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                       Tuning Blade                        
                    -by Grey Sentinel-                     
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                    Ch. 1: Paper Trail                     
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Ch. 1: Paper Trail
My dearest,
I am sorry. For all of the pain I have caused you, due to my disappearance. My sudden departure was not because of you or our child, but of other circumstances which I cannot speak of. You won’t understand my predicament, but I pray that both of you will find it in your hearts to forgive me. I wish I could comfort you with the promise of my return. But if I were to make that promise, I would be lying, giving you a false hope which would only do you further harm.
My dearest Madrigal, I plead with you; Always remember that I love you both with my entire heart and soul.  
Please, give my cello to our child. I know she will be magnificent.
- Morendo
Tuning Blade
The auditorium filled with clapping hooves and cheerful whistles as the orchestra’s performance came to a close.
Putting her bow at her side, Octavia held her cello close and bowed along with the rest of the orchestra as the audience continued their applause. She bore a face of emotionless focus during the length of her star performance. Now, Octavia couldn’t help but grin happily as ponies tossed colorful flowers on stage.
It was her first show as part of the Trottingham Orchestra, a position Octavia had acquired through her hard work. It was yet another step towards achieving her dream; becoming lead cellist in Canterlot’s esteemed Ninth Symphony. The very same dream she had as a filly.
That dream would only come with patience. For now, Octavia’s place was in Trottingham.
The red curtains closed on the orchestra, blocking the bright lights and signaling for the musicians to pack up. Octavia sighed with accomplishment and carried her cello backstage, gently placing it within its case. After quickly fussing with her pink bowtie, she entered the theatre’s lobby.
A crowd of ponies leaving the auditorium lingered, mingling with themselves and some of the emerging musicians. A stallion instantly took notice of Octavia and approached, with others tailing behind him. Their elegant clothes were suited for the noble and wealthy, but they seemed a tad excessive. The Canterlot elite were the wealthiest in Equestria and they never wore anything more than a frilly hat or vest.
“Excuse me!” said the first stallion as he removed his top hat with courtesy, “I must say, you are quite the astounding cellist! My cohorts and I were enthralled by your performance, as well as the rest of the musicians of course. The solo you performed during Earth was simply marvelous.”
Octavia shook the stallion’s hoof graciously.
“Thank you. It was honor to perform for this city.”
“An honor indeed. It’s wonderful to be able to have a Heartland pony share her talent with the Fringe. Livens things up, yes? Have a goodnight.” Said the stallion. He and the other noble ponies returned to their mingling.
Octavia nodded to them as they left. A successful first night, she thought. I can’t wait to tell mum about this.
“Octavia!” Another pony approached, a familiar mare from the orchestra named Keyes, “Some of the old-timers are offering us a tour of the city! You wanna come?”
“Oh, uhmm… isn’t it rather late?” Octavia grimaced in the most polite way possible.
“Aw c’mon Octavia, come have some fun! You deserve to cool off from playing and practicing all the time, at the very least.” Keyes insisted. She almost sounded like Vinyl Scratch, though with much less noise.
Octavia conceded. “Very well. Lead the way.”
Octavia stepped outside. A gush of cool air brushed along her grey coat, lifting a side of her black mane over itself. Octavia put a hoof to her mane to press it back into shape as she joined Keyes and the other musicians in their walk downtown.
Along the way they marveled at the old yet beautiful Tudor style buildings of Trottingham, all graced by the pale light of vintage lampposts from another era. The city was adorned with stone monuments, some dating back to the city’s founding. Octavia couldn’t help but admire the style of the timber-framed cottages and brick-laid manors.
Perhaps one of the most notable differences of Trottingham was the ponies who lived there. Nearly all of the citizens wore some type or set of clothing or garments when going about their business, even during their nighttime outings. It was a big change from the Heartland, where such fashions were still reserved only for grand events. Seeing the native ponies only made Octavia aware of how much she and some of her friends stood out being unclad, discounting bowties of course. The older members of the orchestra, who had lived in Trottingham before, explained that it wasn’t seen as unacceptable for them to be clothing-less. It was more like a tourist’s mark, but they would get used to it.
Continuing to explore at the head of the pack, Keyes stopped everypony to point out a nearby watering hole, labeled ‘The Phoenix Tavern’, which another older member noted as being one of the best pubs in the city. The majority of the group immediately decided to head inside, hoping to indulge in the best drinks Trottingham could offer.
Octavia pushed open the creaky door, joining the others at the large table they had found. Already mugs of apple cider were being passed around, bringing grins and hearty laughs. One mug found its way into Octavia’s hooves, passed down to her by Keyes.
Sitting peacefully as she listened to the many stories and adventures of her fellow musicians, Octavia gently took a whiff of her cider. It carried a heavy and sweet musk, as most hard cider did. She wasn’t surprised. With how the world was going, most towns on the Fringe preferred to have more substance in their drinks.
Had she been given the choice, Octavia would have preferred a glass of wine or champaign, but the cider would do. It was strong enough to help ease her mind, which had been caught in bad memories as of late. Even now, as she zoned out from the cheery tales being told around her, Octavia dwelled on Trottingham. Though she had met many new ponies and was thrilled to be a part of the culture of the historic city, Octavia resented every moment of her stay. Her thoughts prompted her to take a huge swig of her mug, downing nearly all of her cider in one go.
As the night wore on, two more emptied mugs sat beside Octavia. Payment wasn’t an issue, as somepony in the group mentioned getting the tab. Only more reason to keep going. Maybe she could just pass out here and not have to go ‘home’ right away. Or whatever her living space could be called. Anything but ‘home’.
Before she could hail a tender for another round, Octavia’s chair nudged forward. She turned around, noticing the bump had come from a unicorn mare carrying a sheepish smile. The mare had a darkened slate-blue coat, and bright blue eyes which were covered slightly by her orange mane. She wore a short, crimson vest, lined on the side with bright golden buttons and completed with a white cloth wrapped around her neck. A white sash circled the middle of her waist, and her flanks bore a cutie mark of a short telescope.
“Octavia Stradivarius?” asked the mare, gasping a bit before her sentence.
“Yes? How can I help you?” replied Octavia.
“Oh wow! I just wanted to say that I really, really love your music! I have a friend who told me about some of the pieces you’ve done. When I heard you’d be in Trottingham, I just had to come to see you perform! I’m Ebony, by the way. It’s a pleasure to meet you!”
A look of subtle astonishment appeared on Octavia’s face. She had never made a huge impression musically in most of the towns she had played in, until now. Nevertheless, Octavia was delighted to have met a fan so quickly after her recent performance.
“I’m grateful that you are a fan of my work, Ebony. And it’s a pleasure to meet you as well! Would you care to sit?” Octavia motioned to an empty chair beside her, prompting her new friend to join.
As the night progressed and the celebrations slowed, Octavia and Ebony conversed with each other over music and other topics. Most of the tavern had grown quiet, apart from the occasional snoring from those who had one too many drinks.
Ebony held a mug in her hoof as she sat beside Octavia, though she hadn’t take more than a few sips. Octavia had stopped at her third some time ago, but it was enough to make her feel more exhausted than she wanted to be.
“So, you’re from Ponyville, right? Are you… staying with any relatives here in Trottingham, or…?” asked Ebony. The tone in her voice shifted somehow with her question, but Octavia didn’t notice.
“I’m sorry, what… Oh! Oh, yes, well… I’m staying at a house that my father…” Octavia paused her own tone dropping onto a much more serious level, “… that my father used to own. The…precise word there being ‘used to’. No, wait... precise two words.”
“Used to?” Ebony echoed.
Octavia frowned, locking her eyes onto one of the empty mugs on the table. Her stare showed a pain which had been with her for a long time.
“…My father passed away a few years ago. His home has gone into the family’s care since, and we’ve kept it primarily the way it was left.” Octavia said, stammering at some of her words. Ebony took notice.
“I’m sorry, Octavia, I hope I’m not prying—”
“No, no, don’t be sorry. Please don’t be sorry. To be utterly honest with you, I never liked my father. In fact I rather despise him. He simply left my mother one day while I was still a foal, without any kind of goodbye or explanation as to why he left, not even a letter. He broke my mother’s heart… And now I’m living in his house…. The very same house that bastard used to live in since the day he abandoned his own family!!!”
WHAM!
Octavia’s hoof slammed onto the table, rattling nearly all of the ponies nearby.
The tavern fell utterly silent, growing even more quiet than it had been only moments ago. Octavia’s anger subsided as she noticed the shock and worry on Ebony’s face.
“You ok, Octavia?” asked Keyes, coming from the other end of the table.
“I’m…yes, I’m fine. I’m sorry, I think I should go. It’s getting late.” Octavia replied as she lifted herself out of her chair. She did her best to breathe deeply.
Keyes frowned, “Do you need help getting back home?”
“No, I’ll be ok, I’m not that trashed.”
“Are you sure? I could go with you if you’d like.” Ebony interjected.
Octavia declined, rubbing a hoof on her forehead.
“I’m sure I’ll be ok. It was nice to have met you, Ebony. And thank you, Keyes, for inviting me. I had fun.” Octavia said, cracking a weak smile at her friends before exiting the tavern.
A beautiful and glowing full moon hung above the city as Octavia walked along the street, her hooves making a resounding clop with each step. She kept her eyes on the tiled ground, her thoughts still stuck on her outburst back in the tavern. The image of how rude her demeanor was caught her attention, preventing her from noticing that the tiles beneath her hooves had turned into street-paved stone.
“WATCH OUT!!”
The warning from the carriage pony startled Octavia so much that her legs froze in place. The only thought in Octavia’s mind told her to brace herself, and she did just that as the carriage failed to slow down.
However, instead of feeling the massive force of a horse-drawn carriage crash into her, Octavia felt a push from the side as an unknown pony tackled her out of the way of the carriage just as it sped by. Shook up a bit, Octavia looked up at the stallion holding her.
“Are you alright? It’s a good thing I turned that corner, otherwise you might be flattened on the street right now.” Said the stallion rather jokingly as he helped Octavia off the ground.
The pegasus stallion was an average looking fellow. An earthy-green coat of fur covered him, along with a tan mane and tail, styled nicely though with little complexities. His grey eyes seemed to almost reflect the moonlight. His officer’s coat covered his cutie mark.
“I-I’m fine…agh.” Octavia replied, faltering as she attempted to get up. The stallion made sure she didn’t fall again.
“Careful now, you don’t want to be tripping over yourself around here at night. Or walk in front of another carriage. Why don’t you let this nightwatch officer escort you home?”
The officer’s words struck some sense into Octavia, convincing her to take his offer. It was the best option, considering she couldn’t even remember which direction she was heading anymore.
“Oof… I’d appreciate it if you would, officer.”
The stallion gave her a smile and a nod of approval, letting Octavia lead the way as they head in the direction of home.
“My name’s Pledge by the way. And you?”
“Octavia.”
“Octavia? What a lovely name…”
Pledge and Octavia arrived at the latter’s place of residence. At least, that’s what Octavia would call it. Her sense of respectfulness prevented her from naming the small house something more vulgar. The respect was more for its architects of the past, than its previous owner.
Having regained some clarity and balance during their walk, Octavia turned to Pledge as she stood atop the step leading to the house’s bright blue door.
“I, ah… never got to properly thank you for before, Pledge. Thank you for saving me. And thank you for helping me get home.” Said Octavia, her eyes beginning to droop as she did her best to smile in gratitude.
“It was the least I could do, miss Octavia. If you ever need any help in the future, I’d be more than happy to oblige. Have a good night’s rest, miss Octavia.” Pledge replied with a heart-felt grin as he trotted off into the night, turning around the nearby corner. The sound of his hooves against the tiled walkway dissipated, before ending with a flap of wings.
Octavia entered the door and headed straight for the nearest couch, falling face first onto the cushions.
A resonance of chirping birds and rustling leaves reached Octavia’s ears as her eyes slowly opened. With a groan, she pushed herself up off the couch and rubbed her head with her hoof, taking off her mangled bowtie as well and placing it on the living room table.
Having a fuzzy memory of the night before, Octavia let out a sigh as she made her way to the kitchen. Not being in the mood to prepare an elaborate or exotic breakfast, Octavia settled with a slice of toast lathered with honey. She took the plate of breakfast in her mouth, leaving the kitchen and settling in the house’s study room across from the living room.
The study room had an entire wall lined with rows and shelves of books that her father once used to own. There was a foreboding air within the study, one that exuded history and knowledge, yet it felt like a blank page to Octavia. Had her father actually stayed in her life,   
Octavia would have appreciated all the books before her, but right now they meant nothing. They were just old books.
After placing her plate down and taking a bite of her toast, Octavia examined a few of the shelves closest to her, thinking she might find something interesting to read while she ate. True to her father’s former profession of being an artisan and crafter of stringed instruments, many of the books on the shelf related to music theory or crafting techniques. Octavia had read many similar books, and proceeded to skip over to the next shelf. However, one book caught her eye; a blue book with a title on the spine.
‘A Study of Equestrian Artifacts and Archaeology’… How peculiar, Octavia thought as she pulled the book carefully out of its place on the shelf, wiping a bit of dust off of the cover.
It was strange indeed that a book on archaeology no less was tucked in with music books. Octavia took another glance at where the book’s spot on the shelf, and was puzzled to find a crumpled and half-bent piece of paper pushed up against the back end of the wooden shelf. Placing the blue book down by her toast, Octavia reached in and pulled out the paper. It was severely torn at one end, suggesting that it was pulled from another book or perhaps a notebook. Octavia imagined that her father was in a hurry or just being clumsy when he had put the book back in the shelf, not noticing the paper caught underneath.
Octavia unfolded the paper and straightened it out as best she could. On the very top was her father’s name; Morendo Stradivarius. She looked further down and began to read the paper.
What was before her on this mangled paper was nothing short of bizarre. Of the words that were still legible, Octavia made out ramblings of an ‘artifact’ that her father was examining, more specifically some kind of old chest. Trying to make out the remainder of the document was fruitless, as some words were smeared or simply too elaborately written in a hoof writing that was very unfamiliar to Octavia.
Towards the lower half of the paper were two symbols. One of them resembled a capital ‘A’, though the horizontal line was missing, instead having a line on the bottom of the ‘A’ curved slightly upward. It looks more and more like a hood, or perhaps an angled teardrop. The other symbol seemed simpler; A cross, with the end of each of the lines making up the cross fanned outward. The symbols were drawn right next to each other, though their designs contrasted one another in a way Octavia couldn’t quite describe.
What was my father doing with his time here? This all seems rather strange. Perhaps it’s about time I started learning more about him... Perhaps I can finally uncover why he left, thought Octavia as she folded the paper as neatly as possible.
Finishing her breakfast and putting her father’s document in a saddle pouch along with other belongings for the day, Octavia left the house and made her way to the city auditorium to retrieve her cello. There was hardly a cloud in the sky as the sun shined brightly, cloaking the city in rays of yellow sunlight. Octavia took a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the morning light before heading off.
She soon arrived at the front of the auditorium, but before she walked up the stone steps, Octavia spotted a familiar mare along the sidewalk, who noticed her in turn.
“Hi Octavia!” Ebony exclaimed as she gallops over to Octavia.
“Hello, Ebony. It’s good to see you! Please, let me apologize for my rudeness last night.” Stated Octavia, smiling sheepishly.
Ebony waved a hoof at her in assurance. “Don’t worry about it, Octavia. Stuff like that happens to every pony at some point. So what are you up to today?”
“I was just going to pick up my cello from the auditorium, as I had left it there the previous night. I—,” Octavia paused as a thought crossed her mind. “Ebony… do you mind… helping me with something?”
“Sure thing! What do you need?”
“Take a look at these symbols here,” Octavia pulled out her father’s paper and revealed the symbols to Ebony, “Are you familiar with them? Do you have any clue as to what they are or what they mean?”
Ebony squinted hard at both the symbols, putting a hoof to her lip. “Hmmmm… Well, I’m not exactly sure… I’ve never really seen an ‘A’ or a cross like this… Oh! Oh! Wait, that’s right! I’ve seen similar symbols in a book I’ve read before. I’m friends with a pony in Vanhoover who studies rare stuff, like symbols, books, antiques, anything that is hard to find. I saw these symbols on one of his books! He might be able to help explain what they are.”
Octavia looked at the symbols herself for a second, then returned her eyes to Ebony.
“Well, that’s better than nothing. Ebony, forgive me if I’m asking too much of you, but could you take me to this friend of yours?”  
“You’re a lucky mare, Octavia! I’m leaving for Vanhoover today actually! I’d be more than happy to take you along. Would you be ready to leave today though? Or would you need a day or two to get ready?” Pondered Ebony, after doing a tiny hop of excitement.
“I don’t have that much with me here in Trottingham. Let me get my cello and bring it back home. I can make an arrangement with my conductor in the orchestra to give me leave for a few days. We can leave today.” Octavia said as she placed the document within her saddle pouch.
“Great! Meet me at the train station this evening when you’re ready. Vanhoover is almost a day’s worth away, though the cars have resting quarters, so can catch some sleep along the way. See you then!” Ebony grinned as she turns and trotted away, disappearing into a crowd of ponies.
It seems as though I’ll be in for an adventure yet. I hope this will be worth it, Octavia thought as she stood for a moment in front of the auditorium.
Deep in thought, she began to feel her coat warm up from the sun’s rays, which prompted her to proceed inside the auditorium. She made her way to the warm up room and found her cello where she left it. Now, with her cello strapped on to her, Octavia showed a look of determination as she made her way back home to prepare for her coming journey to Vanhoover, and to uncovering more about the mysterious life of her father.
Author's Note
Just a note; I know that Octavia's official name is Octavia Melody, but I thought it would be interesting and unique to give her a different surname. I chose the name Stradivarius. For those who are curious; Stradivarius is the term used to label any stringed instrument (cellos included=]) crafted by the Italian artisan Antonio Stradivari. These specifically crafted instruments are the rarest and most valued instruments ever created, and when I heard the term I thought it would fit nicely for a pony like Octavia. =]

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                   Ch. 2: Truth Be Known                   
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Ch. 2: Truth Be Known
Octavia’s eyelids peered open, sunlight seeping through the window and onto her face as the train rocked slightly. She grumbled a bit as she stretched her neck.
Sitting across from Octavia was Ebony, who was already awake and sitting up on her seat, which doubled as a foldable bed for the long trip, like Octavia’s. She gazed out the window, looking lost in thought.
As Octavia got up, Ebony blinked, shaking her head a little before turning to her.
“Good morning! I hope you slept alright.” The unicorn said, beaming.
The seat-bed was one of the least comfortable things Octavia had slept on, but she said nothing. Ebony had purchased both of their tickets, despite Octavia’s own insistence that she could afford her own. She wouldn’t want to insult her generosity by complaining.
“Good morning. Have we reached Vanhoover yet?”
“The train just passed over the Vérité River, so we should be at our station soon.” Stated Ebony, her horn glowing with a blue aura as she magically lifted her bag from the bottom of the seat and set it at her side.
Octavia reached down for her bag as well, placing it neatly beside her. Shadows seeped in and out of the train car windows as the large buildings of Vanhoover passed by, covering the sun’s light. The brakes screeched on the railway, slowing the train and signaling for the passengers to assemble their belongings.
Octavia and Ebony filled into the crowd of ponies as they departed the train and set hoof in the station. Making their way past the crowded floors, the two exit the station onto the bustling city. The buildings within the tightly packed center of Vanhoover dwarf those of Trottingham. The ponies going about their businesses had a very similar fashion sense to the ponies of Trottingham as well.
The sight gave Octavia a sense of wonderment. It was hard to believe that cities in the Fringe could resemble the best of Heartland Equestria’s many cities, like Manehatten. Octavia had heard much of the progress Vanhoover had been making in the past few years. It had made incredible strides in keeping crime scarce.
Ebony took the lead, showing Octavia the way down several corners and walkways. Although Octavia enjoyed marveling at the sights and landmarks along the way, she couldn’t help but think about her father over and over, and of his peculiar document. She hoped she could get answers from this acquaintance of Ebony’s.
“Ebony, who exactly is this friend that we are meeting? A scholar or librarian, perhaps?” asked Octavia as the two weaved past idle ponies on the street side.
“Oh! I never actually told you about him, did I? I’m sorry,” replied Ebony, chuckling in embarrassment, “He’s definitely a scholar. He’s a professor at Vanhoover University! Professor Ether.”
Octavia gave her a look of astonishment. “Really? I’ve heard a lot about that institution. It’s very well known for its art and history programs. Did Professor Ether teach many of your classes?”
“I was never a full student at the university, but I was able to take some summer classes there, thanks to a partnership with my college in Fillydelphia. I took cartography, which Professor Ether was teaching. He helped me out a lot during that class, and we became friends shortly after. He has a lot of books.” Ebony explained as they went through a crosswalk and around another corner, which led into a much wider street lined with fenced-off trees.
“He sounds very well-versed. I look forward to meeting him.”
“Trust me, Octavia. I think you’ll really like him.”
Following the wide street, Octavia and Ebony soon happened upon Vanhoover’s Main Square, a large open area dotted with fountains and small parks. Long banners and vibrant ribbons hung on the trees and fountains, declaring to all that a local festival would be held soon. Many mobile food stands were setup among the tables and umbrellas in the Square, catering to the hungry ponies bustling about. Octavia noticed that many of the tables were occupied, and that the Square itself was incredibly lively.
“Beautiful, isn’t it? There’s an art festival that will be here in the Square starting tomorrow. The university will be putting a few student works on display with other artists. Maybe we could go tomorrow! Let’s –”
“Miss Octavia! Over here!”
Ebony stopped short in her words as Octavia swiveled her head towards the familiar voice.
At a table only a few steps away sat Pledge, sitting and waving with a grin whilst holding a half-eaten carrot dog in one hoof.
Octavia smiled at seeing the stallion again and trotted over to him, with a slightly confused Ebony in tow. The two ponies entered into the shade of the umbrella moored at the center of the table.
“Pledge? What a wonderful surprise! What are you doing here in Vanhoover? Don’t you have duties with the Trottingham nightwatch?” asked Octavia. Ebony subtly raised an eyebrow.
“I’m actually part of the volunteer branch, so I have less restrictions. You could call it working part-time. I’m here in Vanhoover visiting family and friends. I’m definitely just as surprised to see you here, miss Octavia.” Said Pledge, taking another bite of his carrot dog.
“There’s no need for formality, Pledge. Call me Octavia.”
“Alright then, Octavia. Why don’t you and your friend take a seat? These two chairs aren’t reserved as of now.”
Octavia was so glad to see Pledge again that she had almost forgotten to introduce Ebony to him.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Pledge, this is Ebony, a friend I met in Trottingham not too long ago. And Ebony, this is Pledge. He helped me get back home safe after that night at the tavern.”
Ebony put on a cheerful grin. “Hello!”
“Nice to meet you!” Pledge returned her cheerful tone, briefly shaking her hoof.
The two mares took their seats at Pledge’s table as he turned to Octavia. “So! What brings you two to the crowded city of Vanhoover?”
“Well,” Octavia reached into her saddle bag and pulled out her father’s document, giving it to Pledge to examine. “I discovered this document in my father’s study yesterday. My father was doing some kind of research on an object of his interest, and even more perplexing are the two symbols which he drew here. I was originally going to do some researching on my own, but Ebony offered to bring me to see a friend of hers, a professor at Vanhoover University. We will be seeing him soon.”
Pledge lifted his brow respectfully to Ebony. “You know a professor at the prestigious Vanhoover University, huh? Were you a student there?”
“U-Uh… I wasn’t a full-time student there. I had just taken a few summer courses… uh, there, in cartography.” Ebony said. Her sudden stammering was followed by her hiding beneath her orange mane.
Nodding with a chuckle, Pledge went over the document, bearing a perplexed look as he finished.
“Pretty mysterious. I wonder what kind of artifact he was studying. And these symbols…maybe they were inscribed on the artifact? Definitely gets you wondering! I’m sure you’ll get the answers you’re looking for, Octavia. If not here in Vanhoover, then somewhere.” Stated Pledge, returning the document to Octavia.
Just as she returned the paper to her bag, Octavia straightened her back and crossed her hind legs tightly, displaying a look of urgency. “Ah… Will you excuse me? I really have to, agh, find a restroom.”
Pledge pointed a hoof towards the front of the Square, marking the stalls next to a large food vendor. “Straight that-a-way. There’s a few porta-stalls setup.”
“Thank you, I’ll be back shortly!”
Octavia disembarked from her chair hurriedly to find the nearest stall, leaving Ebony and Pledge with each other.  
Ebony kept her head away from Pledge, trying to avoid looking at him while keeping an eye on Octavia.   
Pledge instantly took notice. He leaned back in his chair with a chuckle.
“You seem pretty curious.”
“H-Huh? Curious about what?” asked Ebony.
“More like about who! So what is it about her? Worried about her getting lost? Or are you… admiring her backside?” Pledge asked with a playful grin, raising his eyebrows up and down.
Upon realizing his insinuations, Ebony turned to him and scrunched her snout in anger. “No, I am not admiring her! And I’m not that kind of mare either! Jeez.”
Pledge shrugged before putting both of his hooves on the table. “Then why so curious?”
Ebony’s eyes shifted back to Octavia in the distance. “W-Well… I guess you could say I’m worried for her. Octavia was telling me a few nights ago how she never really knew her father, and that she hates him for abandoning her and her mother. I’m hoping that Octavia will come to think more highly of him when she learns the truth.”
Straightening his posture, Pledge watched Ebony closely.
“It all depends. What is the truth?”
“That her father was… wait.”
Ebony spun her head back towards Pledge, meeting his serious stare. She locked onto him with her head cocked in confusion, but soon realized a terrifying truth. A chill of fear rippled along her spine.
Upon seeing her hanging jaw and frozen expression, Pledge cracked a devious smile.
Her breathing tensed. “Y-you’re not…”
Suddenly, Pledge jumped out of his chair, his smile turning into the playful grin it was only moments prior. Ebony flinched, causing the pegasus to only chuckle. Both of their ears twitched to the pattering of Octavia’s hooves growing closer.
“It was nice talking to you Ebony. I’ve got a few things to do before the day is over. I hope to you see you again sometime.”
Pledge left a shocked Ebony and trotted up to Octavia.
“My apologies if took long, there was a rather long line.” Octavia explained, running a hoof down her mane.
“It’s alright, I was just going to say that I have to get going. Errands to do, and all that. I hope your time at the University goes well, and I’m sure we will meet again soon.” Said Pledge as he turned and made his way to the edge of the square.
“Of course. Goodbye, Pledge! It was good seeing you!” Octavia waved after the pegasus as he spread out his wings and took off, banking around the side of a building and out of sight.
Octavia returned to Ebony, who had her hoof on her mouth, pondering.
“Would it be a good time to head to the professor’s office now, Ebony?” asked Octavia, lifting up her bag.
Ebony got up from her chair, acquiring her bag as well. “Y-y-yes. It would be a really good time to go now. Let’s head over.”
At the northern end of the square lied the entrance to the renowned and enormous Vanhoover University campus. The stonework of the main building resembled designs from a much older century.
Checking in through the visitor center, Octavia and Ebony made their way through the pristine hallways and up the lavishly decorated stairwells to the faculty offices floor. Passing by several doors, the two stopped at the very last one.
S-324, Professor Ether.
Ebony placed a hoof to the door and knocked three times, prompting a response from the other side.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me, Professor.” Ebony stated.
“Come in.”
Pushing the door open, Ebony and Octavia entered into the small office. An ornate desk sat in the center of the room, cluttered to the brim with papers, folders, and books, all cloaked in the sunny patches of light peering through a large window. The various shelves and bookcases lining the walls fared no better, being packed to the brim with files and texts.
Octavia wondered how any pony could find anything in this kind of office, though she presumed that the room’s state was due to the demanding responsibilities of a college professor.
Sitting behind his desk, Professor Ether removed himself from the laid out papers before him, piling them together with a glow of his horn. He had a bright red coat of fur, and a coarse, white mane. A thin beard covered the lines of his jaw and muzzle, and the banks underneath his amber eyes suggested that the unicorn burnt the midnight oil the night before.
“Hello, Ebony. I’m glad you were able to stop by today. This must be the extraordinary musician I’ve heard about! It’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Octavia.” Said the Professor, walking up to the two ponies with an elder’s smile and extending a hoof to Octavia.
Octavia shook his hoof, “I’m sorry. You said you’ve heard about me?”
“A few of my cohorts have lived in Ponyville for a time, and some had taken notice of your solo performances. I hope to one day attend one of your concerts! It’s a marvel on your ability to play such an ornate instrument without the use of magic. I’ve always enjoyed the cello myself. Never played one, but I would call it one of my more… favorite instruments.” Explained the Professor as he returned to his desk, “However, I suspect you two are here for reasons other than small talk. What can I help you with?”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” Octavia smiled, “I have this document which I was hoping you might help to decipher. If it isn’t a bother—,”
“I’m sorry,” Ebony interjected, bearing a worried look, “I need to talk to you, Professor. In private, if that’s ok.”
“Very well. Octavia, do you mind waiting outside for a minute? I promise this won’t take long.” Professor Ether asked, patting down his scholar’s vestments.
Octavia nodded, a little surprised at Ebony’s request. “O-of course. I’ll be outside then.”
Ebony opened the door with her magic, closing it after Octavia entered out into the hallway.
Ebony did seem a tad bit jittery ever since Pledge had to leave. I wonder what was so urgent, Octavia thought to herself as she scanned the corridor. In an effort to find something to occupy her, Octavia walked down the hall, observing the many portraits of ponies hung in between each of the faculty doors. She admired the age-old artwork, figuring their value at being hundreds if not thousands of bits.
Upon reaching the very end of the hallway, Octavia found a large and intricate window, giving way to a beautiful overlook of the entire square outside, back-dropped by a gorgeous sunset. Octavia put a hoof by the windowsill to get a closer view, unaware of the silent hoof steps approaching from behind.
“Marvelous view, isn’t it?”
Octavia jumped and spun around towards the sudden voice, placing a hoof to her chest.
An earth pony stallion stood before her, smiling. He exuded an alluring air of charm, confidence, and - most notably to Octavia - , a very classy disposition. The stallion wore a very Fringe-colonial style overcoat, colored a deep and withered cobalt and accented with portions of red. His natural coat of fur was a pale brown, and his smooth blackish-grey mane was mostly covered by the tricorn hat upon his head, excluding the portion of his mane curled into a tight ponytail. Along his two front hooves were two bracers which melded into the design of his coat. The main strap on the front of his right bracer had what appeared to be a rusted and broken buckle, one which resembled the tear-drop like symbol on Octavia’s document.
The stallion moved beside Octavia, the sunset casting light on his deep orange eyes. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“No, no, it’s alright.” Replied Octavia with a small chortle.
“You wouldn’t happen to be a certain Octavia Stradivarius, here to visit the Professor this evening, would you?”
“Why yes, that’s me.”
Why does every pony in this city know me? Octavia thought, “And might I have the pleasure your name, sir?”
“Halcyon Voyage, at your service,” the stallion removed his hat and bowed respectfully, revealing the rest of his greying mane, “It is a privilege to be able to meet the daughter of Morendo Stradivarius. You have the same glint in your eyes that he once had.”
Octavia wasn’t sure as to take that as a compliment or not. “You knew my father?”
“Yes! He and I worked together for some time,” Halcyon turned towards the hallway, motioning for Octavia to join him.
Octavia trotted up to his side, slowing down to match his pace. “Are you in the crafting trade, then?”
“Not quite. I’m more attuned to… varying forms of diplomacy. But your father often liked to share his progress on each instrument he tended to. We can talk about that later, though. I suspect that the Professor will want to supply you with the information you crave first.”
Halcyon said as they stopped in front of Professor Ether’s office.
Before Octavia could question him further, Professor Ether and Ebony emerged from the office room. The Professor nodded at Halcyon as Ebony shot a smile towards Octavia.
“Ah, Halcyon. Wonderful to see you.”
“Likewise, Professor.”
Professor Ether turned his gaze to Octavia. “Right then. Octavia, if you’ll kindly follow us.”
She returned a confused look. “Where are we going?”
“To a place more suitable for discussion.”
The party of four traveled up a large stairwell to the upper-most floor, which held a single room with a large and empty fireplace, containing a few tables and low-hanging picture frames.
The Professor placed a hoof on the left-most frame and lightly pushed on it, prompting the wall to rumble with the sound of shifting mechanisms. Octavia looked on in amazement as the fireplace shifted and turned halfway, revealing a hidden passageway. The four go through the stone-brick entrance, the fire place closing behind them.
At the end of the short entryway, the group arrived at what seemed like an even larger room than before. The lounge-like chamber was lined with filled bookshelves, desks, tables, couches and other furniture, all pristinely arranged.
Several crimson banners hung over the stone archways lining the ceiling, each bearing a large red cross, exactly like the one pictured in Octavia’s document.
Proceeding up to the center of the room, the Professor stopped to face Octavia. Halcyon and Ebony stood alongside him.
“Octavia. You came here seeking answers about the life of your father. The time has come for you to have those answers. The document, if you please.”
With a look of uncertainty, Octavia gave her father’s document to Professor Ether. He unfolded it carefully with his magic, keeping its text and symbols within Octavia’s sight.
“Morendo had been spending a large amount of time studying an ancient artifact, one that would benefit our organization. This document is one of possibly several research notes that your father compiled during his studies.”
Octavia felt lost. “Artifact? Research? I don’t understand. Who are you ponies?”
Professor Ether floated the document closer to him. He pointed directly at the cross.
“This… is the sigil of our order… The Templar Order. Your father, Morendo, was Templar, like us.”
Professor Ether returned the document back to Octavia as she takes in his words. She gave the once-crumpled piece of paper a long stare.
“My father was a Templar… I still don’t understand. What does that mean? He worked for you? For… whatever group you are a part of?” Octavia asked incessantly.
“It was how I knew your father,” Halcyon said, “We worked together as Templars, ever since he became initiated.”  
Octavia shifted her gaze back onto the document. Wrapped in thoughts, her eyes locked on to one un-addressed part of the paper.
“What about this other symbol?”
Professor Ether paused, as if annoyed at the question. “That… is the symbol of our enemies, a topic that Ebony was discussing with me in private earlier. They call themselves the Assassins…”
The Professor took a moment to walk towards a nearby window, which gave a dizzying view of Vanhoover. His words descended into a storytelling tone as he gazed outside.
“You see… for nearly all of recorded history, going as far back as before the rise of Celestia and Luna… The Templar Order has been at war with the Assassins.”
Octavia furrowed her brow. “At war? How? Why?”
“A clash of ideology.” Halcyon stated, drawing Octavia’s attention, “The Templars have a purpose; To bring about unity, order, and peace to a world strewn with chaos. To give the same sense of stability enjoyed by the Heartland to the Fringe, and beyond. To accomplish this goal, we muster resources and power, and shape politics and worldly conflicts to our advantage. All within the secrecy of the shadows. However, there has been one major obstacle in our path…”
“The Assassins.” Ebony jumped in, redirecting Octavia’s gaze. “They’re nothing but a band of killers who thrive in the Fringe and in the lands which see the most turmoil. We always choose the peaceful way of accomplishing our goals if we can. But the Assassins use death to further their own goals. They’re… They’ve been a threat to everything we have been trying to build.”
As Ebony finished, Professor Ether turned away from the window to face Octavia once more.
“Morendo knew that the Assassins often lurked around every corner, and would often alert us if he ever suspected their interference or presence. I can’t say for absolute certain, but it is highly likely that his intention for putting the symbol on the document was his attempt at a warning.”
Octavia remained silent, still staring at the document. Professor Ether continued.
“There is a reason why we are telling you this now, Octavia. We need your help. Morendo was given an artifact of ancient value to study in secret, so as to keep his work and findings as hidden as possible. With his passing, we were unable to acquire the whereabouts of his research, including the artifact itself. The artifact is something that we believe would aid us in furthering our goal of world order and peace, and it is critical that we recover it as well as the research. That is why we sought you out. Though you know little about your father, you are the most ideal pony to aid us in tracking down the lost research.” Stated the Professor.
Octavia’s eyes moved to Professor Ether as he trotted up to her side and placed a hoof on her shoulder. “I know this is a lot to take in at once. We aren’t going to pressure you into making a decision, but we wish you’d consider the offer. What do you think?”
Octavia rubbed her temple as her eyes shifted down to the floor. “I’m…I’m not so sure. To be utterly honest, I wasn’t expecting all of this. And as you said… It’s a lot to take in right now.”
“Take the time to think it over. In the meantime, we have a room set up for you to stay in with Ebony. She will show you the way. Thank you for being patient with us, Octavia.”
Despite the sudden revelations, Octavia appreciated having a place to bed down for the night. Still racing thoughts through her mind, she thanked the professor with a weak smile and proceeded to follow Ebony through a nearby door.
As the door closed shut, Professor Ether walked to the very back of the room, stopping before a small marble altar. Halcyon followed close behind, looking concerned.
“Tell me something, Professor; Was it a wise decision to reveal so little to her? There are plenty more facts that could influence her decision.”
“She is as confused enough as it is,” The Professor sighed, turning to Halcyon swiftly, “We don’t want to over-burden her with too much. She wouldn’t be in the proper mindset to come to a decision. She hardly is now… The best course of action is to limit how much we reveal about Morendo. We wouldn’t want her to make the same mistake that he did...”
“What’s wrong?” Halcyon asked, seeing some distress in the Professor’s words.
“Ebony thinks she and Octavia were followed…”
“Assassins, no doubt.” Halcyon breathed.
“This could not have come at a worse time… I have to collect some paper from my office. Come. We’ll discuss on the way.”
Soon the evening light disappeared below the horizon as the night rose, bringing forth a beautifully starry sky. Within the hidden Templar retreat in the University, Octavia settled into her newly granted quarters with Ebony. The quarters itself is quite simple, having two beds jutting out from the wall as well as various wooden furniture, all illuminated by a few lamps spread about. The red and gold carpeting beneath their hooves felt soft to the touch, and the curtained window prevented any moonlight from passing through. There was even a small bathroom at the far end of the room. The cozy room reminded Octavia of her home in Ponyville.
After removing their bags, brushing their teeth and blowing out all but one lamp in between their beds, Octavia and Ebony readied themselves for the night. Ebony creaked the wooden floorboards as she leapt into her bed, rustling the pillows before working her way underneath the covers with a grin.
Octavia, on the other hoof, peeled back her blankets with utmost precision, laying herself on the bed while carefully pulling the covers over her. She laid flat on her back, putting her hooves together as she stared up at the ceiling. Ebony shifted onto her side, looking over at Octavia. The lamp flickered as it dimly casted its light on their faces.
“I hope you don’t mind the room too much. It can get a bit creaky since we are pretty much on the highest floor of the University.” Said Ebony.
Octavia kept her focus on the ceiling. “It’s fine. It reminds me of home.”
Ebony heard the flat tone in Octavia’s reply.
“Octavia, I, Uhm…” Ebony scooched up a bit as Octavia’s eyes moved towards her, “I’m sorry if I wasn’t up and front with you from the start. The deception is necessary for this kind of work. I hope you still can treat me as a friend.”
Octavia gave out a huff. “It’s alright, Ebony, I’m not upset with you. I suppose I’m just a bit… uncertain. I don’t exactly know where to go from here. And even though I’ve learned a great deal from you, I haven’t exactly learned as much about my father as I had hoped.”
The room fell silent as Octavia finished, leaving only the muffled sound of the wind brushing against the old stone walls. Ebony shuffled beneath her covers, her eyes darting down to the floor and back up again.
“I-if you don’t mind me asking… How did your father die? Were you there?”
Octavia thought it odd that Ebony would ask such a question. These Templars surely would have known about her father’s death.
“… He fell off of a cliff. They think it was some kind of accident, or maybe suicide… There weren’t any witnesses or anything. Just him at the bottom of a cliff.”
“I’m so sorry…”
“It’s alright… How did you become a Templar, Ebony?” Octavia asked, hoping to quickly change the subject.
“Oh, well, I’m actually a very recent member. In fact, finding you was my very first field mission,” Ebony giggled for a moment, though realized Octavia probably wouldn’t appreciate her enthusiasm, “Remember when I told you about my summer classes? That was last summer, and that’s when Professor Ether came to me one day about joining the Order. To be honest I acted the same way you did when he explained it all. It didn’t take me long to decide to join though. With the Templars, I feel like I have a purpose in life. Like I’m able to contribute to making the world a better place, you know? But…”
Ebony stopped herself short, staring at the far wall as Octavia waited for her to continue. She could see a sudden fear appear on Ebony’s face.
“I’m… I’m really, really scared. Of the Assassins. I’ve heard enough stories to know what they’re capable of. You could be walking one instant and then… you’d be dead before you even knew there was an Assassin near you. I was scared out of my mind when I was in Trottingham. And now… uh, I-I mean, I feel a lot safer. There aren’t ever any Assassins in Vanhoover…”
Octavia noticed a change in Ebony’s tone. It seemed like she was stopping herself from saying too much. Though it could have been that Ebony was simply scaring herself.
“Hmm.” Octavia nodded
That dreaded, awkward silence began to settle in once again, leading Ebony to quickly race through her thoughts in an effort find something else to talk about. Her folded ears perked up as she found a worthy topic.
“Oh! I just remembered! The art festival is in the square tomorrow! We should go! It would be a nice way to start the day off. Plus, maybe it could help you take your mind off of things, and relax a little?”
Octavia smiled as she turned her head to Ebony. “That does sound like something worth doing... I think I’d very much like to go.”
“Alright! We’ll go first thing in the morning. Probably best if we get some sleep before then, hah. Goodnight, Octavia.”
“…Goodnight, Ebony.”
Ebony leaned over the edge of her bed and open the lamp’s hatch, blowing out the light and letting the darkness overcome the room. Octavia put her wandering thoughts away, instead focusing on looking forward to the exhibition tomorrow. It will be a nice distraction from the confusion of the day’s events.
Just enjoy yourself tomorrow, Octavia. Don’t think too much on things. You’ll cross that bridge when it comes, Octavia thought as she fell fast asleep.
As the morning sun shone between the buildings of Vanhoover, Octavia exited the University, stopping right before the set of stone steps leading down towards the Main Square.
Octavia wrapped a blue scarf around her neck to keep warm in the brisk morning air. She had brought the scarf from Trottingham with her in case Vanhoover got too cold for her. She did her best to ignore the fact that she took it from her father’s old closet.
Within the Square, several ponies double-checked the various paintings and works of art now on display just as the art show officially opened. Many ponies who were idling nearby or waiting for the event to begin crowded into the square.
Octavia hung about the entrance to the campus, waiting for Ebony, who had to meet with Professor Ether before heading out. Her wait wasn’t too long, as Ebony appeared from the campus doors. She emerged with a long brown jacket on over her vest, its tails flapping from the light breeze. Octavia noticed a bulge from underneath the right side of the jacket.
“That jacket fits you quite well,” said Octavia as Ebony trotted up to her, “Though it seems a tad bit uneven on this side.”
As she put a hoof to Ebony’s side, Octavia felt a hard surface beneath the fabric. She pulled back in surprise.
“I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you feel uneasy, but I was encouraged to bring something to protect ourselves while we are out today. Halcyon gave me a short sword.” Said Ebony as she used her magic to part the right side of her jacket. The hilt of the short sword stuck out, sheathed in a scabbard.
Upon seeing the weapon so close, Octavia stepped back. “W-why do you have that? Is Vanhoover that much of a dangerous place?”
Before Ebony could explain, a squad of eight city guards approached the two mares. The armored stallions and mares were cloaked in blue and white cloth, covering most of their body armor aside from their silver helmets and scabbards. Some of the guards came equipped with wooden crossbows.
The leader of the squad approached Ebony, standing at attention with his sword at his side.
“Miss Ebony. Captain Pike of the city guard. We’ve been given orders to supply you with an escort during your activities today. Don’t worry, we won’t crowd you. If you or your companion need any assistance, we will be within reaching distance.”
“T-Thank you, Captain. We’ll, uhm… We’ll be inside the art exhibits. And, uh, station your ponies as you see fit. Thank you.” Ebony ordered, prompting the guards to disperse towards the Square. Octavia could tell from the wavering in Ebony’s tone that she wasn’t used to giving orders.
Ebony turned back to Octavia, sighing heavily. “Vanhoover isn’t any more dangerous than any other major city in the Fringe. But recently it seems as though things have been stirring up, and Professor Ether just wants to make sure we’re safe is all. Please try not to worry about it, Octavia. We should just enjoy ourselves today!”
Some hesitation crossed Octavia’s mind, but she decided to keep up her ‘letting loose’ streak and dismissed her worries. After all, the guard ponies would be there if anything unexpected were to happen. Even if Octavia wasn’t exactly sure what could happen that would require a whole squad of armored guards.
“Alright, I’m not worried. Let’s go to the exhibits.” Stated Octavia. Ebony nodded with an approving smile and leads the way down the steps to the fringe of the square.
Not much time had passed into the morning and already there were many more ponies arriving to visit the art show, creating a rather clouded atmosphere. The exhibits were bunched together in some places, making it difficult to see the artwork. Though Octavia and Ebony managed to part their way through to see most of the displays. Everything from traditional canvas art to experimental designs and unique sculptures were featured from various artists and crafts ponies. The many colors added a very jovial and almost carnival- like tone to the square, further complimented by the colorful banners and decorations set up the day before.
During their time spent at the festival, Octavia had almost completely forgotten why she was even in Vanhoover in the first place. She wished some of her Ponyville friends were with her to enjoy the day as well.
An hour or so passed by, and Octavia and Ebony had made it through a good portion of the art show. Only one section remained; The display of encaustic art situated on the very edge of the square, closest to the outlying buildings and alleys.
The escort of guards had been lightly circling around Octavia and Ebony for most of the day, shifting around the crowd to be within sight. However, as the two entered into the encaustic display, there were suddenly less guards than before. Octavia didn’t pay it much attention, presuming the others to be in the other sections of the festival.
A few minutes later, Captain Pike stopped by Octavia and Ebony as they viewed one painting of a pony skipping a stone across a river.
“Hello. Just stopping by to ask how you two are doing. Wonderful art show isn’t it? My wife actually has a piece on exhibit somewhere here.”
“Wow, really?” asked Ebony with a grin, “She must be really happy to have her work on display! Where is it?”
“I was just about to say, I can’t actually remember what art style it was. It must’ve been in the watercolors. I really need to look for it so I can say that I saw it. Maybe you saw it earlier?” asked Captain Pike.
“We did go through the watercolors, but we couldn’t see all of them due to how crowded it is. Let’s go back and see if we can find it!” exclaimed Ebony with the enthusiasm of a filly. The Captain smiled and turned, taking the lead.
Octavia took one last look at the encaustic painting before turning away to follow Ebony.
However, something strange caught her eye. She stopped.
Octavia gazed up at the roof of the closest building, a two-story house. A pony stood atop the building, motionless on the very edge of the tiled roof. A white robe and a red sash cloaked the pony, with the light breeze flowing underneath the sides of the robe.
At first glance, Octavia thought the pony might be some kind of statue, the sunlight preventing her from noticing any intricate details. Though she picked out the most distinguishing feature; a white hood which kept the pony’s eyes hidden from sight. Octavia continued to stare at the figure, getting a strange feeling. As though she had seen something incredibly similar before, a long time ago.
Noting Octavia’s bewilderment, Ebony returned to her friend. “You ok, Octavia? What’s wrong…?”
Tracing her friend’s gaze up to the rooftop, Ebony instantly spotted the hooded pony, a look of horror overcoming her. She snapped her head down towards Captain Pike, who hadn’t noticed the two mares stopped following.
The hooded pony suddenly moved, leaping off of the roof and into the air.
“CAPTAIN!!!” Ebony yelled.
Before the Captain’s ears could have twitched in Ebony’s direction, the hooded pony landed directly on top of Captain Pike with a large thud and scraping of armor against the ground. Shouts of terror and panic emitted from the crowd of ponies fleeing as the hooded pony removed one of her fore hooves from the back of the Captain’s neck. A blade transfixed to the pony’s hoof appeared coated with blood.
Octavia and Ebony looked on in terror as the remainder of the guards were alerted. They speedily positioned themselves to form a defensive circle around Octavia and Ebony.
“Assassins!!” Cautioned a guard mare as the squad unsheathed their swords and spears.
In less than an instant, several other ponies shrouded in white hoods appeared as if from thin air, dashing towards the guards from within the scattering crowd. One of the Assassins threw down a spherical object, a loud burst releasing a thick cloud of smoke. Many of the guards became disoriented, hacking and wheezing as the Assassins quickly dispatched a few and engaged in combat with others.
Acting on instinct, Ebony casted a small magic shield around Octavia and herself, preventing the smoke from reaching them. She frantically looked for an escape, spying a nearby alleyway just as the smoke obscured it.
“There!” Ebony called out, galloping ahead of Octavia as the two ran out of the smoke and into the alley.
As the sounds of fighting trailed off behind them, Octavia and Ebony rushed through the alleyway, coming down a set of steps and turning a corner. They eventually slowed down to catch their breath, spinning around to keep an eye on their backs as they stood in the middle of the alley.
Octavia had never seen somepony kill before. She had heard about how places outside of the Heartland once saw so much violence and death. But that was years ago, and the Fringe had been considerably more safe since. She never expected to see a pony’s life taken away so quickly.
Ebony’s horrified expression as she gasped for air summed up a portion of Octavia’s feelings. Though she knew Ebony must have been scared out of her mind.
“I… I think we’re s-safe. I don’t think… t-they followed us.”
Ebony’s breathing stopped cold as a hooded stallion appeared from the way they came.
The Assassin spotted them, and immediately dashed in their direction.
“RUN!” Ebony shouted, taking the lead once more as Octavia did her best to keep up.
The two ran further into the alleys of the city, crossing forks and rounding corners as they fled deeper into the older sections of Vanhoover. Octavia quickly glanced behind her, seeing that the Assassin in pursuit had disappeared.
“He’s gone!”
“No! W-we have to keeping running!”
“Run where?!”
“Anywhere!! I don’t know!!” Ebony cried out, briefly clenching her eyes shut as tears flew from her cheeks.
Just as Ebony picked up speed, the Assassin landed from above in front of Octavia, causing her to skid to a halt. The Assassin’s green wings fanned out, though slowly folded as he stood from his landing. Like the others who attacked in the square, his hood concealed most of his face, save for his green-coated snout.
Octavia locked on to the Assassin before her, frozen in fear for a few seconds. It didn’t take her long to realize that Ebony hadn’t even noticed the Assassin’s arrival, and had continued galloping until she was out of sight.
The Assassin slowly stepped forward, prompting Octavia to cautiously step backward in turn. She contemplated her options for only a second before sprinting in the opposite direction as fast as her legs would allow.
With the air gushing through her mane as she desperately tried to flee, Octavia aimlessly ran through the maze of alleys until she spied an open-ended path. She took it and galloped as hard as she could towards the open air, hearing the echoes of shouting guards coming from somewhere behind.
Octavia caught herself just in time as she came to a large drop at the end of the path. Below her lied the rushing currents of the Vérité River.
The sound of hoof steps marked the arrival of the Assassin, who had stopped right behind Octavia as she whisked around to face him. There was no escape.
“S-stop right there! Don’t come any closer!” Octavia warned. She realized her words meant nothing without a means to defend herself.
“I’m not here to hurt you, Octavia. I need you to come with me.” The stallion said.
“I’m not going anywhere with…” Octavia paused. She knew that voice.
The Assassin’s ear twitched, aware of the sudden presence on the nearby rooftop.
“Look out!”
The clack and snap of a guard’s crossbow rang out. A large bolt violently struck the Assassin squarely in his side as he dove towards Octavia, knocking both of them into the river below.
As the currents overcame them, the river waters carried them past the city limits and down towards the faraway countryside.

//-------------------------------------------------------//
                  Ch. 3: Nothing is True                   
//-------------------------------------------------------//
Ch. 3: Nothing is True
Water dripped from Octavia’s soaked coat and mane as she stumbled her way onto the river’s shore, her hooves covered in grime and pieces of river weed entangled in her tail.
For once, Octavia could care less about her appearance. The only thing on her mind was finding that Assassin, who had become separated from her during the ride on the Vérité’s currents. In any other circumstance she would’ve been running back to the city for safety, but not this time. She needed answers.
Octavia galloped down-river, her eyes frantically scanning the grassy edges. The further she went, the softer the river became, eventually coming down to a soothing flow of glistening water. There was no sign of the stallion along either side of the banks, prompting Octavia to pick up her pace.
Going even further down, Octavia finally made out the shape of a pony in the distance, lying on the water’s edge. She cautiously approached, confirming that it was the Assassin.
He wasn’t moving. Octavia went closer, sitting beside the stallion’s head.
She pulled back his hood, and confirmed her suspicions.
“Pledge?”
Octavia’s hunch was right. And though he did give her a terrifying chase, Octavia’s thoughts were only for his wellbeing.
“Oh no. Oh Celestia please, no.”
Hesitating to turn Pledge over onto his back, Octavia instead left him on his right side, leaning down to place her ear up against his muzzle. A soft brush of air enveloped her ear, though she pulled back and placed her ear against his ribcage to be sure.   
She heard Pledge’s heartbeat and felt his chest rise and fall. Octavia breathed a sigh of relief.
Her breath stopped short as soon as Octavia noticed the blood slowly seeping from just beneath Pledge’s wing. Recoiling on instinct, Octavia composed herself, falling back on her haunches.
“Ok. Ok. You can do this, Octavia. Just be calm. Be collected.” Octavia assured herself shakily. She took a deep breath.
Recalling knowledge of first aid taught in her school days, Octavia examined Pledge’s injury after opening up the tear in his robes, right where his wing meets his torso. The crossbow bolt from earlier had buried itself into Pledge’s flesh, though the majority of the bolt had snapped off during the river tumble, leaving only the stub of the metal head. While the bolt had no doubt inflicted damage, it was keeping the wound plugged, preventing no more than a small trickle of blood from emerging.
Octavia left the bolt in place, examining her surroundings for anything that she could use as a bandage. Much to her dismay, however, there was nothing but tall grass and dirt for miles.
Octavia contemplated trying to make a makeshift dressing out of Pledge’s robes, but instead noticed the row of pouches around his waist. Sparing not a second, Octavia rummaged through them, finding several small throwing knives and a lock-picking kit. The final pouch had exactly what she was hoping for; a roll of healing bandages. A medicine bottle was within the pouch as well, though unfortunately it was uncorked and filled with murky river water. Octavia poured it out onto the grass.
Unfurling the bandages, Octavia gently yet tightly wrapped them around Pledge’s midsection and around his left wing, covering the wound as best as she can. With the wound successfully patched, Octavia let out another sigh, her attention now focused on inspecting Pledge’s attire. The pegasus’ white hood and robes seemed to be more distinct compared to the other Assassins in Vanhoover, having a marble tint and a mahogany and silver garnishing. The colors did mend well with Pledge’s tan mane and forest-green coat, though was considerably darker from being soaked.
What caught Octavia’s curiosity most, however, was the two brown padded bracers on Pledge’s fore legs. It appeared to be the only barding he was wearing.
Leaning in closer, Octavia carefully placed her hooves on the underside of the bracer in an attempt to examine it.
KA-SHINK!
Octavia yelped and reeled as a concealed blade shot out from underneath the bracer, digging itself into the soft dirt. Raising a hoof to her chest as she panted, Octavia recalled from earlier in the city when she witnessed the death of Captain Pike. The hooded pony who had leapt upon him had the same kind of weapon, and Octavia rememberd how quickly the poor captain was dispatched by that lethal weapon, which had seemed to pierce through the armor around his neck in an instant. The image in her mind brought back the terrifying ordeal of bearing sight to a life being taken.
Reality snapped back to Octavia as the sound of Pledge’s blade retracting back into the bracer reached her ears. She looked down to find a pair of grey eyes looking back.
“…I didn’t try to just stab you, did I?” Asked Pledge, cracking a light hearted smile towards the mare above him. Octavia could see how forced it was.
“Thank Celestia, Pledge, you’re awake! I’m sorry. I was treating your wound and my curiosity got the better of me.” Octavia shot a glance at his bracers.
Pledge chuckled in response, weakly waving it off. “It’s alright. Next time you want to take a peek at it, just ask. Preferably while I’m conscious. Now, we have to get-- agghh!!”
Cringing immensely from the sharp pain after attempting to hoist himself up, Pledge slumped back onto the ground, clutching himself. Octavia placed her hooves on him.
“Be careful! You’ve got a terrible wound. The crossbow bolt had broken off while we were in the river, but the head of it is still lodged in you. There wasn’t any way for me to remove it. I took the bandages from your pouch and dressed it as best I could.”
“O-ok,” Pledge folded his free wing down to his side as he looks over his bandaged one, “Thanks for that, Octavia. We can’t stay though. We have to get moving.”
“No. Wait just a moment.” Octavia stood up, utterly serious, “Why am I here? And why did you chase me?! Why were we attacked?!”
Pledge glanced at the ground. He looked back up at Octavia.
“The Templars probably filled you in on a lot of things. But whatever they told you, they didn’t tell you the whole truth about your father. That’s why I’m here.”
Octavia scoffed with a glare. “As I’ve been learning these past few days, apparently every pony in the world has known my father except for me. What exactly do want from me?”
“I’m asking you to come with me. You’ve come this far, but what you do next is up to you, Octavia. I won’t force you to come with me, if you don’t want to.”
Octavia took in Pledge’s sincerity. She could easily refuse, and simply turn back towards the city. But she couldn’t just leave Pledge on his own, not with that wound.
“… Alright. Fine. Where to?” Octavia said with a huff.
Pledge smiled. “We should head back in the direction of Trottingham. A friend of mine should be waiting for us halfway. You can follow me, I should be able to walk…”
“No,” Octavia stated, preventing Pledge from trying to stand again. She moved her back to him and crouched to his level. “I’ll carry you. Hop on.”
Pledge glanced at her worriedly. “Are you sure? I won’t be too heavy for you?”
“You’re a pegasus. I’m an earth pony. I’ll manage just fine.” Octavia assured.
“Point taken.”
Pledge pulled himself forward and onto Octavia’s back. He let his legs hang as Octavia steadily stood back up, having no trouble in mounting the weight. Pledge leaned his head in, his cheek nearly pressing against Octavia’s as the earth pony began walking towards a nearby dirt path.
“This is great idea. You can carry me, and while you do, I can pull out the bits and pieces of river weed from your mane. That way you’ll look all classy like normal.”
Octavia couldn’t help but crack a smile at Pledge’s jovial tone, impressed with the stallion’s positivity in spite of the situation. She kept her focus ahead, gazing across the vast expanse of open land. Pledge affirmed that following the path in front of them would lead towards Trottingham, and more importantly, the friend that was waiting for them.
With strength and determination, Octavia trudged along with the wounded Pledge, hoping that their journey across the plains would be short and unhindered.
Vanhoover’s Southern Grasslands held nothing but emptiness and silence.
The tall, golden stalks of grass swayed with the warm breeze, dancing to the soft tickle of the weather’s whims. The radiant sun, turning orange as it dipped down the sky one step at a time, beat its light against the land, enveloping it in a crushing heat.
The dirt below was coarse and tough, littered with obtrusive rocks and pebbles. Every other step of Octavia’s hoof brought with it an irritable rubbing from the grainy dirt, and the occasional pointy rocks only made the path more tiresome.
Aside from the rough path, the burning heat and the mischievous breeze, Octavia managed to stay attentive thanks to Pledge, who stubbornly kept his cheerfulness during their conversations.
“I knew you were a strong pony, Octavia, but you’ve got to stop surprising me! Do you carry ponies as a hobby?” Pledge snickered, coughing a bit afterward.
Octavia rolled her eyes with a slight grin. “Not necessarily. I suppose having to carry a cello from concert to concert would be similar to carrying a pony. Though in the past, whenever I’ve gone out to parties with my roommate, I was often the one who had to carry her back home.”
Pledge tried his best to laugh, though only continued to cough. “She…she sounds like fun! Heh…Ow.”
“Are you alright, Pledge? Do you need me to stop?” Octavia slowed her pace, eyeing her passenger.
“No, no, keep going… We should be close.”
Octavia nodded, continuing on the path. It had been several hours since the two ponies had embarked from the river, and were still in the midst of what was essentially the middle of nowhere. Hanging in the overflowing sky, the sun had found its rest below the hills, allowing the moon to rise in its place. Octavia found it hard to see through the darkened fields, unable to keep track of the dirt road beneath her hooves. She kept her eyes on the ground, treading carefully to avoid any indents or bumps on the road.
The night continued, bringing with it a shivering gale and an eerie blackness that shrouded the grasslands. Octavia fought to keep her eyes from drooping as she pressed on.
The night has placed an uncomfortable silence in the air, even more so than earlier. Octavia suddenly realized that Pledge was unusually quiet, turning her head over to find him unconscious.
Fearing the worst, the earth pony leaned to one end, gently sliding the Assassin off onto the dirt. Octavia’s hooves ached and throbbed from her time spent trudging along the plains, and her head pounded, yearning for a night’s rest.
Resisting the urge to lie down, Octavia checked over Pledge, examining his bandages. They seemed to be holding well, though a thick stain of dried blood had spread right beneath his wing. Octavia noticed that the fur on her back had a similar mark of red as well.
Octavia mustered her energy and scoured the surrounding night, hoping to find any kind of structure or sign of other ponies. The darkness hindered her sight, forcing her to fold her ears back and squint, casting her weakened gaze all around her. Octavia’s ears shot up as she spotted a very faint outline of a small barn, quite some distance ahead.
Gathering her remaining strength, Octavia heaved Pledge upon her back once more and picked up a steady trot in the direction of the building.
Octavia made it halfway to the barn, but suddenly stopped dead in her tracks.
Click
“W-who’s there?”
She spun around, finding nothing behind her or to her sides.
CLICK
Just as Octavia spun around once more, a bright and intense flash burst violently from the ground. The deafening blast crippled Octavia’s sight and rattled her ears, causing her to wobble and lose her balance. She collapsed on the ground as Pledge rolled off of her. The force of the unexpected blast was enough to remove Octavia of most of her senses, letting her growing fatigue to overcome her as she slipped into unconsciousness.
A small fly landed daintily on the tip of Octavia’s nose, prompting her to shoo it away.
After a much needed rest, Octavia steadily began to wake, reclaiming the hazy memories of the night prior. With a rub of her eyes, Octavia lifted herself up.
A trickle of light passed through the wooden planks of the room’s walls. The floor was dirt and grass, resembling the inner workings of a neglected barn. Octavia’s bed was mostly made of bundled hay, with a single sheet to keep her warm.
Octavia got to her hooves, making her way groggily to the nearby door. However, she stopped in her tracks as she heard Pledge’s voice on the other side, speaking with someone else, a mare who sounded utterly unfamiliar. Octavia stepped close to the crease of the door, angling her ear towards the gap.
“… hope they made it out. Getting inside Vanhoover was a lot tougher than I thought, but the mission was a success. Honestly, I felt bad for the ‘protector’ they assigned to her. A unicorn mare named Ebony. All you had to do was glance at her and you could tell she was beyond scared…
Octavia perked up on hearing Ebony’s name. She remembered her terror-stricken face upon seeing the Assassins, and her running away in fear. Octavia couldn’t blame her for her reaction.
“Was she an obstacle?”
“No, not at all. That’s why I… I let her go.”
The other voice didn’t answer. Octavia had a feeling the mare was anything but pleased.
“… Your mission parameters were clear. None were to be left alive.” The voice said sternly.
“But the goal was making sure Octavia was safe and out of Templar hooves. There was no need to-”
“No need? Somehow it has escaped you that leaving that unicorn alive means she would have notified Grand Master Ether by now. The Templars will make it their utmost priority to track us down. This could have been avoided if you had…”
The mare paused as Octavia pushed open the creaking door.
Lying down beside an extinguished fire in the main room of the old barn, Pledge grinned as Octavia joined them. The sunlight shown much brighter through a large hole in the roof.
“Oh hey! Rise and shine! How are you feeling, Octavia? I hope you slept alright. There’s a cup of water and some oatmeal here for you.” Pledge said enthusiastically, despite the scolding he was receiving moments ago. Octavia noticed that the pegasus had a slight rasp in his voice, though he seemed much better than the day prior.
Octavia scarfed down the oatmeal, not realizing how hungry she was. She set aside the empty bowl and took sips from the cup of water as she returned her attention to Pledge and the mysterious mare.
“Octavia, this is the Master Assassin, Silent Wind.”
Upon looking at the pegasus mare before her, Octavia shuddered for a moment. She was sitting on her haunches, though with a tall and overbearing posture. A deep, black hooded robe covered her, complimented by sections of red and layered with various straps and pouches. Two armored gauntlets upon her fore-hooves bore the mark of the Assassins, each supposedly containing a deadly blade underneath.
Her natural coat was a snow-white, and her crimson tail and mane looked tattered and unkept. Though what stood out most about the mare were her crimson eyes, which pierced through the casting shadow of her beaked hood like a predator hiding in the night. They bore no emotion, and from the subtle frown on the mare’s face, Octavia couldn’t begin to guess if she was feeling irritated, tired, or just plain grumpy.
“…Octavia. It’s good to finally meet you. I have to apologize for the night before. Pledge was supposed to bring you here before sundown. When he had missed the rendezvous, I took precautions, laying traps along the other paths that lead to the barn. It turns out you had somehow stumbled onto the wrong path, and subsequently triggered the tripwire bomb I had placed. It was only a stun bomb, thankfully.” Explained the Assassin.
Octavia nodded, lifting herself to her hooves, “Thank you. But before you say anything else, I want answers. Why have you brought me here? What do you want from me?”
Silent Wind stayed seated, shifting her eyes over to Pledge. The white-cloaked Assassin looked back at her worriedly. Silent Wind returned her attention to Octavia.
“We know you want answers, Octavia, and you’ll have them. But not just yet. Pledge is recovering thanks to some poultices of mine, but he is still seriously injured. We must get him to the hospital in Trottingham. Once there, I’ll give you the answers you want. You have my word.” Silent Wind remained as still as a statue, her eyes transfixed upon Octavia’s.
Octavia felt a surge of frustration as she glanced at the ground. A part of her wanted to blatantly refuse traveling with them, but she couldn’t leave knowing Pledge still needed proper medical attention. She couldn’t give up on him now, not after coming this far.
Octavia’s eyes moved back to Silent Wind, who hadn’t budged an inch. She got the sinking feeling that Silent Wind was reading her emotions and expressions like a map. Nevertheless, her mind was set, “Very well. I’m going to hold you to your word, Silent Wind. Let’s get Pledge to the hospital. Do we have any transportation?”
Silent Wind finally rose to her hooves. “There’s an old sky wagon outside. I’ll fly us there. When you’re ready, meet me outside.”
As Silent Wind left the barn, Pledge steadily stood up, prompting Octavia to help him.
“It’s alright, Octavia, I’m able to walk now that I had some medicine. How are you holding up?”
“I’m… I’m ok. Tired, I suppose. I think confused is a more appropriate term though.” Octavia said as she took a deep breath.
Pledge frowned, “I can imagine. Try not to worry too much, Octavia. I can guarantee that Silent Wind will keep her word. If you’re ready to go, we should head out. Once we’re in the air, I bet the view will be amazing! Come on!”
Octavia shook her head with a smile, unable to stay frustrated with Pledge’s exuberance. They proceeded outside, and soon boarded the sky wagon with Silent Wind at the helm. Spreading her white wings, the Master Assassin pulled the wagon into the sky above, steering above the clouds and towards their next destination.
Arriving just outside of the old city, Octavia, Pledge, and Silent Wind embarked from the sky wagon and made their way towards the Trottingham clinical hospital. Silent Wind led the way, choosing the most subtle route. Octavia was familiar enough with Trottingham to know where to go, and offered to lead her Assassin companions herself, but Silent Wind insisted otherwise.
Once there, Pledge was admitted to the hospital to be cared for until his recommended release the following day. Pledge assured his friends he would be ok with his usual optimism, though he quickly attempted to be more charming as a lovely looking nurse escorted him inside. Octavia rolled her eyes with a smirk, then waving goodbye to Pledge before exiting the hospital with Silent Wind.
“About my questions…” said Octavia as she swiftly turned to the Assassin.
“Not now…You were staying at a house your father used to own in this city. Where is it?”
Octavia stammered and furrowed her brow. “Wha…? I… You…! You gave me your word that you’d answer my questions!”
“I did,” Silent Wind stated calmly. “And I still intend to. It would be better for us to converse somewhere quiet. From what I’ve gathered, your father has a study room. Take me there.”
Octavia gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to pull at her mane. Not only was this pony beyond mysterious, her lack of even the slightest hints of emotion in her speech and expression had become increasingly irritating. She recollected her wayward thoughts and reluctantly conceded to Silent Wind’s request.
“Hmph. Fine, I’ll take you there. Follow me.”
A short walk through backstreets and old neighborhoods later, the two arrived at the front steps of Morendo’s old home. Octavia proceeded up the steps, but stopped abruptly at the door, staring at her reflection on the doorknob. She remained enveloped in her thoughts for a few seconds, prompting Silent Wind to raise an eyebrow from beneath her hood.
“Is something wrong?”
“I… I’ve had enough of all this!”
Octavia stomped a hoof furiously at the stone step, glaring at the pegasus Assassin below her. Silent Wind didn’t flinch.
“I’ve been galloping all over the place in the past few days. Being chased through alleys, falling into rivers, walking miles and miles of nothing but dirt and grass and almost being blinded and deafened by your traps! Why did those guards in Vanhoover have to die?! Just because I was there?? All of this because I wanted to learn a little bit more about the father that should have been there for his wife, no less his own child?! None of what I’ve been through answers ANYTHING! I have no reason to think any better of him! I have no reason to trust Professor Ether or Halcyon, and I have absolutely no reason to trust you!”
Octavia panted heavily as her eyes stayed locked on Silent Wind.
Silent Wind, patiently waiting for Octavia to calm down, spoke up.
“…You’re right, Octavia. You don’t have any reason to trust me.”
Octavia stared at Silent Wind as she regained control of her breathing. Her jaw had fallen open, at a loss for words. The Assassin’s understanding tone only left Octavia confounded as she tried to figure out if Silent Wind was implying something more. An irritating ache settled in Octavia’s head from her sudden outburst. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything more.
After a few more moments of stillness, Octavia let out a deep sigh. She turned back towards the door and pushed it open, allowing Silent Wind inside. Luckily, Octavia’s growling stomach distracted her from her stress.
“Make yourself at home, I suppose… Would you like anything to—“
Octavia noticed Silent Wind had disappeared, only seconds into the door. She investigated the hall, finding the Assassin inside the old study.
“Is this where you found your father’s document?” asked Silent Wind as she glazed over the book-cluttered shelves. Octavia remembered back to when she discovered the document crumpled behind the strange book on Equestrian Archeology. The book was still lying on the small table from several days ago.
“Wh-… Yes, it was right on this shelf, behind this book.” Octavia said, scooping up the book in her hoof.
Silent Wind eyed the cover of the book, then directing her attention to the shelf Octavia pointed out. Much to Octavia’s astonishment, Silent Wind reared up and placed her fore hooves on the shelf, brushing aside the old books and peering behind them. An obtrusion along the back of the shelf appeared; A round, grey seal embedded into the wood. The seal bore the Assassin symbol, and right below it was an oddly shaped keyhole.
Silent Wind reached into the shelf with her left fore-hoof, placing it firmly over the seal. Her hidden blade jutted out from beneath her gauntlet, fitting perfectly into the keyhole, which reverberated with a faint click before Silent Wind’s blade retreated back into its sheath.
Octavia and Silent Wind took a step back as the walls around them slowly erupted into a cacophony of clicks and whirls. Octavia watched in amazement as the entirety of the book case slid aside, revealing a hidden door.
I suppose every secret order needs a secret room or two, Octavia thought to herself as Silent Wind casually entered the room. Octavia wasted no time in following her.
What lied within stunned her.
The hidden room was rather small, containing only two desks and a single rolling chair, as well as several small magic lanterns, still glowing brightly even after years of seclusion. The larger desk was filled with papers and documents of all kinds, ranging from maps of various cities to detailed descriptions of archeological digs from around Equestria. Octavia immediately noticed that the papers here were the same print of the document she had found in the study. The smaller of the two desks was cleared out in the center, and had a stack of large papers and various pens and pencils to one side. On the other side lied a large folder, which ensnared Octavia’s curiosity.
Carefully opening the folder, Octavia found a collection of hoof-written letters placed neatly inside.
Octavia read one of the letters. Her heart sank.
Dear Octavia,
Hello, Octavia. How have you been? I hope you’re doing well. My, you must have grown since I’ve seen you last!
This morning, I saw some ponies walking their cute dogs. Do you still like dogs? I remember when you were only a few months old, and your mother and I took you out for a stroll in the park. You became enamored with a quite adorable little puppy who came to visit us after making a daring escaping from his owner. The smile on your face that day… Your mother and I will never forget that.
Not a day goes by when I don’t think of you and your mother. By the way, I hope you’ve been taking good care of your cello. It’s very special, you know.
My time for now has run out. I have a lot of work to do here. I’ll write again as soon as I can. Celestia bless you, dearest daughter.
Daddy
“He…he… Wh…Wh-why didn’t…”
Octavia stuttered as her eyes welled with tears. She continued sifting through the folder, picking another random letter.
Dear Octavia,
It’s…been a while.
I’m aware that I can’t send any of these letters that I’ve been writing. I write them anyway. It helps with the stress. And perhaps it helps to keep my sanity. I can hardly go outside in the day anymore, otherwise I might be found. It gets dreadfully lonely here. I think I know what the Mare on the Moon feels like right now. I wonder if she would write letters as well, if she had a means to.
I yearn every day to be able to send at least one letter to you back home. But I can’t. I have to keep you and your mother safe. That’s the reason I’m here, after all. The only way to keep you from danger, is to keep you from myself. As terrible as that sounds, it is the only way. Neither the Templars nor the Assassins know that you’re in Ponyville, or that you exist for that matter. I intend to keep it that way.
I’m rattling off my thoughts again. I have to get back to my research.
I love you.
Dad
The letter’s words hit Octavia like a train.
Her father had written all of these letters knowing full well he could not send them. To Octavia, being able to read her father’s thoughts was like being reunited with him. Or at least a part of him. But, surprisingly, that wasn’t why Octavia started to cry.
“H-he… He loved me…”
Wiping the tears from her cheeks as best she could, Octavia searched through the remainder of the folder, going over other letters before uncovering the final piece. It appeared to have been hastily written.
I have a chance here. A friend of mine agreed to help smuggle me out of Trottingham. Thank Celestia for friends. With luck, I can find my way back to the Sisterhood before the Templars are aware of my presence. Hopefully Sierra is out there looking for me.
This last message should be for any pony who finds this. But I want to write this for you, Octavia. To read with your eyes.
If by some chance you’ve gone out and discovered my secrets, then you know of the powers that I’m dealing with.
There’s a reason why the Templars are hunting me. In this room, there is a locked cage built into the stone wall. Inside it contains an artifact, like no other, that I’ve been studying. The cage is enchanted to be resistant against magic, and is locked by four special seals. I scattered these seals across Equestria when I first constructed the cage as a failsafe, to prevent any pony from stealing it.
Gather my research here in this room. Among the papers is an encoded list of the locations of where I hid the seals. Take these documents and deliver them to the Mentor of the Assassin Sisterhood in Delamare. None of the contents in this room can be allowed to fall into the hooves of the Templars.
I don’t know what fate has in store for me, but I know one thing. That you will become a magnificent pony someday, Octavia. You probably already are.
I promise next time I’ll be there for you. Tell your mother that I love her. And tell yourself, that I love you too.
Morendo
Silent Wind walked over as Octavia clutched the letter tightly against her chest. Octavia could feel the soft brush of feathers against her back as Silent Wind extended her wing around her. The two sat down in place.
“Letters from your father?”
Octavia wearily nodded. Her eyes squeezed shut.
“…I’m sorry.”
Octavia rubbed her sniffling nose as she lifted her head up, turning to the Assassin beside her. “What happened to my father? My…My family was told he had gone missing, and that they found his body on the side of a cliff. They told us it was some kind of accident.”
Silent Wind looked straight into Octavia’s eyes, her crimson irises aligning with Octavia’s violet. Her head dipped to the floor.
“… For a while we weren’t sure if your father was still alive, as we had stopped receiving messages from him. He had warned us prior that his cover within the Templars was being compromised. We believed that he had to conceal himself quickly, in order to find safety from his pursuers. Unfortunately, we had no idea where he was, nor any idea as to how he was discovered in the first place.”
Silent Wind paused to return to her hooves. She walked over to the larger desk, examining the maps on the wall while continuing.
“Before Morendo began his infiltration of the Templar Order, he had a student named Sierra. Sierra was a young and eager Assassin. They did many missions together. When Morendo went missing, it fell to Sierra to find out anything as to what happened. She went out with a group of Assassins, but none of them ever returned. A year later, we had gotten word that Morendo’s body was found in a small town just outside of Trottingham. As we could determine, we were too late to rescue him from the Templars.”
The room fell into silence. As her tears dried, Octavia stared at the letters before her, her mind swirling with questions. She reflected upon what she had learned in Vanhoover.
“I don’t understand. I was told my father was a Templar.” Stated Octavia. Silent Wind met her gaze, slowly nodding.
“He was, in a manner of speaking. However, your father’s true allegiance lied with the Assassins. Morendo was credited with having infiltrated the Templar Order the longest of any Assassin before him.”
Octavia felt uncertain. The Templars wanted order, peace and unity. But what about the Assassins? They were the enemies of the Templars… But Octavia knew almost nothing about them, other than what Ebony had told her back in Vanhoover. Did that mean her father was a killer? That he knew nothing but the sharp end of his blade? But he was, according to Silent Wind, a Templar as well. He must’ve shared their belief in a way in order to become one of them. Octavia’s head ached as she tried putting all the pieces together.
She then remembered the artifact.
Octavia moved to the very back of the room, facing a long banner emblazoned with the Assassin’s symbol. Octavia brushed the banner aside, revealing what her father’s letter had described; the cage built into the stone wall. The front of the cage was about the size of the doorway leading into the room, and seemed as though it could open outward like a double door.
The cage had four round locks aligned vertically over its set of doors, each lock about the same size as Octavia’s hoof. The locks had no visible keyholes, instead sporting a circular indent at their centers. Octavia surmised that the seals would likely fit into each of the indents.
Past the metal bars of the cage stood a pristine pedestal, with a square chest resting atop it. A magical lantern hung daintily above the chest, bathing it in a glow of artificial light.
Octavia could only imagine what the artifact within the chest truly was. She pictured an ancient slab of writing, or perhaps a mystical jewel of some sort. If her father’s letters were true, then whatever the artifact might be, it was of utmost importance.
Silent Wind peered into the cage as well, snapping Octavia out of her thoughts.
“That must be the artifact your father was studying.”
“Yes. The gate requires four seals to open.” Octavia said suddenly.
“How did you come by that?” Silent Wind asked with a hint of sarcasm.
Octavia pondered for a moment, going over decisions in her head. A few moments later, she brought up the last letter she had read and gave it to Silent Wind.
“Everything you need to know is written in this letter.”
Silent Wind raised an eyebrow in surprise. She took the letter and skimmed through it before returning her attention to Octavia.
“Did you find a reason to trust me? Or are you being spontaneously generous?” asked Silent Wind. Octavia couldn’t tell if she was trying to make a joke due to her deadpan tone.
“I don’t nearly know enough about you to trust you. But I have you and Pledge to thank for doing what you did, for whatever reasons. Without you, I never would’ve found this place, and I never would’ve found these letters…”
Octavia paused, glancing to the floorboards beneath her hooves. Silent Wind waited patiently for her to continue.
“…For most of my life, I’ve treated my father as a coward, running from the duties and responsibilities of being a husband and a father. But now… knowing that he fled to protect us. Knowing that he still loved us and that he wished he could see me grow… He deserved better from me. He still deserves better from me.”
Octavia raised her eyes to Silent Wind.
“…I’m going to fulfill my father’s request. I’m going to bring his research to this Mentor of the Assassins, in Delamare.”
Silent Wind closed her eyes and nodded. She cracked a smile from beneath the shadow of her hood.
The day quickly fell to night as Octavia and Silent Wind finished collecting all of Morendo’s documents into a saddle bag. Octavia took the folder of letters separate, placing them on top of her bed. She walked back out into the living room, where Silent Wind was finishing securing their bags.
“We’ll head to the hospital to pick up Pledge at dawn, and from there we’ll make our way to the train station. It’ll be a few hours trip.”
Octavia nodded. “Ok. I suppose we should get a good night’s rest then, yes? There’s a hide-away bed here in the living room for you.”
“Actually,” said Silent Wind, “All I need is a pillow and a blanket. I’ll be on the roof.”
Octavia stared at Assassin, bewildered. “The…Roof? Why in Equestria would you sleep on the roof?”
Silent Wind rolled her eyes and shrugged.
Octavia sighed. “If you insist. You can have these.”
She gave Silent Wind a large, fluffy pillow and a warm blanket, directing her to a stairwell behind her that led to the roof.  
Silent Wind bowed graciously, “I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.” She said, vanishing into the stairwell without a sound.
Octavia closed the bedroom door behind her, removing her pink bowtie and placing it on the night table beside the queen-sized bed. She carefully shuffled her way into the covers as a small lantern kept the room alight.
Octavia reached over to the folder of letters. She pulled one out at random and began to read it.
My dearest,
I am sorry. For all of the pain I have caused you, due to   
my disappearance. My sudden departure was not because of you or our child, but of other circumstances which I cannot speak of. You won’t understand my predicament, but I pray that both of you will find it in your hearts to forgive me. I wish I could comfort you with the promise of my return. But if I were to make that promise, I would be lying, giving you a false hope which would only do you further harm.
My dearest Madrigal, I plead with you; Always remember that I love you both with my entire heart and soul.
Please, give my cello to our child. I know she will be magnificent.
- Morendo

//-------------------------------------------------------//
                  Ch. 4: Taking His Place                  
//-------------------------------------------------------//
Ch. 4: Taking His Place
Pledge leaned against the window. A grin was stuck on his face.
“The stay at the hospital wasn’t bad, thanks for asking! Oohh those nurses. There were two patching me up, though only one stayed with me in case I needed anything. Her name was Glimmer, I think. Goodness was she stunning. She was gracious enough to listen to my compliments on her mane. I was almost concerned with how sneaky she was with those needles, though. She would make a good Assassin. Even more so when she gave me that suspicious look after hearing my ‘I’m part of the local volunteer guard and accidentally shot myself’ story.”
Pledge lets loose a warm chuckle as Octavia listens, sitting across from him inside the train car. The party of three caught a particularly crowded departure. Their current train car is filled with ponies heading for Delamare. Some are talkative to their fellow passengers, while others try to catch a snooze while the ride remains smooth.
“Speaking of your treatment, what was the diagnosis? Will you be alright?” asks Octavia, placing her hooves on her seat.
“According to the doctors, I’ll be fine, but they stressed that I shouldn’t exert myself for a good month or so. So right now, I can’t do much aside from limp and hobble on the ground,” Pledge turns his head, peering over the back of his seat, “Silent Wind will hopefully pick an easy route through the city.”
Octavia leans out into the walkway, taking sight of the black hooded Assassin beyond the train car door, along with the conductor. The muffled sound of their conversation is barely audible, though Octavia can easily guess what it’s about, seeing Silent Wind pull out a purse of bits and place it onto the conductor’s hoof.
The cellist scooches back into her seat, returning her gaze to Pledge. He fumbles with his hood, deciding to keep it off for now.
“I’m curious, Pledge. What, exactly, is the plan when we arrive in Delamare? Somehow I doubt that it’s going to be straightforward.”
“Your doubts are correct! Let me tell you a bit about Delamare. It’s an old fishing town, spread out along the river, but not very current with other cities. We have a large presence in the city, but there are Templars as well. We won’t be able to just walk right through. Like back in Trottingham, we will be cautious. Side-stepping main paths, taking alleys, you know.”
Despite Pledge’s explaining, Octavia feels utterly in the dark. The pegasus catches on to her confusion.
“There will be guards in the city. They probably won’t pay us much attention, but to be safe we will avoid them.”
Octavia nods, understanding now. At least, as much as she can. Her only association with Assassins is that her father was one of them, and that he trusted them enough to ask his daughter to work with them. For now, she can trust Pledge. That’s all she needs until they reach the Mentor. Then, hopefully, more answers will come her way.
Her thoughts are halted as the train slows, pulling into the open station. Silent Wind arrives back at their seats, taking the spot beside Pledge as the other passengers disembark.
“Wait. We will be exiting last.”
The three ponies remain seated until the entire train is empty of passengers. With their car vacant, they exit their seats as the train conductor approaches them. Octavia makes sure not to forget the saddlebag with her father’s documents.
“That’s that. Now, if you’ll follow me please.” Says the conductor stallion, rubbing his moustache as he trots past them and to the opposite end of the car. Pledge gives Octavia a bright smile as he lifts his marble-white hood over his mane.
Reaching the caboose, the conductor unlatches the exit door, pushing it open. Silent Wind flaps her wings and hops off, turning to lend Pledge a hoof as he comes down.
Octavia looks towards the conductor as she nears the edge of the door. “Thank you, sir.”
“Oh no, miss. Thank you! And your friends.” The conductor replies humbly, his newly acquired pouch of bits jingling.
The conductor closes the door behind him as Octavia follows Pledge and Silent Wind along the edge of the train tracks, which leads to a service entrance to the station. They navigate the few corridors in the station’s basement level before taking a damp stairwell up and outside, arriving in a separate building entirely.
Upon exiting the new building, they become surrounded by apple trees, part of the local apple orchard on the outskirts of Delamare. Weaving through the trees, the three enter into the city as the grassy fields meld into dirt and then into wood and stone.
True to Pledge’s description of the town, Delamare carries a scented air filled with the smells of river water, wet wood, and fish. Harbor bells ring out across the city, as gusts of wind brush against the roofs of the wooden and stone buildings. Many small marketplaces dot the corners along dirt-paved streets.
Octavia notices that this town is made up of more than just ponies. Griffins, of all kinds of sizes and plumages, make themselves busy across the town, standing at the markets, flying overhead, and doing everything from building boats to painting picturesque images of the urban landscape. Octavia had never seen so many griffins before in one place.
The cellist takes in the sights, walking slightly ahead of Pledge.
“You’re walking a bit fast for me, Octavia.”
She snaps out of her wonderment to return to Pledge’s side, apologizing. “I’m sorry. This kind of environment is very new to me.”
“It’s alright. Just don’t want you to get too far ahead of me. As much as I’m still able to walk, it’s…ugghh… Kinda hard.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer it if I carried you again?” asks Octavia teasingly.
Pledge snickers, waving a hoof. “Oh no, no thanks. You’ve carried me enough. The ride was smooth, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t want to burden you anymore than I have to.”
“It’s alright, Pledge, there’s no need to be modest. We both know that I’m able to carry you very easily.”
“No, thank you, Octavia. I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
Pledge gives her a ‘seriously?’ look. Octavia giggles.
“Well alright. But if you ever need any help…”
“I’ll know which earth pony to ask. Thanks.”
Octavia casts her eyes once again at the city-scape surrounding her, though she keeps careful mind to stay close to Pledge. However, she catches a poster in the corner of her eye, plastered on the stone wall of a carpenter’s shop. She stops dead in her tracks.
Pledge takes notice of her idleness. “Octavia? What is it?”
Silent Wind, now a few paces ahead of them, turns as well to investigate. The two Assassins flank Octavia as she stares at the portrait-sized poster.
MISSING:
OCTAVIA STRADIVARIUS
Earth Pony Mare, Grey Coat, Black Mane and Tail, Violet Eyes, Cutie Mark of a Treble Cleft.
Disappeared in the city of Vanhoover some 2 days ago. If seen or heard of, please notify any local authority to her whereabouts or status. Thank you.
Following the ink-pressed text is an actual picture of Octavia, one of her performance at the Grand Galloping Gala nearly a year ago. She’s gracefully holding her bow and cello. Behind all of her startled thoughts, a little pony in her head tells her how much she already misses her cello.
Not a second later, Silent Wind tears off the poster, stamping it into the ground. “Any one of the passengers from the train could have already reported seeing you. We need to move.”
“But…. But how did this get here so quickly?”
“Templars have eyes and ears everywhere. They’ve most likely spread these notices in other cities as well. We did technically kidnap you, remember?” states Pledge.
Silent Wind wastes no time in leading them further into the city, taking them off of their current route and into the back alleys to avoid being seen as much as possible.
Even in the lesser streets, however, there is opposition. A patrol of city guards, five in total, appear at the crossway between alleys a few yards ahead. The leading mare’s voice is carried along the walls of the closed alleys.
“Fan out, keep your eyes open! She could be anywhere in these corridors. You!” The guard swiftly turns to a red earth pony emerging from her front door. The guard shoves a poster in her face, causing her to fall back against the closed door.
“Have you seen this pony?”
“N-n-no, I haven’t!”
“If you catch sight of her or hear anything about her, let the city guard know. Let’s keep moving!”
The leading guard leaves the poster in the red pony’s hooves as she motions her troop forward, disappearing from sight as they continue down another alley.
Silent Wind faces Pledge and Octavia after waiting a moment for the troop of guards to fade out of earshot.
“If we keep going like this, they’ll spot us before we get anywhere close to the Den.”
The black-hooded Assassin looks at the rooftops above.
“Pledge, lead Octavia to the Den. I’ll be with you again shortly.” The pegasus lifts off onto a higher ledge above the alley, and swiftly climbs up and onto the rooftops.
“Where is she going?” Octavia asks worriedly.
Pledge re-assures her. “She’ll be watching from above. In case we get into trouble. Come on. Let’s get moving. We should be roughly half-way to the Den now.”
Continuing at their regular pace, Octavia and Pledge navigate the alleys, steadily traversing the fishing town. Luckily they encounter very few ponies and griffins along the way, and those they do pay them no attention.
As they pass another crossway, Octavia and Pledge come to sudden stop as the same troop of guards from before appears from behind.
“There she is, Captain!!”
“YOU TWO! HALT!”
Pledge’s eyes dart to Octavia.
“Octavia.”
“Y-yes?”
“…Carry me.”
“After them!! Don’t let them escape!”
With Pledge on her back hanging on for dear life, Octavia breaks into a full gallop, darting down the alleys in the market-crowded town. She leaps and bounds over fish carts, wooden stands, and even over some passing townsfolk. The guards pursue in a different fashion, pushing over the carts and stands and shoving the innocent bystanders out of the way.
“LEFT!!!”
Pledge hollers. Octavia hops into a skid, sliding on her hooves to make the turn around the corner faster. Although carrying Pledge is indeed easy, thanks to his pegasus frame, running with him hanging on is a different story. Still, Octavia determinately keeps up a speedy gallop.
“Now right!”
Octavia turns as sharply as she can around the next corner, almost colliding with a griffin carrying a box of fish. The guards are close behind, tackling the poor griffin out of the way and trampling his spilled fish with their armored hooves. Octavia doesn’t look back, keeping up her dash as much as she can. Moments later, the two arrive in the center of a much wider area, which branches into several more alleys, all in a different direction.
“Ok. Now go to your left, down… Aw crap.”
Pledge cuts himself short as another troop of guards suddenly appears from the other alleys. The pursuing guards catch up and link up with their other comrades, surrounding Octavia and Pledge.
“You’re surrounded! Come quietly, or we will use force!”
Octavia holds her ground, though looks at the slowly encroaching guards with hesitant eyes. Pledge looks concerned for but a mere moment, before he notices the rooftops and tugs at Octavia’s ear to look up.
Looking to the rooftops, Octavia catches the falling blur of the black robes and red mane of Silent Wind as she crashes down on top of the two unfortunate guards closest to her. The Assassin’s dual blades flawlessly find their targets as her hind hooves hit the ground. Without hesitation, she lunges at the surrounding guards, her hidden blades meeting the steel of their swords and spears.
Silent Wind dances on her hooves, spinning in graceful arcs to dodge the swings of her opponents and to land quick strikes of her own. Octavia is both utterly amazed and terribly frightened at the skill and speed of the pegasus, who has already taken down a fifth guard with a forceful kick of her hind hoof, sending him tumbling into a scaffolding.
Pledge tugs again, this time at Octavia’s neck in an effort to grab her attention. “Octavia, she’s buying us time!! Let’s go!!”
Octavia regains her momentum and bolts into the direction Pledge points out, entering another alleyway as Silent Wind remains in battle.
“Will she be ok?”
“I’m more worried about the guards. Keep heading straight, we’re almost there.” Pledge replies coolly.
Octavia continues down the alley as it gradually widens into a dirt street. Hearing no guards from behind, she slows to a manageable trot, catching a few breaths while she can.
A random guard appears from around the nearby bend, standing directly ahead of Octavia. “Freeze! Stay where-“
The guard is suddenly pulled into a lump of hay resting quietly beside where he was once standing. Octavia blinks her eyes as she continues onward. Pledge lets out a chuckle.
“Yep. We’re definitely close now.”
With the chase over, and the distant echoes of guard ponies fading further and further away, Octavia finally stops for a much needed breather, letting Pledge off of her back and onto the dirt pavement. He stands beside Octavia, extending his good wing around her as he helps her along. They approach a large warehouse-like structure right alongside the Delamare River.
“Whew….hah… I have not had a workout like that… since high school…. Phew.” Octavia pants furiously.
“High school, huh? Did you run track?” Pledge ponders.
“No… Marching band…”
Sharing a grin with Pledge, Octavia steadies her breath. Though her hooves hurt and her back aches, Octavia regains her composure and trots with Pledge to enter the warehouse, using a subtle door connected to the street.
This place is certainly deceiving on the outside, Octavia thought as she and Pledge walk in, closing the door behind them. The interior of the building is lined with beige stonework and red and white banners hanging from the ceiling and walls. Large windows high on the walls allow light to pass through the clean air, bathing the floor in patches of yellow. The symbol of the Assassins appears elaborately adorned on the banners surrounding them.
From what Octavia could determine, this room was the main hall of the Assassins’ Den. Several Assassins toiled about, some hooded and fully garbed and some without any robes whatsoever. Though the vast majority of their robes were white with red sashes, some of the robes had different colors. Some wore grey or black, others green or blue.
What Octavia notices most particularly, however, is the diversity of the Den. There were all kinds of ponies; unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies alike. There were many griffins, along with a few rare bat ponies, who were shrouded in their hoods to accommodate for the daytime hours. There was also a zebra among them. Never had Octavia seen so many different kinds of people before, let alone seeing them act friendly to one another.
Pledge stretches his legs. “Ahhh… Home sweet home.”
Making their way past the main hall, Octavia and Pledge traverse the Den. They pass by many more rooms, among them a library and an extensive armory, as well as sleeping quarters and a workshop. Many Assassins are busy training or crafting weapons, while others enjoy a peaceful nap or browse through the library. Octavia does take note of how quiet it actually is in the Assassins hideout. It wouldn’t be hard at all to focus on working, or to find time to have a good long rest.
Much to her excitement, Octavia catches sight of a music room not too far from the library. A part of her longs to enter and forage through the music that the Assassins possess, and maybe even find a cello she could play for a bit. She placed those thoughts away for now though. The papers shuffling in her saddlebag reminded her of her priorities.
Soon, Octavia and Pledge arrive in a large planning room, fully adorned with white banners. There is a large wooden table in the center, completely covered with maps, ledgers, lists, ink and quills. An intricate chandelier hangs daintily on a long chain above.
“… tore down posters where I could, and bribed a few officials to lower the notoriety. She won’t stand out anymore.”
“Well done, Silent Wind. And speaking of said pony…”
The grey-robed Assassin before them turns around, a smile forming on her snout as she sees Pledge and Octavia. Silent Wind nods to them both. Despite having battled with more than six guards, she had beat Pledge and Octavia to the Den. Then again, Octavia was carrying Pledge and had to slow down a lot after exhausting herself. Octavia is impressed with Silent Wind nonetheless, as she seems relatively unscathed from the conflict before, aside from a small scratch on her cheek.
Octavia directed her attention to the other pony. Behind her grey hood and robes is a blue-coated mare, with a pearl white mane and mahogany eyes. She smiles almost with a youthful radiance, though the few wrinkles that Octavia can notice dictate her true age.
“Welcome, Octavia. We’re very happy to see you here. And you too, Pledge.”
“Thank you, Mentor.” Pledge smiles and graciously nods.
“You’d better be taking care of yourself. Can’t have you getting into any trouble while you recover. Relax a bit.” She smirks as Pledge gives off a chuckle. He carefully found a spot to sit beside her.
“Don’t worry, ma’am. I’ll be doing my best to sit still for the next month.”
“Good,” The Mentor smiles, re-directing her jovial gaze towards Octavia, “I am Mirage, the Mentor of the Delamare Assassins.”
Octavia bows her head respectfully. Though she isn’t familiar with how the Assassins work culturally, she figures that the leader of an organization like this holds a high rank.
“It is an honor to meet you.”
“It’s an honor to meet you as well. Now, before we say anything else, there is a reason why you’re here. Your father’s research, yes?”
Mirage cut to the chase faster than Octavia had hoped, but she earnestly complied, unstrapping her saddlebag. Mirage takes the bag, briefly peeking in on its contents before placing it neatly on the table behind her. She expresses a satisfied look.
“Thank you for bringing Morendo’s findings to us, Octavia. We are thankful that you came along when you did.” Mirage states, pulling her hood down to let out her pearl mane as she places a hoof on Octavia, “And let me express my official condolences on the death of your father. It’s a shame that you had to learn of his fate as you did.”
Octavia solemnly nods, watching as Mirage turns to the center of the planning room.
“Now that our business is done… You’re free to go.”
“… Excuse me?”
Octavia raises her brow to the Mentor in surprise. Pledge expresses an utter look of shock, while Silent Wind remains silent as ever.
The Mentor gives Octavia a folded train ticket.
“I’ll have my Assassins give you an escort out. You can find your way to the train from there.” Mirage assures plainly, as two Assassins appear from the shadows to flank Octavia.
“Mentor!?” Pledge moves beside her, “What are you doing? She’s Morendo’s daughter! We found her and brought her here only to send her away??”
“I’m well aware of that, Pledge. My decision has been made.”
Mirage’s tone becomes deathly serious. She approaches the confused and dumbstruck Octavia.
“Go home. You were never here, nor did you see any of the things you saw. I don’t want to see you in my Den. The Templars had the intention of recruiting you. I, however, have no such intention. Off you go.” She waves a hoof outwards.
“I…But…”
“Come with us.”
The two Assassins beside Octavia move closer. Octavia, failing to come to further words, hangs her head in defeat as she complies and follows her escort. She turns a glance back at the planning room, spotting the Mentor exiting through another door behind her, followed closely by Silent Wind and a persistent Pledge, who hobbles furiously to keep up with the Mentor. He mouths some sort of complaint against his leader’s actions, but Octavia is too far away to hear.
Soon, Octavia and her escort exit out of an ordinary door leading into a vacant alley. The light of sunset slides down the walls of the buildings around them. A moment later the Assassins return inside the Den, closing the door behind them, leaving Octavia out in the empty street.
The forlorn cellist takes a seat by the door, plopping down on the cool dirt of the ground. She doesn’t care much for getting dirt on her. She is too caught up in the recent events to care. Octavia felt left in the dark, unable to make sense of the ponies she has been dealing with. She fell back to her thoughts.
This…This surely isn’t it. Is it? My father told me to bring his work here. Or, that’s what he had hoped I would do. Would he want me to just leave?
Octavia pauses for a moment to unfold the train ticket. To her surprise, it’s not a ticket at all, but a plainly written note.
To Morendo’s daughter.
Tag me.
Octavia gives the paper a quizzical look, but then inquisitively turns to the door behind her. She nudges it slightly, twitching at the creak of the hinges as it slides open. The Assassins hadn’t locked it on their way back in. They hadn’t even closed it completely.
Octavia looks at the note once more. Gaining determination and gathering her strength, she cautiously re-enters the Den, accepting Mirage’s challenge. Though she wasn’t sure why she was doing this, she felt as though she didn’t need a reason. Octavia wasn’t about to give up on this journey.
Re-imagining the layout of the Den, Octavia proceeds inside, retracing the path back to the planning room. She takes carefully placed steps, doing her best to mitigate the clop of her hooves against the hard floor.
In the following room, Octavia creeps through the door, glancing inside to see an Assassin sitting on her right, reading a book. Octavia jumps slightly, pulling herself out of the room. She breathes slowly, and spies a large pile of cloth to hide in until she finds a way around the Assassin.
Rolling awkwardly though the door, Octavia swiftly digs her way into the pile of cloth, planning her next step. However, her ears twitch as another pony enters the room, moving to the Assassin reading. Octavia peeks through the fabric shrouding her to watch.
“Blueberry, ‘ave you seen zee Mentor? Zee carrier pigeon came in with a message from Arrow’s Creek.”
“Huh? Uhm… I… Oh! Oh, yes. I saw her. But NOT in the planning room. She went to the lounge, which is through that door, down the hall. Go through the third door on your left, into the library, and then go to the opposite door and to the right. Down that hall at the very end is the lounge. Where the Mentor is. Staying… There.”
The standing Assassin frowns.
“… I know where zee lounge is, you moron.”
“Uh. Yes. Yes you do. I was just reminding you. Now I’m going to read.”
“Ughh.”
The annoyed Assassin turns to go through the indicated door, as the other continues his reading. Octavia cocks her head at the odd conversation, but was thankful for it as she was able to memorize the directions the Assassin had inadvertently given her. Being a musician helps with retaining memory, and Octavia is more than thankful for her skill given the circumstances. Though she surmises she would have to learn how to be more stealthy as she almost trips while sneaking past the reading Assassin and through the other door.
To her luck, Octavia found the hallway vacant, and so she hastily made her way to the third door on the left, which lead to the library that she and Pledge had passed before. Octavia decided to be more cautious with the door, peeking in slightly to get a good look around. She spies two more Assassins standing in the center of the library. Once again, Octavia sees a good hiding spot behind some of the smaller bookshelves to the right, and dives for them.
The sneaky cellist scooches slowly along the frame of the shelves. The Assassins on the other side, a zebra stallion and a cherry-coated mare, begin conversing.
“So…What are we doing again?” The mare pipes up in a cute voice. Her zebra companion nickers slightly.
“We’re guarding. Keeping an eye out for that new pony… Octavia, I think her name is.”
Octavia froze as her name reaches her ears. A look of worry crosses her face as she continues to eavesdrop.
“Oh, right. Is she going to come through the library?”
“She’s in the room right now. She came in only a minute ago.”
What?? But…He was looking in the complete opposite direction! Octavia thought, her body beginning to shake slightly as she grew more and more nervous.
“Really? Then why aren’t we trying to find her?”
“Because we don’t know she’s here.” Replies the zebra, leaving the library and a contemplating mare.
“What? But you said… Ohhh. Ok. I get it now… So this is what its like to be a guard.”
The cute mare turns, taking position right in the doorway that Octavia needs to get through. Octavia, now slightly more assured yet still confused at the whole context of this mission, skirts to the very edge of her cover, placing her only a few feet away from the Assassin mare in the doorway. Octavia can only think of one way to get past.
“Ok. She’s not in this room. As far as I can tell. But that’s because I’m not actually looking around. Maybe I should search the room. But I don’t know she’s here, so why would I? Well, being curious is natural, right? No, no, no, then I’d be going against the purpose of being here. Which is to… guard… books? Hrrmmm.
“Alright. Here’s what I’ll do. I’m going to stand here, and have the intention to be curious and look around, but I won’t because I don’t care, and I’ve suddenly become half-blind. Yup. That sounds good.”
Octavia, deciding the time right, heaves a large encyclopedia as hard as she can over the edge of her cover, hoping for the Assassin to investigate.
“What- Oof!”
Thud
Octavia pops out of her cover and places a hoof to her muzzle. She had thrown the heavy book right into the back of the mare’s head, knocking her out cold.
She tip-toes up to the unconscious Assassin, whispering an apology as she carefully steps over her and through the door.
Finally, Octavia reaches her destination. Falling on her tactic of peering past the door, Octavia surveys the lounge. It is a fairly large living space, blanketed with rugs of vibrant designs as well as cushioned seats. There is an ornate and impressive fireplace against the wall, its firewood burning with a welcoming glow.
Facing the fireplace is Octavia’s target; Mirage, who is resting on a fluffy cushion. Flanking her are Pledge and Silent Wind, who are currently engaged in a conversation with their Mentor. Pledge looks concerned, giving the Mentor disapproving looks. Silent Wind is as emotionless as ever, which is normal, supposedly.
Octavia listens in while creeping off to the left, planning to surprise the Mentor.
“I still don’t like how you’re doing this, Mentor. This ‘test’ feels like a bit much.” Says Pledge, being as polite as possible while gently rubbing his bandaged side.
“I have my methods, Pledge. Maybe it is a bit unnecessary, but I have utmost confidence that Octavia will no doubt succeed.”
Octavia creeps forward, placing her hoof daintily on the floor. As she does, she notices the faintest twitch in Mirage’s ear. The cellist pauses for a moment, and then steps once more. And once again, Mirage’s ear flicks to the side. Frustrated, Octavia puts another hoof on the floor, which is followed yet again by the Mentor’s ears swiveling.
Octavia catches on that Mirage most likely knows that she’s in the room, and exactly where she is, for that matter. If the zebra Assassin from the library knew she was there the moment she came through the door, then surely the Mentor of the Assassins knew as well. She suspects that Silent Wind knows too, though Pledge may not as he is still expressing his discontent, focusing on Mirage.
She’s stuck. Octavia can’t sneak up on Mirage slowly or from any direction. So she decides to do the least expected thing.
Tensing her muscles, Octavia plants her hooves firmly on the floor and then springs forward, launching herself directly into Mirage’s back. Pledge and Silent Wind look in surprise as Mirage and Octavia go tumbling into a pile of fluffy cushions.
“Whoah!” Pledge whinnies
“It looks like she succeeded.” Silent Wind mutters as she get to her hooves and aids the two ponies as they clamor out of the cushion pile.
With a plain look on her face, Mirage gazes at Octavia. Octavia returns the gaze stalwartly, not paying any mind to the mess her mane has become or to her crooked bow tie. The two stare down for a few seconds, before Mirage’s lips break into a wide grin.
“…Congratulations, Octavia. You’ve passed my friendship test!” The Mentor hugs Octavia playfully, leaving her with a bewildered face.
“How… does doing everything that I just did… Equate to us being friends?”
“You’ve proven yourself to me. In a way that only you could have done. You truly are Morendo’s daughter. I knew that the instant I looked at you, of course, but it helps to make sure, right?”
Octavia still looks confused.
“Hmm. I supposed I’ll have to explain it a bit more. And to answer your questions. Have yourself a seat! I’ll get us some tea.”
As the late evening approaches, Octavia, Pledge and Mirage enjoy the warmth of the fireplace and the softness of the cushions. Silent Wind had gone off to some other part of the Den, but not before complimenting Octavia on her performance during the ‘test’. Octavia didn’t know how to take the feedback, but as she converses with Mirage now, she begins to understand.
“…That’s really the only reason I decided to test you like that. I wanted to see what you would do with a situation randomly placed on your hooves. I have got to say, I’m really happy that you didn’t give up after I sent you away. Plus, you had forgotten to take your letters with you.” States Mirage. She pulls up Octavia’s saddlebag from earlier in the day and returns it to her. Inside are all of Morendo’s letters, though the research has been removed.
Octavia had indeed forgotten, but is more than thankful to have them back. Now that she thinks about it, it feels like she is being reunited with a lost part of herself.
“Don’t worry. I didn’t read any of them. All we needed was the research. Those letters are no doubt important to you, and I would never violate the privacy of one of my closest friends.”
Octavia raises her eyebrow. “Thank you very much, Mirage, but… maybe you're taking our friendship too fast. We only just met today.”
The Mentor blinks rapidly, but then comprehends. “Huh? Oh! I’m sorry, I wasn’t talking about our friendship. I was talking about your dad. Morendo.”
“You were friends with my father?”
“The best of friends! I knew him when we were both starting out as Assassins. We trained together. I spent a lot of my time with him, until he infiltrated the Templars, of course. Then not so much. But we had some really fun adventures back in the day…”
Mirage trails off, her eyes glued to her tea.
“When he died, it… it was tough. Missed him ever since that day. But now… It feels like he’s back. And I have you to thank for that.”
Mirage gives Octavia a very heartfelt smile, before turning to Pledge.
“I’m more than thankful that we were able to steal you from the Templars.”
Pledge nods earnestly, winking at Octavia. She reflects a bit on Mirage’s words.
“… What is the difference between you two? The Templars and the Assassins. You’re mortal enemies, from how you talk about each other. But why?”
Mirage crosses her forelegs as she re-adjusts her seating.
“The truth is, we aren’t so different. The Templars have told you their intentions. Peace through order, right? Well, the Assassins seek the same goal; Peace. But the difference is our methods. The Templars use the word ‘order’. What it really means to them is control. They think that the only way to attain peace in the world is by controlling everything, and everyone.”
Pledge cuts in, garnering Octavia’s attention. “The Assassins seek peace through freedom. We believe that the world should be able to keep its free will. Everyone should be able to live their own lives. And one day, peace will come.”
Octavia ponders this. “Equestria has been peaceful for millennia. Why treat it like something so out of reach?”
“That is true, and that peace is thanks to the Princesses. They are one factor that can’t be controlled by Templars, or us. But the other kingdoms that surround us; The Griffin Kingdoms, the Changelings, the Zebra nations, among others, don’t know the same peace. They have civil war and other conflicts much more often, and it’s this turmoil and unrest which makes peace for everyone something to strive for.”
Seeing the logic in her words, Octavia nods. The final lingering thought in her head comes out.
“What… what would my father say if I became an Assassin?”
Mirage looks at Octavia, and gives her a motherly smile.
“To be honest, I don’t know. Morendo kept his personal life extremely hidden, and we didn’t even know you existed until your performances in Canterlot not too long ago.”
Octavia nods a bit disappointingly. Mirage continues to smirk at her.
“I think you know the answer to that question. After all, you’re the one who knows him the most.”
Mirage gestures to Morendo’s letters lying in the saddlebag. Octavia gently pulls the bag closer and hugs it against her chest, closing her eyes. She lets all of her senses die down, focusing on her memories. Trottingham, Vanhoover, Delamare. The one image she returns to is Morendo’s home. His study. His books. All of the memories turn to a vision of a reality that could have been true. Octavia, as a young filly, listening to her father read her books from the shelves of his home. On music, craftsmanship, and so many other things. Laughing and hugging, as a father and daughter should do. But there were no such memories. And there is no such home, without a father to be there.
“It’s your choice. What will you choose?” asks Mirage.
Octavia opens her eyes.
“I owe my father everything. And… It’s time that I properly return the favor.”
Author's Note
Yay! Another chapter complete. I'm having a lot of fun with this.
Thank you for reading! =]

//-------------------------------------------------------//
                  Ch. 5: Eyes in the Dark                  
//-------------------------------------------------------//
Ch. 5: Eyes in the Dark
The sun heralds another day for the city of Delamare. As the light cracks above the tops of buildings, the ponies and griffins of the fishing town wake early and go to their usual routines. Roosters sing their morning serenades as a chilly wind sweeps in from the Delamare river and into the streets.
For Octavia, the day had started hours earlier, when the sun was still far below the horizon. Such are the mornings for Assassin recruits in training.
As the sun continues its climb, Octavia gallops after Silent Wind on the rooftops of Delamare. Their hooves pat on the tiled roofs, the clinks and clattering pausing when they jump the gaps between each house and building.
Silent Wind stops on a flat-topped building, situated in the very center of the city. Octavia catches up just a moment later, the swaying of her white robes and red sash coming to a standstill after her sprinting.
“You’re getting quicker every day. Good work.” Silent Wind remarks, as she sits down to sift through her saddle bag.
Octavia nods earnestly. “I’m pleased that you think so. What’s the new lesson for today?”
Retrieving a coil of rope from her bag, Silent Wind tosses it to Octavia, who promptly gives a puzzled look.
“Tie that rope around my wings.”
Octavia thought to ask why exactly, but instead obeyed her instructor and began to tie the rope around Silent Wind’s torso and wings. During their many lessons, Silent Wind has always been one to teach by example. It can be easily guessed that Silent Wind’s lesson of the day will involve something rash.
Octavia tightly secured the rope with a knot easily reachable by Silent Wind’s teeth, should she need to remove it. The Master Assassin tests the rope evenly to ensure its security, then moves to examine the streets below. She returns to Octavia.
“Follow my lead.”
Silent Wind gains a galloping start and leaps off of the edge of the rooftop, scattering the resting birds perched there as she falls with a graceful form into the street below.
Octavia runs in disbelief to peer down over the edge. Several stories down, she sees Silent Wind jump out of a large stack of hay.   
The Master Assassin looks up to Octavia and points to the haystack.
“Are you mad?!?” Octavia bellows.
Silent Wind points to the haystack again.
“What if I miss?!?”
Silent Wind pulls off the rope around her torso, showing her wings and putting her hooves forward in a catching gesture.
“Wonderful. Now it’s only slightly less terrifying.” Octavia whispers with a roll of her eyes.
Mustering her courage, Octavia places herself at the very fringe of the rooftop. She heightens her posture while balancing on the edge, the scope of the cityscape revolving around her. The distant sound of an eagle’s cry envelopes the air in a soft echo.
With a bracing look on her face, Octavia leaps off of the roof, trying her best to mimic Silent Wind’s form through the air. Despite her flip turning awkward and her legs flailing wildly, Octavia safely lands in the haystack. She tumbles out of the bale, removing twines of hay from her mane as she approaches Silent Wind. The Assassin bears an approving look.
“You’re first Leap of Faith. Not bad. It will feel more natural as you get used to it.”
“That was dreadful. Will we have to do that often?”
“Depends. If you need to get a good look of the area around you, finding the tallest peak and climbing to the top gives you a view of everything. The quickest way down is a Leap of Faith. Just make sure there is something soft to land on before you decide to jump. Keep an eye out for birds too. They like to gather around potential spots.”
Octavia understands, even if she doesn’t like the idea one bit. She never imagined she would have ‘falling from terrifying heights’ added to her resume of new skills.
Silent Wind picks up the rope and begins to trot back to the building.
“Come. Practice makes perfect.”
Octavia often despised having to climb back up to the rooftops over and over again. Though she appreciates Silent Wind for climbing with her and not using her wings to simply fly up to the top, which added to her ‘show don’t tell’ form of teaching. This makes her fit in easily in the group of wise and respectable teachers Octavia has had.
A few moments later, they reach the top of the building. Silent Wind looks to Octavia.
“Alright. Let’s try again.”
The day makes its way into evening. Octavia’s daily training continues, and after spending most of the day practicing the art of the Leap of Faith, Silent Wind takes Octavia back to the Den, to start the evening combat training.
Situated next door to the Den Armory, the training floor has several combat rings spread out for usage. Several Assassins occupy the rings, making good use of the time to train. Both recruits and veterans spar against one another, honing their skills with a whole host of weapons. Silent Wind and Octavia pick one of the empty rings at the far corner of the room, cautiously navigating around the edges of the other rings on their way over.
“How has your blade been lately?” asks Silent Wind as they reach the ring, catching Octavia in the middle of a stretch.
“Reasonable. Though I have been meaning to ask for some assistance on its maintenance. It’s been a tad sluggish.” Octavia replies, lifting her foreleg and turning it up to reveal the hidden blade beneath her bracer.
Silent Wind retrieves a small toolbox from the nearby shelves, opening it and taking a specialized screw driver in her teeth. She holds Octavia’s leg up with one hoof as she exposes the delicate mechanisms of the blade and begins to tweak it.
Octavia always marvels at the structure of the hidden blade. The complexity and operation of such a small device is incredible, and its many variants are no less stunning. Octavia’s hidden blade is a standard model, one that is gifted to new recruits upon their induction.
Until Octavia completes her training and achieves the official rank of Assassin, she is not permitted to use any other variant of the hidden blade, though she is still tutored on their make and usage. She has learned the compositions of Hook Blades made by the Coltstantinople Brotherhood, Phantom Blades created by the Brotherhood of Prance, and several others. She has even learned from Silent Wind on the use of two hidden blades at once, which is in most cases a right reserved only for the most proven Assassins.
Silent Wind finishes with Octavia’s hidden blade, placing her tools aside and stepping back.
“Try it now.”
Octavia gives a flick of her hoof. In a flash, her blade shoots out, its silvery metal giving a small sheen. The blade feels much more responsive, and as Octavia flicks again to return the blade to the bracer, she smiles.
“Yes, that’s much better. Thank you.”
“You’ll need to test it,” Silent Wind reminds her as she makes her way to several supply containers hugging the nearby wall.
She returns with a target dummy made of straw and cloth, and places it before Octavia.
“Show me what you remember. You’re approaching your target from the front. Go ahead.”
Octavia hesitates, staring at the dummy with unsure eyes.
Her training in the past few months has been difficult, yes, but she has always managed to perform to the best of her ability. Be it free-running, climbing, sneaking, blending, and Leaps of Faith, as of late.
But what seems like the simplest task is the most difficult for Octavia.
Eliminate the target.
Assassinate the target.
Stab the target…
Kill the target…
Octavia breathes calmly and slowly, regaining her focus with a quick shake of her head.
It is just a straw dummy. It can’t feel pain.
Approaching the dummy, Octavia quickly thrusts her hidden blade squarely into the dummy’s chest, piercing the cloth skin and rustling the straw inside. She withdraws the blade, looking to Silent Wind.
“Good. Now approach from behind.”
Circling around the dummy like a predator to unsuspecting prey, Octavia approaches it again, this time from behind. Using the techniques she has learned, Octavia steps down on the dummy’s back, pushing it to the floor. Her blade punctures the back of the dummy’s neck, completing the kill.
“Good. Now from the side, with a running start.”
Octavia trots to the very edge of the ring, looking perpendicular to the dummy. In a burst of speed, she gallops forward and tackles the target with her blade primed, impaling the side of the dummy’s neck and rolling off in a graceful fashion.
Silent Wind nods approvingly.
“Looks like it works. Well done, Octavia.”
“Anything else you’d have me do before we move on?” Octavia asks, brushing her robes as she gets up from her roll. She’d much rather do anything else.
“Nothing else for tonight. The Mentor has a special assignment for you. I suggest you see her now, in the lounge. She’ll give you the details.”
Octavia bows graciously to Silent Wind before leaving the training floor and making her way to the Den lounge. Possibilities of what Mirage’s ‘special assignment’ could be flutter about in Octavia’s thoughts along the way. Hopefully it would be something more serious than going out to get more tea or that game of ‘tag every griffin in the Den’ she was given last time.
Just as she approaches the door way to the lounge, Octavia bumps into a familiar green pegasus, who was just on his way out. He beams upon seeing her.
“Octavia! Good to see you this evening. How was your training today?” says Pledge with enthusiasm, gently hugging Octavia with a fore hoof.
Octavia returns his affection in kind, smiling, “It is good to see you too, Pledge. My training today was interesting and productive. I leapt off of a building several times, with nothing but a stack of hay to save me from certain death each time. Quite the… riveting experience.”
“I remember learning the Leap of Faith. A traditional art and useful technique. Though, really only useful if you don’t have wings!” Pledge chuckles.
“Yes, yes, laugh if you will. Though speaking of wings, how has your recovery been?”
In a fitting display, Pledge stretches out his newly healed wing. His green feathers rustle as they fan out.
“My wing is back to its beautiful self, thank you for asking! The mare who field dressed it back in Vanhoover did a fine job.”
Octavia smirks playfully, placing a hoof to her chest. “Well, I’m glad she did. Because I’m fairly certain that mare would not want to wrap another wing anytime soon.”
“Hey, I have been very cautious with it lately, for your information!” Pledge replies, returning an equally spirited smirk, “Though I think I’ve kept you for too long. Mirage is waiting for you inside. I’ll see you later!”
“Thank you, Pledge. Until next time!”
Bidding Pledge goodbye, Octavia enters the lounge and approaches Mirage. The Mentor sips from a cup of tea as she lies upon the cozy couch, enjoying the lit fireplace. Octavia makes her presence known, sitting beside her.
“Good evening, Octavia. I’m glad to be able to speak with you. I have some news.”
Octavia bows her head in acknowledgement, meeting Mirage eye-to-eye.
“Silent Wind has spoken very highly of your progress as a recruit. I discussed the matter with her and several other senior Assassins, and I’ve come to the decision to assign you your first official mission as your next step in your training.”
Surprised, Octavia shuffled nervously on her cushion. Knowing Mirage, it is rare to hear that soft undertone of seriousness in her normally jolly voice.
Despite her flying thoughts, Octavia remains attentive. “I’m honored to have been put in such high esteem, Mentor. What is this assignment you wish me to complete?”
“We’ve gained recent information on the whereabouts of a Templar cache hidden underneath the city. While normally I would send one Assassin to investigate, I’ve decided to send you and another recruit in training instead. You will be paired up with the other recruit, and starting tomorrow night, you will find this Templar cache and eliminate its contents. Sounds like fun, right?” Mirage ends with a wide grin, her tone suddenly returning to its regular jovialness.
Octavia nods, “Very well. I’ll prepare myself for the mission.”
“Make sure you do! And be sure to remember all you’ve learned thus far. You’ll need all of your skills and wit out in the field, as I’m sure Silent Wind has told you about a thousand times by now,” Says Mirage, winking, “Go to the East Riverside docks at nine p.m. tomorrow night. You and your assigned partner will rendezvous with a contact there, who will give you additional info for the mission. Understood?”
“Yes, Mentor.”
“Mmm!” Mirage stops mid sip of her tea, quickly swallowing, “One last thing. You need to teach me how to make tea like you do. Mine always comes out short. I don’t know why, but I can never make good earl grey.”
Octavia smiles at her Mentor’s silliness, abiding by her request and following her to the lounge’s supply of tea. She could use a cup of tea herself after all of her work today. Though now with the thought of her first actual mission assigned to her, Octavia can’t shake off her anxious feelings.
Being in the field means she’ll have to kill.
Following an enjoyable evening spent with the Mentor, which included drinking tea and playing an intense game of chess, Octavia arrives in the Den Library. The lantern in her mouth swings daintily as she descends the stairwell and illuminates her surroundings. The library itself is barely lit, with a few wall-mounted candles lighting only the doorways. At this time in the late night hours, many of the Assassins are either asleep, on night watch, or out completing missions. There is not a soul in sight.
Initially, Octavia had tried to get some sleep for the night, but could not stay still. Her worries and fears of the future would not leave her be. She spent an hour or so reading more of her father’s letters, and they gave her a temporary comfort. But she simply could not keep her eyes closed, and hence decided to try and find something to read in the expansive library of the Den. Something that could hopefully provide her with insight on how to become a better Assassin. Or even better, how to overcome a fear of killing, as brutal as it sounds.
Octavia brings her hazy lantern to one of the many large bookshelves, casting its light on the rows of texts. After eyeing several sections, she spots the one book of interest; a large, worn text, with the Assassin symbol etched on the front. The book looks quite familiar.   
As Octavia pulls out the book and places it neatly on the carpeted floor, setting her lantern beside it, she realizes that she has indeed seen, and used, this book before. This was the heavy text she hurled at the unfortunate and internally-confused mare standing guard, during Mirage’s ‘challenge’. Luckily she didn’t feel bad about it, as shortly after her days beginning as a recruit, she had made amends with the cherry-coated mare, who admitted that she got a good laugh from it when she had woken. Octavia chuckles softly at the thought of it herself.
Getting comfortable on the carpet, Octavia opens her book, sifting through the pages with her nose. The book itself has no title, but on the beginning pages it lists the contents within; A collection of memoirs written by Assassins of the past, from almost every era of Equestria, and of the world beyond. There are accounts from Assassins who lived during the reign of King Sombra, and a few are even from the time before the Princesses, during the tribal era. So much untold history is preserved in books like these, and the amount of stories astounds Octavia as she continues skimming through the pages.
…creak…
Octavia’s ears twitch at the bending of wooden boards emanating from somewhere in the library. Normally one would expect someone to be walking along the floorboards, but the Den was mostly made of stone. The only things in the library made of wood are the bookshelves.
Octavia directs her gaze above the wooden bookshelves around her, squinting in an attempt to make out anything visible in the eerie darkness that surrounds the light of her lantern. She began to get the unsettling feeling of being watched…
“…Hi there!”
The hidden voice comes from the closest bookshelf to Octavia’s right, the same bookshelf she acquired her text from. Octavia squints at the source of the voice, and loosely takes sight of a pony resting on the very top. Her outline is barely visible from her position, with only her eyes standing out. They glow a deep pink, and along with their cat-like pupils, have a mesmerizing feel to them.
“Uhm….Hello? Who are you?” Octavia questions.
The mysterious pony swoops down from the shelf, landing softly beside Octavia as she holds a hoof to her page to keep it from turning. As she enters the light, it is clear that the pony in question is not a pony at all, but a noctral.
The noctral mare has a dark grey coat of fur, and a dark blue mane. True to most bat ponies, she has tufts of fur jutting from the tips of her ears, and a pair of fangs in her toothy grin. Her Assassin robes are similar to Octavia’s, consisting of the common white cloth and red sash, though she has two holes cut specifically for her leathery bat wings.
“I noticed you coming into the library earlier, and I waved hello to you, but you didn’t wave back. Do you have bad vision?” she says, cocking her head in curiosity.
Octavia gives a confused look.
“No… The library was so dark that I could only see what I put my lantern to. I thought I was completely alone.”
“But… can’t you see in the dark?”
The question itself is a silly one to Octavia, but as she realizes the sincerity in the noctral mare’s tone, she understands her confusion.
“I can’t see in the dark because I’m not a noctral. I’m an earth pony.”
“Oh. That’s weird. I knew you weren’t a noctral, I just didn’t know that you couldn’t see in the dark. I thought everyone could.”
The bat-pony plops herself down on her haunches. She remains quite eccentric, true to her nocturnal nature.
“I’m Cotton Rose! What’s your name?”
“My name is Octavia. It is a pleasure to meet you, Cotton Rose.” Says Octavia, extending her hoof to the noctral.
Cotton Rose’s eyes light up as she shakes Octavia’s hoof.
“I love your accent! You sound so regal and classy! Where are you from?”
“Thank you kindly. Many of my relatives are from Canterlot and Trottingham, but I grew up in a smaller town called Ponyville.”
“Ohh I’m from a small town too! It’s called Anthe, and it’s really far north in Umbra, my home country. I’ve spent most of my life there, so I’m not very used to how things are here in Equestria.”
For a noctral this talkative, Octavia is surprised she has never seen her before. “Are you a recent recruit?”
“Kinda. I’ve done most of my training in Umbra, but I’ve been moved here with my teacher recently. Almost done with my first whole year of training!”
“I see. You’re already farther than I am in terms of training. I only began a few months ago.” Octavia replies. She already feels a connection with this curious mare.
“Well in terms of time in Equestria, then we are equal! Plus we are both still only recruits. We’ve got a lot more to learn!”
“True.” Octavia nods, noticing the noctral’s cat-like eyes wander closer.
“So what are you reading?” Cotton Rose scooches over to Octavia’s side, peering into the pages of the book.
“Just a few stories on some of the Assassins of old. I’m… quite interested in the Brotherhood’s history.”
“Ohhh me too! I love reading tales of Assassins from history. The ones about the pirate Assassin, Jackdaw, are some of my favorites. Though I don’t think any story could compete with Master Assassin Eagle Listener’s tales. It’s amazing how he was able to accomplish so much in so many places, like in Roam and Coltstantinople. They say he had assassinated the most targets of any other Assassin. ”
“Impressive…” Octavia mutters, finding the marked section on Eagle Listener’s history. It is one of the larger sections of the entire text.
As she skims through the beginning of the section, she finds several paragraphs detailing Eagle Listener’s origins. He was a stallion, a young noble whose father was an Assassin unbeknownst to him and most of his family. Sadly, his father and brothers were murdered by Templars. He sought revenge not soon after, which lead him to join the Assassins.
As much as she would love to learn more about this, Octavia figures it would be better for another time. Her avoidance of sleep is beginning to catch up to her as she is ambushed by a large yawn.
Octavia closes the memoir book, “I think I’ll be turning in for the night. I’ve been up for too long as it is.”
“Oh right. You day-lighters need your sleep! Maybe we can talk again sometime?” says Cotton Rose, hopping to her hooves as Octavia returns the memoir book to its proper shelf.
“I’m sure we will meet again. Good night, Cotton Rose.”
“Goodnight, Octavia!” Cotton Rose replies, mimicking Octavia’s accent in a playful and admiring manner.
Octavia smiles at her before exiting the library with her lantern, making her way to the sleeping chambers.
Entering through the wooden door, Octavia carefully makes her way to her bunk, so not to disturb the other recruits sleeping. She removes her barding, robes, and sash, placing them neatly within the drawer beneath her bed.
Octavia pauses to look at her hidden blade.
The stubborn fear she held of actually using her hidden blade is mind boggling, and yet so simple. It’s definitely hard to adjust to killing and death, as Pledge once said when giving Octavia some advice.
But she must adjust. Just as Eagle Listener did.
Octavia regains some confidence, reflecting on what she had read on Eagle Listener. There is much in common between them.
They both lost family to the Templars.
And just as Eagle Listener did in his time, Octavia seeks revenge.
Octavia holds her hidden blade and its bracer closer, her forehead touching the top of the gauntlet.
… I will become an Assassin… And I will find my father’s killer… No matter how long it takes.
As the night takes its hold, Octavia arrives at the meeting point at the East Riverside docks. The night sky is dotted with dark blue clouds, which occasionally block the dim light from the moon above. Very few boats are still about on the river, and even fewer ponies are out, aside from the occasional guard. It bears a serene peacefulness.
Only a moment later, Octavia is joined by her mission partner, who swoops down from a nearby roof.
The mare lands a few paces in front of Octavia.
“Hello.” Says Octavia, bearing a small smile.
“Good evening! I’m…. Oh my gosh! Is that you, Octavia??”
Octavia recognizes the familiar voice to be Cotton Rose’s, and she’s proven correct as the noctral mare lowers her hood to reveal her ever-present exuberance.
Octavia lowers her hood as well. “Cotton Rose! What a wonderful surprise! What are the odds of us being paired together?”
“I know, right? This is gonna be great!” says Cotton Rose with a giddy face. Though she quickly composes herself as another winged figure joins them.
A male griffin moves past Octavia and Cotton Rose, toting a bag full of various nets and fishing line, as well as a dim lantern. The seemingly oblivious fishing-griffin sits down on the edge of the dock, unfurling his line.
“How many griffins did you tag?” the griffin asks himself.
Octavia and Cotton Rose keep their eyes on one another, as Octavia replies.
“Twenty four.”
“Ah, swell.”
The griffin keeps his gaze locked on the dark river waters. Octavia and Cotton Rose face away, though twitch their ears in his direction.
“The cache is located in the sewers here on the east side. You’ll find an unguarded entrance just south of these docks, on one of the beaches. It’s your best bet inside. Be wary of the guards. Most of them are in the tunnels.”
“Thank you, friend!” Cotton Rose says casually, winking to Octavia.
“You’re welcome. Nothing is true…”
“…Everything is permitted.” Octavia finishes.
“Good luck.” The griffin says, continuing his fishing.
Departing from the docks and donning their hoods, Octavia and Cotton Rose make their way down south to the East Central district, picking up a speedy trot as they cross the jetties lining the river. The low-lying wooden piers and idle boats make it easy to free-gallop their way through, sliding under wide railings and hopping across empty fishing boats. Octavia traverses wooden fences and narrow boards with defined balance, as Cotton Rose climbs over crates and shacks, utilizing her bat-like wings to glide over longer jumps.
Within a minute’s time, they arrive within sight of the sewer entrance, on the sandy beach lining the edge of the massive stone walls which serve as the East side’s flood barriers.
Octavia turns to her companion, “Are you ready, Cotton Rose?”
“I am! How should we take this on?”
Octavia places a hoof to her lips to think, and quickly comes up with an idea.
“No doubt the sewers will be dimly lit, and we might have to go through unlit sections to sneak around guards. I think it would be best if you take the lead, Cotton Rose. With your night vision, you can guide us easily through the sewers. I’ll cover you from the rear.”
“Alright, sounds like a plan! Let’s go!”
As Octavia and Cotton Rose trot along the sand, they hug the side of the stone wall, encroaching upon several archways which display an opening. The opening contains a drainage, which in turn leads to the underground sewers. The oval entrance is damp and drenched, its stone bricks covered in lichens and moss. Dripping water echoes from within.
Cotton Rose moves in front, scanning the sewer walls and cautiously moving forward, with Octavia right on her tail. The sewers are completely pitch black to Octavia. She began contemplating whether or not to grab onto Cotton Rose’s tail so she wouldn’t lose her. Luckily, she manages to keep up as Cotton Rose continues, the dark not impeding her whatsoever. After all, the night is to a noctral as the day is to a pony.
Proceeding deeper into the wet sewers, the two happen upon a large, square shaped room. They enter in on the second level, walking on a wooden platform with a ladder leading down. Three more sewer pathways lie on the bottom level, lit dimly by a few torches.
Cotton Rose stops and peeks down at the level below, moving back a step to face Octavia.
“There are two guards below. No other way to go but down. Want me to take them?” She whispers.
Octavia voices her concern for Cotton Rose going it alone, “Both of them at the same time? Are you sure you don’t need my help?”
“It might be easier for me to jump down and take them out. I can see them crystal clear.” Cotton Rose assures.
Octavia, confident in her partner, gives her the go ahead.
Moving back to the edge of the wooden platform, Cotton Rose leaps off with her wings spread.
Her silent descent lasts for but a second as Cotton Rose lands right in between the idle guards, the hidden blade on her left hoof already finding its mark in the left guard. In a flash, she pulls out the blade and turns right, piercing the light armor of the other guard and felling him.
Octavia leaps down, landing in a small puddle as Cotton Rose mutters to herself.
“I’m sorry. Rest in peace, friend.”
She places the bodies of the guards respectably on the nearby stone floor. Though treating the dead with honor is a crucial tenant for an Assassin, Octavia feels much better knowing Cotton Rose takes to it with her own sincerity. She seems to handle killing easily.
With the room now clear, they scan the surrounding new pathways. Other torches line one of the passages, showing more recent signs of guard activity. The other two passages are sealed off with heavy metal bars, though one is slightly open at the bottom, with possibly enough room to go underneath.
“That passage straight ahead is empty and clear on the other side. Come on!”
With a galloping start, Cotton Rose dives into a slide hind-legs first, clearing the bars without issue.
Octavia, hoping to not get too wet, follows suit, sliding quickly underneath. She shakes her mane and robes, throwing off drops of dirty water.
The current passage winds into a snake-like pattern, but eventually comes to an end in a much larger chamber of the sewers. Within the large chamber, a group of ponies and griffins, entirely made up of guards, haul carts and crates of huge sums of equipment. Though there are stacks of weapons, most of the supplies consist of excavation tools.
Octavia and Cotton Rose remain hidden in the dark corner of the sewer passage, though open their ears in attentiveness to listen in. A mare in the center of the room converses with a stallion leading the guard detachment. The mare appears to be of some nobility.
“Have the supplies been catalogued yet?”
“Yes ma’am,” replies the stallion, clad in the dull armor of the Delamare guards, “The provisions will be in place to aid in the search for the chambers, and we just received the shipment of dragon powder. The surveyors are still looking for its location, but they say it shouldn’t take long for them to find.”
Dragon powder? Octavia thought, Only Templar wealth could afford something so costly.
The noble mare nods, her royal-looking garb abstaining from any contact with its surroundings. “Excellent. Keep me updated on your progress, captain. I expect a report soon.”
“Yes ma’am.”
The mare in charge departs from the large chamber with an escort of other ponies, vanishing into one of the other lit entrance tunnels. The guard captain stays only to give orders to a subordinate, before leaving through an opposite exit.
Octavia carefully examines the room. Her eyes lock on to one large cart, filled with stacks of barrels with red markings. Explosive material warnings, to be precise.
Mapping out a path in her mind, Octavia turns to Cotton Rose, pointing at her objective.
“That trolley, at the back end and to the left. That contains the powder the guard was speaking of. We can use it to impair their excavation, and destroy all of the equipment as well.”
Cotton Rose nods, approving.
“Ok. I’ll see what I can do to take out some of the guards. I’ll keep their eyes off you so you can set up the barrels.”
“Thank you.”
Octavia and Cotton Rose split up, using the boxes and carts as cover as they lurk around. Cotton Rose immediately gets to work, silently pulling a guard pony from around a corner and dispatching her.
Moving swiftly, Octavia sneaks around boxes and slides over others, being careful of her surroundings. Though as she peek over around another corner, she nearly comes face to face with another guard, a griffin this time. The female griffin stops for a rest, standing with perfect sight over Octavia’s hiding spot.
The shattering crack of a glass bottle catches the griffin’s attention. She perks up and draws a short sword, moving away to investigate the source. Octavia silently slips by, just as Cotton Rose claims another kill.
Octavia makes it to the cart. Wanting to make sure the explosion covers the entire chamber, Octavia cuts the ropes holding the barrels secure with her hidden blade, carefully letting three barrels slide to the floor.
Using one leg to push them, Octavia rolls the barrels into different nooks and corners among the crates, ensuring the explosion will engulf the entirety of the room.
Just as she returns to the powder cart, she eyes her means of detonation; a torch from the wall. Octavia moves to grasp it, but is stopped in her tracks by an alarming voice.
“You there! Stop!”
Two ponies of the guard make their way straight towards Octavia, intent on bringing their swords down upon her.
By instinct, Octavia freezes in a combat position. In mind and thought, however, she flinches.
No, stay away, I don’t want to-
Suddenly, Cotton Rose swoops in from the side, tackling one guard pony to the ground and striking the other with her hidden blade, finishing them in an impressive double assassination.
“Are the barrels set?”
Octavia snaps out of it, kicking the cart and spilling the remainder of the powder barrels. Upon stabbing a hole through one of the barrels, Octavia urges Cotton Rose to follow after grabbing the torch from the wall.
Backing into one of the tunnel exits, Octavia turns to her partner.
“Start going through the tunnel once I say so. I’ll be right behind you.”
Cotton Rose briskly nods, setting herself up for a quick sprint as Octavia readies the torch.
“Now!!”
She lobs the torch just as Cotton Rose darts off through the tunnel. Octavia flips around and gallops as fast as she can, following Cotton Rose by only a few spaces behind. Luckily this tunnel has its own lighting, making it much easier for Octavia to find her way.
An echoing rumble reaches her hooves, mimicking the growl of a waking dragon. Already her ears can hear the spreading of flames from behind, as the chamber is incinerated.
The two Assassins dash through the tunnel, leaping over boxes and sliding underneath work benches. They quickly happen upon a dark and steep stairwell, to which Cotton Rose glides up with her wings. Octavia follows closely.
Cotton Rose bursts open through a pair of wooden doors at the. Octavia stops just behind her, noticing that the exit has brought them to a small alley way. The heavy smell of fish hangs in the air around them, particularly from the garbage crates full of fish bones. The alley must be close to some of the nearby fisheries.
As the tremors from the explosion subside, Octavia and Cotton Rose exit the alley and back on to the streets. The Den isn’t far from their current position, as they are still close to the river.
The two catch their breath before laughing.
“We did it. We completed our first mission!” Cotton Rose announces, albeit in an indoor speaking voice. While the street may be empty now, it is always important to be discreet.
“Yes… We did. Phew… Mission accomplished. And it seems we were able to get some intelligence as well.” Octavia replies, thinking back to the noble mare which they eavesdropped upon.
“What do you think that was about earlier? About an excavation?”
“I’m not sure… But we should inform Mirage. She’ll know how to best make sense of it.”
Just as they arrived, Octavia and Cotton Rose disappear, heading back home to the Den.
The debriefing with Mirage was, as Octavia expected, well received. The Mentor was more than impressed with both Octavia and Cotton Rose’s performance, and the intelligence collected about a Templar excavation plan is incredibly valuable.
With a witty send off and jolly praise, Mirage dismissed the two recruits, gifting them some time off for their good work. They decide to spend their time on the highest point of the Den; a large stone tower overlooking the adjacent Delamare River. It is mostly used as a lookout position, and as a place to practice Leaps of Faith into the river.
The two sit lie down on the stone tower's edge, overlooking the river below. Octavia crosses her hooves as she turns to her noctral friend.
“How do you fare in the daytime, Cotton Rose? Does the sun hurt your eyes?”
“It depends on the kind of day. If it’s cloudy then it isn’t so bad and I can see alright. But if it’s really sunny, then I need to use shades or a visor to protect my eyes. I keep an eye on the pegasi weather schedule so I’ll know which days will be too sunny,” Cotton Rose explains, adjusting her seat on the cool stone of the tower lookout, “What about regular ponies? How hard is it to see in the dark?”
“Well, we can’t quite see at all actually, but it also depends on how thick the darkness is. If the moon is out and bright then it isn’t so hard to see, but it is near impossible to see in pitch black spaces without a light nearby. Needless to say, I’m more than thankful I had you as a partner. If it wasn’t for you, I would have certainly gotten lost in those sewers.”
Cotton Rose grins, taking in Octavia’s compliments. “I’m just glad you were the one calling the shots. I’m not very good with giving orders. It’s all about teamwork, right?”
“Indeed.”
Octavia thinks of other topics to bring up as they enjoy the cool night air.
“How did you come to join the Assassins, Cotton Rose?”
“Oh…Well….”
Cotton Rose falls silent, staring down at her hooves. From the grimace on her face, it didn’t seem as though she was hiding some dark secret, but more along the lines of trying to avoid bad memories.
Octavia decides against pressing the matter.
“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“Thanks… I’m sorry… maybe some other time.”
Octavia rubs her hoof, looking down. Another question stirs in her thoughts.
“Have you ever heard of an Assassin called Morendo Stradivarius?”
Cotton Rose places a hoof to her lip.
“Hmmm… I think so. Oh! He was the Master Assassin who infiltrated the Templars, right? He’s legendary, from what I hear. Wasn’t he killed a decade or so ago?”
Octavia nods, “Yes, he was. He is actually the reason why I joined with the Assassins. He was my father.”
Cotton Rose’s ears shoot up, quickly followed by her hooves covering her mouth.
“You’re Moren-… Ohh… I’m so sorry, Octavia. I’m really, really sorry.”
“It’s quite alright, Cotton Rose, no need-“
The bat pony flings her hooves onto Octavia, meeting her eyes with urgency.
“No it’s not alright! He was your dad! And he… Oh gosh, I’m sorry…”
In a flash, Octavia finds herself enveloped in a close embrace. Cotton Rose sheds a few tears in the midst of their hug as Octavia hugs her back with surprise.
“Thank you Cotton Rose, but this isn’t necessary. I’ve come to terms with it.”
“Was it hard?”
“Well, I… Never knew him until recently. He had left my mother shortly after I was born. But as I learned more about him, I discovered that he left to protect us, to keep us away from any danger. After knowing that, I… It was definitely hard. I wish I could have been able to talk to him.”
Cotton Rose pulls away, already more tears sliding down her cheeks.
“…Now I’m getting all emotional…”
“Cotton Rose, please, it’s alright.” Octavia assures insistently. Having another mare show this much empathy to her is something Octavia has rarely experienced.
“I know, it’s just sad. Things like this make me get mad at myself.”
Octavia cocks her head. “Why is that?”
“Because here I am crying for your dead father, and only a few hours ago I killed six guards. I mean I had to kill them, they were working for Templars, but… It just makes me feel stupid.” Says Cotton Rose, wiping away her remaining tears in between her words.
“Then how do you do it? How are you able to kill?”
“Because I’m an Assassin. I mean, that’s why we are called Assassin’s in the first place, right? We kill to further our goals. But we aren’t mindless killers. Just like our creed says; ‘Stay your blade from the flesh of the innocent.’ This is our way of protecting the free will of the world.
Personally though, I don’t like fighting. If we have to kill, then I’ll do it in the quickest, cleanest, and most respectable way possible.”
Octavia nods, taking in her words. Straightforward and simple. Perhaps that is the best way to look at it all. Assassins are murderers in a sense, but they don’t kill for the sake of killing. It is strategic and precise assassination. To protect freedom and disrupt the Templar’s plans, all while in the dark.
After all, as the Assassin saying goes;
We work in the dark, to serve the light.
Octavia looks to Cotton Rose, who is beginning to calm down.
“Do you play any instruments, Cotton Rose?”
She chuckles. “Instruments? Oh gosh. Not really. My mom gave me a little drum set when I was a filly. Never new how to read music or anything, I just banged on them.”
“Well, how would you feel about learning? I could tutor you. Before the Assassins I was… well, still am, a professional cellist. Perhaps I could take you down to the Den’s music room sometime. I can teach you how to read music.”
A smile finds its way on to Cotton Rose’s lips. Her pink eyes light up in fascination.
“Wow, that would be great! I didn’t know you were a musician. Well, I guess with your cutie mark it would be kinda obvious but that’s so cool! I always liked the drums, and it would be great to be able to play them again. What’s the cello like?...”
As Cotton Rose continues to ramble on in glee, Octavia can’t help but feel… good. Her very first mission was a resounding success. She had gained much experience.
Though perhaps the best result was that Octavia had gained a friend

//-------------------------------------------------------//
                   Ch. 6: Feathered Axe                    
//-------------------------------------------------------//
Ch. 6: Feathered Axe
The wind nips at the travelers as they ascend the mountain trail, harried by the frigid air. It is the final leg of their three-day journey. And the most taxing thus far.
For Octavia, a day of grueling training would be much more inviting than the march through the miserable cold. Even with the added warmth from the wool and straw barding covering her robes, the winter air easily finds its way to her very bones. Her Assassin’s hood does no better at keeping away the cold wind.
But as the teachings of friendship prove, having someone to talk to has made the trek much more bearable. Octavia’s mind is kept off of the chilling gusts as she speaks with Cotton Rose beside her. Since their mission in the Delamare sewers nearly two months ago, the two recruits have grown to be close friends. Their success together was easily noticed by Mirage, and convinced her to put the two together on their current contract mission.
Another lead had been uncovered on the Templar excavation plans in Delamare; The supplier of the dragon powder kegs which Octavia had destroyed. The lead pointed towards the restless and warring Griffin Kingdoms. More specifically, the town of Griffinstone.
Now, Octavia and Cotton Rose pursue the lead, tasked with finding the Templar supplier and the source of the dragon powder. But before they can truly begin their search, they need to reach the griffin town atop the perilous peaks.
The trail winds upwards, zig-zagging along the steep cliffs, giving ample view of the immense valleys and snow-capped mountains which make up the land of the griffins. Cotton Rose hums a tune as their climb continues.
Her companion’s song sounds familiar to Octavia.
“Still practicing even all the way out here, I see. You’ve picked up those new scores quite well.”
Cotton Rose beams, nodding. “Thanks! I really like those songs. Though I was hoping to maybe switch from learning drums to something else. I want to learn how to play a stringed instrument, like you do.”
Though hearing Cotton Rose’s interest in the instrument type of her specialty, Octavia cracks a subtle grin. She isn’t sure if Cotton Rose’s noctral physiology would allow her to play anything with strings. Perhaps her wings could allow her?
“I would love to teach you about stringed instruments. I would only need to figure out exactly what would work best for you. Or, rather, what you had in mind specifically.”
“I’m somewhere between mandolin and lute.” Cotton Rose figures.
“Interesting choices. Both are very… cultured, instruments. We’ll see what we can do when we return to Delamare.”
A bend in the path places the two Assassins at the beginning of a new trail, which leads to the front gates of Griffinstone, a fair distance ahead.
However, this path is not thiers.
“Mirage’s notes show another entrance to the town.” States Octavia, pulling out her map in front of her as Cotton Rose leans in to see as well. Pointed lines and scribbled arrows indicate a second path aside from the main mountain road.
Octavia lifts her head, scanning her surroundings. There is an outcropping nearby, but no second path.
“Hang on.” Cotton Rose spouts as she trots to the outcropping’s edge. With a beat of her leathery wings, Cotton Rose leaps into a hover, moving around the steep edges to the side. She disappears, returning moments later.
“Over here, Octavia!”
Octavia makes her way over, and leaning over to the side, spies what Cotton Rose discovered; A separate ledge much further down on the side of the mountain face. The rocky platform is beaten by fierce winds, and contains what appears to be a cave entrance bored into the cliff wall.
“That’s our entrance, it seems.” Octavia says as her eyes return to her map. Cotton Rose returns to the ledge, planting her hooves on the rock.
“Seems so! But how are you going to be able to reach the platform? It’s too far to jump…”
“You’re going to have to fly me over, Cotton Rose.” Octavia puts simply as she stows away her map.
Cotton Rose’s eyes widen. “Uhm… I don’t think I can do that. I-I mean, I’m not saying you’re fat Octavia, but I just don’t think I’m strong enough to carry you.”
“Are you sure? I’ve seen pegasi your size carry ponies with ease before.”
Cotton Rose shakes her head. “A pegasus could, sure. But I’m a noctral, Octavia. My wings are a lot more fragile than feathered wings. I could pull something if I’m carrying too much weight.”
“There’s no other way,” Octavia insists, “We must get to that ledge. It isn’t too far of a flight. Once we are near the ledge, you can let go of me.”
Though the hesitation remained in her eyes, Cotton Rose nods.
“Ok. Let’s make this quick. Ready?”
“Yes.”
Hovering just above, Cotton Rose wraps her hooves around Octavia’s midsection and flaps furiously to lift her off the ground and into the air. The two flutter in the harsh winds with nothing but miles of openness below them, as if dangling on the end of a puppet’s string. Cotton Rose begins to strain herself, grunting in pain.
Octavia readies herself to leap to the ledge, but instead falls to it with Cotton Rose still on top of her, her wings giving out at the last second. They plop onto the rocky platform with a tiny crack of the stone. They breathe a sigh of relief as the platform held together.
Octavia and Cotton Rose quickly enter into the cliff wall entrance, catching their breath. Cotton Rose pants and groans as she rubs her back. A smile finds its way on her lips, despite her pain.
“Phew! Ow. That wasn’t so bad. Aughh.”
“Thank you, Cotton Rose. Do you need a moment to rest?”
“No, I’ll be ok. Hooo... Ok. Let’s go.”
The cave ran deep into the craggy bowels of the mountain. Its pathway had torches mounted along the walls and bends, but most had been blown out by the invading winds from outside. Octavia relied on Cotton Rose’s night vision to lead the way, the sound of their hooves crunching the snow of the cave floor echoing off the walls.
Upon reaching the end of the smothering caves, they stop at a dead end, finding nothing but a sullen wall.
“Dead end,” Cotton Rose observes, “But there is something here. Two grey seals. It looks like they each have a key slot for our hidden blades.”
Octavia and Cotton Rose stand side by side, simultaneously extending their hidden blades into the seals as they place their hooves against them. A shifting of hidden mechanisms occurs, moving the wall backwards and unfurling a set of stone steps, leading to what looks like a cellar door. Tiny wisps of light shine through its cracks.
Octavia moves to push the doors open, flooding the cave with light. Cotton Rose instinctively shields her eyes with a leathery wing as the brightness of the setting sun reaches them.
The two climb out from the cave door, finding themselves towards the back end of Griffinstone, in the shadow of a large and decaying stone statue of a griffin royal. The sun dips further below the mountains in the distance, darkening the air.
The town seems entirely empty outside. Lonely streets and hushed corners instill a lasting peacefulness. Though the dilapidated nature of the entire town takes away from the serenity. The smell strikes Octavia particularly.
“Our contact is in the Crag’s Roost. A local bar, I imagine.” Octavia states.
“Where should we start looking?”
“Simple. We follow the noise.”
Octavia trots forward with Cotton Rose in tow, passing by the large griffin statue. It catches Cotton Rose’s eye for a moment, giving her a grin.
“Wow… You are one handsome statue!”
“Is this the place?” Cotton Rose asks as they stop before a pair of swinging doors. Light from lanterns and a fireplace seep through the ribbed frame, glowing in the night time air.
Octavia glances to the side, observing a huge log laying on its side, riddled with weapons. Axes, daggers, knives and anything with a sharpness to it are stuck into the rough wood, presumably owned by the bar-goers.
One large round axe stands out among the other weapons, its etched symbols and unique design appearing to be of some special design. The axe’s head partially resembles one half of an Assassin’s symbol.
“I have a feeling this the place.”
In stark contrast to the cool and silent air outside, the Roost is filled to the brim with commotion. Loud and boisterous chatter rings out, with clangs of mugs and clawed fists pounding on rickety tables following the cheerful laughter. Griffins of all shapes and plumages toil about, having a merry time on this evening spent indoors. It is likely the only place to find any fun in this town.
Though they receive a few unwelcome looks from the closest griffins, the hooved Assassins are surprisingly ignored. The room is roughly divided into two major groups of griffins, who cast glares at each other with more intent than they do the sudden pony visitors. The bar lies ahead at the back of the room, a clear path made from the division of tables and chairs.
“Let’s try not to make a scene.” Octavia whispers.
Cotton Rose nods. “Not make a scene, got it.”
Moving ahead, the Assassin trots happily to the large bar, tended to by an older male griffin. He eyes Cotton Rose with unfettered judgement.
“Excuse me, good sir!” Cotton Rose proclaims as she plops herself onto a bar side stool, “I’ll have your most popular beverage! No ice, if you please!”
Before Octavia could face-hoof in light of her partner’s enthusiasm, another speaks up.
“You won’t be able to stomach it, pony. This ain’t no cider bar.”
The seasoned and scraggly voice came not from the bartender, but from the griffin seated next to Cotton Rose. The female griffin grips a mug in her talons, cracking a smile across her dark beak as her emerald eyes appear from the shade of her grey hood. Her own garb shows signs of extreme use, battered and torn, covered in thick leathery material to serve as added armor. The griffin equivalent of barding, it seems.
Octavia steps forward, finding the griffin’s attire to be a familiar design.
“Are you expecting anyone?”
“Yup. Two ponies who stand out like sore thumbs.”
“Thumbs?” Cotton Rose lifts an eyebrow.
“Sorry. Sore ‘hooves’,” The griffin says disdainfully, “Name’s Arla. Here to help you with your mission. Sorry this piss-poor town has to be your first impression of my country. The towns further north are better. At least the ones not in the way of the civil war.”
“Happy to make your acquaintance. I’m Octavia, and this is Cotton Rose.”
“… Damn,” Arla chirps, cocking her head, “You’re a bat. You have the fangs and the wings and everything. Is that normal for ponies?”
“I’m a noctral. It’s very normal. Well, to myself at least.”
“Are all griffins this unaware of the races that exist outside their home?” Octavia questions, a hint of displeasure in her words.
“Nah. I just had to be sure. Knowing how those unicorns work with their flashy magic and all, I couldn’t tell if your friend was a spell-gone-wrong or just different.”
Octavia frowns at the griffin’s forwardness.
“It’s all good! Though what about you, Arla? You have black and white feathers. Most griffins I’ve seen are brown-ish and… well, brown.” Cotton Rose quips, keeping the mood lighthearted.
Arla takes a huge swig of her mug, as though drinking were her method of using her brain. Octavia rolls her eyes at the concept.
“Fair enough. Griffin plumage, and other things like beaks or eyes, comes from different family lines and different places in the kingdoms. There’s a bunch of us, basically. Just like how you ponies are all different shades of crayon, or whatever.”
“Quite,” Octavia replies sternly, “If you’re finished, we should be getting to why we're here.”
The griffin chuckles after finishing her drink. “Alright miss Pushy. Take a peek at the second table in the corner, to my right”
As Arla directed, Octavia quickly looks towards the table tucked into the corner of the Roost. Three griffins sit huddled together, their beaks bearing plain looks, unlike the mostly happy and drunk crowd.
“The griffin in the center, oak-feathers and grey beak, is the Templar agent I’ve been tailing. He has what we need.”
Arla taps the bar table twice, signaling for the bartender griffin to fill up another mug. Cotton Rose watches it slide down the wooden bar as it stops in Arla’s talons.
“How should we approach this?” Octavia queries, surveying the bar once over. Arla only places a claw to her side, smirking.
“I’ve got it covered.”
Following a subtle nod to other faces in the bar only she could see, Arla gets up with her mug and kicks forward a small stool. She stands atop it, gathering the attention of the split sections of the bar goers.
“The best of evenings to all of you fine griffins! That Griffinstone ale stuck in your brains yet? Or could you go for even more?”  
The room lets out a cheery roar, laughter and shouts filling the void from both sides. Arla continues.
“I just wanted to say one thing as we keep drowning our brains and filling our beaks to the brim. Our kingdoms’ civil war still rages on, and I can still see it even in a far off and neutral town like Griffinstone. We Westers and Easters aren’t so bad when we can enjoy a little drink on a night out, right?”
The mood shifts to hushed grumblings and curses, but some of the more outspoken griffins agree. Some smiles appear.
“So let me raise a mug.”
Octavia and Cotton Rose look on.
“To the Easters! That we have a swift victory in this war, so we can shove it in the West’s dirty face for years to come!”
A resounding roar of laughter from the right side of the bar drowns out the sudden surprise of the griffins from the left.
“If they think they can actually win the war, then let them prove it!” Arla exclaims, proceeding to lob her heavy mug at one of the left tables, knocking it over and nailing a griffin in the beak.
Nearly every griffin on the left side full of Westers gets to their paws, anger in their eyes. In opposition, the right side of the room jumps from their tables, backing Arla’s claims of their Eastern prowess.
Octavia and Cotton Rose stare in worried shock for but a moment, before the old griffin bartender raises his voice.
“You two lasses might want to find some cover. Unless you think you’re good with them hooves in a brawl.”
“We’ll make do, thank you.” Octavia replies, calmness returning to her face.
In a near instant, the entire bar erupts into a flurry of fists and kicks. Griffins from both sides hurl themselves at one another, beating their massive wings and grabbing anything in reach to wield as a weapon. Half the total griffins slug it out in a drunken stupor, while the others clearly and concisely throw clawed fists at their enemies.
Arla melts seamlessly into the brutal chaos of flying stools and shattering bottles, steadily making her way towards the West’s side of the bar. The Templar agent and his two associates defend themselves, oblivious to the grey-clad griffin nearing them.
Several griffins of the Easters shift their attention to the Templar and his companions, moving ahead of Arla. They target the two other griffins, casting them into the worst of the sporadic fighting. Leaving the Templar alone within Arla’s sight.
Within the midst of the brawl, Arla approaches the Templar griffin, who draws a dagger upon seeing her. He jabs forward, narrowly missing Arla. She replies with her two hidden blades, stabbing him in the chest before forcefully knocking him to the ground.
Octavia loses sight of Arla as she crouches upon her kill, the fighting continuing to engulf the bar. Though most of the griffins are focused on tearing each other apart, some made a futile attempt to take a swing at the two hooved bar-goers. One particularly drunken griffin swings lethargically at Cotton Rose, only to miss and tumult over the bar table. The bar tender calmly tosses the griffin back into the fray.
“There’s no sense in staying in the midst of all this. We’ll wait for Arla outside.” Octavia states, gaining Cotton Rose’s approval.
The two make a speedy exit, the bar fight not slowing one bit. Just as they step out into the empty streets, Arla appears from behind.
The griffin brushes off her clothes as Cotton Rose takes a glance at the bar. She pauses for a moment as a random griffin is hurled out the window and into a trash bin.
“I’m surprised that those griffins even tolerated being near each other. How come they didn’t fight with each other until you made that toast?” Cotton Rose queries.
“It’s because we’re in Griffinstone,” Arla replies, “Literally no one cares about this shambling mess of a town. Westers and Easters can come here just to get a rest from the fighting. There’s no reason to waste time fighting over this rock. Unless most of them are drunk.”
Arla steps in front of the weapons-log, pulling out the large round axe which caught Octavia’s eyes earlier.
“Nice axe!” Cotton Rose spurts with a grin.
A smirk appears on Arla’s black beak as she places her axe in a holster on her back.
“Thanks. Here’s the information from our late Templar friend. I’ll let you hang on to it. I already have my valuables.” Arla says, juggling a pouch of coin pilfered from her assassinated target.
Receiving the crumpled letter, Octavia skims through its contents. She nods, pleased at what it holds.
“That griffin was working with another group of griffin Templars nearby, in a mine not too far off from here. That is where they are mining the dragon powder.”
“We could use a guide to help us get there. Is that were you come in, Arla?” Cotton Rose asks.
“Yup. Don’t want either of you to fall to your messy deaths up here. I know the safest path to that mine. Should be easy on your clunky hooves.”
Octavia nods as Cotton Rose takes a glance at her own hoof in bewilderment.
“Let’s be off then.”
The mountain path is a steep decline, feeling more like a treacherous slide waiting to happen with each of Octavia’s steps. Cotton Rose flutters about in the air as they descend, keeping only inches above the rocky ground as she picks up on her humming again. Arla stays on her claws and paws at the head of their party, leading the way as her spindly lion-tail swooshes behind her.
Octavia places each of her hooves carefully where she can see them, ignoring the return of the cold mountain wind as she and the others near a bend in the path, reaching around to the side of the cliff. They forge on, hugging the jagged wall of rock to avoid the harrowing ledge and the drop below.
Octavia stops. The ground beneath her hooves rustles with a growing shiver, tiny pebbles rattling in place. A sudden shift in the earth reaches their path as a tremor echoes through the mountains.
“Mountain quake! Pick up the pace!” Arla yells, already sprinting on the narrow ledge.
As Cotton Rose darts through the air, Octavia trots speedily behind, keeping a firm eye on Arla’s back and the running space she has. The tremor continues to shake the entire cliff.
With a mountainous chunk of falling rubble, a large section of the path ahead is disheveled, creating a huge gap.
Her feathers lifting her, Arla leaps across with cat-like grace, reaching the other side of the gap and a wider section of pathway. Cotton Rose follows closely, shooting through the air to the safety of the pathway.
Octavia blows out into a full on gallop, vaulting over the gap.
“Guhh!”
Her chest impacts the very edge of the broken path, knocking the air out of her and robbing her of any solid grip.
Her eyes widen as the air rushes past her, the rocky depths of the mountain base growing closer and closer as Octavia plummets. Paralyzing fear prevents her from letting loose a scream.
In a flash, Arla scoops Octavia out of her spiraling dive and rides the mountain air back upwards. The griffin’s strength and ability to fly even while encumbered with a full grown mare astounds Octavia, though she reminds herself that griffins are naturally stronger fliers than most pegasi.
Octavia is set down slowly upon the safer and wider path ledge, with Cotton Rose holding her as Arla touches down.
“Oh thank Luna! You saved her, Arla!”
“Well I did say that I didn’t want either of you to fall to your deaths. Nothing like a good out of control ground-ward plummet to get your blood pumping though, eh?” Arla replies, knocking Octavia on her side with a friendly bump.
Octavia smiles. “I owe you my thanks. But what were those tremors? An earth quake?”
Arla shakes her head, “Bah, who knows. Earth quake, scoria worm, maybe a poorly planned mining explosion to clear debris.”
“Wait, scoria worm?” Cotton Rose twitches her ears, “What’s that?”
“You know, scoria worms? Giant, rock-eating serpent things with toothy maws? Not ringing any bells?”
Cotton Rose shrugs.
“Huh. Thought everyone had them.”
“We can discuss possibilities about giant worms later. We have a mission to complete, if you two don’t mind.” Octavia interrupts.
“Pushy’s right. We should be close to the mine.”
As Arla takes a step forward, Octavia stops her, causing Cotton Rose to bump into the griffin’s behind.
“Please don’t call me that.”
“I call everyone who I meet what I see them as. It’s how I get to know people. That includes ponies. If you don’t like Pushy, then how about Snooty?”
“Pfft… ‘Snooty’! Heehee-!” Cotton Rose giggles, stopping short as Octavia’s glare briefly shifts to her, before returning to Arla.
“I would appreciate it if you called me neither. We’ve got to take this seriously Viny-…” Octavia suddenly stops, breathing calmly. “… Arla. We’ve got to take this seriously. Just, please, call me Octavia.”
With a swish of her tail, Octavia spins around to continue down the rocky pathway. Arla stood for but a moment, waiting for Octavia to be further away.
“… Snooty it is then.”
“Oh! Do you have a name for me?”
Arla looks to see Cotton Rose appear beside her, giddily awaiting her own nickname.
“I dunno, you’ve been kinda random so far. How old are you?”
“Nineteen! I don’t know how old that is in griffin years.”
Arla chuckles. “It’s alright. Let’s go, Kid. We should make sure Ms. Snooty doesn’t fall again.”
With a joyous Cotton Rose in tow, Arla catches up to Octavia in the lead, resuming her task as the guide of the group as they continue down the path.
“This is it.” Arla whispers.
The three Assassins lie flat upon a large boulder overlooking the wide open mine’s entrance. Unlike typical mines, this one is more akin to a quarry, dug straight into the belly of a mountain crevasse which hid it from sight. The rocky platforms and bottom levels are covered in wooden scaffoldings, ramps and bridges, catering to a contingent of griffin guards. The miners themselves are nowhere to be seen.
Deep from within the mine, a pinkish glow radiates outward. The mineral source of dragon powder, draconite, paints the mine-quarry in its eerie light. The bright pink rocks shine like jewels of unparalleled value.
Octavia scans all she can see, noting guard patterns and certain hiding spots. Most importantly she spots a small workshop full of papered documents.
“How should we do this, Octavia?” Cotton Rose asks.
“This is where the Templars are getting their dragon powder. But we need to uncover who is funding this operation. That workshop down there should have some answers. Let’s make our way down quietly. Arla, you-”
Octavia’s ears shoot up upon seeing the empty space beside her. She quickly turns her gaze downward, catching a sliding Arla just as she leaps from the rock face. With two hidden blades primed, she crashes down upon two unsuspecting griffins in the middle of the mine, alerting the entire area to her presence.
Before Octavia could even curse under her breath, Cotton Rose gasps.
“She won’t be able to take them all on her own! I’ll go help Arla while you get the documents!”
Without a second glance, Cotton Rose took to the air above on her bat-like wings. She zeros in on the griffin guards atop the higher scaffoldings, swooping upon them with her hidden blade as Arla dove axe-first into a brutal brawl with the griffins on the lower level.
With a sigh of contempt, Octavia slides down the rock face and launches herself onto a wooden bridge below, rocking the shambling wood planks as she lands on her hooves. Though direct action is something she was hoping to avoid the distraction is working nicely. Not a single guard stands in Octavia’s way to her objective.
Entering under the dim glow of a hanging lantern, Octavia arrives at the workshop, which is nothing more than a few billboards, desks and tool bins placed loosely together.
Ignoring the mining manuals and clunky tools, Octavia uncovers a pile of lettered orders stacked underneath a rusty shovel. Placing the spade to the side, she rummages through the letters. They have been lazily sorted by date and topic, though Octavia easily finds the letters written by the mine’s Templar patron.
“Here we are. Sent from Brighthoof, written by a Master Templar Foun-”
Octavia feels a sudden presence from behind. She sidesteps to avoid a massive hammer, wielded by a griffin guard. She lifts the heavy weapon with little effort, sweeping it in Octavia’s direction. The tool-cluttered tables are brushed aside as Octavia rolls to once again evade the strike.
The burly griffin is slow and cumbersome when preparing her strikes, making a quick lunge with Octavia’s hidden blade the best choice of action.
That’s what Octavia’s rational thoughts tell her. But her conscience hesitates, telling her body to stick to dodging.
Barely scraping by from more swings of the griffin’s hammer, Octavia acts quickly, gripping the wide shovel she had set aside moments earlier with her teeth. She leaps behind the griffin, performing a swift spin on her hooves.
The spade of her shovel finds its mark along the back of the griffins head, and in one forceful blow, the enemy guard collapses.
Octavia drops the shovel and steps over the griffin, quickly pocketing the letter she had been reading. She thought for a moment about cracking open the hanging lantern and setting fire to the rest of the documents, but decides against it. The griffin she had dueled is only unconscious. Instead, Octavia leaves the workshop as it is, moving to reunite with her comrades.
Hopping down to the bottom level, Octavia takes in the aftermath of the battle. Every last griffin guard lay dead, utterly defeated by the sheer power and speed of Arla and her round axe. Cotton Rose moved about nearby, looking dismayed as she gave each of the griffins their last rights and a whispered apology. Arla attends to her axe’s well-being in the meantime, until Octavia approaches.
“That’s all of them. Not the most exciting of fights I’ve had, but still pocketed a good amount of spoils.” Arla says, taking a breather from her spree.
“Is that all you think about? Blood and money? We could have been done with this whole mission much sooner by avoiding such rashness!”
“We still completed the mission though, right? If there’s a fight to have, why waste it?”
Octavia’s displeased expression turns to Cotton Rose, causing the noctral to shrug nervously.
“As Assassins, stealth should be our first approach to everything. The creed-”
“Listen, Snooty,” Arla interrupts, “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a straightforward griffin. I love being an Assassin for the merits, not the ideals. The creed is more like a set of guidelines anyway. Protect the innocent, stay loyal, use the crowd, yadda yadda. I’m not straying from those things. But when things gotta get done, I do them my way. And what’s done is done.”
Octavia can feel herself fuming on the inside, hiding it behind a cool yet irritated demeanor. She scrunches her snout in disapproval, but relents.
“Fine. Let’s move on to more important matters.”
“What did you find, Octavia?” Cotton Rose asks, finally finding her time to quell some of the abrasive conversation with her cheeriness.
Octavia holds up the letter she recovered. “Our Templar patron’s name is Fountain Pen. From this letter’s contents, she appears to be a noble from Brighthoof. I can’t help but wonder if this mare is the same mare we saw in the sewers in Delamare.”
“Maybe,” replies Cotton Rose, “She did seem really noble-y. Either way, we have the source of the funding. We should probably head back to Delamare.”
“You guys leaving already? Helping you two has been the first action I’ve seen in weeks. It’d be nice to tag along.”
“Depends,” Octavia mutters, raising and eyebrow, “Would your Mentor approve?”
“Technically my orders were to give you as much help as you needed. If you’re going on a Templar hunt, then you'll need all the help you can get.”
“… Hmph. Fine. You can join us, Arla. Just don’t make the trip back to Delamare too rambunctious.”
“No promises.”
“Ughh…”
Gathering themselves, Octavia and her fellow Assassins depart from the empty mine, returning to Griffinstone and soon after starting on their trek home to Delamare. With her second recruit mission completed, Octavia dwells on the challenge to come. This Templar patron must surely be dealt with, and Octavia had a feeling Mirage would give her the task of eliminating her. And that would mean finding out how to overcome the hesitation to kill.
There would be plenty of time to think on that. For now, as the three set their steps upon the mountain trail, conversation fills the air. With the addition of Arla and her rowdiness, Octavia knows their trip will be anything but boring. Or civil.
At the very least, she will still be able to ignore the cold.