his chin slowly. “Assemble the citizenry. You're going to be trained to repel the force that is coming. We don't know how long we have so this needs to begin immediately.”

Goethite shivered lightly as he contemplated what was to come, but finally rose up and nodded slowly. “Will do as say. Call Dogs, tell them. Will not be good. But will help...”

“This should be fun,” Maureen said with a roll of her eyes. She heard a howl amplified by a complex series of metal pipes. “Bunch of untrained folk. Plus that... strange little one...”

“Oh yes, her... she's not to be trained. I am going to take her aside for my own reasons,” the Black Knight casually said.

“What's this now? I wasn't looking forward ta trainin' her, but I would have, don't you give me yer pity, slíbhín, I don't take that from you any more than I take it from any other,” Maureen seethed.

“It's not pity or sparing you from anything. It is my own need,” the Black Knight stated.

“But yer hobblin' me,” Maureen insisted. “I need all the warm bodies we have. When it comes ta untrained ones like this every single one can help, even a strange cístín baise can hold a pike and poke.”

“I cannot explain, because I'm not sure, but you need to trust me again,” the Black Knight insisted. “You do your job freely. Let me do mine.”

Maureen gave the Black Knight an askance glance and scoffed through her crop. “Yer an odd one, jes as was said and as I barely saw back in the main body of the rebels. But there's somethin' to yer ways that makes me think there's more goin' on in that mind than what I suspect. Alright, keep the little colleen. I hope yer trainin' is as effective as mine.”

“I do so hope that as well...” the Black Knight mumbled as he walked out of the council chamber.

Maureen and the Black Knight moved out of the town hall to the square. There they found Goethite at the statues of the sisters, surrounded by a formally dressed collection of dogs, a mix of breeds and genders. They looked to be the village council. Around them, the other Dogs of the town were gathered. Pups yapped curiously, being shushed by parents or guardians, as all eyes turned to the august Mayor Goethite.

The sad-looking Dog began to speak, in the native tongue of the Dogs, who seemed to react with shock and amazement. Mutters passed between the crowd, and they began to look very nervous.

“Don't suppose ya speak that, do ya?” Maureen asked.

“I don't need to. You know what he's saying just as well as I do,” the Black Knight replied.

“Aye. Don't take knowin' the words ta know those looks. Time ta fight. Time ta die. Time ta make them white and tans die. They ain't built ta kill like that. But I'm gonna shape 'em in my image and get them able ta stand up long enough ta bring down them that comes ta kill,” Maureen said, with some small trace of sadness.

“You talk to Mayor Goethite, get him to show you off to the citizens. Start the process now. I'll pull Ruthenium aside and... well, the process begins,” the Black Knight said.

“I don't know what ya have in that head of yers... but good fortune to ya, slíbhín,” Maureen said, dipping her head to the Black Knight before strutting her way to the head of the gathering.

While Maureen was being introduced, and boldly stating her training plans to the collection of disbelieving Dogs, the Black Knight scanned the crowd for Ruthenium. He found her, still carrying her straps full of tines and crystals, looking a little unsure about things. “Well, hello again.”

Ruthenium looked up at the Black Knight and wagged her tail. “Hello, Black Knight pony! Is scary thing happening. Not want fight, but must be strong. Protect home. Is Dog way.”

“Yes. It is an important thing. But there is another, equally important, thing. And I need you to do it,” the Black Knight said, motioning away from the group.

“Oh? Important job that can do? Want do!” Ruthenium yapped with a puppy-like enthusiasm.

“Well then, come with me. I need to arrange a few things to get ready for this,” the Black Knight said with a smile, leading Ruthenium from the crowd.

“Right you lot! We don't know how much time we have so I'll do this fast as I can!” Maureen circled over the heads of the assembled Dogs. They had mustered out in the grassy expanse on the far side of the lake, arranged in sloppy but regular rows. Those capable of fighting, those who were old enough and weren't sick or disabled, were there, mostly fidgeting and nervous. “You do what I say, when I say it, the way I say ta do it. Right?”

Silence greeted the question.

Maureen scoffed and shrieked as she dove over their heads, sending some falling to the ground. “When I ask fer an answer you say, 'Aye ma'am!' Do I make myself clear?”

The was some hesitation before a shaky voice called out, “Aye, ma'am!”

“One of ye gets it!” Maureen cried. “Now the rest! What do ye say when I ask fer yer agreement?”

“Aye ma'am!” The call was disjointed, said with different speeds, at different starting points.

“At least ye can follow orders,” Maureen huffed, slowly alighting at the head of the assembled. “New we get ye ta follow 'em at the same moment and at the same pace.”

Back in the village, Ruthenium and the Black Knight were together in the back room of a house that served as a smithy. He had a few long, thin, cardboard boxes on the floor beside him as he sat at a long wooden table. He motioned for Ruthenium to take a place across from him. “This is... very special training. It will not be like your fellow Trouters.”

“Will do what can,” Ruthenium asserted, nodding firmly and hitting the tabletop with her thick hands.

“That's an attitude that will serve you well and lead to liberty,” the Black Knight said with an approving nod. He picked up one of the boxes and placed it on the table. It was badly torn up, most of the details obscured by damage. But it looked like the kind of box board games came in before the fall.

Ruthenium quirked her head and barked curiously. “What is? Look like board game. Know well, but not know how board game help village.”

The Black Knight silently opened the box and laid out the board, which showed a green expanse that had squares marked off. On one edge was the name of the game, Strategist. “Did you ever play Strategist before the fall?”

“No,” Ruthenium admitted. “Heard name, sound like fun game, but not play. Other Dog children like math problems, like Tic-Tac-Toe, like games with probability calculations. Much card games.”

“Understandable,” the Black Knight said. “This is a game of imprecision. Of misdirection. It is not as simple and neat as the rule and square of the Dogs, though the memorization makes it intellectual. It is a game of preparation and of consideration.”

Ruthenium nodded slowly as she regarded the board, with its neatly-aligned grid and trio of demarcated choke-points. “Is game... of war. Like have to fight in Trout.”

“It's best to think of it as a game. This is just like the version from before the fall, where it was Equestrian troops against magical beasts, and the Equestrian pieces are even the same,” the Black Knight said, indicating each piece as he showed it off. “Princess Luna and Celestia on one piece, the highest ranked. Then the Arch-Magus. Two air-corps Aquilas. Three Captains, traditionally identified as Day Guard, Night Guard and Nightwatch. Four Centurions. Four Cavaliers. Four Destriers. Five Sappers, who, if you notice, are Diamond Dogs because this was made after the peaceful integration of the United Colonies. Eight Milites, called Miles in the singular. One Intelligencer, who is the sneaky one. Six Mana-walls. And finally, the thing the enemy wants, The Elements of Harmony.”

Ruthenium took a moment to look over the pieces, noting, to her delight, that numbers indicated the relative rank, while a title accompanied each picture. “Many pieces. Is true, is very intellectual. Need good memory, remember all these.”

“That's only half. I had the opposing side re-made as our current enemy,” the Black Knight said, pulling out those pieces. “At the start, The Dead One, the Stag King, the Heartless Hind. Then, Vidkun, the monster. Two old-order Nomad Commanders. Three Torturers. Four Overseers. Four risen Draugar. Four Slavecatchers. Five Darkness Weavers, who use the caribou's bloodstained magic. Eight Brainwashed stallions. One Betrayer, who looks very much like an execrable prince we all know. Six Bone Fences, which is something they seem to have done in their homeland. And the item that they covet and which gives them power, the Crystal Cock.”

Ruthenium gave the opponent pieces a look, noting they were similarly marked, and that the artwork was horribly well-rendered. “Will do best to remember. How play game?”

“You take the pieces, and arrange them however you like on the first four rows of the board. Here is where you start thinking about the strategy, because you have to protect the Elements or the Crystal Cock. Finding that means you win. After that, the game starts. Each piece moves one space forward or to the side. Mana-walls, Bone Fences, the Elements and the Crystal Cock can't move. The Milites and Brainwashed ones can move any number of spaces in a straight line,” the Black Knight explained.

“Complicated game. Is good!” Ruthenium baked, smiling brightly. “Complicated game mean must think. Thinking important for Dogs.”

“You'll learn as you go. That's life, and a very important lesson for you to pick up,” the Black Knight said, turning the caribou pieces around and starting to set them up.

“Oh, you play bad folks?” Ruthenium asked, tilting her head inquisitively.

“Don't worry, I wouldn't make them lose on purpose,” the Black Knight assured her. “But you should play the good ones. It's all part of this special training.”

Ruthenium thought for a moment, then started to set up her own side of the board. “Will do best! Think hard, figure out, win game.”

“But above all else,” the Back Knight sagely said, “Have fun.”

The lines of Dogs drilled at Maureen's command, all of them holding whatever improvised weapons that could be found in the village. Thanks to the nature of Diamond Dog life they had a ready supply of forge hammers, pickaxes and shovels. There were also logging axes, someone had made a few fishing spears, and there were pitchforks for the hay they grew for the rebellion.

The drilling Dogs had been sectioned off by weapon type, and were striking at the air. Maureen observed them all from above, her critical eye noting the inexpert motions and the sloppy techniques. But she wanted to see about endurance. That was the good thing about Diamond Dogs. Like earth ponies they were robust and full of stamina, even without formal training and regular exercise.

Her gaze locked onto a burly, tall Dog, one of the Mayor's breed. He was stabbing away with his pitchfork, not pulling his strikes or watching his motion. He didn't know any better, but she had told them to watch their strikes. She came down hard right beside him and stared. “Is that how you'll be fightin' the fash when they come fer yer town?”

“Aye, ma'am!” He replied, thoughtlessly. He stabbed away on automatic.

Maureen shook her head and placed a talon hard on the Dog's shoulder. “Let me make a feic of ya, lad. 'Tis th' only way the lot of ye will learn. Come on then.”

She led the confused Dog to an attacking dummy she had set up, made of metal and wood. It vaguely resembled a caribou, with a spear, thin armor and branches for antlers. A pebble-filled sack served as the body cavity.

“Right then, lad, attack yer enemy,” Maureen requested. She took up a position right behind the dummy, and picked up something from the back of it. “Don't worry none about me. I know what's about ta happen.”

“Aye ma'am, will do,” the big Dog said. He gave a huge howl, pulled the pitchfork back and stabbed the dummy hard, rocking it back into Maureen, who held onto it and kept it upright. “Ha! Dog has hurt caribou!”

“That ya did, lad. Now get yer weapon back,” Maureen said, flatly.

The Dog looked a bit confused as he tried to pull back the pitchfork. He jostled the dummy, making the metal clatter and the pebbles rattle. While he did that Maureen struck out from behind the dummy, jamming a large stick with a charcoal tip over his arms and on his chest. She then swiftly dashed out behind the Dog and jabbed the stick at his back.

After giving a few shocked yelps, and letting go of the pitchfork, the Dog looked at the marks on his front, then at Maureen. “What is?”

“That, lad, is yer death, from two sides,” Maureen said, flatly. “Maybe ya killed the miserable little amadán, maybe ya didn't. Much as we make light o'them bastards, them northmen came outta the white waste. We griffins know it, and we're pretty hardy ourselves. Killed him or not, he ain't dyin' that instant, not with where ya stabbed him. He'll stab ya back, and won't waste his motions. Then, with yer weapon locked in this one's body, another one can come in and have her back fer a sheath. One way or another, yer dead, lad.”

The Dog brushed desperately at the charcoal marks, yelping and whimpering. “N-no! Not want die! What can do?”

“Ya do as I say, lad,” Maureen said, wiggling the pitchfork until it came out of the dummy. She suddenly stabbed it forward, piercing the thin armor and the pebble bag, then immediately pulling the weapon back. “Ya use yer strength half on the thrust and half on the pull. Ya feel fer the stab then yank it before ya hit somethin' less forgivin' than flesh. Ya do it over and over, fast as lightnin'. Ya perforate the slimy bastard, don't bank yer life on one hard hit. Ya understand?”

“Ay, ma'am!” The Dog yelped, thumping a fist on his chest in salute.

“Do ye all understand?” Maureen screeched at the others.

“Aye ma'am!” The Dogs barked, almost in unison.

“Show me,” Maureen challenged, launching herself to the air again. “Axes, chop hard but spring back hard, it'll stop someone behind and keep the momentum going. Slide yer other hand up and use it ta shove the axe when it's past... what was the bloody number..? Ninety degrees. Once it's past there yer shove with the hand has more power. Pickaxes, you too! Forge hammers, change yer angles up, don't let them know where yer gonna smash down!”

In town, the Black Knight was laying out another board game, laying out small colored pieces, shuffling cards and putting out metal objects that looked like a variety of tools.

Ruthenium looked over the board, noting it looked like a well-designed home. All straight angles, laid out in a grid, though in colors and with decorations that suggested a classical Canterlot construction. “Like house, look very regular. What is game now?”

“It's called Clew, an Ancient Hipposian word for a ball of twine. Faithfully following it can lead to the end, the perfect name for a game of deduction and discovery,” the Black Knight explained. “There has been a theft in a Canterlot manor. There are six suspects, six tools for extrication and nine rooms in which it could have happened. You choose a piece to play, and then roll dice to move around the rooms. You solve it by deduction. These cards have tools, suspects and locations. I slip one of each into a pouch...” He chose one card from each shuffled pile and slipped it into a small envelope, which he set in the center of the board. “There. The thief, the tool and the place.”

“Now, how solve mystery? Are cards hidden in house? Deduction one of Dogs' important tools. Can know much from thinking much,” Ruthenium noted.

“Actually, the remaining cards are shuffled together and split between us,” the Black Knight said, deftly shuffling and distributing the cards. He also handed off a charcoal stick and a pad of paper. “We mark off the cards we have here. That tells us which objects, suspects and places can't be the ones. Then we move around to each room, and propose a possible tool and suspect in that room. If the other player has the cards for room, tool or suspect they must show one of them. That's how the possibilities get whittled down.”

“Mmm, smart game. Good training for leader. Is what must be, yes? Leader?” Ruthenium asked.

“I think we should just focus on playing the game, and leave other questions for another time,” the Black Knight noted, offering the colorful plastic pieces. “Note the colored squares on the outside. Each piece starts on their color, making it easier to get to certain rooms at the start.”

Ruthenium plucked up the purple piece and set it on the corresponding purple square. “Like this, is nice color.”

“Professor Plum Duff, a nice choice,” the Black Knight said. He set down the green piece on its indicated square. “Officer Salad Green, OCFG. Keeping names and titles alive is what ensures the old world will come back someday.”

“Yes, is important old world come back. Other folk be happy. Sing and dance on own, like was,” Ruthenium said with a small sigh, picking up a pair of dice and giving them a roll.

“That's right, just like it was,” the Black Knight said, watching Ruthenium and not her moves on the board.

“What games play today?” Ruthenium asked of the Black Knight. “Cloud Busting, International Diplomacy, Strategist? Pisha Pasha?”

“This a very special day,” the Black Knight said, leading Ruthenium into one of the subterranean spaces under a house. Magic gem lights provided a soft glow over a collection of refurbished Equestrian furniture. All the boxes of board games were sitting out on a low table, along with several decks of cards, a bag of marbles and a few jump ropes. On another table was Ruthenium's suit of tines and crystals.

“What is special? Like normal day,” Ruthenium said.

“This day you put your training into effect,” the Black Knight replied, cryptically.

“'Training'?” Ruthenium asked. “Become rebel general, make plans, outflank enemy?”

“No, no... I showed you how to play games. Now you can play games,” the Black Knight said.

Before Ruthenium could question the statement she became aware of yapping and whimpering. The subterranean space was suddenly flooded with Diamond pups, who all crowded around Ruthenium. “What? Why puppies of village here?”

“Because you need to watch them. Only the most blithe spirit could watch over pups when the need is greatest,” the Black Knight said, already near the door. “You cannot possibly appreciate how important this is. You hold the future of Trout in your hand, if you but knew it.”

“But... but... want to help! Need to help!” Ruthenium pleaded, reaching out to the Black Knight.

“Stay in here, don't open the door, and don't let them look outside until the time is right,” the Black Knight insisted. He looked down with a serious gaze, which awed the puppies and made Ruthenium step back.

“Not... want... but... will do if must. For Trout, and for puppies,” Ruthenium said glumly, stroking one of the yapping pups.

The Black Knight closed the door and allowed himself the luxury of a sad sigh, before returning to his neutral look. Outside of the house he encountered Maureen, with a griffin pike slung casually over her shoulder and a large crossbow hanging at her side.

“So then, slíbhín, they all squared away?” Maureen asked as they two walked through the village.

“She gave me her word and I trust it,” the Black Knight said. “She'll keep the puppies happy and in good spirits. Though I'm glad they don't know why they're being hidden away.”

“And don't know they may come outta that place minus a ma or da. You were right ta get the happy colleen ta watch over 'em. She'll keep them smilin',” Maureen said.

The Black Knight shook his head and looked over the hastily-assembled Dogs. They were wearing an eclectic collection of well-forged armor, hammered out on the anvils of Trout and fitted as best as possible given the short notice. They looked uncomfortable, ill-suited to it, but the held themselves up well, with their improvised weapons ready at hand. “Is the town prepared?”

“Aye, 'tis ready as it can be. Scouts saw the fash coming. The Stag King's not puttin' pegasi on this, thank goodness. All unicorns and earth ponies. And of course a few caribou commanders,” Maureen reported.

“The barricades are up and funneling them towards the line of battle?” The Black Knight asked.

“Aye, first thing we did. They'll all come into the narrow road to The Skein, that's what they call the middle of town. And we won't let 'em pass by, no matter how many they throw at us,” Maureen responded, with grim determination.

“The Arch-Magus taught me well the value of the narrow way, but we're at more of a disadvantage,” the Black Knight said. “Paddock Fifty-One was surrounded by a high wall of stone. In theory we're in an open area. If they divide the force we could get flanked, though with the barricades it would take effort, and we'd hear them dismantling the structures.”

“I'll watch from the air now and then, just ta see. I imagine you'll be watchin' from... the shadows, or the spirit world, or however ya do it. I don't say it much, slíbhín, but I'm not sure what ta make of yer powers,” Maureen confessed.

“My greatest power is convincing others I have powers, but, keep that one to yourself,” the Black Knight said, dropping a conspiratorial wink in Maureen's direction.

“I don't know how it is, but that's made me more convinced than ever there's some powers yer not tellin' me about,” Maureen said with a laugh.

“Village is ready,” Goethite said, giving a shaky salute. He was wearing how own loose collection of metal plates, and holding a pitchfork. “Will fight, will make go away, will live in peace.”

“No one is getting away,” the Black Knight said, with a dark tone. “They come in, but they don't leave. They end up a pile of bloody corpses. The Stag King is arrogant, he's ignorant, he's obstinate, but he's not blitheringly stupid. We kill the force he sends here, and he has to take notice that the red side of his ledger is written in blood, with nothing on the black side to show for it. When he sees the price of trying to take Trout, he'll have to wonder if he can keep paying it over and over again and still hope to take the Griffin Kingdom or hold off our forces. There's just enough activity in that cavernous skull of his to know that a ruler doesn't squander his strength. One bloody and absolute victory, and you never have to fight again.”

Goethite seemed to pale as the explanation went on. But he gave a shaky nod at the end and turned to face the open passage that led from the open portion of the town into The Skein.

Tension mounted as time ticked by, and the Dogs grew fidgety and fearful the longer they had to stand there, anticipating the horrors of war. Finally there came the sound of marching, the tromp of an armored force moving down the path. There eventually emerged a line of stallions, headed by a crudely-armored caribou.

“Dogs of this town! Surrender your women and join the ranks of his pitiless majesty!” The caribou shouted, glaring disdainfully at the Dogs who cringed as he spoke. “Dogs have many chances to access gems and cunts! All you want can be yours. Surrender to us and turn over the rebellious fools that are standing back there.” He pointed at the Black Knight and Maureen.

Goethite overcame his hesitation and stepped forward. “Am Goethite, Mayor of village. We not want fight. Not made to fight. Have to... kill... and not want! Please, go away, tell Stag King we not hurt. Only want peace. Live in peace and away from lands.”

The caribou's reaction was swift and terrible. He quickly drew a knife from his belt and stabbed Goethite in the side, the blade sinking deeply into him, avoiding the metal plates that didn't fully touch. “His pitiless majesty will not hear of your pathetic, feminine peace. Horror and war are the proper actions for a man. A MAN! A real man! You will all die in agony for this blasphemy if you do not give in!”

“Not... pathetic...” Goethite whimpered out. His hand squeezed his pitchfork tight, and he stabbed in at the Caribou. Quick, sharp jabs peppered the surprised cervine's front, leaving him bleeding, and stumbling.

His lungs had been punctured and his thoracic cavity was filling with blood. He fell to his knees, and then the ground, gurgling in surprise. He tried to speak, mouth forming words that came out as bloody foam, but all for naught as he finally slumped down, jaw barely moving as the life drained out.

Goethite pulled the knife from his side and whimpered loudly, tossing it aside to clatter on the street. “Dogs strong. Dogs brave. Dogs not want fight. But if must fight... win!” He fell down, breathing shallowly and holding a huge hand over the bleeding wound.

The other Dogs, who had been fearful, turned their shock and dismay into anger. Their lips pulled back, showing their jagged, gem-crushing, meat-tearing teeth. Their sallow eyed narrowed, a hateful light burning within their varicolored pupils. They thumped their eclectic weapons against their makeshift armor, the clattering and ringing converging on a pattern that united them as one. The pace grew faster and the impacts louder, until they all let one resounding ring of metal on metal echo out around The Skein. A huge howl burst forth from their throats, all the different tones adding to the chorus until it sounded like the tremulous cry of a furious titan, full of anger and hate.

The stallions, though affected by training and the power of their caribou overlords, still shifted back a step, as the rebellious nobodies transformed, in their minds, into vicious soldiers.

“Forward, now!” One of the few other caribou commanders cried, pointing from the back of the line with his sword.

“They don't pass The Skein!” Maureen shrieked, pulling up her crossbow and nocking a bolt on the already-drawn cord. She pulled the trigger and sent the steel-tipped missile flying midway into the ranks of invaders and through the eye of a hesitant stallion. “Not one hoof-step past ye, lads an' lasses! This is yer town! Now keep it yers!”

The Dogs howled again, a shorter cry of anger that prefigured a charge. Their armor rang and their weapons shook as they charged forth to meet the invading host.

The stallions were pushed back by the crush of the front line, like a wall of sand hit by the sea. The front-line Dogs were the ones wielding forge hammers and pitchforks, which they could use in close quarters with the training Maureen had given them. The heavy metal hammers crashed into exposed faces or against cloth-armored areas. The natural strength of the Dogs, enhanced by anger, crushed bones, and sent the injured or dead backwards into the confused ranks. The pitchforks flew with the same speed that Goethite had shown, piercing the poor-quality armor that some of the invaders wore, and slipping through the chinks on those pieces forged by the collaborators.

The Black Knight, for his part, had slipped silently away to the sides, to climb the buildings and observe. He saw a small detachment attempting to leave the narrow funnel they had been pushed down, looking to be ready to dismantle a barricade.

His silver knife flew through the air and sunk deep in the back of a unicorn, who opened his mouth but only released the softest whisper before he fell. The others looked at him in awe and dismay, as the Black Knight came down near them.

With his hand outstretched the Black Knight recalled the silver blade to his hand and showed off the gold embellishments, still showing through the sheen of blood. “You will all pay for what you have done. It is only a pity you will not be alive to appreciate the high cost you accrued...”

Maureen was in her element, screeching and squawking in delight as she pulled her crossbow and fired off bolts with a natural ease. She flew above the action, avoiding magic bolts and hastily thrown spears and answering with violent reprisals. She eventually ran out of bolts and casually tossed the crossbow aside, bringing her pike to bear.

“Let's be light about it! Let's all sing a song we know!” Maureen cried out as she jabbed out with her long pike. “I'll even do the one yer lot wrote!” Clearing her crop, she began to sing as she slew. “The day is comin' soon, when we free the Sun and Moon, and crack the crystal cock ta worthless powder! We will put ta spell and sword yer woman-hatin' horde, while singin' out our chorus all the louder: Come out ye Northmen scum, come and fight 'til you succumb, show your colors as ye did in Ponyville! Ya murder and enslave, yet think yer mighty brave, so leave this land and take yer ruddy ill!”

As Maureen had required, none passed The Skein. The Dogs had not allowed it. And as the Black Knight had required, not one fascist soldier survived. None of them allowed it. Though fires burned from the effects of magic and the groaning injured and the sobbing tenders to the dead filled the atmosphere with a sense of darkness, there was still a single, pulsing note of hope and light.

“We won,” the Black Knight said simply as he spoke to Maureen.

“We did what we said we'd do,” Maureen replied, looking at all the injured being tended to, and the dead being arranged in neat rows. “But there's no winnin' in a fight like this. They jes wanted ta be left alone...”

“The consuming fire of war,” the Black Knight said. “It eats and eats like a glutton. I feel most terrible of all because I took away something I had every reason to leave in place.”

“Oh aye? And what was that? Looks ta me like ya gave these folk their lives and village,” Maureen noted.

“I took away a peace that never knew there was a way to make war with what they had,” the Black Knight said. “I, through your help, showed these happy and satisfied folk, how to make war. I took away their ability to not know. I forced them to learn the ways of destruction.”

“Aye, that ya did, slíbhín,” Maureen said with a sage nod of her head. “Ya had me turn this lot o' smiths and fishers and farmers inta some kind of army. And they beat the Fash. They made their streets run red with the blood of them as wanted ta kill them and worse. They became warriors, and that's no small thing. No easy thing. No painless thing. But slíbhín... I can see you'll never accept it... but ya know deep down, it was the right thing.”

The Black Knight was silent for a long moment, before he walked away. “I hear Mayor Goethite is clinging to life with tenacity. I must see about his recovery.”

“Move along, and see ta th' livin',” Maureen whispered with a smile. “Ya know how this works after all...”

It was a long while before the pups and Ruthenium were allowed to leave the underground area. There was a lot of cleaning to do, and the bodies had to be sent away. The invaders were all buried quickly in unmarked graves, while those townsfolk who fell were interred in an expedited version of the Dog ceremony, their bodies consigned to the deep crevasse known as The Beneath.

Further, there was cleaning to do. Barricades to take down, streets to be scrubbed of blood, areas to repair to a state that looked more like the town proper. It was done with alacrity, but a very somber tone. A grim necessity, as much of what had been done that day had been.

The pups came out, to the arms of most of their parents, though a few relatives or friends had to start telling some that they would be without someone. The solemnity, the somberness only grew as the energetic pups were given the news.

Ruthenium came up, dressed in her suit of tines and crystals, and looked over the town. All the cleaning in the world couldn't hide the smell of blood and she could see the reduced population. She went right to the Black Knight, who seemed to be anticipating her. “Many dead, yes? Many die to save village.”

“Not many, not when you consider the force sent,” the Black Knight calmly replied. “More of them died. The Stag King won't be sending more, not with the high cost of this endeavor.”

“Are free now... but wanted to help!” Ruthenium cried, looking up at the Black Knight with shining eyes. “Pony took to teach. Thought would learn like from angry griffin lady! Learn how fight, save village! Pony only teach to play games, do stupid things, not help village! Wanted help village! Wanted fight!”

“You helped. And you will help in the coming days,” the Black Knight said. “Did I really teach you nothing but how to play games? Organizational strategy, the logistics of deployment, deductive reasoning, loss recovery, how to handle reversals of fortune... through games you learned how to lead. But with games, you pacified scared, confused puppies.”

Ruthenium paused to consider. During the battle the pups had been afraid. Their parents, relatives and caretakers were gone. They were in a strange place, and they couldn't leave. Only through the organization of games, the performance of bits of entertainment, and the careful management of those pups had she keep them calm and their spirits high. “But what good is? Wars not fought by puppies. Wars fought by... warriors! Cannot be warrior with musical suit and funny songs.”

The Black Knight smiled, and his eyes grew distant, as he looked back through to the past. “Comedy is a weapon against the sour, dour and humorless with power. It's not really a way to kill a soldier or break a barricade. But tell me... what happens if there is nothing to laugh about? If you're just there, no smiles, no joy, no cheer?”

“Get sad, feel weak, heavy, not want do anything,” Ruthenium said. “Remember some Dogs, not from same deep research station, come from far away, see what caribou do. Not know rebellion, not know could be hope of old world. Cry much, sleep more, not want even drag self to eat.”

“You aided them, didn't you?” The Black Knight asked. “You made them smile, with jokes and songs and music and all that you could do, yes?”

“Yes... yes! Did!” Ruthenium barked, her tail wagging. “Made Dogs feel happy again, made life seem good!”

“The concept of morale, of simple internal strength based on having something to live for, cannot be ignored or denigrated. There must be that strength, that happiness, to carry others through. You are not a fighter, but you know what fighting is. This will be a strange thing to say but... I have made you even more... you,” the Black Knight said.

“More me? How can be more me? Am already me. Are two of me?” Ruthenium asked, looking around behind herself, ending up spinning a few times as she almost seemed to chase her tail.

“You have been preserved, but refined,” the Black knight explained. “You have kept a certain thing. A not-knowing, but not a base ignorance. You don't know how to wage war, but you know it is something that must be. You are pure, but not a naïf. You know the joy and frivolous wonder of freedom and the blithe spirit, but you also now know the heavy cost of such liberty, and you know, now more than ever, that evil can be beaten... but there is more to it.” He pointed out at the somber and dark Dogs of the village. “See them there?”

Ruthenium looked out at nodded. “Yes. Sad Dogs. War not game. Can smell blood. Remember smell of blood when bad Dogs came to hurt and steal. They free now, but remember fighting. Remember pain, remember death.”

“They're not soldiers. Not warriors. They're farmers, fishers, miners and smiths. We made them capable of fighting, physically. But mentally, that takes a long time, and is a hard thing. Even the rebels who want to fight have to learn how to deal with what has happened. They need something to take away this terrible feeling. The memories of death and the dying of those they knew. This grimness needs an antidote. They need to see that, like bad folks, bad thoughts can be beaten. They need to...” The Black Knight trailed off.

“Smile!” Ruthenium barked, running off to give her musical suit a go among the crowds of the despondent.

“Think they'll let her help them smile?” Maureen asked, flying down from a patrol of the village.

“Eventually. They really do want to smile. Need to. After this they need to see the good in life. It's what she does. What she is, deep inside,” the Black Knight replied.

“I take it we're three goin' back ta the caverns?” Maureen inquired.

The Black Knight watched as Ruthenium gamboled about and played her odd suit of tines and gems. Though most continued to trudge about in their heavy hollowness, one or two actually looked a little lighter. “In time. In time...”

“Can not... be...” Ruthenium hesitated, her fingers hovering inches over the sphere of the Element of Laughter. She and the Black Knight were in the hidden hexagonal room, with the statues of Princess Celestia, Princess Luna and the Arch-Magus. They had walked down the gaze of Princess Celestia and veered to the alcove with 'Laughter' written above it.

“I think the citizens of Trout would disagree,” the Black Knight countered, standing behind Ruthenium and watching intently.

“But am not pony! Elements are pony magic,” Ruthenium protested.

“They are all of our magic,” the Black Knight noted. “Harmony is for everyone. It must be, or else it means nothing. I know that you are the bearer. You came to trust my judgment before. Just give me the benefit of the doubt and touch the element.”

Ruthenium continued to look dubious, but she placed her large hand down on the stone surface of the inactive sphere. Light surged, causing a surprised bark and soft whimper. The sphere shattered apart into gem-like shards which encircled Ruthenium's neck. They circled in, closer and closer, orbiting faster the nearer they approached, until they pressed into Ruthenium's velveteen fur and flashed out with a brighter, more powerful light.

The elemental necklace was around Ruthenium's neck, elaborately designed and made of solid gold. At the bottom, over her chest, an elongated hexagonal gem-cut pendant, made of pure ruthenium.

Ruthenium's trembling fingers slowly stroked across the polished surface of the metal, her breath coming in shuddering pants. “Is... is element...”

“The element of Laughter,” the Black Knight said with a smile. “It looks right on you.”

“Is magic of old world, magic of harmony,” Ruthenium said, smiling, her words almost catching as she spoke. “Is true... is real. Is me!” She leaped around the room, barking and whooping as she passed the stone eyes of the three central statues.

The Black Knight couldn't keep the smile from growing wider. “Two elements reborn. I suppose this means...”

“We have party!” Ruthenium howled, bouncing in place and wagging her tail a mile a minute.

“Some how, I knew you were going to say that,” the Black Knight chuckled, slowly leading the overly excited Ruthenium from the chamber.

“Fairy tales are more than true- not because they tell us dragons exist, but because they tell us dragons can be beaten.”

-Neil Gaiman, paraphrasing G. K. Chesterton

Author's Note

Title reference: Yes, I am alluding to The Magnificent Seven.

slíbhín- Sly person

cladhaire- Can mean a gentle rogue, or a back-stabbing coward.

Goethite's return strike: Inspired by Mercedes Lackey's poem "The Colddrake."

Epithets: The standard Heartless Hind and Stag King are joined by The Dead One. That is the translation of Dainn (One of the four stags who chomped the boughs of the world-ash, spreading destruction.)