The Runaway: Journey to Tambelon

by Hope Caster

Chapters

To Grandmother's House We Go
A Family Gathering
Discussion Over Dinner
In the Dead of Night
Kindle's Key
A Small Act of Disobedience
The Hall of the Gargoyle King
The Mercenary and the Handmaid
Retrieval
Prologue: The Abandoned Dragon
Days With Tirek
Spike and Tirek's Dinner
The Rainbow Rogue
A Peculiar Party
Unexpected Visits

To Grandmother's House We Go

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A Family Gathering

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Discussion Over Dinner

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In the Dead of Night

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Kindle's Key

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A Small Act of Disobedience

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The Hall of the Gargoyle King

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The Mercenary and the Handmaid

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Retrieval

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Prologue: The Abandoned Dragon

In a small village that lay just near a river, several miles from a lush forest, and resting just outside the gates of the King’s castle, there lived a dragon. Not a large, stupid, greedy dragon, rather he was a small dragon, kind and intelligent, if not a bit naive. This particular dragon was a boy who would share in a grand adventure.

The story begins in the land of Arcania, the homestead of gargoyles and centaurs. What are they? I suppose that some description is needed for those who have little knowledge of these creatures.

Gargoyles, rarities in Equestria and strangers to the griffons and changelings, were a race of hairy creatures. Some stupid folk like the long extinct human or the mostly brain-dead jackal might mistake them for overgrown monkeys, but monkeys they were not. The males were covered in light brown hair, save for their hands and feet, and they had thick brown hair around their faces and necks, forming something between a beard and a lion's mane.

All gargoyles, without a single exception, had long snouts, large, powerful batwings, deep yellow eyes, and tails with bushy ends. They were likely to eat anything, and had strong, sharp teeth, which were good for ripping apart meat like pork and beef.

The males, at least the ones that shared in the love of eating, were all healthily bulky. Strong in voice, laugh, and body, they tended to avoid philosophical or stationary jobs, as they were natural workers through and through. Not to say they were poor or even uneducated. Most gargoyles lived comfortably in a good-sized home, lacking any major debt.

Female gargoyles were mostly slender, despite their appetites rivaling that of their male counterparts, and lacked body hair and manes. Instead, they had long flowing brown hair and had smaller, more graceful looking wings. They were cleverer than the males of their kind, though rarely used that wit unless needed. They were lovely creatures, though people like you and I could not see it. If placed next to a mare, the loveliest mare in the world at that, a love-struck dragon would have trouble choosing between her and an average looking gargoyle. They were also slow to show any emotion that was negative. Female gargoyles are the most natural of natural mothers, and can keep calm in most any circumstance, knowing just how firm a hand to use when a child of any age misbehaved.

Centaurs were the brethren of the gargoyles. They were half-horse and half-human, if they could be called that. If I were to brand them with my own description, I would say they were half-horse, restricted to the lower half I might add, five-twelfth minotaur, the upper torso of the minitur, and maybe one-twelfth human, but even this is being generous. The only human part of them were their arms and hands, and if that were all it took to be half-human, then almost half the species in the world were half-human.

Centaurs had natural white hair, black eyes with yellow pupils and sharp teeth. Growing from their heads were two horns that allowed them to harness their inner potential, or mana, to cast spells. Most centaurs were gifted in magic, and able to learn any subject from science to literature with ease. They held high positions of power in the government; however, the King and his Queen Consort were both gargoyles.

Most males had gangly upper bodies, and were not as built as gargoyles. They were a mostly meek lot with soft hands. Good with a pencil, but not with a hammer. If it were not for their strong lower horse halves, and their magical prowess, they would be dreadfully weak.

Their female counterparts were not so different. In shape, but not unattractively so, a bit shorter than males, and powerful in both magic and mind. Unlike their male counterparts and gargoyle sisters, they were playfully mischievous. Only draconequi could come close to their love of pranks and crude jokes, and they rarely apologized for them. They had strong wills, and rarely compromised without some altercation. If an impasse was reached with one of these creatures, fighting was the only way to solve it, and the average centaur girl loved to fight, almost as much as she loved to eat. In fact, anyone refusing to hit a provoking centaur was rude, ruder than they could ever be striking her. They were also more active in the night. While it would take quite a bit of patience and charm to steal a kiss from a female gargoyle, female centaurs tended to get right to the point. If they wanted a man, they would do away with ceremony and take him wherever and whenever they could. Most centaur maidens knew whom they would marry in the first two weeks of knowing their mate, short time for most, but not them. However, they did not mind the wait for marriage, so long was their wedding night could come early.

While it was standard that races keep to their own kind when courting, it was not uncommon that these two mingled. After all, what powerful gargoyle would refuse someone that shared his strength? What strong centaur could help but love someone willing to challenge her, or in rare cases stick up for her, instead of hiding behind books and philosophy? What scholar or mage dared to turn away from the gentle features of a hovering gargoyle that had a new way viewing life and a giggle that turned their higher minds to that of a drunkard? What kind creature couldn’t see herself marrying someone with a mind for the arts and wonders, breaking from the norm of a body of muscle and not much else?

To surmise, the kingdom was mixed and matched. Aside from the nobles’ houses built of stone, wooden homes with tiled roofs, polished wood floors, and paneled walls filled the side of the streets of the kingdom, each with an immeasurable amount of windows as the two species loved to look at the stars from a nice warm spot, normally in front of a fire. They enjoyed large meals throughout the day, sometimes opting to have a meal twice if they could. No race appreciated food as these two did, and to hear different was to hear a lie.

Then there were the dragons. No, there were no packs of dragons, nor were there any draconian tribes, which were smaller dragons that lacked wings and walked about like gargoyles, or humans if you’re more familiar with the extinct race. There were but two dragons that lived in Arcania. These two were mother and son. The son was the boy whom we talked about earlier. He was a small child, with a scaly purple hide and green spines that lined from the top of his head to almost the tip of his tail. As fate would have it, there was only one chance for him not to go on his adventure, and it was but a small decision between leaving and staying. However, that decision was not his to make. The decision was his mother's.

Spike stood in the entryway of his uncle’s home, trying to keep himself from bursting into tears. For the past day, his mother had been running about packing things away, and preparing a bag for herself along with very familiar clothes. Spike knew what was happening. His mother was leaving again. If it was anything like the last few times, it was probably because his father, a gargoyle named Scorpan, needed her to run an errand. It was nothing new. His mother constantly left to run errands for his father, but something felt different this time.

His mother was dressed in the same heavy robes, and the same two worn boots. On her back was the same sheath that housed a short sword that she constantly kept out of his reach no matter how long he held his breath, and she had the same bag on her back. She even brought him to his uncle’s, where he normally stayed when she left. Despite her normal attire, and her calmness as she talked with his uncle, there was something in her voice that told him she wasn’t coming home this time.

“Do you need to go?” Spike asked, grabbing his mother’s claw as she walked towards the door. He squeezed her claw as hard as he could as he tried to keep her from taking another step, but all his efforts proved meaningless as she easily pulled away. The little whelp kept telling himself the same thing that she’d said to him earlier. Before he knew it, his mother would be back to tuck him in, read him a story, and sing him a soft lullaby before he went to sleep, like the dozens of other times she left. Her words did nothing to rid him of the growing tears in his eyes. His mother, a light pink dragon with light green spines and kind emerald eyes, turned to her son and knelt, cupping his pudgy cheeks.

“Spike, sweetie, you don’t need to worry. Mommy’s going to be right back,” She said with a sharp breath.

“But can’t you… can’t dad just have someone else go? Why does it need to be you?”

“Because papa needs someone he can trust. I know how it is. It’s always scary when mommy leaves, but you don’t have to worry, your uncle is going to take good care of you until I get back. Just promise me that you’ll be on your best behavior, okay?”

Spike gave his mother a nod as he gripped the sleeves of her robes.

Forcing a smile, she wiped the forming tears in her son’s eyes. She looked towards the brooding centaur who waited behind her son. He had sickly greyish-red skin and a scowl that was considered friendly to anyone that knew him. The rest of his body was concealed in a cloak, and he did nothing but give her a pitiful look. Pulling Spike into her embrace so that the side of his head rested against hers, she mouthed something to the centaur.

“Spike,” She whispered, as she felt his body begin to tremble, “I love you so much. Never forget that.” Fighting back tears of her own, she gave her son one last kiss on his forehead before turning to leave once again.

With bated breaths, Spike tried to move forward and grab his mother, but his uncle's red claw reached out and grabbed his shoulder. Spike tried to pull away, but the centaur got his hands under his nephew’s arms and lifted him up, pulling him into to his chest. Spike’s mind started to race. Maybe if he called out to her or said he wasn’t feeling good, she would realize that she didn’t need to leave him; his father would understand, and if he didn’t, then his grandmother and uncle could help him understand.

Spike reached out his arms and tried to call his mother's name, but all he could do was cry. Perhaps crying was the better response. No matter the reason, his mother always came to him when he cried. Today was the first time she didn’t. Despite his struggles, his waving arms, and his desperate sobs, his mother continued to walk away.

The door to the house closed, and his mother vanished.

“Dry your eyes, child,” his uncle said with a cracked voice, his hold on Spike tightening, “she’s coming back.”

That was the first lie Tirek ever told Spike.

Days With Tirek

The Centaur's Nephew

In the eight years that Spike lived with his uncle, he had never once left Arcania. Arcania was the land of gargoyles and centaurs and had known peace and harmony for countless generations. Surely, there was no better place for a dragon to be raised. The lush forests, the cascading fields, wildflower gardens, the smell of the pine trees in the summer, and at the very heart of the land, the bustling city of King’s Reach. If he were being honest, Spike had never even been beyond the boarder of King’s Reach. The only thing that could compare to the forests and meadows that he’d read about in his books was the castle gardens, which he only had access to thanks to his uncle.

“Keep up, child! I do not want you lagging behind,” His uncle sneered as he effortlessly walked through the outer marketplace. A lesson he learned early in the eight years of living with his uncle, was that aging centaur loved nothing more than yelling at him, especially if they were in the market for more than five minutes.

The market was not fancy but it was certainly charming. Vendors and stand owners lined the streets, flaunting their products to gain anyone’s attention. All around, centaurs and gargoyles alike wondered, taking short looks at the wares before buying something or moving on. There were fruits, tools, books, and one stand even had toys. Spike tried to steal a glance or two, but each time he did his uncle’s glare fell on him. Perhaps it was for the best, he had better things to focus on.

Spike carried five heavy books, and had another three in a satchel his uncle had recently given him. His uncle, who wore a heavy black cloak and hood that dragged behind him, had two saddlebags full of books hanging off his sides, bags that he wore only on outings such as this. Part of Spike was glad that his own cloak did not drag along the dirt road as his uncle’s, people were likely to step on it and cause him to fall. His uncle didn’t have to worry about such an event, most people tended to avoid him like a plague. While struggling to keep the books in his arms balanced, Spike stumbled as he tried his best to hurry along the dirt road and keep at his uncle’s side.

“That fool is more trouble than he’s worth,” Tirek complained, not caring if Spike was listening. “He takes his time to get me the books I want, and when he finally does, most of them are faded and falling apart! I swear Spike, your father hired that oaf just to spite me. It’s my job to learn all I can about magic, but Scorpan and that damned librarian refuse to give me the materials to do so. These tomes will only hinder my work, which will hinder your studies, which will hinder my work further!”

Spike remained silent as his uncle complained, ignoring most of what he was saying. His only worry was hiding his face from the passersby. His uncle’s complaining was starting to draw glances and glares form several female centaurs that were about likely running errands. Female centaurs tended to dislike when men shouted, their loud voices tended to disrupt any piece there was. Such was true especially when it came to male gargoyles. Ironic, as the only form of communication they knew was shouting. Other glances came from female gargoyles, who did not look at Tirek but rather Spike himself. They were not of malice, rather of worry and concern. Female gargoyles were the most natural of natural mothers, and it seemed to hurt their hearts seeing a child in some form of distress, even if it was just a dragon carrying a few books while being forced to listen to his uncle’s complaining. There came several asides, and whispers of pity from them, forcing Spike’s cheeks to flush red just a bit.

Looking towards the distance, Spike let out a soft sigh as his grip on his uncle’s books tightened. Spike and Tirek lived on the outskirts of the city; fitting, as his uncle disliked most company. However, their secluded living space made most of their runs into town difficult, as they would buy everything they needed in a single trip, forcing the two to carry larger loads than they could.

As Spike became lost in his own thoughts, a scampering gargoyle mindlessly rammed into him, causing him to fall forward. Spike’s only response was a small, near silent gasp. He clenched his eyes shut and awaited to slam into the ground, but nothing happened. Slowly opening his eyes, he saw that the books as well as himself, had been caught in a fiery orange aura. Spike looked towards his uncle, who had a small light protrude from under his hood.

“Watch where you run, you damned fool!” he barked at the rushing gargoyle, whom continued on his way paying the centaur no mind. Tirek turned his head to look towards Spike. “Mind your surroundings, Nephew. If those books hit the floor they’ll break apart, then where will I be?”

“Behind on your work?”

“Behind on my-” Tirek paused and gave Spike a stern look. “I do not care how right you are, Nephew, it is rude to interrupt your elders.”

“I apologize, Uncle Tirek.”

Giving a slight sneer, Tirek placed Spike back on the ground while he kept the books suspended in the air. His uncle motioned for him to hold out his arms. The moment Spike did so, Tirek dropped the books into his arms, all perfectly stacked. “Hurry child, it grows late,” Tirek said, staring up at the sun. “I do not wish to be out longer than I have to. Blasted star, why must we live in a sweltering land such as this?”

It was only in the eighties. Spike knew this, his uncle knew this, but he still complained anyway. Spike let out a relieved sigh as the end of the market came into view. The journey home would be made easier once they were out of the crowd.

“Uncle, if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly are these books for?” Spike asked adjusting his arms to keep his books balanced.

“I need them to complete spell some sorry excuse of a mage started. I waste too much of my time meddling in the affairs of others.”

“Why do you need books to help you? I thought you were a master magician, don’t you know everything about magic?”

“Listen well, Nephew,” Tirek growled, coming to a sudden halt. He turned his blazing eyes towards Spike. “I am no ‘magician’, I am above that title. And since you insist to waste my time with questions, I will have you know that in this wretched world, there are fools that have far greater knowledge than I. Nobody worth their weight can afford become complacent.” He adjusted his hood for a moment, before continuing down the path.

Fools knew more than his uncle. Spike was unable to understand the statement. According to anyone he knew his uncle had unparalleled knowledge and magical prowess. If he was remembering the term correctly, Tirek was a Sage, whatever that was in the Mage hierarchy. Spike peered up from the books as their house came into view in the horizon. A relieved sigh left his lips as he once again quickened his pace.

Overall, it was a nice house, though it was impossible to tell from the outside. Shutters were scattered about the yard, and the walls could use a washing. Their front door was a hideous red, with a faded copper knob that was in desperate need of replacing. Stopping at that hideous door, Tirek took a key out from under his cloak and placed it in the slot. There was a soft click and he effortlessly pushed the door opened.

Beyond the awful exterior was a house that even the nobles would be jealous of. Throughout the rooms, save for the kitchen and cellar, beautifully designed rugs covered well-polished, brown wood floors. All the walls were paneled and well insulated, keeping both uncle and nephew warm at night during the winter and cool during the summer. There was a large cellar filled with food, a good kitchen, a study that his uncle rarely used anymore, the basement where Tirek spent much of his time, an attic where Spike slept, a library that housed countless books, and past the entry hall, a fine living room where he and his uncle could lounge if Tirek allowed them to.

Spike rushed past his uncle and began to pivot and turn. “Where should I put these?” He asked, looking to his uncle. His claws began to dig into the hard covers has he leaned his body back in an attempt to keep the books from falling forward.

“Go and put them down in the basement, I’ll tend to them later,” Tirek demanded.

“Understood,” Spike grunted. He quickly darted through the house, turning left in their living room and coming to a door that waited just outside the kitchen.

Spike placed the books to the side, sighing as his aching arms were allowed rest. He opened the door, took up the books once again, and slowly made his way downstairs. The basement was the messiest room in the house, though his uncle called it organized chaos. Everything had its place, and to touch anything was to anger his uncle. Although it seemed to be cramped, the room was quite spacious once he or his uncle organized the countless scrolls, books, plates, cups, and discarded notes.

However, even if his uncle cleaned the room, it would become filthy again in just a short time. Amongst the mess, there was a small cot in the corner of the room, his uncle’s bed. Spike didn’t understand the sleeping arrangement, but he couldn’t complain. After all, Spike slept in the attic. To the far end of the room rested an aged chair and large desk that housed small storage spaces for important documents and personal notes that his uncle kept to himself.

Spike placed the first set of books on his uncle’s desk, and then slipped the last three from his bag, placing them on his uncle’s rickety chair. He looked around the room and noticed several dirty dishes that lingered in odd places, all in need of a good cleaning judging by the amount of mold that clung to them. Spike would take care of those later. Making his way to the steps, Spike heard a slight shuffling from upstairs, followed by a string of curses. His uncle was looking for something. Perhaps it was some other old book that he had put away and forgot about or an old quill that his late grandfather had bequeathed to Tirek. Whatever it was, Spike was sure to help his uncle look for it when he came to the main floor.

As the drake came out of the basement, he was met with a fierce glare. His uncle seemed to slither towards him, his hooves not making a single sound as they hit the floor. “Spike, where are those reports I told you to write? I thought I made it clear to you that you were to leave them in the library when you were done. So help me, if you didn’t finish-”

“They were finished last night Uncle Tirek. I just forgot to bring them down,” Spike interrupted as he closed the basement door. “I can get them if you want.”

“I wouldn’t be asking about them if I didn’t want them.”

“Yes uncle, I’m sorry.”

“Get to it then!” Tirek shouted.

Spike flinched before scampering up to his room in the attic. The attic was quite possibly the nicest room in the entire house, save for the library. Cream-colored carpet covered the floor, and hanging above Spike’s bed was a skyline, which allowed him to look at the stars at night if he wanted to. His bed was one of the most comfortable beds any boy could ask for. His blankets and covers were warm; he had a bureau where he kept his shirts, cloaks and a scarf that he used when it was cold out, and a desk facing the left wall. On that desk sat his work from the other night, a detailed report on the history of both Equestria and Griffonstone, two nations to the east and a report on magic and morality.

Spike grabbed his reports from his desk and quickly returned to his uncle, who sat tapping his boney fingers against the arm of an armchair that once belonged to Spike’s late grandfather, Vorak.

"About time," Tirek hissed, grabbing the papers from Spike. "Next time, leave them in the library as you’re told!"

“Yes uncle.”

Tirek quickly skimmed through the first page of Spike’s reports. As he crushed it, Spike knew he shouldn’t have skimmed his assigned chapters. His uncle looked towards him with a scowl. He mumbled something before continuing, growing angrier with each passing second. Spike prepared for the worst as his uncle crushed several pages of his work in one hand.

“I often find myself wondering why I bother teaching you. Why is it that everything you write is worthless?” Tirek threw several pages of his work on the floor as he stood from his seat. Spike tensed as his uncle began to pace around the room, reading page after page, growing more and more displeased.

“What on Earth were you doing when I left you in your room last night!?” He sneered as his claws ripped the current page to shreds. “Need I watch over you every moment, you-” The centaur paused as he skimmed through the last few pages that Spike had turned in. Tirek read the report several times, before relaxing just the smallest bit, muttering, “This is… passable. Good to know you didn’t waste all that time.”

Spike let out a silent breath as weight slowly lifted from his shoulders. He’d been in similar situations before. He would normally be confined to his room on Sunday if every page turned in was worthless. Unfortunately, the sigh was not what his uncle wanted to hear.

“Do not think you’re off the hook!” He snapped. A small orb of fire formed between Tirek’s two very small horns. Spike tilted his head down and let out a defeated sigh as his uncle reduced his work to ash. “Go to your room, and re-read everything from Magical Morality to The History of Equestria and Griffonstone. I expect your rewrites to be perfect. Are we clear?”

Spike nodded his head, looking towards the floor as he did so.

“Look me in the eye, boy. Are we clear!?”

“Yes, Uncle Tirek,” Spike said, facing his uncle.

“Then I suggest that you get on with it.”

Spike shuffled back up to his room, letting out a small groan as he slipped off his aqua-green cloak, something that his uncle made him wear, and tossed it on the floor. He stumbled to his desk, which was much nicer than what he thought he deserved. It was made of mahogany, as mahogany was the only wood that his uncle would consider buying. It was well polished, and had carvings of flowers and birds travelling down the edges. The draws had an abundance of paper, textbooks and scrolls, more paper, sealed inkwells, inkless pens and quills, more textbooks, scrolls, and paper, and an adventure novel that he had hidden in the bottom right-hand draw, something that his uncle would love to destroy if he knew of it. Taking a seat, he laid his head top of the desk as he looked towards a small framed picture that rested on against the wall.

“He’s mad at me again,” Spike sighed. “I kinda deserved it though; I skimmed my sections again.” Spike looked longingly at the picture, as a heaviness appeared in the center of his chest. “I know. I need to do better. He’s a good teacher and he takes good care of me; I just miss you. You were the best teacher ever.”

Spike knew he had to break the habit of talking to the picture on his desk, but his heart wouldn’t let him. The picture was nothing more than a small sketch of his mother curled around him when he was an infant. It was the only picture Tirek allowed him to keep; the rest were in his Grandmother’s basement for whatever reason he had for keeping them there. Maybe it was so that his father had access to them, without the need to see Tirek. His uncle and his father hated each other for one reason or another. No one ever explained it to him, but he wished there was something he could do to fix it.

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to recall everything he could about his mother. The sound of her voice, how soft she was when teaching him to read, her hugs, the kisses he would receive when he hurt himself, he even tried to remember her scent, but all of it seemed so blurry. Something that frightened him was the fact that he couldn’t remember the color of her eyes.

His thoughts turned to his lessons. Tirek was good teacher, there was no doubt. In just two weeks, his uncle had taught him could a spell called Candle Light, which allowed Spike to make a small orb of light for a short period of time.

Lifting his head from the desk, Spike decided to get to work. There was no point to him lingering on the past. His mother was not there to teach him, so the responsibility fell to his uncle, who had expectations he wanted met. Spike took his textbook and opened it back up to the previous chapter. When he was finished reading, he moved onto the second. Taking a quill and an inkwell from his desk, he began to work on brand new papers.

Author's Note

An idea that has been in my head for almost a year now. Hope you like it. If you have any questions, feel free to ask. To make this absolutely clear for anyone still scratching their heads, yes, Tirek is Spike's biological uncle in this, and no, I do not know what I was on when that idea came to me, but yes, I really like it and I loved writing it. :3

Spike and Tirek's Dinner

Spike let out a sigh as he watched the white sands of the hourglass slowly drained into the bottom portion. His uncle’s scolding played in his mind repeatedly as he tried to figure ways to improve his work further. Spike had been told he made improvements, but the fruits of his labor was far from the quality his uncle wanted.

“Perhaps we should go over your vocabulary,” His uncle had muttered. “You’ve seem to have forgotten what perfect means. What else should I expect from you though? Go make us some dinner. Might as well be useful in the kitchen.”

While Tirek kept him busy with his studies, Spike also had several chores to tend to around the house. Sweeping, dusting, and even laundry all fell to Spike, as well as cooking. His culinary duties made Spike relieved that his uncle spared no expense when he built the kitchen. After all, Spike’s grandmother constantly said that food was only as good as the kitchen it the chef cooked in, and they had one of the best kitchens in Arcania.

There was a large stove with enough room to make six dishes at once. Next to the stove, a sink so Spike could clean the dirty dishes. On the left side of the stove was a stone countertop that was perfect for cutting meats and vegetables. Along the back wall was brick oven that could roast all kinds of meats. To the left of the cooking stations was a door that led to a large cellar filled with meats, cheeses, vegetables, fruits, more meats, countless containers of spices, boxes of teas, baked sweets, juices, and finally, wines. Spike didn’t know how the food stayed so fresh given that it sometimes sat for weeks, but his uncle gave him a rather simple answer. “Because of me.”

Tonight Spike had decided to bake a turkey, one of his uncle’s favorite foods. In case it was not enough to lift his uncle’s spirits, he had already cooked several side dishes and had brewed some of his uncle’s favorite tea. All that remained was the roasting bird that, judging by the smell and the sound of its simmering juices, was almost ready to come out of the oven. All that remained were a few moments of patience. The last of the white sand fell to the bottom of the hourglass and Spike instantly perked up.

Opening the oven, a powerful aroma wafted through the house, alerting Tirek that dinner was ready. Spike had already placed a bowl of vegetables, some gravy, freshly baked rolls, pan-fried fish and the tea in the center of the dining room table so that he and his uncle could reach each dish with ease. Spike grabbed the metal pan with his bare claws and carried it to the table, putting it atop three thick cloths. There was no point for Spike to wear oven mitts, as dragons could withstand most high heats. It was especially useful when handling boiling oil, as it was only warm sludge to Spike.

The moment Spike set the roasted fowl on the table; his uncle came lumbering in, taking his place at the head of the table. His uncle was not a healthy centaur by any means. Both sets of Tirek’s ribs were visible and each step, though precise, was unnaturally slow for a centaur. His two metal wristbands clung poorly to his wrists, and even his horns were much too small for a centaur his age, which was 72 to be exact, though most would say he looked to be almost 153. His arms seemed to lack any muscles, and his four legs did not look any better.

As Spike worried about his uncle’s physique, Tirek eyed each bit of the meal. It was pleasing for the most part. The rolls were steaming, the vegetables seemed fresh, the fowl had been baked perfectly, and best of all, the gravy seemed to be perfectly brewed. There was only one thing missing. “Where’s the wine?” Tirek asked, scowling at the steaming pot of tea.

“I-In the cellar,” Spike responded, taking a roll from the basket. He nibbled on the bread, hoping his uncle would leave it at that.

Tirek gripped the edge of the table, digging the tips of his nails deep into the wood. “So, you make dinner, and by your own volition, you leave out my wine?”

Spike put the roll down on his plate as he struggled to think of a response. “Well, I just thought yo-you’d like some tea instead.” He swallowed a forming lump in his throat before continuing. “I could get some cake from the cellar to go with it if you want.”

Tirek’s stare flattened. “Of course you would get me some cake. It’s certainly one way that you can ease the sting when you deprive me of one of the few joys in my life.” Tirek snorted as he lifted the pot and poured some tea into a small cup. “Part of me wonders what keeps you glued to that seat of yours. How arrogant must you be to sit there as you dictate to me, your uncle, what I am allowed to drink?”

“I-I’m the one who cooks, why can’t I decide what we drink?” Spike said, mumbling the last part.

The moment Spike’s words reached him, something snapped within Tirek. With his face twisting, the old centaur leaned in towards Spike. “Nephew, need I remind you who heads this household?” Spike tensed just the smallest bit as Tirek’s fingers contorted. “It seems that you forget who pays for the food you cook. Did you also forget whose home you cook the food in?” Tirek asked, reaching out and tearing a leg off the roasted bird. “Care to remind me whose roof shelters you from the elements, and keeps you warm at night?”

Biting the inner part of his cheek, Spike let out a small sigh as his head tilted downwards. “I’m sorry Uncle Tirek, but I don’t think wine is something that you need to have.”

“Don’t you dare talk back to me!” Tirek shouted, slamming his fist on the table.

Instantly Spike shrunk down in his seat, his eyes clenched shut.

His uncle glared at him as he reached for the gravy, pouring a bit of it on his drumstick. “What does a boy like you know about needs? Your needs are taken care of daily! And is it not I who takes care of them?”

“Yes, Uncle.”

Tirek spat out a sigh. “Your mother told me that dragons were a selfish lot, but ungrateful is certainly new. What is it that I give you? Lessons in all subjects, food, clothes, and a warm bed so you may rest your head. How do you repay me?” He asked, taking a bite out of his food. Swallowing, he answered, “By asking your poor uncle to deprive himself of a drink that allows him to relax after he works so hard to provide for you, a boy whose mother wanders the world for his father. Tell me, how is this justified?”

Spike remained silent as he stared at the table.

“Answer me, child.”

“I-it’s not.” Spike finally answered

Satisfied with the answer, Tirek let out a humph as he continued eating. “This comes from your father, no doubt. That blasted gargoyle, Mother and Father should have beaten the insolence out of Scorpan. If they’d done that, perhaps you would be more appreciative. But no, whenever your father was mentioned, only praises were sung. They called him charismatic, wise, understanding of the commoners!” Tirek lifted his cup and tipped it back, taking a much-needed sip of tea. “At least you are not like your siblings.”

Spike could see his uncle’s anger reigniting when he mentioned his siblings. His teeth began to grind as his horse legs tensed.

“Horrid, self-entitled wretches are what they are!” Taking half of the fish, Tirek began to munch loudly. “There’s no doubt in my mind that the only reason your mother left you with me was to keep you from ending up like those brats!”

“They’re not all like that,” Spike said, with much more force than he meant to. His uncle raised a single brow in response. Spike let out a sigh as he stared a hole into the floor. “Uncle, I think I’ve lost my appetite,” He finally said, pushing himself away from the table. “I’m going to go upstairs. Just call me when you’re finished.” He hopped down to the floor and started to leave, only to freeze when his uncle slammed his fist on the table.

“You are not going anywhere. Sit down and eat,” Tirek demanded, stacking the bones of his fish on his plate. Using his magic, he pushed the fowl towards Spike’s end of the table.

“It’s okay, Uncle, I’m just-”

“I’m not giving you a choice,” Tirek said in a hushed voice, taking a handful of rolls from the basket. “The last thing I need when your mother returns is you telling her how I starved you some nights. She wanted you taken care of, and I will not have you make a liar of me.”

Knowing that it was futile to argue, Spike returned to his seat and tore off a wing. He munched slowly as his thoughts fell on his siblings. Of his family, excluding his mother, Spike was the only dragon. His brothers and sisters, of which there were nine, were either gargoyles or centaurs. His older siblings, especially his eldest brother, saw him as a lesser. Those that were around his age tended to shy away from him, save for the youngest of all Scorpan’s children, whom thought him to be the greatest thing in the world. Spike looked at his own claw as a thought crept into the forefront of his mind.

“Uncle Tirek, why don’t I look anything like my dad or Grandpa?”

Swallowing his food and refilling his cup with tea, Tirek answered, “You can thank your mother for that. You were born to a dragon, therefore a dragon you are.” Igniting a small ball of fire between his two horns, Tirek traced a boney finger along the back of the turkey. The roasted bird fell in half, with Tirek taking the half with a missing leg. “There are races, like ponies, that can mix and become something new. Gargoyles and centaurs are a race that cannot. They can breed with one another, but the resulting child is either one or the other. When a male has a child with a dragon, this is our downfall. Dragons hatch, and only a dragon may survive in their egg. You are just what you should be. And in a way, you are part gargoyle, just as am I. In your veins flows the blood of Scorpan, the blood of a gargoyle, just as Haydon’s blood flows through my veins.”

“But then-”

“If you wonder how I know you are my nephew, how your father knows that you are his son-” Tirek lifted his half of the turkey to his mouth and bit into its flesh, ripping off its moist white meat and crisp, flavorful skin. “-I used alchemy,” He said as he chewed. “It may as well be the most worthless subject there is, but it has its uses. Now eat, I don’t need you complaining about an empty stomach later tonight.”

Spike began to carve his half of the bird, and slowly ate his fill.

There was nothing left of the meal by the time they were finished. Spike began to collect the dishes. “So, how was it?” Spike asked as he hopped on top of a stool and placed the dishes and silverware into a tub of water. Taking a brush, he began to scrub the bits and pieces of food off the plates.

“It would have been better had your work not soured my mood,” Tirek grunted, stretching his arms. “I expect you to do better tomorrow.”

“I’ll try.”

“If you’re only going to try then you’ve already failed,” Tirek sneered. “Trying is non-existent, there is either success or failure. So make sure you succeed.” He stood up and cracked his neck. “Clean up, and get to bed as soon as you’re done, I want you up early tomorrow. Perhaps if I keep an eye on you, you’ll actually do well in your studies.”

Tirek retreated to the basement, leaving Spike alone with his chores. As he worked, Spike periodically glanced towards the basement door. There were several clanks as his uncles loud grunts and annoyed growls seeped softly into the kitchen. After he finished cleaning the dishes in the sink, perhaps he could collect the dishes from his uncle’s room. At least then, Tirek could work without worrying about plates falling over.

Spike quickened his pace as his eyelids began to grow heavy. His grandmother’s turkey recepe always did seem to tire the poor boy out quickly. Fighting the urge to scurry up to his bed and sleep, Spike finished scrubbing and placed the dishes on a rack to dry.

Stepping away from the sink, Spike went to the basement entrance. He gently gripped the doorknob and slowly opened the door, careful not to make a sound. The only light that leaked into the darkness of the stairwell was the light that came from the countless lanterns that hung about their home. Taking a deep breath, Spike began his descent.

The steps creaked loudly with every step that he took, no doubt alerting Tirek of his presence. With each creek, he could hear his uncle’s voice grow more and more frustrated. Upon entering the room, Spike noticed that the only light was a dim candle on his uncle’s desk. “Uncle Tirek?” Spike called as he stood behind his uncle.

“Is this your room?” Tirek asked.

“No, but-”

“Spike, what did I tell you to do when you finished washing the dishes?”

“I was to go straight to bed, but Uncle, I-”

“Then there had better be a good reason that you are in my workspace, and not brushing your teeth and getting ready for bed,” Tirek growled, rolling up a scroll.

“I heard a few dishes clatter and I just thought that maybe you’d like me to collect them, Uncle,” Spike said.

Tirek murmured to himself before unraveling a new scroll. “So gallant," He said, "cleaning a room you have no business being in. Anything if it allows you to stay up. I suppose that you’ll want to stay in bed just a few minutes longer tomorrow because of how hard you worked tonight?”

“No Uncle. I promise that I’ll get up early.”

“What a meaningless sentiment,” Tirek grumbled. “Very well.” An orb ignited between his horns. All around plates and cups began to gather, stacked in a single neat tower. Tirek turned away from his desk and made his way up to the main floor, with Spike quickly following.

“Uncle, I can-” Tirek turned his head and raised a single brow. “Nevermind,” Spike mumbled.

Tirek placed the stack next to the sink. “After you finish cleaning these, get to bed. No excuses. Are we clear?”

“Yes sir,” Spike nodded.

“Good.”

Spike put his clothes into a bin that rested at the foot of his bed, replacing his eveningwear with a single nightshirt that stretched down to his ankles. It had taken him half an hour to clean the second set of dishes, but he was happy to do it.

Spike walked slowly as he made his way through the room; the only light that illuminated his path was a small candle that stood at the side of his bed and the moonlight that came through the room’s skylight. Spike climbed into his bed, and fell face first into his pillow. Wrapping himself in his covers, he turned to look at his desk.

“Night mom,” he said, stealing a glance of his picture. “I love you.” He blew out the candle and let the sound of silence carry him off into sleep.

He had a dream he was with his mother and father.

The Rainbow Rogue

A Peculiar Party

He was going to be the greatest knight who’d ever lived. Looking down at his son, who laid in the crib swaddled in his mother’s blanket, Bright Macintosh knew that his son was going to do great things. He would not live the life of a farmer as his forefathers. Why would he? He had something that no other Apple or Pear had ever had before: a large horn protruding from his head. The first unicorn to be born to their family. His wife sat with her head against his, her hoof gently stroking the side of their child’s face. All they needed now was a name. And he had the perfect name. They would name him….

Mcbiggen plunged his sword into the ground as his vision slowly came back to him. Twelve corpses, each with several large gashes in their torsos and necks, surrounded him. All of them were gargoyles, hairy creatures that were foreign to his home in Equestria. Some of the gargoyles had swords; others carried iron knuckles while the last of them had a bow.

He didn’t have the right to complain about his current job. He chose to be bodyguard after all, and a stallion lived with his choices. The pay was as good as it got, that was something he couldn’t argue. His employers would give him 50 pieces of gold the moment he delivered them to an area of Arcania where an old recluse lived, a centaur if he was remembering correctly. He wondered why three ponies had any business with a centaur, but it was not his place to ask.

A slight chill crawled up his spine as his thoughts fell on his employers. He cursed himself for sending them off in a random direction when the fighting broke out. While their absence did alleviate any short term pressure to keep them safe,it only provided that much more stress after the dust settled. He quickly banished the thoughts from his mind. It was the right thing to do, sending them off. If he were to die, and if the mares were able to survive somehow, they were obligated to send 25 gold back to his family. It was a comforting proposition for him. At least if anything happened to him, they would know and have some money to help keep their inn afloat.

Mcbiggen rested his head against the handle of his blade to catch his breath as blood slowly trickled out from three wounds he had received. He didn’t feel any pain, just a swearing sensation, as if someone was pressing a heated brand against his flesh. He took several deep breaths as the adrenaline drained from his system, listening to the rustling of the leaves and snapping of twigs as the three mares he told to run slowly came back to him.

“I see you did quite a number on them,” A yellow mare said, examining the corpses strewn across the forest floor. Her name was Adagio Dazzle, a yellow earth pony, leader of their party. Her hair was a vibrant orange and was as puffy as a cloud. She wore a sleeveless top, a short skirt, and leggings that allowed her tail to poke through the fabric. Her eyes were a piercing violet, and her voice sounded like it could to enchant all sorts of men. She seemed to slither towards Mcbiggen as she began to examine each of his wounds, making sure to trace along every muscle she could. Though he could not be completely sure, Mcbiggen swore that she licked her lips at one point. “And they seem to have done a number on you.”

Of course she’s the first one back.

For the past few weeks, there had been no greater throne in his flank than Adagio Dazzle. Adagio was a pretty mare, a stallion who laid eyes on her would tell you that. Pretty as she was, she was much two forward for his taste. Though he was not one to brag, many mares saw Mcbiggen as an attractive, rugged stallion. He towered over other stallions and would be able to take on a buffalo single handedly. In Equestria, such strength was prized. So, it was no surprise that Adagio saw him the same way.

However, there was something else about her that put Mchbiggen on edge. He noticed a hunger in her eyes whenever they were alone. The gleam in her eyes weren’t like the eyes of other mares. Then again, that could just be her natural look. Perhaps, had he been just a few years younger, he would taken it as a go ahead, and tried to get just the two of them in a room by themselves the very first night, and every night since.

Adagio began to trace one of three wounds, a large gash in his leg, eliciting a sharp breath from him. The second was a wound he received taking an arrow to the shoulder. Some small part of Mcbiggen was almost disappointed that the archer missed anything vital. He had already ripped the arrow from his flesh, and it now rested in the throat of the archer. The final wound was in his lower back leg, where a gargoyle had sliced him with a knife. Mcbiggen had used his magic to turn the knife back on its owner, plunging it into his heart. He was lucky to be wearing such heavy, black armor. Though his injuries primarily covered his legs, he’d be able to walk away from the experience, unlike the gargoyles who wore mostly animal pelts.

“There, there,” The mare cooed as she gave him a small peck on his cheek. Mcbiggen jerked his head away and let out a snort. His blazing gaze would have frightened off any person, however, after showing it to Adagio so often, all it did was elicit a small giggle from the mare. “Come now, a little kiss won’t kill you. The blood loss will. How about that we get you fixed up? Aria, we need you,” she called, looking back into the woods.

Mcbiggen eyes looked past Adagio to see a second mare approaching. Aria Blaze was a unicorn like him, with light blue and deep violet pigtails turn towards them. She wore mostly baggy clothes, which kept her body well hidden. She was not one to emote, and constantly sighed whenever anyone spoke.

“What is it, Adagio?” Aria grumbled.

“Get the needle, Mcbiggen needs to be stitched.”

Mcbiggen let out a grunt as Adagio moved her hoof to his arrow wound while Aria rummaged through her bag, pulling out a steel box.

“Should I help with something?” The third and final mare asked, coming to the clearing. Her name was Sonata Dusk. She had a very light blue coat, and light blue hair with deep purple streaks running through. She wore a loose fitting, short dress, tight leggings, and a red pendant around her neck like the others.

“Sonata, go search the corpses. See if they have anything good on them,” Adagio demanded, her eyes never leaving Mcbiggen’s body.

“But I don’t wanna loot the corpses again,” Sonata cried, stomping on the ground. “I had to loot the last few people he had to kill, make Aria do it!”

Mcbiggen tried to be annoyed with Sonata, but found himself unable to do so. Though she was the pleasant to be around, Sonata was a child at heart. Perhaps it was that innocence that reminded Mcbiggen of his own sisters, of which he had two, that had him liking the mare more than the other two. His sisters. He couldn’t help but ponder about them. One was a young mare by now, and the other only a tender child at the age of twelve. He still wondered if they were okay, kept safe from any seedy customers. Hopefully his cousin, an auburn stallion, was taking good care of them.

“Aria needs to suture Mcbiggen, Sonata. If she helps he dies.”

“And what are you doing? Why don’t you help?”

“I’m providing Mcbiggen with some much needed emotional support.” Adagio wrapped her arms around his neck and put her head against his. “You need someone to hold onto in this most trying time, right Mcbiggen?”

“Nope.” He growled in a deep voice. The last thing he needed whilst getting stitches was a clingy mare that didn’t understand the basics of personal space.

“I’m sorry; it sounded like you’re telling me to loot corpses, like I’m Sonata.” Adagio’s eye twitched a bit. Never had she been relegated to grunt work, she was normally the supervisor. And, as such wanted to supervise Mcbiggen.

“Yup.”

“I see. Sometimes I wonder why I bothered hiring you,” she grumbled. “Come Sonata, the quicker we finish, the quicker we can leave them to rot.”

Mcbiggen fell to his haunches and tensed as Aria approached him with a bottle, a piece of cloth, a matchstick, and a threaded needle. She uncorked the bottle and poured a clear liquid on the cloth. He shuddered, knowing what was going to happen next. Mcbiggen was no stranger to stitches, but it never got easier the more he needed them. It was hard to name the worst part. The disinfecting portion stung like hell, but the needle filled him with dread. Not to say it hurt all that much, it was more in his mind than it was anywhere else. Just the thought of anyone plunging a needle into made him want to take his chances with bleeding out.

“Leg,” Aria demanded.

Mcbiggen didn’t move.

“If you want to die do to blood loss, more power to you. Your family gets 25 gold, and are told that the reason you died was because you were too big a baby to get a few stitches.”

Letting out a sigh, Mcbiggen held out his foreleg and clenched his eyes shut. A burning pain shot through his body as Aria poured the liquid into his wound, forcing him to let out a curse.

Aria rolled her eyes and forced an arrow shaft into his mouth. “Just bite down on that whenever you need to,” Aria said, readying the needle as she pressed the cloth against the wound.

Mcbiggen nodded as his teeth clenched down on the arrow. He nearly bit it in two when the needle entered his flesh.

Nearly an hour had passed before Aria tied a knot at the end of Mcbiggen’s last laceration. Lifting up a pair of shining silver scissors, she carefully cut the suture’s short end and made one last stitch, entering the very end of the wound and exiting upward through his skin.

“There we go,” she murmured, cutting off the remaining thread. She wiped the sweat from her forehead before taking a bandage from the steel box.

Mcbiggen spat out the arrow and began to get control of his breathing.

“In pain?” Aria asked as she wrapped the bandages over his wounds, tying them off.

“Yup,” he growled.

“Well, that’s what happens when you don’t let us handle things.”

Mcbiggen rolled his eyes. Every time a minor situation came up, the mares said that they would handle it. While not meaning to insult them, Mcbiggen doubted that three little fillies could do much against a band of bandits or a towering, drunken gargoyle that got a little too handsy. He normally ended up taking care of the problem, as he did with the bandits. Besides, if they could take care of things, why did they need him?

Aria tied the last bandage off, and looked past Mcbiggen towards Sonata and Adagio, who were sitting against a tree. Adagio sat organizing their findings, while Sonata held a cloth to her mouth, with her eyes clenched shut. She rocked herself back and forth, letting out small whimpers.

“Adagio, what’s wrong with her?”

“It smelled,” Sonata said, as tears welled in her eyes.

Mcbiggen couldn’t help but feel sorry for the youngest mare. It was difficult to get used to the smell. There were days that he had trouble handling it, and gagged every so often. Still, there was no point in trying to fix what was wrong, the best they could do was move on.

“Wipe that look off your face, Mcbiggen, it always smells, she just needs to get used to it,” Adagio said, lightly hitting the back of Sonata’s head.

It was almost scary how well Adagio Dazzle was able to read him. He wondered if she knew what else he was thinking.

“And no, they didn’t have anything good on them. Just a few coins.”

“If they don’t got anythin’, let’s get a move on,” he said, standing up, stumbling each step he took.

“You’re the guide, why not?” Adagio nodded, slipping the extra purses of coins into her own bag. It was probably for the best. Though they could not know for sure, the slain bandits could still have friends that would have surely come searching for them.

“Whatever,” Aria said, slinging her bag over her back. Sonata weakly flapped her wings and followed the party.

Shaking off any lingering pain and discomfort, Mcbiggen found a stride and continued leading his party forward.

The sun was almost set by the time they made it out of the forest and approached the capital city of Arcania, King’s Circle, also called Castle Town by the locals. Mcbiggen effortlessly outpaced the mares, even with the slight limp he walked with. He could feel how lively the town was even from so far away. A castle loomed in the distance, shining with a silver gleam, surrounded by countless buildings of both wood and stone.

The ponies trotted along a dirt road, passing several farms on the very border of the capital, with crops starting to bear fruit and vegetables sprouting from the earth. Seeing the toiling gargoyles and the occasional centaur out in the fields filled Mcbiggen with a sense of nostalgia that Adagio immediately noticed.

“Something the matter?” She purred, rushing ahead of Aria and Sonata to walk next to Mcbiggen.

“Nope.” Mcbiggen focusing on the road ahead of them, trying his hardest to ignore Adagio.

“Are you sure, Mcbiggen?”

“Yup.”

“If you say so. Girls,” Adagio turned towards her sisters, “keep an eye open for a nice inn.”

Mcbiggen paused for a moment. Inn? Why would they need to go to an inn? Surely, they would be able to complete their journey tonight, and by extent, go there separate ways. “Why not go to yer destination?”

“He can talk,” Adagio gasped, before letting out a light chuckle. “Mcbiggen, it’s much too late in the day to stop there. The centaur, he hates guests this late. Perhaps If you’d let us handle the scuffle in the woods, we could have made it. Unfortunately, you needed to show off. So, we’ll have wait until tomorrow.”

“Nope!” Mcbiggen declared.

Adagio smiled. “Mr. Mcbiggen, I’m not making a suggestion. It’s the inn, or we go our separate ways and you can write to your family why they’re not getting this month’s payment.”

Mcbiggen bitterly followed his employers to an inn called The Sleeping Centaur. Upon entering, they found that the innkeeper, a youthful, female gargoyle, hovered about while making sure her workspace was in order. The main lodge separated off into two hallways. In one direction the aroma of baked goods, smoked pork, and fried treats seeped forth, enticing nearly all who entered. In the other direction, drunk patrons stumbled into the hallway towards their rooms to rest their bodies and nurse their hangovers the next day.

“Smell that?” Adagio asked, stopping the group. “Sonata, how long has it been since we had a good meal?”

“Weeks,” Sonata mumbled, “and I said I was sorry! I’m not good with tying knots, it’s not my fault that a manticore ate all our food!”

“Yes it is,” Adagio said with a growl. She forced herself to smile before turning to their bodyguard. “Mcbiggen, while the three of us check in, why don’t you get us some food?”

Mcbiggen’s eyes narrowed. She was planning something; there was no doubt in his mind. Adagio was not a chaste mare. She practically threw herself at anything with a pulse and spent nearly the entire trip trying to tempt him with his more primal urges. At the same time, it was hard to pass up an order to fill his stomach with good, cheap food.

Noticing a small twinge of desire in his eyes, Adagio produced a small bag of coins and tossed it to him. “By all means, Sir Mcbiggen, feel free to splurge. You earned these afterall.”

With a small grin, he lifted the bag of coins up in his aura and trotted down the hall.

As she watched him leave, Adagio chuckled to herself, licking her lips as she took her time to watching his flank. She always did preferred him leaving a room than entering one. While Adagio took time to admire Mcbiggen’s assets, Aria trotted up to the counter and gave it three knocks.

The gargoyle gasped and quickly shot her head up. “I’m terribly sorry. Welcome to the Sleeping Centaur, how may I help… you… ponies,” she said as her head slowly tilted to the side. She fell silent, even as the mares became annoyed.

“Arcanians,” Adagio sighed. Putting on a sincere smile, she cleared her throat, bringing the gargoyle back to her senses.

“Oh, my sincerest apologies, malady. How may I help you and your party?”

“Two rooms please. One for those two,” she said, motioning toward Sonata and Aria, “and one my knight and I. We’ve had a long journey, and need some privacy.”

“Oh.” The innkeeper’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson, nearly matching the skin of a passing centaur. “Right away.”

“Sure you’re Equestrian, boy?” The bartender asked as he placed a third platter of fritters in front of Mcbiggen. “I swear, I’d say that you’re more of an Arcanian with an appetite like that.”

The stallion shrugged, smiling as he reached for another fritter. For the first time in ages, he almost felt like he was home. He was still without his family, but the food more than made up for it. He followed his meal down with half a tankard of ale that tasted almost as good as his family’s cider. He noticed that If there was one thing that Arcanians knew, it was how to brew some good booze.

Stationed around the table were two small goblets and a mug full of beer. One contained a fine red wine for Adagio, as she only ever drank wines, or champagnes if the meal called for it. The mug of beer was for Aria. It was a simple drink for a simple mare. She would not speak to them as they enjoyed themselves; she would just listen and drink. Finally, there was Sonata’s drink. Sonata loved sweet drinks. He didn’t know exactly what the bartender had brought him, all her knew was that girls around town liked it.

“These seats taken?” Adagio asked taking a seat next to Mcbiggen as Sonata and Aria sat across from them. Sonata picked up her drink, took a sip and then proceeded to gulp the beverage down. Aria rolled her eyes and slowly sipped her beer.

“Nope,” Mcbiggen said, before swallowing a mouthful of food. “Did y’all get rooms?”

“We certainly did,” She pushed a key with the number twenty-four carved into the metal towards him. She looked to the center of the table where a platter of greasy looking fritters sat. “Did you order us anything that isn’t deep fried and fatty?” Adagio nudged the platter of fritters away from her, and towards a waiting Sonata.

“Nope,” he answered with a smile. He took a sip of ale as Adagio and Aria gloomily took a fritter. “So what are y’all hopin’ to find once ya get to this centaur?”

“That’s on a need to know basis,” Aria said.

“Yeah! You’re being paid to get us from point A to point B. Why would you need to know that we really want to meet his pet dragon? I mean, I guess it wouldn’t hurt telling you, but we’re not supposed to! Can I have more of that drink? I could use more of that drink!”

There was a short silence between the three mares as Aria and Adagio stewed in their own growing anger, glaring at their youngest sister.

“Sonata, if we’re still sober later tonight, we are going to have a very long discussion about ‘need to know basis’,” Adagio said through gritted teeth.

Their meal lasted well into the night before the party decide to retire. The mares had all headed to their room after having a cup of alcohol each and a few fritters between them. If they got up early enough, perhaps Mcbiggen would be able to shepherd the mares to their destination and be done with the job. He opened the door to his room and slowly lumbered his way towards the bed.

In addition to being some of the best tasting booze, Arcania seemed to brew some of the strongest alcohol there was. Sonata was reduced to mumbles and slurs while Aria struggled to walk straight. The only one that seemed to hold her liquor was Adagio, and Mcbiggen didn’t know if that was impressive, frightening, or both.

Mcbiggen used his magic shut the door before locking it, placing his sword, a black piece of sharpened steel, against the foot of the bed along with his bag. The bed was bigger than he expected, not that it was a bad thing, just out of the ordinary.

More room fer me, he thought, joyous at the aspect of having his own bed to sprawl out in. For weeks he’d been confided to a tent that was nearly too small for him, in a sleeping bag that felt more of a prison than it did propper bedding.

Beside the bed were two nightstands, one on each side. He placed the key Adagio had given him on the right nightstand and let loose the straps of his armor, allowing it all to fall to the floor with a thud. He took a deep breath as he removed his helmet and allowed his bright orange hair to fall free before running his hoof through it, stopping just as he reached his unicorn horn. That accurst, useful horn. There were times he wished for it to be removed. However, such things would only come back to bite him. There were more than one occasions that his horn had saved his life, and had helped his family back home.

Mcbiggen was the only one in his family that had a horn. His sisters, his cousins, his aunts, uncles, mother and father were all earth ponies. His father used to tell him that the Old-Gods, the supposed keepers and guardians of the world, smiled upon his birth, and blessed him with the strength of an earth pony along with the horn and magic of a unicorn. Despite knowing better, he still desperately clung to the explanation.

Mcbiggen levitated his sword and placed it near his armor. There was a slight chill in the air, the feeling digging up memories of him, his sister, and his cousin. On cool nights, the three foals would wrap themselves in a blanket as their granny read them stories of Knights and Dragons, Trickster Humans, and even star crossed lovers. If their Grandmother’s stories couldn’t settle them down for bed, then his cousin would recount the time he dreamt that a swarm of fairies saved their farm from a horrid case of apple blight, and gave him a cloak. If he hadn’t kept telling the story to everything that walked, perhaps it would have been a staple in their collection. The one thing that his cousin could never explain why the fairies helped them.

Finally, there were the cold, sleepless nights when his baby sister would wail with all her might. His mother would do her best to calm her, but it normally fell to him when exhaustion finally caught up with the mare. Mcbiggen would lift the baby in his aura and wrap her in a quilts that his grandmother had made. Not too loose, but not too tight so that she was uncomfortable.

After that, he’d put her back in her crib, tell her a story about their late father, a good stallion if there ever was one, and give her a kiss before carrying their mother back to her room using his magic. There was never a time Apple Bloom stayed up after he did that. He could feel his heart crush itself as his thoughts fell on his precious baby sister. She was such a small filly the last time he saw her, she probably didn’t even remember what he looked like.

As Mcbiggen rocked himself back and forth, a gentle hum filled the room, slowly easing his mind and body. He wanted to question where such a tune was coming from, but he didn’t. There was something enchanting about the song. The notes slowly drew him deeper into a trance as the hum turned into a harmonization. It lasted several minutes, but when it finally ended, his body became more relaxed than it had been in years. For some reason, it made the memories of home even warmer. It brought a genuine smile to his face.

“Something on your mind?” He heard Adagio ask as her forelegs wrapped around his neck. She leaned her head against his, enjoying the warmth from his body.

“Yup.” he mused as his eyes lidded.

“Nice to know you’re finally opening up to me.” Adagio rolled her eyes before leaning in and giving him him a small peck on the cheek. If not for his fur, the blush would have been noticeable. “What are you thinking about?” She gently hummed as she traced her hoof down his body, careful to avoid his stitches.

“Home.”

Adagio paused her song. “What about home though? No one can be that deep in thought over nostalgia.”

“I haven’t seen my family in a while,” he admitted. Some small part of his was screaming to stay silent, but for some reason, his mind refused to do so. “I just wonder if they’re alright. My baby sister, shoot, she probably can’t even remember what I look like no more. Probably has her cutie mark. That’s somethin’ I can’t get back.” Mcbiggen let out a sigh as Adagio gently kissed the crook of his neck. This was almost nice. He was alone in a room with a warm bed and a gorgeous girl. Maybe tonight was going to be better than he expected.

As Adagio left a trail of kisses down his neck, there came a cry from inside his heart that shook his entire body.

Wake up! It shouted, jolting him. His eyes shot open as his senses returned to him.

He slowly turned his head to see Adagio, wearing nothing but a thin, almost see-through nightgown, as her hooves travelled down his chest. His instincts told screamed for him to throw her away from him, slap her, anything that resulted in a pain to remind her who he was. However, a little voice in the back of his head told him to handle things in a calm manner.

“What are ya doing in my room?” He asked, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. Adagio looked almost shocked, before giving him a smirk.

“Your room?” Adagio let out a small giggle before explaining, “Oh, Mcbiggen, this is my room. I need my own space after all.” As her eyes became lidded, and her smirk grew. “Of course, I’m more willing to share a bed if it’s with a stallion who needs his sword polished.”

“It’s next to the nightstand if you want to get started,” He said, pointing towards broadsword. “Tell you what? Take my sword back to ya’lls room, and you can polish it there while I get some sleep.”

“Not that kind of sword,” she hummed. “Come now, don’t be such a tease. Those gorgeous locks, those green eyes of yours, they’re all just perfect. And your body, sweet Poseidon, your body. How is it that a unicorn gets so toned?” Her hooves moved to his underbelly, gently tracing over his faded scars.

“I’d appreciate it if you stopped feeling me up. Side’s I have three stitches I need to take care of. Don’t want ‘em ta break.”

“Oh, don’t be like that; I’m the victim in all of this. I’m just a poor, lonely mare that’s never really known love. I can’t help it if I lose my composer at the sight of a strong stallion,” She whimpered. “The boys at home are all scrawny little things that don’t have the will to even look me in the eye. But you’re able to stand up to me! I can’t help but be attracted to that. Can you at least tell me your real name? Surely you’re parent’s couldn’t have been that cruel to name you something so horrid. Besides, depending on what happens, I want to know what to scream.”

Mcbiggen sat silent as he pondered. His real name? He didn’t even remember his name at this point, or perhaps he did and he just wanted to forget it like an embarrassing moment from his childhood. It could be that Mcbiggen was his real name, and it was just so stupid that nobody could take it seriously. He closed his eyes as she removed her hooves from his front and drew them towards his back.

His breathing and temper steadied as Adagio began to draw circles on his shoulders. “It’s been a long journey. You and I had to deal with a brooding teenager and a child trapped in a mare’s body every day and night for the past five weeks. So why not just relax, lay down, and let me do everything I can to relieve you. I promise,” She tilted her head up to his ear and whispered, “It’ll be a nice time for the both of us.”

As a small hum filled the room again, Mcbiggen started to find the offer tempting.

“Nope,” he said, shaking the thoughts from his mind. He lifted Adagio in his golden aura and carried her to the door. He expected Adagio to thrash about, complain, or whine, but all she did was stare at him. There was no malice in the look, just curiosity.

“G’night,” Mcbiggen mumbled, placing her outside of the room. The door slammed shut and he was once again alone. He crawled into his bed and slowly closed his eyes, only to be disturbed by a powerful knock. Opening the door, he found Adagio looking at him with a lack of emotion.

“Didn’t I kick you out?”

“You kicked me out of my room, yes. My companions aren’t answering the door,” Adagio said as she ground her teeth into a fine white powder. “I do not want to pay for third room, so may I sleep here if I promise to keep my hooves to myself?”

“Fine.” He leaned in and matched her intense stare. “And no hummin’. It’s messing with my head.” Adagio grunted in agreement and walked passed him, climbing into the bed. “Hell are you doin, girl?”

“You don’t expect me to take the floor, do you?” She asked.

“Yeah, I am.”

“So to be clear, you going to make a mare sleep on the floor?” She raised a brow.

As much as he wanted to respond, he couldn’t. That little voice in the back of his head berated him once more. His father had instilled in him a need to make sure a mare was always treated right, even if they were more of a harpy than a mare. Letting out a sigh, Mcbiggen took his sleeping bag from his saddlebag and rolled it out on the floor.

“If you get lonely, feel free to climb into bed,” Adagio said, laying on her side. “It has to be more comfortable than the floor.” Mcbiggen refused to respond. For the first time in his life, Her smile made him want to strike a mare.

Mcbiggen’s head pounded against his skull as he slowly crawled out of his bag. Images haunted his dreams last night. Well, they weren’t haunting, just unwelcomed, all of them featuring himself and Adagio partaking in less than modest activities. He looked towards the bed to see Adagio sleeping soundly, looking pleased with herself. He had to finish his job, before Adagio broke him. It was no longer a matter of if, rather when. He quickly changed his bandages before gathering his equipment and putting his sleeping bag back into his saddlebag. He picked up Adagio’s discarded clothes and tossed them into the bed, the Impacted stirred Adagio from her slumber.

“What is it?” She whimpered, stretching her limbs. “Are we going to have fun?”

“No. Get dressed, we’re heading out in ten,” Mcbiggen said, lifting his armor in his aura. With total precision, the Mcbiggen strapped the armor to his body in a matter of moments. He placed his black iron helm on his head and slung his sword over his back. “Anything you don’t have on by the time I get back is being left behind.”

“Mcbiggen, I know you don’t understand this, but I plan on looking presentable when we meet our host,” Adagio said, knowing that her hair was a mess. “Why don’t you wake up Aria and Sonata, tell them to get ready, then you can grab some of that greasy, fatty food you love so much. We’ll meet out in the front when we’re ready, or you could help me get ready, lord knows I need someone to wash my back.”

“How about-”

“It’s not something that’s up for negotiation.” Adagio climbed out of the bed, and made her way towards the bathroom, making sure to flick her raised tail every so often. “In my opinion, the second choice would be a lot more pleasurable for both of us.”

“I’ll go get the others,” He hissed, his blood slowly coming to a boil. “Just be ready soon.”

“If you insist,” Adagio sighed, lowering her tail.

Mcbiggen slammed the door as he exited the room. There was something not right about the mare. Not much was able to shake the stallion, but the song somehow did just that. It was so pure and gentle when he first heard it, yet recalling each note made his stomach churn. Could Aria and Sonata do the same? All three of them said they could handle everything that they encountered, so did that mean that all of them were able to do what Adagio did? If so, what was it? Earth Ponies, to the best of his knowledge, were incapable of using magic of any sort. Could it have been a charm? Mcbiggen left the questions behind as he came the Sonata and Aria’s door, and gave it three gentle knocks.

“What is it?” Aria asked opening the door. She was dressed in a plain white nightgown, and slowly rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. She blinked twice, revealing her bloodshot eyes a few times before finally being able to see straight. “You look horrible. What did she try last night?”

“She hummed a bit.”

There was a sudden change in Aria’s expression as her face morphed into a scowl.

“Of all the-” She stopped herself from uttering a word, allowing a silence to grow between the two as she shook her head. “Did anything happen?”

“No. I was fuzzy for a bit, but I shook it off.”

Aria kept a straight look, still shaking her head. “I’ll have a talk with her after Sonata and I get ready. Why don’t you get some food while you wait? Just send us the bill.”

Mcbiggen belched as he finished his second serving of fritters. He quickly followed his meal down with a glass of milk. Despite the warm feeling in his stomach, there was a sense of danger lingering in the air. The way Aria acted, it made him worry like he did when he couldn’t find Apple Bloom or Applejack late at night.

She knew what Adagio was able to do, that much was certain. It almost seemed taboo though. Never during their journey did Aria say that she would talk to Adagio, not even when he begged her to. He was just thankful he was able to keep control of himself. Mcbiggen shuddered as one final question entered his mind. What would have happened if he didn’t wake up like the voice said? He would probably woken up with a mare pillowing his chest.

Putting a few coins on the table, he made his way out of the inn and sat against a wall. There was nothing like a good meal to make him feel better. When he was a small child, his Granny always made sure to have some food on hoof just in case he ever turned up fussy. He knew not to make a habit out of eating to cure fear. If he did, he would not be able to fit in his armor.

It wouldn’t be long once the mares met with him. They would head east and he would finish his job. He rubbed his eyes as a single question lingered bounced around in his head. How far was east? Eastern part of the town, the market, the city itself? They were so vague with their plans for the entire trip; the only thing he knew was that they needed to visit a centaur for his pet dragon. What was so important about a pet dragon though? What could a fire breathing reptile have that made a trip like this worth it? Mcbiggen heard the door to the Inn open as his party joined him outside. They had changed their clothes to formal sundresses, each a color to complement their complexion. Adagio stood out the most, with a small saddle bag slung over her back.

“Ladies,” he said, bowing his head, shooting a slight glare at Adagio. The mare gave him a smile at him and blew him a small kiss. Aria quickly elbowed her and gestured towards Mcbiggen.

“I know, I’m just having some fun,” Adagio whispered. She cleared her throat, before standing up straight. “I apologize for my behavior last night. What I did was purely selfish and uncalled for, and I wish to put it behind us.”

Had any other stallion raised him, Mcbiggen probably would have told her to go to Hell. Unfortunately, he was raised by Bright Macintosh Apple, and he was a stallion that would sooner see his son dead than insult a mare, especially after the mare had apologized for her transgressions.

“I suppose it’s alright. Nothing happened, so we’ll jus’ pretend last night never happened.”

“Oh, Mcbiggen, that is absolutely marvelous to hear.”

“It really is!” Sonata added. “Considering we could get in a lot of trouble for singing outside of a dire emergency, and-” A loud smack echoed throughout the market as Aria’s hoof came down on Sonata.

“Just ignore her.” Aria said, shaking her hoof. “Get us to the house, we’ll pay you, and we can all go our separate ways.”

They could all do it, whatever it was. Mcbiggen began to re-evaluate the situation. Not only did all three mares know about the song, it seemed as if all three of them were able to sing. THey constantly told him to let them handle most situations, did that mean they would sing? If so, what would happen, and why did they hire him?

“Going our separate ways sounds good. So, where am I taking y’all?” He asked, after mulling over the questions for a few short minutes.

“First, we’re heading to the center of the market,” Adagio said. She showed him a map of the city and pointed to a star connected to a red line. “From there we head east until we reach our destination.”

“How will we know when we get there?”

“You’ll know. The house is different”

When the group reached the center of the market place, they headed towards the east in as straight a line they could. They past several houses, and even some patches of farmland, but each time he stop to ask if they had past the destination Mcbiggen was told to keep moving.

As they continued east, all signs of the town slowly faded, leaving only dried grass and dead land. Arcania was a naturally lively country, only the beaches on the coast lacked any amount of green. Therefore, the fact that the area they were entering seemed to lack any life at all made Mcbiggen raise his guard, especially as Adagio neared closer to him. The mares seemed not to mind the abnormality, and continued down the path as if nothing had changed.

Half an hour passed before any new structure came into view. All that he could see in the distance was a horrid looking house that looked as if someone abandoned it long ago. The front door was a hideous red, with a faded copper knob that was in desperate need of replacing. The shutters were scattered about the yard, and every inch of the walls could use a washing. All across the yard, weeds and vines spread about, yet they never came close to the house.

“So, where’s the house y’all need to get to?” Mcbiggen asked, wondering they had passed their destination by mistake.

“That is the house we need to get to,” Adagio said, pointing to a lonely house that loomed over them. “I told you, it’s different.”

“You ladies sure that this is the place?” Mcbiggen asked as he came to a near screeching halt. Looking at their destination, he could not help but feel like he was sending three unsuspecting mares to their deaths. After all, he was not sure that Aria and Sonata deserved what was waiting for them inside. Then again, perhaps they could finally handle a situation by singing a few notes together.

“We’re sure. Not to worry, the interior should be nice. Mcbiggen, I’d be lying if I said that I got everything I wanted out of this venture, but it is what it is. Aria, pay the stallion if you would.” Adagio began to saunter towards the door, leaving Sonata and Aria behind.

Mcbiggen’s eyes narrowed as Aria approached him with not one, but rather two large bags of coins in her aura. “What’s this?” He asked, lifting the bags in his own aura.

“A small thank you for what you did the other day,” Aria clarified. “And an apology for Adagio. She’s our leader, but she’s a handful.”

Mcbiggen placed his payment in his own saddlebags that hung off the sides of his armor. Before Aria could turn to join Sonata and Adagio, who were making their way towards the house, Mcbiggen used his magic to tug her tail. “Why’d y’all hire me?”

“What do you mean?”

“That singing thing, I’m guessing the three y’all can do it. That’s what you meant by handling it. If you three can screw with people like that, why did you hire me for protection?”

Aria could feel a bead of sweat begin to form on her forehead. There were so many things that she could say. She could explain that he was a mere contingency, something to be had in the event they couldn’t sing. She could say that they had only recently perfected their song, and were nervous using it on large groups. There were countless lies to tell, however, Aria decided to tell the truth.

“We didn’t need you for anything. Adagio saw you, thought you were hot, and probably fun in the sack, so she offered you a job so she would have plenty of time to get what she wanted. When it was getting close to the end, she decided to sing. Consider the song a tantrum thrown by a spoiled brat that finally heard the word no. If you’ll excuse me, I need to join my group.”

Mcbiggen released Aria’s tail and allowed her to return to Adagio and Sonata. With his gaze fixed on the ground, he began his trek back into town. Part of him knew he was a piece of meat to Adagio, but he didn’t expect that all he was. Looking at his injuries, he cursed himself for putting himself in harm’s way the other day. He could have died, and for what? Some mare that wanted him to take a roll in the hay.

He shook his head as he came to the more lively land. The fresh air began to slowly rejuvenate his spirit, and, for a brief moment, he smelled the fields of Equestria. There was a weight lifted off his shoulders as he walked further and further away from the mares. Dare he say, it was peaceful.

What would he do now? First, he would need to find a currier and have at least half of his payment sent to his family. After that, he would take a week off from job hunting. He would find a cheap place to rest and wait for his wounds to heal, before beginning the cycle again doing odd jobs or perhaps some familiar farm work. Some small, insignificant part of him was disappointed though. He wasn’t going to meet the fabled centaur the mares constantly talked about.

If only he knew at the time that he would soon meet Tirek in just four days.

“I can’t believe you sang.” Aria’s voice dripped with venom as she caught up with Adagio. Mcbiggen had just turned to leave, leaving the three mares to meet with Tirek.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Aria. What’s so bad about me drudging up the fun thoughts in his head? I’m wondering how he broke free.” Adagio looked back at the stallion as fire ignited deep in her being, sending a twinge of excitement to her core. “I find it exciting. He may have looked ready to kill, but his type of will he has is rare. Oh, the things we’d do if it just faltered.” Adagio became lost in her fantasies. A shiver went up her spine and she bit her lower lip. Thoughts of the stallion giving in and throwing her down filled her mind, sending surges of electricity throughout her body.

“Just remember, we’re not supposed to do that crap here.” Aria’s voice ripped Adagio away from her fantasy, just as things began to get rough. Aria quickly turned to Sonata and shot her a look. “And you, keep your hole shut. The last thing we need is you saying anything that comes into that empty head yours.”

“I know not to sing here, Aria. That would go against orders. And I’m sure that despite her mental impairment in regards to most social situation, she can keep quiet and be her usual annoying self. The dragon’s young, he might find her adorable. You can do that, right, Sonata?” Adagio looked towards Sonata to receive a nod. “Excellent.”

Smiling, Adagio gave the door three powerful knocks.

A Peculiar Party

Unexpected Visits

Why do I let that fool have any say in his court magicians? Tirek thought as he finished penning a letter to Scorpan. It seemed that every mage Scorpan hired was trying to kill everyone in the capital city, albeit unintentionally.

The centaur sat emotionless as he looked at the scroll that had been given to him last week. This time, the spell proposed would “materialize an object that was lost in the past” by combining two classes of magic that had no business with one another. The first class was pure heresy, mingling in the concept of time, and the other was a alchemy, the lowest class of magic. The result would have killed everyone in a five-mile radius.

Tirek tapped his finger on the scroll and reduced the spell to ash. He would send the strongly worded letter to Scorpan later in the day, hopefully resulting in the firing of the mage. The moment he stood to stretch his aching legs, Tirek felt a slight pain as his stomach began to rumble. Something else to sour his mood this morning. Spike, being the slothful boy that he was, had yet to wake up and start cooking breakfast.

Normally, Tirek would have dragged him out of bed, however, after looking at the calendar that hung on his wall he decided to leave the whelp be. It was April the 15th, a miserable little date that held no importance to anyone in his family. Even Spike’s mother was around on April 15th eight years ago, so the date had no significance what-so-ever.

It was nothing more than an irresponsible act of kindness. As unfortunate as it was to admit, Tirek was a martyr to his own generosity. It was he took who Spike in, provided for the lad, and devoted his time to teaching him, all because his poor mother asked him to. All Tirek ever asked in return was effort in when the dragon did his chores and studied. The way Spike repaid him was almost a spit in his face. The dragon rewarded himself for turning in pitiful work the previous day, slacked constantly to read fantasy, and the boy had the gall to dictate to his dear uncle what he would eat for dinner.

Tirek climbed the steps and went to his library, putting his reference books in their proper place and the letter on his desk. Before he could turn and leave to get something from the pantry, three powerful knocks echoed through the house. The centaur lifted a brow as he tried to fathom who could be disturbing him. He was not expecting guests today, and if he was not expecting guests then it was likely his mother’s handmaiden, an annoyance if there ever was one.

His mother used the equine as a stick to beat his patience, having her constantly ferry Spike away to the gargoyle's mansion. If there was a silver lining it was that she would be able to get Spike out of bed. The only downside was that he was going to be forced to play the villain once he forbade Spike from leaving the house. That was going to make Spike all the more spiteful when he cooked later tonight.

He made his way towards the door, dragging his hooves every chance he could. Perhaps, if he took long enough, his would be guest would take a hint and leave him be. To his chagrin, the knocks only became more frequent. He quickened his pace, not because he cared for whomever was at the door, but because doing so was the only to cease the infernal tapping.

“What do you want, you blasted equine!?” Tirek shouted as he threw open the door. He blinked twice to make sure that his eyes were not betraying him. Whilst not his mother’s handmaiden, there stood a pony. Not just one pony, but rather three . At least, they looked like ponies. Tirek kept a stolid expression as he eyed each mare. All three wore bright red pendants around their necks, along with bright colored dresses. If he was younger, and foolish, then he might have found their looks tolerable.

One mare had poufy orange hair, yellow fur, and dark pink eyes that whispered of sinful desires. On her back was a brown saddle bag, something that must have been through wars by the look of it. The second mare was light violate, had pigtails, piercing purple eyes and seemed generally disinterested in him, while the third seemed easily distracted, and a bit ditzy. Weather her demeanor was a façade or not was up for debate, but Tirek knew that her innocence would have men of all species hovering over her, waiting for any command to follow. Tirek made a mental note to keep Spike away from the last one.

“Lord Tirek, I presume?” The yellow mare asked, leaning forward. There was an eagerness in her eyes, something that put Tirek off.

“Tis I,” he answered in a huff. “What business do you have with me? If you’re students, look for a teacher elsewhere. I have all the pupils I need.”

“Oh, we do not mean to take up your time with studies,” She said with a laugh. The mare flashed him a curt smile, but there was something darker lingering behind it. Could it just be her excitement? Perhaps. People often acted strangely in his presence. Of course, there were none that were as powerful as he, however ordinary Tirek might seem.

“My name Adagio Dazzle,” she said, bowing her head. “And these are my sisters, Aria Blaze and Sonata Dusk. We’re searching for rare ingredients for a high paying client, and heard a rumor that a dragon lived here-”

Tirek lifted his hand to silence the mare. “What do you want from him?”

“Oh, nothing that won’t grow back. Just some ingredients. You probably heard about the dragon lands, they’re likely to kill us on sight. Might we please talk with your dragon?”

Tirek’s eyes narrowed. “If it is so important to you, you may talk with my nephew.”

“Your nephew? Oh, I deeply apologize! The way that our employer explained it to us, we were led to believe he was a pet. It won’t happen again, I promise. Might we come in and talk with your nephew?”

“You may,” Tirek motioned for the mares to follow him into the house. “The boy is upstairs in his room,” he explained as he led them through his home. “Before I fetch him, allow me to set some ground rules. There will be no humming, singing, or music from any you.” He waved them off, as the two lesser mares looked at each other, worried. “Do not try to bribe me to force him to give you what you want; it is his choice to give you his scales and spines. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.” A small smile grew as Adagio kept pace with the aging centaur. “Might I ask why no singing? It seems to be an odd rule.”

“Music annoys me, the boy will attest to that. I know Equines, the cuter of you have some blasted need to break into song for whatever reason you can think of. I’d blame the blue one, she seems the type to hum to herself. Stay in there,” he said, motioning towards the den, “I’ll send him down shortly, and do not try to cheat the boy, I’ll be watching to make sure any transactions go smoothly.”

“Understood, Master Tirek. And he’s deciding what to sell us, not you, correct?”

“Again, it’s his choice to give you his scales and spines. ”

“Just making sure, my sister’s and I would hate to take a misstep. If you don’t mind my asking, where is your nephew?”

“If any god is looking out for him, he’s likely up in his room, with a book opened and a quill in his claw.”

The sun’s rays finally landed on Spike, stirring the young dragon from his slumber. “Five more minutes,” he moaned, rolling to his side, and putting a pillow over his head. He desperately wished to return to his dream world. There, he wasn’t just Spike, the dragon, he was Spike the Brave, the glorious knight of Arcania. He shifted in bed for a few moments before finally surrendering to the sun. Letting out a loud yawn as he stretched his limbs, he slowly stumbled his way to his desk and took a seat.

“Good morning,” the young dragon mumbled as he looked towards the picture of his mother. His eyes almost closed as he sat back in his chair. “I know. I wish I could sleep like that all the time.” Spike paused. “Yeah, why not ask Uncle Tirek, like he’d agree to that. He never lets me sleep in-” Spike’s eyes snapped open as he quickly turned to his clock. It was almost 10. He’d overslept. He’d overslept at his uncle's. He’d overslept the day after his uncle wanted him to wake up early. He’d overslept the day after he turned in terrible work. His uncle was going to kill him.

“I gotta go, I love you!” Spike said, scrambling out of his seat. He quickly threw off his nightshirt and opened the top most draw of his borough. Grabbing a plain white shirt, he rushed to get his boots. “I’m dead,” he said to himself as he struggled to get dressed. His bed was unmade, he had yet to wash, and he had not made breakfast. It would be a miracle if his uncle didn’t finally hit him. “I don’t have my cloak on, it’s almost ten, and I am dead!”

Spike grabbed an aqua green robe from the many that hung in his closet and rushed to the door. Perhaps if he went down, cooked the choicest cuts of steaks they had in the pantry to perfection, and read three chapters of his magic textbook while doing it, then maybe his uncle would only ground him for a few weeks. Spike threw his door, and dashed forward, only to smack into two sturdy, yet sickly thin legs. Spike looked up to meet his uncle’s gaze, the old centaur waiting for him with his arms crossed and a brow raised.

Spike began to stammer before finally being able to say, “G-good morning, Uncle Tirek.” He swallowed a forming lump in his throat as his uncle’s eyes narrowed. “I-I-I’m sorry for not getting up earlier and cooking, I didn’t mean to oversleep I just-” Spike bit his lower lip the moment Tirek lifted up his hand.

“I don’t wish to hear your empty apologies,” Tirek snorted. “At least you managed to wake up on your own.” He took several steps forward, passing Spike and making his way over to his nephews desk. “I heard chattering. Talking to your ‘mother’ again?” Tirek asked, looking down at the framed picture that rested on Spike’s desk.

“No, I-I was just talking to myself! It’s a habit that I need to break, it’s just hard. You know me uncle, I struggle.”

“I see. So you screamed ‘I love you’ to yourself.”

Spike turned red as he tried to think of some excuse to give. “Well, Uncle, you see I-I-” His face fell as he sighed in defeat, “I said it to mom-the picture of mom, Uncle.”

Tirek shook his head as he continued to look at the picture. “Lying to your uncle. I wonder, if your mother was here, what would she say?”

“She’d be cross with me, Uncle,” Spike said. His mother was always cross with him when he lied. Even the smallest, whitest lie resulted in his desert privileges being taken away and earning him an extra serving of vegetables with his supper.

“Break this habit, Spike, before I make you break it,” Tirek said, never looking away from the picture. The centaur reached his claw out and touched the picture, causing Spike the tense for just a moment. Spike knew that it had to be a threat. All it would take was one small spell and his uncle could reduce the picture to ash in moments. Then again, if he wanted to ruin the picture, his claws would more than suffice.

“Remember, Spike, your mother is coming back,” Tirek said, ripping Spike way from his thoughts. “In the meantime, we have guests downstairs that wish to speak with you. Converse with them and get them out of my home.” Tirek turned to face his nephew, keeping his expression emotionless.

“Are they alchemists?” Spike asked. Potion Makers, better known as Alchemists, were common company for him and his uncle to have. Rumors had it that enough dragon scales, mixed with a multitude of other ingredients could enhance a person’s strength for an hour or two, but in truth the effects lasted but a few minutes. However, this was unknown to most novices, and as such, it was a common prank to send apprentices out to collect such a rare and ‘useful’ ingredient.

“No, they simply work for one. If there’s one positive that we can take away from this setback, it’s that you’re likely to make some coin from this.”

“Of course,” Spike said with a sigh. His uncle never did like guests. Any mail couriers not under his father’s employ were normally sent to his grandmother’s house. Anyone that was with the church were instructed to leave immediately, and those peddling things that his uncle deemed useless, which was most things, were quite literally thrown off of their property. The only exception to the rules were alchemists and those hired by them. There was only one reason that they were even allowed near the house, and that was because they usually offered him and his uncle coin of some sort.

“Do not give me that look,” Tirek sneered. “If horrid, slithering creatures wish to waste our time, the least they could do is pay for it. Nothing in life is free, Nephew. I think it best you learn that now.”

“Right.” Because it’s so wrong to be kind to pranked alchemists. Spike climbed down the stairs and walked towards the living room. He peeked from behind the corner of the wall to catch a glimpse of his guests, only to quickly shot back behind the wall.

Ponies. It had to be ponies. Worse, they were all cute. Spike could already begin to feel his cheeks start to heat up as his heart sped just a bit. He took a deep breath as he took a single step from behind the wall and made his way towards the mares. The mares turned their heads to him, sending a chill up his spine. Two of the mares smiled brightly at Spike as he came into the room, with one of their eyes lighting up, while the last one seemed woefully disinterested. Still, Spike couldn’t help but notice how their eyes sparkled and shimmered, even in the dimly lit room. Slightly trembling as he came to stand in front of the mares, Spike spoke with a clear and strong voice.

“You must be the guests my uncle told me about,” he said with a small bow of his head. “I’m sorry for keeping you waiting. My name is Spike, Spike Solaris. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” A bit too formal than he would usually give, however, his Grandmother, her handmaid, and his mother had always taught him to be respectful to guests, especially if said guests were lovely ladies.

“The pleasure is all ours! My Name is Adagio Dazzle,” The first pony, a mare with a yellow coat with an orange mane said. “These are my sisters, Sonata Dusk-” she motioned to the light blue mare that sat to her right. The mare uncontrollably hopped up and down in her seat, biting her lower lip as her gaze focused on Spike. “-and, Aria Blaze, who should show how happy she is that such a busy individual has kindly taken time out of his day to meet with us.” she elbowed the purple mare to her left andjerked her head towards Spike.

“Hi.” Aria mumbled, glaring at the dragon.

“You’re adorable!” Sonata cried, standing from the couch. She quickly scooped Spike up into the her arms and began to assault him with a myriad of nuzzles. “After seeing that mean guy, I was expecting you to be some angry bitter dragon, but you’re so cute! Do you two see this?” she asked, holding out Spike towards her sisters. “He’s adorable and snuggly! Oh, can we keep him? I wanna keep him and care for him and snuggle him all day!” She began to squeeze him once again, rubbing her cheek against his, forcing a fire to ignite in his face.

Spike tried to fight any thoughts that entered his head, but found himself in a losing battle as he sunk into Sonata’s soft coat. His sinuses were assaulted by the fresh smell of the ocean and palm trees, as he found himself enjoying the warmth of the embrace. Spike couldn’t deny that a small part of him enjoyed every moment of it. Cursed ponies, why must they be so cute and adorable, stealing the wits of young, unsuspecting dragons such as he?

“Sonata, he’s a child, not a pet. Put him down, now,” Adagio gently demanded, giving Sonata’s wings a tug.

“No! You don’t mind that I’m snuggling you right?” She asked Spike.

There came a small squeak from the dragon.

“One squeak, that’s a yes!” Sonata paused mid-nuzzle. “Wait, Spike Solaris?” She held the limp dragon out at arm's length. “I thought your last name was ‘the Dragon’. What gives?”

“Sonata, why on Earth would you think that his last name’s the Dragon?” Aria asked. “That’s like a gargoyle thinking that your last name is ‘the Pony’.”

“Solaris was my mom's last name,” Spike explained, his voice barely emerging from a small squeak. He silently prayed that his blush went unnoticed. Unbeknownst to him, his prayers went unanswered. “My dad and uncle said that’s just how dragons are.”

“Okay!” Sonata chirped as she restarted her nuzzles.

A loud smack echoed throughout the house as Spike was dropped to the floor, waking him up from his comatose state. He heard Sonata whimpering as she rubbed the back of her head.

“Meanie!” She shouted to Adagio, as tears began to well up in her eyes. She huffed and turned away from her sister, crossing her arms and turning her head.

“I do apologize for my sister,” Adagio said, smiling at Spike. Her expression flattened as she shot Sonata a cold glare. “She’s an idiot.”

“I-it’s fine,” Spike murmured. “I’ll be right back.”

Spike stepped out of the room, only to re enter and whisper something to Sonata. Gasping, Sonata’s mood instantly improved. She whispered into Spike’s ear, earning herself a nod before Spike rushed out of the room once again.

“What was that?” asked Adagio, who was too nervous and annoyed to keep up her smile. Things were not progressing as she had wanted them to. She’d would have liked them to be on their way by now, parted with some coin but with the ingredient their mistress so desired.

“You’ll see!” Sonata sang, concerned only with what Spike had whispered to her.

Spike scuttled off to put on the kettle, and fetch some treats from the pantry. Sonata had him asked if he had any cakes and other pastries available, something that he and his uncle had in droves. Being the gracious host that he was, he would supply them to her and her party. While part of him wanted to serve Adagio whatever dull tea he drudged up from the back, Sonata had made it clear that the three of them enjoyed blueberry tea, with plenty of sugar and honey. He wrinkled his nose at the choice. While Spike never liked the beverage, he preferred raspberry tea himself when he could not enjoy a cup of juice, he knew that his uncle had boxes of it. Not for them, his uncle hated blueberry tea, but for Spike’s mother. Why, if she wasn’t enjoying a small amount of wine with her dinner, she could normally be found with a cup of blueberry tea. If it would make his guests feel more welcomed, then he would gladly drink it.

Taking a platter, Spike began to carefully stack several pastries, including seed and bundt cakes, before he grabbed a box of blueberry tea with his tail. The kettle let out a whistle just as he finished stacking the last cake. The young dragon hurried to the stove, and placed the platter of cakes on a nearby counter. He prepared a pot, and put in on a second platter along with five tea cups. Not Tirek’s favorite beverage, but his uncle would just have to make due. Spike carefully picked up both platters and carefully made his way towards the den.

“Where’s the boy?” Tirek’s voice sliced through the air, filling Spike with a feeling of dread.

“Here! I’m here, Uncle Tirek!” Spike called. He pattered into the room, holding his tray of goods. “Sorry, I was just getting some food for everyone. Don’t want to be rude, right?”

Tirek lifted a brow as his eyes scanned the young drake standing tall, holding two platters of food and drink. “I suppose we don’t.” Tirek snaked over to his arm chair and sat down, his eyes never leaving his guests.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Spike placed the platter of treats on the small coffee table. His uncle always seemed to to think the worst of their guests. If they showed him affection, they were trying to manipulate him. If they asked for food, they were free loaders, and if he was missing for only a second, they had probably kidnapped him. When he was six, his uncle once broke a gargoyles arm and knocked a few of his teeth out. What did he do? According to his uncle, the aristocrat dared to call Spike a pet, and wanted Tirek to sell him the young dragon. Spike was then told that gargoyle got off lucky.

Starting with Sonata, Spike gave each of his guests a cup of tea. When Spike came to Tirek with a cup, he became still, not of fear or worry, but of habit. Tirek’s face fell flat as he sniffed the beverage, looking to Spike as if expecting an apology.

“They wanted Blueberry tea, what was I supposed to make?” He said in a low whisper.

Tirek rolled his eyes as he reluctantly accepted the cup. He knew that had their guests looked like stallions, Spike would have made white or raspberry tea, or given them a cup of juice, and he would not have been so generous with their food. Nothing too surprising, the boy was Scorpan’s son after all.

Spike knew was going to receive a harsh scolding later in the day, but he didn’t mind. His guests were comfortable, Sonata was happily eating her fill, and Tirek sat quietly in his chair. Taking a small bundt cake for himself, Spike smiled as he took a seat across from his guests.

“Well, I must admit that this is a... lovely spread-” Adagio moved a treat Spike had given her towards Sonata, who happily ate it in a single bite, “-however, at the risk of sounding rude, may we skip the pleasantries and move onto more important matters? We have a long journey back home.”

There was a desperate look in her eyes as she leaned in towards Spike, something that he was well acquainted with. Although his scales and spines were next to worthless, alchemists and alchemic peddlers were always excited to obtain them. Part of the reason Spike didn’t just tell them the truth was because it tended to ruin their mood.

Giving the mare a nod, Spike began to roll up the sleeve of his cloak. Before he could stand though, Tirek coughed, earning the young dragon’s attention. Tirek gave his nephew a stern look as he rubbed his thumb against his index finger.

“Right,” Spike said to himself. “Before you take anything, I might need some… convincing.” There was a lack of emotion as he spoke. Spike couldn’t help but feel a twinge of shame for what he was doing. Who was he to be asking three mares for money after they had travelled from Equestria just to meet him? He wondered what would his mother say to that? She’d be appalled, and even worried at his behavior. Then again, his uncle did not mind him earning money, so what did she know about anything?

Tilting her head to the side, Adagio’s lips curled upwards. There was a sort of darkness in her smile, but not one brought on by malice, rather one of excitement.

“A businessman, are we? Very well, if you want some compensation, I’d be more than happy to oblige.” Adagio was not a stranger to hanglers, however, she was no stranger to haggling either. Spike, as adorable as he was, was still a boy, and one that seemed to enjoy the company of youthful maidens. Adagio strode towards Spike, before turning sideways. She flashed the dragon a devious smile, before gripping the hem of her dress, slowly lifting it up until the entirety of her hind leg was almost visible. Attached to her thigh was a small bag of gold that hung from a strap.

Spike eyes went wide for a moment before he lifted his gaze towards the ceiling. His blood rushed to his cheeks as he held his breath in an effort to wish away the mare that stood before him. His uncle was not as perturbed, and merely rolled his eyes at the shameless display. Surely, there was no other place to put their money, it had to be hung from one of the mare’s garter. The fact that the mare took her time exposing herself to a young boy was purely coincidence.

“Here you go,” Adagio said, placing the sack of gold in front Spike. She quickly trailed a hoof under his chin before returning to her seat, sending a pleasant chill running up the dragon’s spine.

Probably not even enough to buy food for a week, Tirek thought taking note of the sack’s small size. It wouldn’t matter to Spike how much he’d been given. The lad was redder than any centaur, and didn’t even bother to look at the purse. There could very well be only three coins resting inside and Spike would be more than happy with the arrangement.

“Thank you, that should be more than enough,” Spike said, still looking towards the ceiling.

“That’s wonderful to hear! Well, if you’re ready, then we can get started.” Adagio rummaged around in her bag for a bit, searching for something specific.

Spike cautiously brought his gave back down to the mares, relieved to see that Adagio was decent. “Miss Adagio, we have tweezers if you can’t find yours. You don’t need to rummage around in your bag.”

Adagio paused, before looking towards Tirek and then to Spike. She let out a sigh as she took a seat next to Spike, putting an arm around him. “Spike, I feel that I must clarify something. You see, our employer doesn’t have a need for things such as Spines and Scales, she wishes to use more valuable ingredients.”

“Valuable how?”

“Aria, show him how valuable. It should be in the right bag.”

Aria lifted a large sack of coins in her aura that made both Spike and Tirek go wide eyed.

“Th-that’s uh, that’s very generous.” Spike began to breathe heavily as he fought not to rip the bag open and rummage through its contents.

“Well, considering you assumed that we were taking scales, I thought it might be appropriate to up the payment a bit.”

“And just what is it you want to take, really?” Tirek said, looking at the mares questionably.

“Oh, well, we might need to take just the tiniest bit of his... blood,” Adagio said after a brief pause.

“You want my blood? Why would you need my blood?!” Spike covered the bend of his arm and stood from his seat, quickly moving towards his uncle.

“Nothing nefarious Spike, I assure you. We just need it for-” The snapping of fingers echoed in the air silencing the party and turning their attention towards Tirek.

“That’s enough out of you,” Tirek camly said as he glared at the mares. “There’s nothing left to discuss. I want the three of you out of my home, now.”

“Lord Tirek, please, we have more money if-” Adagio let out a gasp Tirek lifted the trio in his aura.

“Hey, what’s the big idea!?” Aria shouted.

“Wait, uncle, let them explain themselves, maybe this is just a misunderstanding!”

“There’s no misunderstanding, Spike,” Tirek said, never raising his voice past a soft tone. “What we have here are three fools working for a heretic, if they’re even telling the truth.”

“We are! besides, you said that it was his choice to give us what we needed,” Aria argued, pointing to Spike. “Why not let your nephew decide?”

“Yeah, Mr Grumpy! Plus, I still have, like, three cakes to finish!”

“Sonata, no one cares about the snacks!”

“I care!”

Tirek flicked his pointer finger towards himself, bring the three mares in close. “You three grow less and less charming with each passing moment. And I said that ‘It will be his choice to give you his scales and spines’. If you wish to get dragon blood, then I suggest that you try your luck in the dragon lands. I hear they love your kind.” He leaned in and gently whispered, “Apparently, siren flesh falls off the bone once charred.”

There was a bit of worry in their faces as the three of them fell silent.

“Uncle, what did you tell them?” Spike asked, seeing the frightened look.

“Nothing that concerns you, just stating facts.”

Tirek led the mares through the house before tossing them out the front door.

The three mares landed with a thud.

“Excuse me, we had a bag!” Instantly, Adagio’s saddle bag appeared before her. “We also left two bags of bits with you!”

“Indeed you did. My nephew and I thank you for such charitable donations. Now get off my property, before I blast you into oblivion.” Tirek slammed the door shut, leaving the trio alone.

Spike flinched when the door slammed shut. “You just threw them out! You could have hurt them!”

“Those wretches should count themselves lucky if all I did was harm them. They asked for your blood. For all I know they were Witches, worse, Blood Mages,” The way his face twisted made Spike uneasy to ask his next question.

“Well, I get that those are bad, but maybe they just wanted to see what would happen if they mixed dragon blood into a potion. What’s so bad about that?”

“Spike, you should know why you should not take that risk. Just last week I told you to read ‘The Laws of Magic’, and ‘The Taboos of the World’.”

“I skimmed them?”

Tirek shook his head as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “‘Skimmed them’, ‘Wanted to see what would happen’. You sound like an old student of mine. He asked question like that relating to the darker side of magic, and so I threw him out. The fool of a jackal is probably off gallivanting who knows where, probably committing every taboo there is and making new laws just so he may break them. I would forget childlike inquiries, Spike,” His uncle balked as he looked out a window to see the mares off.

“There are two truths you need to concern yourself with when it comes to magic. The first is that a lack of any moral code will drag you down to the gates of Hades. Secondly, Alchemists are the lowest grade of all scholars, and deserve about as much respect as that bird we ate last night. If they’re not off trying to create the next shortcut in a flask, then they’re wasting their potential toying around with their transmutation circles. It’s magic for those who have no talent for magic. Heed my words Spike, waste your time with alchemy, and you’re dead to me.”

“Does that mean I get to live with grandma or dad?”

“I wouldn’t know, nor would I care. You’d be dead to me.”

It wouldn’t be too heartbreaking in Spike's opinion, but it wasn't something Tirek was likely to keep to. His uncle often told him that if he did wrong he’d be dead to the centaur, but normally the taboo would result in a grounding. Spike looked towards the bags of coins that rested on the floor. Were they not giving the bags back to the mares? If not, were they his to keep? Some small part of him hoped so. There was something enticing about the gold. He wanted to count how much there was, feel the coin in his claws, and hold it close to his chest. He wanted it to be his. Then a thought planted itself into his head. It is all mine.

Just as Spike began to near the sacks, a blazing orange glow surrounded the bags, before an orange construct formed and lightly hit Spike atop his head, shocking him back into reality. The bags were lifted up into the air and pulled towards his uncle.

“Do not think you get to squander these earnings!” Tirek shouted. “The last thing I need is you spoiling yourself with frivolous luxuries!” He calmed himself before continuing. “I’m going to the bank to deposit your gold. While I’m gone, go to the library and read Basic Magic Chapter 2. You will review how to levitate other objects. Be ready to cast the spell by tomorrow. When you’re done, re-read Taboos of the World and the Laws of Magic. No skimming this time, I’ll be sure to test you soon. Are we clear?”

“Yes Uncle Tirek,” Spike responded.

“Good.” Tirek left, locking the door behind him.

“I’m never going to get this,” Spike said with a whimper. The young dragon despondently shut the textbook as he laid his head on his desk. Through lidded eyes, Spike looked at his book before an idea popped in his head. What if he already had enough knowledge to use the spell? Could he even be that advanced? This was a foolish question of course; Spike was nowhere near ready to perform a spell. Nevertheless, once the little dragon had an idea pop into his head, it was difficult to persuade him not to pursue it.

Spike stood up and focused on the book. He reached out his claw, closed his eyes, and imagined and invisible hand reaching out and grabbing the book, before bringing it back to him. Nothing happened. Letting out a disappointed sigh, Spike took a seat back at his desk.

It was just hard, nothing more, nothing less. He knew it was possible for Dragon's to use levitation, he saw it all the time. Though Dragons tended to manifest their magic through their fire breath, his mother had often entertained him using levitation. She helped him fly about outside, earning countless laughs and cries of joys. Other times she would use her spells to make his stuffed toys come alive and move about, telling him stories of a brave dragon knight saving a beautiful gargoyle from the clutches of a Centaur Warlock.

Tirek was often cross when she would trivialize something as sinister as a warlocks and witches, but his mother tended to ignore him. There were the times she would use his uncle to entertain him. While Spike was not one for romance stories, he often enjoyed when his mother would tell him a story of the Grumpy Centaur, who fell in love with a gargoyle, who disliked grumpy centaurs. For some reason, the story often flustered his uncle quite a bit.

While Spike became lost in the stories his mother told him, there came two loud knocks at the front door, earning his attention.

Who could that be? Spike thought to himself. Perhaps it was a mail courier unfortunate enough to be sent from his father? Or was it Adagio and her sisters, come back to demand their money. Spike could only imagine their rage once they found out that his uncle had taken it. There came another set of two knocks. He quickly made his way down to the and peered through the peephole, only to see nothing. A bit odd, the only ones that were unable to bee seen were normally children Spike’s age, and Equine. Perhaps it was Adagio after all.

“Master Tirek?” A familiar voice called, along with another set of knocks. “Master Tirek, are you home? I need to talk with Spike!”

Spike instantly perked up as he quickly opened the door. There on the stoop stood a snow-white unicorn with deep violet hair, and shimmering sapphire eyes. She wore a gorgeous blue dress and ruby necklace, something that Spike had given the mare for her birthday. Spike felt a heat course throughout his body as his heart began to race upon seeing the unicorn in all her splendor.

“Rarity! Hi! Good afternoon!” He said, perhaps too quickly. His voice cracked for a moment, forcing him to clear his throat. “H-how’s your day going?”

“Spike, just the young, handsome drake I wanted to see!” She quickly picked Spike up and gave him a hug. “Everything is fine darling, what about you? I hope that the master has eased up on you a bit.”

“Everything’s great! I was just in the middle of magic studies. Uncle Tirek really wants me to learn as many advanced spells as I can. You know,” he casually leaned against the door, “powerful mage stuff.”

“I understand,” Rarity nodded. “At least he’s doing something right. You know Spike, if you master enough spells, and you might be able to impress a gargoyle.” She nudged him a bit, forcing a blush to appear.

“I don’t know about that. I mean, I don’t think gargoyles are really my type.”

“Oh and what is your type?” Rarity asked, a part of her already knowing the answer.

“I don’t know, a girl with more legs? What about you? Any type of guys are you interested in? Mages, magicians, or anything magically inclined?”

“Me?” Rarity asked, trying to control her smile. “Well, I’ve never been one for mages; I’ve always been more interested in knights if I’m honest. Strong warriors in gleaming armor, a strong physique, honor and valor, oh! The thought can make a girl blush!” Rarity buried her muzzle in her hoof as a grin broke across her face. Spike’s little advances were still the most adorable things she’d ever seen. She always tried to not lead him on, but the young drake often made things difficult with his countless offers to help her with everything she did. She tried countless times to let him down, but he seemed oblivious to her hints.

“You know, I’ve also been asking Uncle Tirek for fencing lessons!” Spike lied. “Can’t let the body grow dull, you know?” Spike cleared his throat his voice grew softer. “Why don’t you come in for a little bit? I could get us some tea, maybe a cake if you’re interested.”

“I wish I could, Spike, alas, her lady needs me to complete a few tasks by day’s end, and I am a bit behind. Fortunately, I have her most precious cargo standing right in front of me.”

“Right! You needed to talk with me. Anything important? Need someone to escort you anywhere, like a dance, or a gathering, or one of Grandma’s parties?”

“Nothing like that I’m afraid. Lady Haydon is just feeling a bit lonely today, and she was wondering if you would like to come for dinner. I suppose your uncle could come if he wants, but personally I find things to be more peaceful without him.”

Spike’s ears perked. “I’d love to, but Uncle Tirek says I need to be ready to cast a spell by tomorrow. I don’t even want to think about what will happen if I don’t. Do you think it’ll be a night trip?”

“Oh Spike, I’m almost certain that it would be. You know how she gets when any of you visit. Dinner, bed, large breakfast and little treats throughout the day. Honestly, she spoils you children,” Rarity giggled. “If I were you, I would jump at the chance.”

“I-I don’t know, Rarity.”

“Come now Spike, you act as if Lady Haydon can’t handle that brute. Just leave a note and I assure you, he’ll be taken care of.” She reached out a hoof and gently stroked his cheek. “Besides, I would love it if you could come. It gets a bit lonely with just the two of us.”

His cheeks flushed red as he struggled struggled to string together any form of response. “I-I-I guess I could go. Just let me pack a few things.” Spike quickly closed the door, leaving Rarity to triumphantly smile.

Spike ran up to his room and packed two bags with everything that he would need. He had his textbooks, a few changes of clothes, his notebooks, his other textbooks, the textbooks he was supposed to read anytime he wasn’t studying, and an adventure novel that he would try to sneak amongst the countless textbooks. His Uncle never liked him reading fiction; he found that it led children to live in fantasy worlds when they should be learning skills that might help them in the future.

Closing his bag, Spike went down to join Rarity, who was putting the finishing touches on a letter before pinning it to the door.

“Anything we need to do before going to Grandma’s?” He asked as Rarity quickly lifted up his bags in her magic.

“There is one thing I needed to take care of before coming here, though I must admit, I procrastinated a bit.”

“Does it involve the Butcher Shop?”

“It may involve the Butcher, yes.”

Spike smiled, trying not to snicker at Rarity’s sudden discomfort. He understood completely. When she first started working for his grandmother six years ago, she’d nearly vomited when she saw him eating a juicy steak. Ponies were not meat eaters after all, and a trip to the butcher shop was not one of Rarity’s favorite activities.

“I could help you out if you want,” Spike offered.

“Spike, you are a true gentlecolt.”

Unexpected Visits

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