Rain came down hard upon them, the sound of it battering their coats and the ground around them deafening, as they slogged through the mud. They needed to find shelter and fast. With the storm seemingly never ending in it's onslaught, they could easily find their food and supplies soaked and useless soon, and the cart they pulled would no doubt get dipped in the muddy road.

"How far to the next settlement!?" One asked over the volley of drops peppering everything about them.

"Oh, six miles!" The other answered.

"Fucking hell."

They grunted as the cart lodged itself into a rather deep patch of mud, and with no little amount of stubborn strength did they bring it out of the catch.

"How you holding up Emil?!"

"Just fine, Mikal, just fine!" Emil snorted.

The griffon chuckled over the rain, and they continued on their journey.

"How much will this load be again!?" Emil hollered.

"Oh, about 400 Crowns for this one!"

"400 Crowns!? For this stuff?!"

"Hey, barely is expensive! And we griffons love our brew!"

"I can't argue there!"

They continued pulling the covered cart of sacks down the road for another hour in the rain, and with the ground softening, the cart was finding itself stuck more and more in the mud.

"God Damnit! Push!"

Emil and his griffon companion pushed with all their combined strength to get the cart's wheels turning out from the dip it had been sunken into.

"Well rip my beak, we're bloody stuck." Mikal grunted once their eighth and final shove failed. They were left panting, their breath clouding in the coolness of the dark air around them, soaking from head to toe and talon in the mud, alone in the middle of a deep, dense run of woodland in the back roads in one of dozens of the northern kingdoms. Now that Emil thought about it, the more he realized that this was a very, very stupid idea.

"Emil?"

"Yeah...?"

"We're being watched."

Emil lifted his soaked head up over the edge of the cart and scanned the road before them, then into the darkness of the rows on their sides, he squinted.

"Oh Lord..."

There were shadows moving all about them, to and fro through the bushes and through the trees, their silhouettes highlighted just barely by the bit of sunlight that shone through the dense storm clouds above. Emil drew his service sword. Mikal besides him, pulled a crossbow from under the wagon he had always kept hidden, and drew the arms back in the mud and notched a bolt.

"Bandits. Probably about 20 or more, knowing ‘em."

"Are we surrounded?" Emil asked.

Mikal eyed the wood behind them, "No, they left this side open."

They stood silent for some time, the rain pelting their faces as it started coming in strong with the wind.

"Think we could fight them off?" Mikal asked.

Emil shrugged, gripping his sword a bit tighter, "Maybe."

Mikal smirked, "That's some pretty good odds."

Emil held his sword against the cart, then pulled from under the tarp, his machine pistol. His last full magazine already locked into place beneath it, and held it against himself, "I've got about thirty rounds in this."

Mikal said nothing as he raised his crossbow and fired into the forest, missing intentionally.

The bandits did just as he had expected, with their cover and hope of surprise blown, they came rushing at them grouped up.

They made it about ten feet before Emil had his gun trained on them, and unleashed a hail of gunfire, the cracks ending in thumps as they pierced the crude leather armor and flesh of the griffons charging them, all on foot. They fell to the ground all lifeless or dying. The ones left in the trees got over their shock and rushed them once more, all of them this time. Emil felled eight of the them before his gun clicked, it's limited use finally come to an end. Emil tossed it aside, it landed in the mud and was washed over, lost, and useless if ever found. They thought the sheer devastation from Emil's volley would have scared off the bandits, but after stopping for only a moment, they continued their charge. Emil readied his sword once more.

Mikal, meanwhile, had felled two of their chargers with his crossbow, but pulled his broadsword when they were in close. The remaining bandits, seven in total, came in, axes and swords in talon, and began trying to hack their supposed victims to pieces, eyes strained in rage and spit foaming at their mouths. Emil's instincts kicked in, and he parried an axe blow away and swung to slice the griffon across the chest, who staggered as their leather armor took the blade but not the blow. Another griffon came in and sliced him with a sword, leaving a rather nasty wound on his arm. Emil grunted and parried the next blow, cleaving the smirking griffon's beak nearly off, who fell to bleed in the mud.

The axe griffon came back in to hit him in the back but Emil dodged and swung to have it parried, then he swung again. The griffon dodged this time, and tried to charge him. Knowing he wouldn't be able to bring his long service blade up in time, Emil pulled his dagger from his coat pocket and let the griffon tackle him, they both went down hard, the griffon trying to cut him with axe and talon, but found a dagger sunk into his throat. Emil pushed the gasping mass off him and reclaimed his dagger, the griffon clenching his throat in agony. Mikal was currently fending off three griffons at once, them having ganged up on him, presumably seeing him as an easier target, but they had underestimated him. He parried a blow and sliced the offending griffon in the arm, nearly dismembering it, then stabbed the griffon in the neck. All done with a certian amount of swift finesse that even Emil had to compliment.

Emil meant to rush and help his friend, but found himself tackled to the ground by another bandit. They fell into the mud with a thud as they fought for dominance, the mud clogging his ears and smearing onto his face as they rolled and thrashed and clawed at each other. Emil managed to pull his knife once again and rolled the griffon into a pin, and made to stab him in the heart. The griffon brought his talons up and grasped Emil's wrists and struggled to keep the blade away from his bare feathered chest, to no avail, Emil, while on the ground, was quite larger than this griffon, and with all the weight bearing down he couldn't have hoped to hold on long. The griffon's eyes bulged as the dagger slowly sunk into his heart, his beak open in a silent scream of pain. Emil laid there for a moment to ensure his opponent's death, and now looking into the griffon's now lifeless eyes, those green iris's dull in their lifeless sockets, he knew his job was done.

Emil made to stand, but found the most sudden searing pain erupt in his left thigh and he fell back down again. Lifting his head out of the mud, he was welcomed to a nasty sight: there was a bolt stuck in his leg, the head having punctured the flesh rather cleanly and was erupting in blood. Emil hissed as he tried to move his leg, needing to stand, but his effort was in vain, and he simply slid down into the mud again, the pain overwhelming.

Mikal came rushing to his side, his three opponent's long since felled, "There's a whole lot more of em' coming in close, alot more. We need to get out of here!" He shouted.

"F-fuck, I ain't standing with this fucking bolt in my leg!" Emil half grunted, half yelled.

Mikal sheathed his sword and moved to Emil's side, a few bolts striking the ground about them, the bandit's archers were terrible shots, "Come on, put your arm on my back, let's get the hell out of here!"

Emil did just that, and brought his good leg to stand, letting out a small cry of pain as some hard pressure was put on his wound. Then, with the help of the griffon besides him, they began limping their way towards the opposite side of the treeline, the one the bandits hadn't thought to cover.

Emil pulled his Luger from it's muddied holster and turned ever slightly to see a few bandits making for their limping forms. He brought the pistol up as best he could from the angle, and fired at them through the heavy throbs of sharp pain fogging up his senses. Two griffons fell dead in their tracks and the others nearly slipped in the mud from the cracks of the gun, giving them enough time to push through the brush and into the trees.

The ground was just as slippery, if not more, in the forest as is was on the road, with grass and twigs and leaves all mixed in with the mud and whatever else was washed up with the rain. It was hard to keep an even footing with it all, but to Emil, he found it harder not to pass out from the sheer pain that was racking his body, he had never been shot before, not by anything more than stones, but he was willing to bet that this was similar enough to being hit by a bullet to sympathize. At least, that's what he thought at the time. He re-holstered his pistol so to not drop it in his, more mechanical, movements as instinct took over the action of his leg moving to drag his nearly useless one forward with Mikal, who was doing his best to bear the weight of the human nearly twice the size he was, leaning on his back and shoulders.

"I...told you this was a bad idea." Emil grunted.

Mikal huffed for a large breath, "Hey, 400 Crowns sounded well worth it to me."

Emil nodded, "Yeah, but now all those Crowns are in the claws of some greasy highwaymen."

Mikal seemed to...smirk. "I wouldn't say that."

Emil grunted, "W-what did you do?"

"Oh, just set the whole cart alight before I had to drag your sorry carcass out of the fight."

Emil couldn't help it, he chuckled much more that he wanted to at that.

They hobbled for a few minutes, Emil counting every second of it as he lost feeling in his upper leg. Mikal eventually let him drop against a tree and came down to look at the wound. "This is going to be a crude dressing, but hopefully it'll keep you from passing out before we can reach the closest village." He said, placing one of his satchels against the tree. They always traveled with most of their gear on, for situations such as this one, and they thankfully had just enough supplies on them to keep going for a few days, including the medical bag Mikal had just deposited onto the muddy roots of the large broad-leaf tree. The steel colored griffon looked Emil in the eyes and gave him a warm smile...right before ripping the bolt free from his thigh.

Emil went to scream, his face contorting in pain and his mouth opening wide, but, remembering the bandits not far off from them, brought his hand up to silence himself instead, some small amount of blood escaping his maw as he bit into his sensitive flesh.

"There, that wasn't so bad, now was it?" Mikal said as he tossed the bolt away, and produced some wrappings and a temporary disinfectant pad from his medical sash and began wrapping Emil's wound, who sat there with the face of a man who really, really, needed a drink.

"Come on, up and at'em." Emil found himself riding Mikal's shoulder again and they were limping through the mud once again. They could hear some distant shouting, but it was far off, and seemed to be moving away from them. For awhile, there was a calm silence. They eventually came across a winding river carved into a small ditch a few feet down, it's rapids running hard, but the water seemingly quite shallow.

"You can swim right?" Mikal asked.

"So long as we don't try going up or down river."

"No, just crossing."

"I should be alright."

"Here, I'll lower you down, cause I sure as hell ain't gonna carry you—"

Mikal let out a loud, pained squawk as a bolt pierced his right leg and they went plummeting down into the misty water below. The water was much too strong for Emil to fight with his leg, and it carried him along with the current, bashing him against rocks and bank walls and the river bottom, everything went black. Emil never saw Mikal again after that.

"What's wrong Emil, you look like you've seen a ghost." Mikal joked.

Emil took a small step back, "That's because I have. I thought you were dead."

The griffon chuckled and sat in the large, well crafted chair behind his desk, motioning Emil over to the other two much simpler chairs faced on the other side of his desk.

Emil hesitated for a moment, then relented and moved forwards and sat on one of them, they were suprisingly comfortable for being some wood with padded cloth nailed to it.

Once he was seated, Mikal waved away towards the door, and the young griffon left them in the dim light of the cabin.

Some time passed as Emil sat still, bewildered at the sudden reunion with the griffon sat before him. Mikal, much to own delight, had a wicked smile on his face, mainly from the look on Emil's face. He looked down to his cluttered and junk-strewn desktop, Emil's officer's cap breaking the flow so suddenly as it was rested upon it, and pulled a long pipe match, struck it across the end of the desk, and put it to his pipe, already filled with smashed, dried griffon tobacco. The smell once again hit Emil like a hammer to his nostrils, the strong stench of the smoke and the burnt shag in it's bowl much stronger than any tobacco the ponies, or any other races for that matter, could hope to cultivate, and it left Emil salivating.

"Ah, where are my manners?" Mikal spoke around the pipe in his mouth, and the smoke flowing from his beak. He reached into an unseen drawer and pulled out a small gold tin, opened it, and revealed a set of seven brown cigarettes. "Been a long since we've shared one, eh Emil?" He pulled one from it's slot and presented it to Emil, who took it with little hesitation. Mikal snapped the tin shut once more and placed it away again for them to be used during some other occasion.

Emil examined the brown paper roll in his fingers with an almost scrutinizing look, "I got over my addiction years ago, Mikal." He said, but the butt never left his fingers.

There was that smile again, "Ah, come on Emil! If it's been so long, one log wouldn't hurt you none. Unless you got too old to smoke one with this old war-bird?"

Emil looked down to the roll again, memories flooding back by the thousands, he never even realized he already had the cigarette in his mouth and was leaning over the table, "Light me." He said. Mikal was quick to do so.

Emil sucked on the cig, the smoke rough against his throat, but smooth coming back up, it was a feeling he knew all too well, and had longed years for deep down, even if he didn't want to admit it. It was, in his honest opinion, the best cigarettes he had ever had the pleasure of smoking. And his addiction be damned, he was going to have one.

They sat in a comfortable silence together for sometime. Emil sat there counting the times the ship rocked with the battering ocean, and he was sure Mikal was doing it too, it was all just so...strange, seeing the griffon again.

Emil finally spoke, "How the hell are you alive?"

Mikal chuckled, "I asked myself the same thing when I checked the log book." He took the pipe out of his mouth, "I searched a long time for you, you know. Wandering from town to town, asking about you. But nothing. Like you just upped and disappeared from the face of Equis." He sat back in his chair, "I honestly hoped that you had maybe found a way back home. Germany, I remember you called it. I thought the Gods had finally smiled down on you and gave you a way back." His smile lessened slightly, "But I see that is not the case. How long has it been? Ten years? Fifteen?"

"I stopped counting long ago." Emil said from between the roll in his mouth. "But ten sounds about right since that day. You never answered my question."

Mikal huffed, "Washed up on a bank outside some pony settlement. They kept me alive long enough for me to strike out and look for you. Ran into some trouble here and there, times were tough, but I never stopped looking, and even when I did, I never did stop believing you were still alive."

Emil said nothing, for once, he was content in his position, and let him go on.

"After awhile, I got picked up by some navy boys looking for some simple crew: cleaners, runners, aids, that kind of thing. I was in the hole with but two coppers in my pocket, and I hadn't been able to find a job in awhile. This was around the time I stopped looking for you religiously." Mikal gave him a sad smile, "Anyway, I figured that, besides for the money, it would at-least let me travel, and maybe I'd see you along the banks of some foreign shore somewhere." He started packing more tobacco into his pipe, "After a few years, I managed to get it in pretty good with the crew and the Captain. It turned out it was a merc group the whole time I was on for, they were just contracted with the navy as supply runners. A contract I'm holding up to this day."

"Doesn't explain how you're a captain."

Mikal chuckled, "Heh, that's a whole 'nother story. But I promised the crew not to give many details, since most of them have been on this ship since they were born, and knew the old cap even before they could fly. Let's just say I was more favorable compared to the snot that would've inherited this old girl, and I was well liked, so they said, how would you put it? Fuck it."

Emil snorted.

"Hey! Believe it or not, but I'm captain of this ship, and that's enough for most people."

"Right."

Mikal huffed, "As hard as a dragon's nut sack. Never did you change Emil." He lit his pipe again, "What about you? What's your story?"

Emil emptied his lungs, a decent cloud misting off towards the ceiling, "Woke up on a bank, similarly to you, but I didn't stumble on any towns right off the bat; had to forage around for a few days trying not to bleed out, and when I was strong enough, I continued on."

"Did you at least try to look for me?" Mikal questioned.

Emil seemed almost offended by the question, "Of course I did. But after the first year, I got into some trouble with the law. Had to leave the Empire. Then it was off to Equestria, cause I sure as hell wasn't going East. And at first I figured that maybe things would be a bit different there compared to my welcome in the Empire."

When Emil didn't continue, Mikal broke in, "And was it?"

Emil huffed, and flicked the bud into the bin besides Mikal's desk. "Hell no. It was worse."

The two talked for hours, sharing stories from during their time apart, drinking and smoking, though Emil knew it would be good for him to stop after three cigarettes, last thing he wanted were to go through those damned withdrawals again.

They stood looking over the port of the ship, the sun had barely made it to twelve o’clock, and the wind was strong in their faces, so the ship was slow moving, most of the crew milling about at the sight of their captain’s current casual stature and attitude.

Mikal spoke after some time, “I saw you were headed to Vanhoover.”

Emil nodded, “Yes. Got work out South.”

“Would it have anything to do with that young mare you’re running with.”

“Perhaps.”

Mikal shook his head, “All these years and you still can’t be straight with me, Emil.”

“I’m a wanted man, Mikal. It doesn’t help that you’re a squawker.”

“When was the last time I ever said anything you told me not to?”

“I can name a few.”

Mikal smirked, “Well, if you say so, friend.”

“Besides,” Emil said sternly, “Just because you won’t talk, does not mean no one else on this ship will.” He motioned towards the other crew.

Mikal looked up at him, “What I say goes with all of them, they know not to go spouting out confidential information, they have too much respect for me.”

“What about the passengers.”

“All but one of them are running from something, Emil. They already got enough on their platters.”

Emil looked back out towards the dark sea, “I don’t doubt that.”

There was not but a moment of silence after that before they heard steps from behind them, they turned, and found four griffon crew members before them. Emil recognized them as the ones from back at the inn he had fought those diamond dogs in.

“Excuse us, Cap’n. We just wanted to speak with your friend, if that is alright with you.”

Mikal grinned at their leader, a brown and tan griffon, as base as griffons come in terms of colors, “Of course, Loi, but I’m sure whatever you have to say can be said in front of us both, yes?”

The griffon saluted, “Yes, of course Cap’n.” He turned to Emil, “Me boys and I just wanted to say that was some mighty fine brawlin’ you did back at Port, Mr.”

Emil nodded, “Thanks, I suppose.”

Loi gave him a mock salute, “Well, let’s get down to business then, eh? You took on all those mutts, but I wanna’ see how you do in'a real fight.” He looked to Mikal with his most stern, and respect filled face he could muster, “If that is alright with the Cap’n?”

Mikal looked to Emil and smirked, “I don’t know Loi, my human friend here is really a big softy, I don’t think he would be able to match such a griffon as you.” He nudged Emil.

Emil said nothing in response, but rather, removed his coat, folded it and placed it on the deck, followed by his cap, then his tunic, leaving him in his trousers and his dirty white undershirt.

“A man of action eh?” Loi commented, “I like that.” He also began undressing his uniform, and by now, a small crowd had begun looking on from a distance, but they would close in once the sparring started.

“Here’s the rules eh? Notin’ sharp, no claws, no knives, no nothin’. Nothin’ below the belt, as they say. And no motherly insults, aight?”

Emil simply nodded, and got into a stance, as did Loi. The crowd was gathered now, and Mikal looked on in amusement. He was going to enjoy this.

Author's Note

Give the man some meat, would ya?

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