The Garedion Conflict

Chapters

Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five

Prologue

Author's Note

Super special thanks to Azure129 and my girlfriend, Lucy, who have proofread and have endured, and continue to endure, my constant questioning and blathering.

Prologue

Fluttershy awoke that morn with a yawn, torpidly rolling out of bed. She ambled over to a small round window and threw open the drapes, allowing the soft morning light to filter through. Several motes of dust twirled in the air, shining white and gold in the sun's yellow rays.

Fluttershy smiled to herself, turning her attention to her animals. Most of them were still asleep, though a few squirrels scurried over the crossbeams above – their light paw-steps loud in the relative silence. One of them saw her and stopped briefly to wave, which she returned with a grin.

She cantered over to the low wooden pantry in the adjacent room, pulling open the cabinets and grabbing a bag of bird feed between her teeth, carrying it back into the main room.

She looked briefly out of the southern window and saw the brook outside flowing steadily, wending its way under the umbrage of the oak trees and then under the bridge, disappearing into the thick weald beyond. A smile touched her lips, and she twisted the lid off of a bird-feeder hanging from the ceiling.

With the utmost concentration, the pegasus poured the blackish gray seeds into the cylindrical apparatus, filling it nigh to the brim. Soon after replacing the lid, several bluejays and robins fluttered over, landing upon the perches and pecking through the many holes to get at the food. They chirped their appreciation, and that was satisfactory enough for her. With a smile, she returned the bag to its pantry and set about feeding the rest of the animals.

Once she was finished tending to the them, she nudged open the front door of her home and stepped outside, shutting it quietly behind her. It was a beautiful summer day, the sun peaking over the virid tree-tops. The chill of morning still lingered, but it would dissipate soon enough.

Fluttershy thought of what to do that day, her mind alight with possibilities. After some deliberation, she decided that it had been a while since she had seen Rainbow Dash, and so she plodded her way over the bridge and made towards the centre of town.

Eventually her hooves brought her to the town square, where a smattering of ponies ambled hither and thither, talking with each-other and buying various goods. She looked around for her friend, but she was nowhere in sight. Feeling unusually jubilant that day, she asked the nearest pony, who happened to be a total stranger, if she had seen Rainbow Dash. With a frown, the pony shook her head but wished her luck in her search. Thanking her, she carried on.

She found the pegasus by a lemonade stand, talking with a pink earth pony with a blue mane. Rainbow Dash finished her drink and turned, nearly bumping nose first into Fluttershy, who let out a startled squeak. The pink pony giggled, causing Fluttershy to glance away timidly.

“Fluttershy!” Rainbow Dash said, approaching with a grin. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know. Just...walking around town.”

Her friend chuckled. “Since when do you just walk around town?”

“Since today?” Fluttershy winced, sincerely hoping she wasn't about to be ridiculed in front of a stranger. When Rainbow Dash just shrugged instead, she sighed in relief.

“So I take it you two have never met?” Rainbow Dash said, nodding towards the other pony.

She shook her head quietly.

“Well this here is Juniper. She's new in town.”

“Hello!” Juniper said with a smile.

“Hi...”

“And Juniper, this here is Fluttershy!” She motioned to her friend.

Juniper held out her hoof, which Fluttershy took after a pause. “Um...it's nice to meet you.”

“It's nice to meet you too!” Her grin widened as she shook hooves with the yellow pegasus. Suddenly, her eyes lit up. “Hey, would you like some lemonade?”

Fluttershy rubbed the back of her neck. “Oh, sure! I think I'd like that.” She offered a smile.

Juniper chuckled, rolling her eyes. “Well so long as you think you'd like that, then I think I can get you a glass,” she said jovially, setting a cold cup of lemonade out on the counter.

Fluttershy thanked her and took a sip. “It's very good.” She turned to Rainbow Dash. “Dash, I actually came to see you.”

Rainbow Dash raised an eyebrow and tilted her head slightly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, I uh...was wondering if maybe— ”

Quickly, she shook her friend by the shoulders, causing Fluttershy's eyes to roll. “Out with it!”

Once her eyes came to a stop, she said, “I was thinking maybe you could give me flying lessons? If that's all right...”

Rainbow Dash blinked, then blinked again. “Whoah,” she said, pointing a hoof. “Did Fluttershy of all ponies just ask me for flying lessons?”

“Um...yes?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

Fluttershy paused. “Telling you?”

Rainbow Dash beamed, shaking Fluttershy again. “That's great!” She flapped up into the air. “When do we get started?”

Flutershy smiled. “Maybe after breakfast?”

“Hey, you shouldn't fly on a full stomach. It weighs you down!”

“But I'm hungry,” she replied with a pout.

Rainbow Dash sighed. “Okay, okay. But after we eat, that's it. Got it?” Fluttershy nodded.

“Good!” She landed back on the ground, taking up her lemonade from the counter and swigging the last of it. “Let's head over to the Hay Burger and get some grub.” She turned to Juniper. “Good meeting you, June.”

“Likewise,” she said with a grin. “I was wondering, might I tag along?” She clopped her hooves together and laughed nervously. “If I'm not interfering.”

Rainbow chortled and reached over the counter, nudging her lightly. “Interfering? No way!” She looked at Fluttershy. “That okay with you, Shy?”

The pegasus offered a timid smile. “Of course.”

“Great,” Juniper said, locking the doors at the back of her stall and coming around the front. “I do enjoy making new friends!”

Together they walked across town to the Hay Burger. Though there were a multitude of ponies out and about, anypony that frequented the town knew that this morning was a relatively calm one; that would change around noon, however, and Fluttershy elucidated that she preferred to be away from the town afore then. Rainbow Dash smirked while Juniper told her not to worry, and both ponies promised her their protection. Fluttershy found herself grateful for their company.

The group sat down at a round wooden table in an outdoor court that abutted upon the main building. Soon a mustard-coloured stallion with a light blue shirt approached them, asking them – with a note of languor – what they would like. After they ordered, he nodded and told them it would be ready in ten minutes before disappearing behind the building's double-doors.

“Not many ponies here today,” Rainbow Dash said casually. “In fact, I think we might be the first customers of the day.”

“Fine by me,” came Juniper's reply. “Crowds stress me out.”

Rainbow Dash chuckled. “Doesn't stop you from selling lemonade in the middle of town.”

The pink pony shrugged, smirking slightly. “Have to make bits, don't I?”

“Selling lemonade isn't exactly what I'd call an effective way to make bits.”

Juniper smirked. “Yeah well once you find me a better job opportunity, let me know.” She turned to Fluttershy. “What about you – what do you do?”

“Oh,” she said, avoiding Juniper's gaze. “I'm a veterinarian; I just take care of animals.”

Juniper pursed her lips, shrugging lightly. “That's cool.”

Fluttershy smiled and looked at the pink pony. “Really?”

“Yeah, totally.”

“There's nothing cooler than Fluttershy,” Rainbow Dash said with a grin, nudging her friend on the shoulder and causing her to blush lightly.

The waiter returned with their order, and Fluttershy hungrily rived off pieces of her sandwich in a manner that was not very befitting of her. Once everyone had finished with their meals, Rainbow Dash smacked her lips and sighed. “That was good – but a little on the expensive side.”

“Could be worse,” Juniper said casually.

“Hey, things could always be worse.” Rainbow Dash smiled at the pink pony. “Don't be a stranger, June.”

“I won't.”

Fluttershy spoke up. “It was nice meeting you, Juniper.”

Juniper looked at her warmly. She took Fluttershy's hoof and gave it a shake. “Likewise, Fluttershy. I hope we meet again sometime.”

“Likewise,” she said, turning to Rainbow Dash. “Should we get started?”

The two ponies plodded away from the restaurant, the sun rising in the sky. They made their way through a small, shadowed copse and emerged into a verdant sward, the tall grass blowing in the warm summer breeze. Together they climbed to the top of a hill where the grass was shorter, and Rainbow Dash looked out across the field, giving her wings a couple testing flaps. She looked at Fluttershy, who appeared to be somewhat timorous. “You okay, Shy?” she asked, taking a step closer.

Fluttershy took a deep breath, closing her eyes and lifting her head towards the sun, allowing its gentle embrace to assuage her fears. When she again opened her eyes, she found Rainbow Dash staring at her curiously. “I'm all right,” she assured. “I just got a little bit nervous.”

Rainbow Dash smirked, sighing softly. “Okay, no worries. Where do you want to begin?”

Fluttershy paused to consider. “At the beginning, maybe?”

“You already know the basics,” she said with a chortle. “I don't think we need to go over that again, but if you insist!” She stepped up to the edge of the hill, flapping her wings again. “All you do is flap your wings, and you keep that up until you get enough lift to get off the ground.” With a couple flaps of the wings, she slowly began to raise into the air, hovering a few feet off the ground. She smiled at Fluttershy, then said, “Okay, your turn.”

She narrowed her eyes in focus and got into position, opening up her wings and giving them a long stretch. She then flapped once, and then again. Then again. She kept it up until Rainbow Dash sighed, landing next to her. The cyan pegasus wrapped a foreleg around her. “Look Shy, I've seen you do this before. There's nothing to it!”

Fluttershy glanced down at her hooves, crestfallen. “S-sorry...I guess I'm just best at flying when I get emotional.”

Rainbow Dash smirked, raising an eyebrow. “When you get emotional, huh?”

She nodded.

“Okay, then how about this?” she said, circling around to her other side. “You care about Angel, right?”

Her eyes widened. “Um, yes...why?”

“Just work with me, here.”

“O-okay...” She blinked and swallowed nervously.

“What if Angel really needed you to fly for him? You would do it, right?”

“Of course!” she blurted, causing Rainbow Dash to involuntarily wince.

“All right, so just think of how much you care about him and fly!”

Fluttershy sighed, looking away shamefully. “I'm not sure if I can.”

“Oh yeah?” Rainbow Dash leaned close, her muzzle inches from Fluttershy's ear. “Well if you don't, Angel will” – Fluttershy's eyes were as wide as saucers – “miss his lunch!”

He wouldn't, of course; she had made preparations previously to ensure that he would remain well fed today – but that was all it took. In a moment of panic, Fluttershy squeaked and raised up into the air, her wings beating quickly and erraticaly as she hovered several feet off the ground.

Rainbow Dash smirked, cocking an eyebrow at her friend. “See? There you go.” She launched herself back into the air, floating next to Fluttershy. “Just keep flapping and you won't fall, got it?”

Fluttershy gulped, trying her best not to look down. “Got it.”

“Sweet, now follow me!” With that, Rainbow Dash soared up into the air, turning around and smiling at her friend. “Come on!”

Hesitantly, Fluttershy flapped up to her level, rising up above the tree tops. Tremulously, she flew over to Rainbow Dash. “Rainbow...I'm not really that comfortable with being up this high.”

Rainbow Dash grinned, gliding over. “Hey, what are you worried about? I wouldn't let anything happen to my best bud!”

Fluttershy returned the smile as their eyes met. “Really?”

“Of course! Now come on, I'll show you how to really fly.”

Together they soared up into the air, Ponyville passing slowly beneath them. The skies were a bright cerulean, the sun a glowing yellow disc. In the distance, pillowy white clouds crawled across the sky. Fluttershy struggled to keep up, and she still found herself nervous about the height. She beat her wings faster to try and keep pace with Rainbow Dash, but she found herself struggling. Eventually she was able to catch up to her friend, and over the air currents she called out. “I'm getting a little tired!”

Rainbow Dash gazed at her, smirking. “Then don't flap your wings so much!”

Fluttershy blinked once, then twice. “But won't I fall?”

She rolled her eyes. “Observe.”

Elegantly, she held her wings in an outstretched position, the wind tousling her feathers. Fluttershy watched with fascination as Rainbow Dash didn't fall, but rather glided effortlessly through the air.

“You try it!” Rainbow Dash said with a wink.

Tentatively, Fluttershy closed her eyes and did so. When she again opened them, she found herself gliding next to Rainbow Dash. Her lips twisted upwards in a grin, the air coursing through her fur, the virid trees passing underneath.

In that one moment, for the first time in her life, Fluttershy found herself utterly unafraid of flying. The wind in her mane, the approving smile of her friend – it was an elation that was ineffable, and it surged in her chest like a dam waiting to burst forth. “Wow,” she whispered, eyes glossing over the vista that was all around her.

“What was that?” Rainbow Dash shouted, coming closer. Fluttershy looked at her quizically. The cyan pegasus pointed a hoof at her ear. “Couldn't hear you over the wind!”

“Oh,” she replied, chuckling lightly. “I said wow!”

“You can say that again!”

“Rainbow, this is amazing!”

Rainbow Dash beamed. “Don't I know it.” She motioned with her hoof over to a clearing of fallow grass. “You want to practise landing?”

Fluttershy shook her head. “I want to stay up here for just a little longer.” Grinning, she flapped her wings a couple times to steady her altitude.

“If you say so!” Rainbow Dash laughed. “Let me know once you start getting tired and we'll head back down.”

“I will.”

Side by side they flew, two best friends soaring through the infinite blue sky, the towns and roads dimunutive beneath, looking more and more like paths made by insects rather than ponies.

Hours passed and the sun slowly set, the clouds and horizon becoming tinted with hues of red and gold. To Fluttershy, it had felt like no time at all. A shadow had been lifted from her soul and she had finally seen the light, had embraced the freedom of the sky and the wonders of flight. She felt weightless, a free spirit frolicking through the air, fumbling sometimes, though more happy than she had ever known; and that happiness was not hers alone, but also her friend's as she glided alongside her, silently watching, ever smiling – and the joy that Fluttershy felt belonged to both of them, together in the darkening sky.

Twilight was in the midst of reading when a loud thump from her balcony startled her and broke her concentration. After several moments of silence, she returned her eyes to the pages of A Canterlot Tale, mulling over the words written thither. When another thump sounded, she groaned and stood up from her desk.

Wondering who she'd have to admonish for interrupting her, she walked towards the large glass doors leading out onto the terrace. She nudged them open sleepily and turned, opening her mouth with a rebuke on the tip of her tongue when she found herself face to face with something bright and blue. With a shout, she skittered backwards and fell onto her rump, horn firing a warning shot into the air as her eyes snapped shut. Then there was a sound: the sound of laughter. Not one voice, but two.

“Geez, egghead, I didn't know you were that jumpy!” someone exclaimed.

She knew that voice, and she opened her eyes. “Rainbow Dash,” she stated with a glare, trying her best to look annoyed. She couldn't, however, hide the amusement in her voice nor the smile upon her lips. Then she noticed something else. “Fluttershy, how did you get here?”

The yellow pegasus stepped forward, standing next to Rainbow Dash. She smiled at her friend. “Sorry if we woke you.”

Twilight returned the smile. “You didn't; I've been up reading.”

“As usual,” Rainbow Dash jested, walking over and giving the alicorn a playful nudge.

“Yeah, yeah.” She rolled her eyes with a smirk. “That doesn't answer my question, though.” She looked at Fluttershy, then back to Rainbow Dash.

“Well if you want to know,” the cyan pegasus said, trotting over to her friend and wrapping an arm around her, “Fluttershy here flew!”

Twilight looked at them blankly, glancing back and forth between the both of them. Fluttershy was grinning immensely, as well as blushing – as well as looking away furtively. She knew what Rainbow Dash had just said, but Twilight’s mind was packed to the brim with so many castles and forests and adventure that she didn't fully register. “Huh?”

Rainbow Dash grunted, placing her hoof against her face. She repeated herself slowly in a tone that suggested Twilight was a naive filly. “Fluttershy flew with me, for hours,” she said, placing particular emphasis on the last word.

Finally, Twilight realised what she meant, and then a smile grew on her face as she rushed over to Fluttershy, looking at Rainbow Dash for confirmation. “Really!?”

The cyan pegasus nodded. “Wouldn't lie, Twi!”

She turned back to Fluttershy, who seemed to be even more crimson than before.

“That's amazing!” Twilight said, wrapping her forelegs around Fluttershy's neck, pulling her into a tight hug and nuzzling her. Then she blushed and released Fluttershy from her grasp, backing away slightly and clearing her throat. “Sorry, I got excited.”

Fluttershy giggled, looking at her friend warmly. “That's okay,” she assured her.

“I'm really proud of you,” lauded Twilight, placing a supportive hoof on her side. “It's not easy overcoming your fears; I know that all too well.”

“I'm proud of her, too,” Rainbow Dash said. “She did great today.”

Twilight chuckled. “Well let's not stand out here in the cold. Let's go inside and you two can tell me all about it!”

The three of them sauntered into the room, Twilight shutting the doors behind them to keep out the chill. She led them to a low circular table surrounded by dark blue cushions, Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy plopping down on the seats.

“Can I get you girls some tea?” Twilight enquired with a jovial smile.

“I'm good,” Rainbow Dash said, stifling a yawn. She turned to Fluttershy. “You?”

She shook her head. “I'm going to bed soon.”

Twilight nodded, taking her own seat at the table. “So, who's going to tell me what happened?”

“I can!” Fluttershy said, rasing her hoof.

Twilight grinned at her. “Good, I get to hear it straight from the horse's mouth.”

Rainbow Dash grunted, fixing her with a glare. “You're lucky I don't have anything to throw at you.”

“What?” said Twilight with a shrug. “I thought it was pretty good.”

“That's your idea of pretty good?” Rainbow Dash replied incredulously. “You know what? It's cool.” She sighed and looked at the pegasus beside her. “Go ahead, Flutters.”

Without hesitation, Fluttershy began to apprise Twilight of what happened earlier that day. She included every detail, from her first lilliputian flaps of the wing to her near falls at high altitude. Twilight seemed highly intrigued, and might have been taking notes if her notebook was present.

Twilight offered a gentle smile. “So weren't you nervous?”

“At first, yes...but with Dash by my side I knew I was completely safe. The experience was like living your whole life in the darkness and then taking your first steps out into the light. Frightening, but exciting at the same time.”

“I understand,” Twilight said. “Back when I lived in Canterlot—”

“Back when you were an egghead,” Rainbow Dash interrupted, earning her a glare from the alicorn. She shrugged. “Okay, you're still an egghead.”

Twilight rolled her eyes and cleared her throat. “Anyhow, back when I lived in Canterlot, I preferred to lock myself in my room reading and wouldn't emerge for days.”

Rainbow Dash opened her mouth to insist that not much had changed, but a stern look from Fluttershy prevented her from doing so.

“I completely avoided other ponies except from the ones I already knew – my family and of course Celestia – and the thought of social contact was, in all honesty, a little uncomfortable. I had some other ponies that considered me friends, but I didn't treat them with the courtesy they deserved...” Her eyes became distant as she remembered what she had done to Moondancer. Sighing, she shook her head and continued. “Coming to Ponyville for the first time, though I had been trying desperately to avoid everypony, was a bit like what you said, Fluttershy: taking my first steps out of a dark room that I had been sequestered in for my entire life.”

Fluttershy gave a quiet nod.

“Anyways,” Twilight said with an awkward grin, “sorry about going off on that little tangent.”

“It's okay.”

“Did you girls want to stay overnight or something?” Twilight said as she stood. “I've been working on my slumber party techniques!”

Rainbow Dash laughed, giving her a nudge. “I'm sure, but not tonight. I've got some winks to catch.”

“Me too, and I really should get back and check on the animals.”

Twilight smiled at the both of them. “Okay, that's fine. Feel free to stop in whenever – princess duties can get pretty boring.”

“I'm sure,” Rainbow Dash said with a wink. She turned towards the balcony, stepping outside. “Catch you two later!”

As she took off, Twilight turned her attention to Fluttershy. “So, are you going to fly home?”

Fluttershy smiled at her. “I might.” She paused. “Though, since I am new to this I was wondering if maybe you could fly with me? If that's okay.”

Twilight rested a hoof on her shoulder. “Of course it's okay. Filly steps.”

Twilight bid her farewell, flying off into the night. Quietly, as not to disturb the animals, she stepped inside, turning a knob on a nearby lamp as she closed the door. The room filled up with the wan, flickering light – casting dark shadows on the room's extremeties. Up above the ceiling was nearly black, and the moon shone weakly through the mullioned windows. She stepped over to the hearth and pulled some logs off the adjacent pile of wood, setting them neatly within the brick fireplace. It was then that she heard a petulant tapping from behind.

She turned and looked around, then discerned Angel, his face half ensconced by darkness. He looked at her with a hard expression on his face, then motioned to his wrist as if asking, 'Where have you been?'

“Oh, I'm so sorry!” said Fluttershy, plodding over to him. “I meant to be back earlier. You had lunch, didn't you? I left it all ready.”

Angel shook his head, then went and fetched the bowl of salad she had prepared for him. He pointed to the top of the salad, glaring at her.

Her eyes widened. “I forgot the cherry on top!”

The bunny folded his arms, harrumphing as he turned away.

“Again, I'm sorry.” She sniffled lightly. “I just got so distracted flying with Rainbow Dash...”

Angel looked at her, gaze softening. He raised an eyebrow and walked over, then touched her on the leg. He pointed at her and did a flapping motion with his paws. A question.

“Yes, I flew today with Rainbow Dash,” she said with a nod.

He paused, then pointed up towards the air.

She giggled. “Yes, way up in the sky.”

Angel blinked, then took the salad and hopped off towards the kitchen, leaving a very addled Fluttershy standing there. When he returned, he held up the salad – there was a cherry on top. She stammered, unsure of what to say. “F-for me?”

He nodded, then held it out further – imploring her to take it.

A smile touched her lips. She gingerly took the bowl between her teeth and ambled over to the small table seated by the northern window, a lucid view of the forest and sky beyond. Angel hopped up onto the chair opposite, then onto the table. Together they sat there, watching as the cold night winds caressed the trees and set their leaves dancing – and Fluttershy's gaze was drawn high up in the sky, where a lone, effulgent star shined through the darkness.

* * *

Far to the west, across the great rolling waves of the Phantasmal Sea, was an isle inhabited by gargoyles. In this place, a group of three gargoyles sat huddled beneath an outcropping of rock and bramble. One of them, with sharp green eyes and a mane of the darkest brown, pointed with a clawed finger to the brightest star in the sky. “Thari, the goddess of the stars,” he said to the one seated beside him: a taller gargoyle, sinewy and with a mane resembling that of a wild beast and a scraggly black beard hanging from his chin.

He grunted, leaning back against the cold stone and fingering the haft of his sword. “Not the way I was taught it.”

The other turned to him, brow raised slightly.

“My parents taught me that star there used to be the spirit of some hapless tavern wench that a sailor fell in love with, and when she died the sailor left back to the seas.” He shifted into a more comfortable position. “The night she died, a star that was brighter and greater than the rest o' them appeared in the sky, and he knew it was her calling him to the ends of the earth; so he took off upon his ship and sailed away, following the star – never to return.”

“Not bad,” said the one with green eyes. He peered over at the third member of their group, a small and lithe individual that had thitherto remained taciturn. “What do you think?”

He shrugged, staring off into the distance. “Don't know,” he said in a voice so quiet that both had to strain to hear it.

“Don't know,” said the tall one with a smirk. “Well that's an entertaining story.”

The one with green eyes nudged him gently in the arm with his elbow. “Don't heckle him, Gyras. You know he could tell a better story than the both of us combined.”

“I realise that.” He chuckled, taking a swig from his flask. “Was just hoping for some better entertainment, that's all.” He handed the flask out to the one with green eyes. “You want some?”

He shook his head, holding up a clawed hand. “I'm fine.”

Gyras shrugged, offering it to the other. “Kan?”

Kan looked for a moment at the flask, then at the lumbering brute offering it to him. He took the flask and had a sip, then grimaced at the taste. He handed it back, wiping his mouth.

Gyras smirked, stuffing the flask into the inside pocket of his gray-fur jerkin. “You get used to it.”

A rustling brought the three of them to their feet, swords ringing out of their scabbards. Out of the bushes emerged a scruffy gargoyle, a self-satisfied smirk plastered upon his countenance. He bowed to the one with green eyes. “Cygil,” he said waggishly, meeting Cygil's startled gaze with his nonchalant one.

“Ghul, how fared your expedition?” Cygil replied, sheathing his blade. The others did the same.

A winsome smile spread across his lips. “Oh, it went very well.” He turned, gesticulating over the ridge. “There's an enemy encampment to the north of here—”

“Fweilan?”

“Presumably.”

Cygil crossed his arms. “How do you know?”

Another grin. “Who else would be this far north? Anyhow, I suggest we go and investigate.” He motioned to the bow on his back. “If we run into trouble, I'm sure we can handle ourselves.”

Gyras muttered something unintelligible, though from the tone Cygil knew it was a complaint. Kan remained silent as ever.

“Okay, let's get moving. We'll want to be there before they return so we can set up a proper ambush.”

The four of them marched through the brush, over hillocks and rocky fields, through copses littered with emaciated trees and across rivulets that sparkled in the moonlight. All the while, Gyras maintained his sour disposition, giving voice to his anger whenever he kicked a rock or stumbled over a protruding root. He was walking up ahead in stride with Ghul, who deftly led the way. Cygil and Kan fell behind, keeping mostly to themselves.

Kan toiled up the hill, Cygil close behind them as they reached for any footholds they could get.

“Coin for your thoughts?” said Cygil, heaving himself up onto the plateau and offering out his hand. Kan took it, pulling himself up beside the older gargoyle.

“Have you ever wondered if we're on the right side?” he said as they resumed walking.

Cygil gave him a sidelong look. His mouth quietly opened and then closed, and then he stared off into the slowly passing woods, a seemingly endless legion of trees stretching out into the darkness. After several moments he sighed. “Yes, I have wondered,” he said softly.

“When?”

Another sigh. “The sack of Strodhand, but perhaps that story can wait for another time. The things I have seen there bring me too much pain to recall.”

“I understand,” Kan said, walking steadily beside him.

Their eyes met, a shadow of worry flickering across his face. “And if you know what's best for you, you'd do well not to repeat these doubts to another.”

The young gargoyle blinked, giving no response.

Up ahead, Gyras and Ghul had crouched near the top of a grassy knoll. The latter was motioning for the other two to hurry up, and Cygil and Kan quickened their pace, kneeling down into the dirt beside them. Ghul pointed over the ridge, and Cygil hoisted himself up to see. Before them was a gently-sloping valley, surrounded on its eastern and western sides by ridges smattered with boulders and dense firs. There was a swarth betwixt the two ridges and Cygil's eyes were drawn to its centre to a small circle of tents, relatively unadorned aside from a few wolf pelts hanging loosely off the top. “Looks like them,” he said, looking through an eyeglass. “But no one's home.”

“They'll be back,” Ghul said. “There’s meat cooking on the spit.”

Cygil had another look. “You're right.” He got to his feet, dusting off his gambeson. “We should go down there and check it out.”

“There's not much, but if you insist.” He motioned to the valley. “After you.”

They descended the hillside, the moon casting mottled shadows from the canopy above. Reaching the bottom, they strode across the fallow wold to the circle of tents, flapping lightly in the wind. One by one they searched each tent, finding nought but furs, some axes, and a banner with the Fweilan red wolf on a black background.

Ghul whistled, catching their attention. “Look here,” he said, crouching low and pointing to a patch of dirt. There in the dirt were several hoof-prints, partially faded though conspicuous to those with a trained eye. “They seem to have headed east into the weald.” He pointed over a steep ridge with fir trees dotting its side. “Went hunting, probably.”

“All of them?” Gyras asked.

Ghul scratched his chin, wrinkling his nose. “Guess so.”

“It's worth a look,” Cygil said. “You know how Zygar gets when we come back empty handed.”

“Ugh, don't remind me,” replied Gyras with a huff. “The last time he had me scrubbing latrines for a week.”

A smirk worked its way onto Cygil's lips. “I don't know, somehow it suits you.”

“Oh, bugger off.” He shoved Cygil away, but there was no malice behind it. Surely enough, the two of them began chuckling, and Kan found himself smiling along with them.

Gyras held up his hand, silencing the group. “Quiet, I think I hear something.”

They all shared an uncertain glance as they furrowed their brows and strained to hear.

Soon enough they all heard it, and Cygil found himself blanching. “Cavalry,” he said, pulling his sword from his scabbard.

Ghul flinched, but he didn't go for his weapon. “Everyone hide.”

“Where?”

“In the tents!”

They all scrambled, disappearing under the flaps of the nearest tent. Cygil looked around, the interior nearly pitch black aside from a thin trail of moonlight creeping in from the entrance. In the corner was a messy pile of furs, and thinking quickly he threw himself into them, covering himself from head to toe as best as he could.

Outside the sound of hooves approached, and Cygil could discern faint voices mumbling to each-other. It didn't seem like they had discovered his comrades yet, but that was likely soon to change. He tensed as he heard the flap to his tent open, the sound of heavy boots walking, then stopping next to where Cygil was hidden. He went still, holding his breath. There was the sound of something being dropped on the ground, and Cygil thought he could sense the sharp scent of blood in the air; a kill from hunting, maybe.

For some reason unbeknownst to him – maybe his feet were sticking out – the gargoyle threw the furs off of Cygil and looked down at him with a bewildered expression on his face. Cygil gave a coy wave, and then the sound of shouting erupted outside.

The other drew his sword and swung it, Cygil rolling out of the way as the ground exploded into a cloud of dust. Awkwardly he fumbled for his own weapon, pulling it free of his sheath and swinging it. The other backstepped and came back with a thrust of his own, aiming for Cygil's chest. He parried it deftly, the two blades singing as they scraped against each-other.

Back and forth they went, swords dancing as they circled around in the confined space. Cygil's foot caught something and he fell backwards, crashing into the side of the tent and bringing it down around them. The other howled something obscene, trying to make his way towards Cygil in the blinding tangle of burlap.

Somehow Cygil managed to crawl out of the fallen tent and out into the crisp night air, spinning around and parrying another's sword in the nick of time. He could see his other squad mates locked in battle. Ghul was in the process of stabbing one of them repeatedly in the chest, Kan was doing his best to stay away from a raging gargoyle's sword, and Gyras was shouting as he hacked another's shield into splinters.

The one Cygil was fighting slugged him in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. He barely got his sword up in time to block the overhead swing. It jolted the muscles in his arms, sent him staggering backwards. He growled, swinging at the gargoyle's maw. The other slashed his blade aside, then delivered another punch to Cygil's exposed ribs. He fell down on his knees, coughing up bile. As the other raised his sword to finish the job, he was knocked off his feet by a vehement, screaming Gyras.

Kan was still doing his best to back away from the fighting, though one was right on his tail. Cygil staggered to his feet as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, Gyras bringing down his axe on the hapless gargoyle's head, again and again, until nothing was left but an oozing, red mess. He cast a quick glance Cygil's way, then began running after Kan's attacker.

The gargoyle that had fallen in the tent was still floundering about beneath the fabric. Finally he found his way out, only to be greeted by the cusp of Cygil's blade. He held it firmly against his neck, eyes locked with the other's. They stood there, breath smoking in the night as the sounds of combat died off. Cygil pressed the blade harder against his throat, and the other put up his hands in surrender.

Soon the rest returned, exhausted but otherwise unscathed. Kan panted, wiping his hands on his knees. “I'm not used to close-quarters,” he said.

“Neither were they,” Gyras said. He looked at the gargoyle held in place by Cygil's blade. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

“We need to keep one alive for interrogation,” Cygil replied, watching the gargoyle intently.

Kan rubbed the back of his neck. “How do we ensure he doesn't get away?”

Gyras snorted and walked over, pushing Cygil aside.

“Gyras, wh—”

He swung his fist, cracking against the side of the gargoyle's head and sending him sprawling in the dirt. He knelt down, then rolled him onto his back. He was out cold, but still breathing. “There.”

Kan coughed, looking away awkwardly. Ghul was doing his best not to chuckle, and Cygil just shrugged. “Whatever works, I suppose,” he said. He looked over, noticing the brown and black horses that were tied to a pole nearby. “Anyone want to ride home?”

“You bet I do,” Gyras said. “My feet are killing me!”

They cantered back towards home, the soft rolling hills dotted with pine far away to the west. The sky had turned from black to a gentle, bluish-gray, the hint of the red sunrise limning the wispy clouds above. Cygil rode in front, the others astride behind him.

Gyras took a swig from his flask as they rode, the limp body of the gargoyle draped across his horse's rump, swaying back and forth with each step.

The land stretched away before them, fallow grass with bare patches of dirt. Ahead of them, to the north, was a peninsula ensconced by fog, and a town seated near the crest of a tall escarpment, its tall stone walls trailing down the hillside. Below was a long tract of wold, the short grass blowing lazily in the frigid dawn air. Cygil glanced over his shoulder at his comrades, all taciturn and grim in the morning fog. He cleared his throat, causing Kan to look up from his reins.

“Good to be home, eh?” Cygil said, attempting a smile.

Kan sighed. “I didn't miss it.”

Cygil raised an eyebrow, but shrugged and turned around, returning his gaze to the gray mullioned walls in the distance.

“The second we're back, I'm going straight to the nearest tavern,” Ghul said, a grin on his face. “Maybe a brothel, too.” He turned to Gyras. “What about you?”

“Catch up on some sleep, I reckon.” He yawned, licking his lips. “All this travelling has made me exhausted.”

Kan hummed an agreement, shifting in his saddle. He tried not to look at the limp gargoyle slung across Gyras's mount, but couldn't help but stare, gulping down his saliva.

Gyras caught his stare and turned. “You see a lot of bodies in our line of work; you know that.”

He looked at Gyras, then looked away, gripping his reins tighter. Cygil thought he could see the traces of a frown on his lips. “Yeah,” he said quietly.

Gyras sighed, shaking his head and muttering something under his breath.

Ahead in the distance, a lone rider emerged from the castle gates. He made his way down the hillside and then spurred his horse to a gallop, flinging up mud as he advanced towards Cygil's party. They slowed, eyeing the rider suspiciously. Cygil held his hand up over his eyes, squinting. “Is that a red feather on his cap?”

Gyras drew up beside him. “Looks like it.”

“That would be a messenger,” Ghul said, causing everyone to glare at him. He threw up his hands. “Sorry.”

Cygil sighed, spurring his mount to a quick canter, the others following suit. “Let's find out what he wants, then.”

He met them in the middle of the field, and as he drew closer, Cygil noticed the helmet covered the entirety of the messenger’s face, and his voice came out in a low growl.“Which one of you is Cygil?” he asked.

“That would be me,” came his hesitant reply. “What's this about?”

“Summons from Marshall Diodamir.”

Cygil glanced at his comrades, then back at the faceless messenger before him. “Did he say why?”

“No,” came his terse response. He motioned towards him. “Come with me, by yourself. The others must stay behind.”

Cygil bridled at the way he was being spoken to. He gripped his reins tighter, then indignantly said, “First you will identify yourself.”

“I am an envoy of the marshall; that is all you need to know.”

Cygil levelled a glare at him. “All right,” he said. Then, after a moment’s hesitation: “Lead the way.”

One

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Two

Twilight looked at herself in the mirror one more time as she ran the brush through her mane. Ordinarily, she wouldn't have bothered, but as the newest princess of Equestria, there were certain aesthetic standards she had to uphold; one of which was making sure her mane was just right. Rarity, she reflected as she looked into the mirror, would have no issues with such a thing – she was overly concerned with her outward appearance, and this would have been little more than rigmarole for the white unicorn. It wasn't for Twilight, however.

She sighed as she levitated the brush down onto the marble sink, turning the faucets and lightly splashing her face with gelid water, which did little for the dark circles around her eyes. She would have slept in, if possible – but earlier that morning, at practically the break of dawn, Spike had barged into her chambers and woken her. Initially disgruntled, her disposition changed when he held up a scroll bearing the royal seal of Celestia. The old princess hadn't been sending her much as of late, so it was with curious eyes that she read the message contained therein.

Celestia had requested her presence in Canterlot, claiming it was of the uppermost importance that she, as well as her five friends, arrive as soon as possible. Not being one to keep the princess waiting, she responded to the letter immediately and rolled out of bed, instructing Spike to notify her friends. He saluted and marched out the door, allowing her some privacy with which to get ready.

She turned off the sink and rubbed her face dry with a soft fuzzy towel, then returned to her large and commodious chambers. Twilight walked over to the nightstand by her bed and slid open a drawer, levitating her tiara and resting it atop her head. She glanced at herself in the mirror, then grumbled something about how stupid her crown looked. She took it off, setting it back on the nightstand, then, after a moment's consideration, decided it would be best if she wore it. Though she didn't think it was necessary, this was an official meeting with the ruler of all Equestria, and she was now considered royalty; it was best for her to look the part.

Three succinct knocks came from the entryway downstairs, and she meandered her way out of her room and down the pallid blue steps. She wondered which of her friends was the first to arrive, and when the knock came again, this time sounding like an oddly familiar drum-beat, she had no doubt in her mind as to who it was. Grinning, her horn lit up as she swung open the doors. A bright pink pony bounced into the antechamber, pulling her friend into a hug that almost knocked off her tiara. Twilight readjusted it atop her head, then chuckled lightly. “Pinkie, it's great to see you.”

“And it's great to see you, Twilight!” she replied, bouncing around the room excitedly. Twilight rolled her eyes, though she couldn't help but smile. “So what's going on?”

The lavender alicorn bit her lip, not entirely certain herself. Celestia hadn't included many details in the letter; she only said that it was extremely important. “I'm not really sure,” she said, walking over to a small vestibule that overlooked the street. “But apparently it's urgent.”

“Oooh, that sounds exciting! Maybe it's like some super secret mission, or a dangerous adventure. Ooh, I love secrets, and danger, and adventures! Maybe it'll be all three, or maybe it won't be any of them at all, or maybe, maybe—” Her blathering was cut short when Twilight placed her hoof over her mouth, though she couldn't contain her excitement. The pink-furred pony was practically shaking with enthusiasm. Twilight removed her hoof, then chuckled.

“Twilight, I have to plan a party for this!” Pinkie said, bouncing around some more.

The princess smiled. “I'm not sure we have time. Once the others are here, we should catch a train to Canterlot right away.”

“Okie dokie lokey!”

“Hopefully Spike makes it back in a reasonable amount of time, though I don't know why he didn't just send messages to everyone.”

Pinkie shrugged, trying to prevent herself from pulling the tapestries off the wall. As much as she wanted to play with them, she knew Twilight would be upset. “I don't know,” she said. “It's not like his exchange with me was really rushed before he ran off in the direction of Rarity's shop or anything.”

Twilight blinked, a look of worry on her face.

“What? Oooohhh...”

After a pause, Twilight's features relaxed and she laughed softly. “I'm sure he won't tarry, but that's probably it; he wanted to see her before we all left.”

“See who?”

“Rarity.”

“Oh yeah,” she chimed, “I knew that.”

“I know you knew that.”

Pinkie drew herself eye to eye with Twilight, squinting at the alicorn. “I know you knew that I knew that!”

Twilight grinned and shoved her playfully. “Okay, you win.”

She had to admire her friend's antics. When she had first come to Ponyville, all she had wanted to do was get away from everypony, Pinkie especially. They were certainly different to anything she was exposed to in Canterlot, and thus it had taken time – a lot of time – to become acclimated to them. But now that she was used to it, Twilight wasn't sure how she would live without any of them. They brought a mirth to her life that didn't used to be there. Through all the books she read, and all the adventures she experienced through the pages, nothing compared to the wamrth she felt when she was around her friends. It was an experience quite unlike any other. It was, in a word, magic.

Several minutes passed by, Pinkie bouncing around and Twilight sitting on one of the antechamber's crystal benches, which was not entirely comfortable, when the door opened again to reveal Rarity. She was dressed up in the most regal-looking attire Twilight had ever seen her in, though she wasn't about to object. Rarity would always be Rarity, after all. “I hope I'm not late,” she said, stepping into the room. “I came as soon as I heard; right after Spike and I had some tea and I got dressed, of course.”

Twilight grinned. “It's okay. Pinkie's already here—”

“Hi!”

“And I'm sure the others will be here shortly. Until then, we'll just have to wait.”

Rarity nodded, taking a seat on a bench and running her hoof through her mane. She quickly returned to her hooves, though. “Twilight, you simply must get some cushions. I don't know how you can stand these bare benches.”

“It's simple; I stand.”

Rarity blinked at her, and Pinkie was trying her best not to crack up. “Twilight, that's just horrible.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I know. Anyways, maybe you can help with the cushions when we return?”

“I'd love to! You know how I enjoy decorating for royalty.”

“What about decorating for a friend?”

“That too! Oh Twilight, you know the whole royalty thing doesn't really matter. You are my friend first and foremost.” She smiled, pulling her into a hug which Twilight returned.

“Group hug!” Pinkie exclaimed, hugging them both. They all shared a laugh, rubbing noses with each-other.

“Girls,” Twilight said with a smile as the hug ended, “don't you ever change.”

Applejack grunted as she bucked the last apples off of a tree. A dozen of the red fruits fell, plopping down into her baskets. She huffed, moving onto the next tree. Rearing, she slammed her back hooves against the tree. The upper branches shook slightly, but these apples were holding on tight. Agitated, she kicked harder this time, causing a couple of apples to fall. One fell into her basket; the other thudded onto the ground and rolled down the hill. With one last kick she brought down several apples, filling her baskets to the brim. Smiling, she left the tree and moved towards her rustic home, trotting at a sprightly pace.

She nudged the door open and stepped inside; the place was as quaint as ever. With hay piled up in some corners, jars of cider stacked on thick wooden shelves, and large oak beams holding up the plank roof, it was the perfect picture of a modest country home. A thick and lovely smell permeated the air, like apples baking. She glanced over and noticed the oven was on. "Mornin', sis."

Applejack turned around to see Big Mac alighting from the stairs. He smiled at her and ambled over. "Howdy there, sugarcube. Mind givin' me a hoof?" She nodded towards the baskets.

"Sure thing." He reached over and grabbed the baskets one at a time, slipping them off her leather girdle and placing them on the counter. "There y'are."

"Thanks a bunch! So, whacha cookin'? Apple pie?"

"Nope."

"Apple fritters?"

"Eyup." He smiled at her and walked over to the oven, reaching up and switching it off. He nudged open the oven door, revealing a tray full of crisp brown apple fritters. Carefully, Big Mac reached in and grabbed the tray with his teeth, resting it on the table and shutting the oven with his back hoof.

"Whew," Applejack said, mouth watering at the sight. The fritters sat there, glazed and steaming in the tawny daylight. She licked her lips, moving forward for a nibble. Her brother placed a hoof on her chest, impeding her progress.

"Not yet."

Applejack grunted, slightly tiffed. "What do you mean, 'not yet'?"

"I mean 'not yet'." He chuckled. "Granny Smith is gonna wake up soon, and I figured it'd be a nice treat."

"Aw, that's mighty sweet of you." Her face lightened up.

"So," he said, looking at her baskets of apples, "those ours?"

"Nope! I'm just taking a breather. They're for the Cakes."

"You stickin' around?"

Applejack bit her lip, glancing at the apples and then the clock. It was still early, and she could probably spare half an hour. "Sure thing! I do love me some apple fritters. Would be nice to see Granny Smith, too."

"She'll be down in five."

"All right." The mare looked up at the jars of cider, licking her lips idly. "Say Big Mac, could you pass me a cider?"

The stallion smiled at his little sister. "Eyup." He reached to the top shelf and slid off a glass jar of cider, placing it on the table.

Returning the smile, she twisted the lid off the jar and gulped down the tepid, bittersweet liquid. "Whew," she said, pushing the jar to the side. "I sure needed that."

"Don't mention it."

"It don't get much better than this," she said. "Lovely weather, a good harvest—" She cantered over to Big Mac's side "—and my big brother!" If he blushed, it didn't show through his crimson coat.

"Aw, shucks." He glanced away. "Good to have you too, sis."

A sudden knocking on the door drew their attention. The two siblings raised their eyebrows. “That's odd,” Applejack said. “Don't remember anyone saying they were going to stop by today.”

She walked over and nudged open the door, then glanced around. “Huh, doesn't seem to be anypony.”

“Down here.”

She looked down, descrying Spike. The small dragon was panting lightly, conspicuously exhausted. “Oh, howdy there, Spike! What brings you here?”

“Twilight got a letter from Celestia. She's requesting you guys meet her in Canterlot as soon as possible.”

Big Mac looked over her shoulder at the dragon, curiosity lining his features.

“Did she say what it was about?”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “All she said was that it was extremely important.”

Applejack bit her lip, then turned to Big Mac. “Sorry, seems like duty calls.”

“Eeyup,” he said with a sigh.

“Tell Granny Smith I said hi...oh, and could you take those apples down to the bakery? I'm not sure the cakes want to be kept waiting.”

“Eeyup, I'll do that.”

“You'd better hurry,” Spike said, “Most of everypony is already waiting at the castle; I still need to get Fluttershy, though – so see ya!” With that, he scampered off towards the forest. Big Mac and Applejack watched him go, then looked at each-other, sharing a smile. Suddenly, the red stallion pulled her into a hug. “Be safe, lil' sis.”

The orange pony grinned. “I will.”

The train for Canterlot left a couple of hours short of noon with the fare negated due to royal business, and all of them had met up at the depot near the edge of Ponyville. Everypony, aside from Pinkie, was a whit nervous due to the ordeal. Whatever the reason for their summons, they doubted it was simply for planning another gala. Twilight knew when something was wrong, and this was definitely one of those times.

Soon, they were within the mountain beneath Canterlot, the train steadily making its way up the switchback rails that were placed there several decades ago. They emerged back into daylight, the tall stone buildings of Canterlot towering above them. Pinkie had her nose pressed to the glass, awed by the sight. Below them, the verdant land of Equestria stretched away for miles, where it eventually met with a glistening blue sea.

Twilight stepped off the train into the cool autumn air, her friends trailing closely behind. A stallion caparisoned in red plating with gold filigree met them, doffing his hat and giving a short obeisance. “Princess Twilight and company,” he said with reverence.

Twilight smiled, doing her best not to blush. She still wasn't used to getting the royal treatment, and wasn't sure if she ever would. “It's good to meet you, sir...”

“Just Ruby please, Princess Twilight.” He smiled mirthfully.

“Well Ruby,” she said with a grin, “your name suits your garments.”

“And what fine garments they are!” Rarity said, stepping forward to examine them further. “Who designed them, if I may ask?” Rainbow Dash couldn't help but roll her eyes.

“You know, I'm actually not sure. But if I find out, I'll let you know.” He winked.

“It would be most appreciated.”

The stallion chuckled softly. “Anyhow, if you all would be so kind as to follow me.”

Ruby led them down the cobblestone street, several pedestrians staring as they passed by. A few birds flew overhead, chirping their sprightly songs. Eventually they reached the steps in front of Celestia's castle. Two guards were stationed in front of the tall oak doors, and upon descrying Twilight and the rest, they quickly scrambled to get the doors opened. They bowed their heads as the group passed.

Within the entryway, the halls were tall and wide, made of polished marble. Several stained glass windows lined the walls, the light producing a motley of colours and patterns that shone upon the white floor.

Ruby smiled, looking back over his shoulder. “Princess Celestia is this way,” he said as he led them around a corner.

They ascended another flight of stairs and passed through an archway into a commodious room. On the far side of the room sat Celestia in her red-cushioned throne. Upon seeing them, she smiled amiably and rose to greet them. “Here they are,” Ruby said as he turned to take his leave.

“Thank you, Ruby.” She approached the ponies and smiled. “It's good to see all of you.”

“And you, Princess Celestia,” Twilight said with a light bow of the head. The others offered their various greetings as well. “We came as soon as we could.”

“Of that I have no doubt.” She giggled softly. “I wish we were meeting on better terms.”

Twilight bit her lip, frowning slightly. “So something is wrong, then?”

“I'm afraid so.” She ambled over to a long wooden table and took a seat. She motioned for the others to follow suit.

“What exactly is goin' on?” Applejack asked as she took a seat.

“Yeah, this a little weird and all. Uh, no offense,” Rainbow Dash said as nonchalantly as she could.

“Is this about pie?”

“Is there a fashion crisis?”

“Are there animals...hurt?” Fluttershy winced and receded back into her seat, suddenly terrified of the possibilities.

Celestia laughed and shook her head. “I'm afraid it's not that simple. As you know, as Princess it is my duty to oversee the safety of my subjects. That is why I have called you all here.”

Twilight leaned forward in her chair, resting a hoof on the table. “What's happened?”

The princess took a deep breath and averted her eyes, seemingly embarrassed. “Nothing yet.”

“'Nothing yet?'” Rainbow Dash said incredulously, voice raised a whit too high. Twilight gave her a stern glare, one she took the meaning of well enough. “Er, sorry...I mean, if nothing's happened, then why are we here?”

Celestia smiled at her. “As I said, nothing has happened yet – but I would not call you here without a purpose. Something is brewing on the horizon, something terrible.”

“That's a little ambiguous,” Twilight said skeptically. A smattering of agreement came from the others.

“I know,” she said with a sigh. “But I have felt it in my heart, and Luna has been having nightmares as of late. If anything, this has only served to corroborate my fears. I spoke with her and she agrees that something terrible is coming, even if we cannot yet say what.”

“N-nightmares?” Fluttershy said, visibly shrinking back into her chair.

Celestia nodded, glancing towards the yellow pegasus. “She speaks of fire and bloodshed...perhaps even death.”

At the mention of death everyone present began whispering amongst themselves, Fluttershy and Rarity looking the most perturbed by the information. Rainbow Dash and Applejack were glancing at each-other with a hint of unease.

Twilight looked at her former mentor with her brows furrowed. “So what does this mean?” she said hesitantly, finding the strength in her voice had failed.

“It means,” Celestia said, looking at them all solemnly, “that we must be ever vigilant. I will have the number of active Royal Guard bolstered, and Luna and I will attempt to keep an eye out in Canterlot. You girls must defend Ponyville, should things go awry.”

“I don't get it,” Applejack said. “Who would attack Ponyville?”

“Some meanie mean pants, that's who!” Pinkie said, slamming her hooves on the table, causing Fluttershy to yelp in surprise. “Sorry!”

“I-it's okay...”

Twilight sighed, glancing at all of her friends. “We'll be prudent.”

Celestia smiled at her. “That is all I ask of you.”

“You can count on us!” Rainbow Dash said with a salute.

“If there's any troublemakers, we'll find 'em,” Applejack added.

Fluttershy's eyes went wide. “We will?”

Twilight smiled and rested a hoof on hers. “It's okay.”

The yellow pegasus looked at her friend and nodded. “A-all right.”

Celestia cleared her throat, placing her hooves together. “I am sorry for any inconvenience this might have caused you,” she said with a smile.

“No inconvenience,” Twilight assured her. “It's like you said; you wouldn't have called us here if it wasn't important.”

Celestia smiled at her. “Thank you for your understanding. You are all dismissed.”

Everyone nodded and stood up from their seats, bid the princess farewell, and made to leave the room. As they approached the large chestnut door, Celestia called out to grab their attention. Twilight turned, her brows raised slightly. “Yes, Princess?”

“Please, be careful.”

Twilight smiled at her. “Don't worry.”

With that they began the trip back to Ponyville, shaken by the meeting. Later, as the train made its way back down the mountainside, Twilight looked out the window at the sparkling blue sea, thinking about what Celestia had said.

Three

He had grown accustomed to the slow rocking motion of the ship. A week into their journey, and still land was nowhere to be seen.

Jas had been acting as the ship's navigator, mulling over maps, plotting courses via the stars that would hopefully lead them to the other side. The captain, as Cygil learnt early into their expedition, didn't like being bossed around – despite the fact that he was incapable of making the journey on his own, he was loath to take advice from others. Still, Cygil suspected that somewhere deep down inside the captain was thankful for Jas's presence. Maybe.

He groaned, throwing off the sheets in a vain attempt to get himself up. Instead he just laid there, staring up at the ceiling – too languid to do aught else. Sighing, he closed his eyes, listening to the steady lapping of the waves against the ship's hull, the pacing back and forth of the crew, and somewhere by the stern, the vehement cursing of the captain.

Footsteps approached, and there was a loud thumping on his door. After a pause it opened and Jas stood there, a silhouette against the light. "You going to get up?" he said, leaning on the jamb.

"Ugh." Cygil rolled over, trying to pretend he didn't hear the question.

Jas took a few steps into the room and nudged his friend on the arm. "Hey, come on. The captain wanted everybody awake an hour ago."

Cygil motioned lazily for his friend to come closer, and Jas complied. "The captain can bugger himself," he muttered.

Jas chuckled. "I wouldn't say that out loud if I were you."

"I'm a passenger, not a member of the crew; I've got nothing to contribute, and so I don't see why I need to be awake at these cursed hours."

"You contribute something."

He rolled over and looked his friend square in the face. "Yeah, what?"

"Why," he began with a smirk, "your charm, of course. Come on, get up."

"All right, all right." He yawned, sleepily pulling himself to a sitting position. "Just go get me some coffee, will you?"

"Sure thing." Jas smiled and turned away, closing the door behind him. Once again ensconced in darkness, Cygil was tempted to lie back down – but not wanting to get on the captain's bad side, he stood and stretched, ambling over to his dresser and throwing on a few shoddy garments. He checked himself in the mirror; his mane was a little dishevelled, but that was nary a concern of his.

Outside it was calm, with cloudless blue skies and nought but ocean as far as the eye could see. The gargoyle crew was up and about, carrying out orders, dropping and lifting trawls, raising and lowering sails – scurrying about. At the heart of all this was the captain, barking orders and gesticulating. Beside him stood Jas, holding up a map with one hand and jabbing a finger at it with the other. He traced some coordinates, tapped the spot with his claw, then handed the map to the captain. Seeing his friend, Jas sauntered over. "Sorry about the coffee," he said. "Captain called."

"No problem. So, how's the navigation going?"

"We're on course. Maybe a few degrees off, but it'll do. We're heading for a place called Hayseed Swamps, near Horseshoe Bay."

Cygil raised an eyebrow. "Are all their place names horse related?"

Jas rolled his eyes. "Don't get me started. Anyhow, the port of Baltimare would be the obvious choice, but seeing as we're on a top secret mission, we're going to a smaller dock located in the swamps. From there you should be able to find a trading caravan headed for Ponyville."

"And what do I do once I'm there?"

"There's a new princess that goes by the name of Twilight Sparkle that resides there. She's a bit of a bookworm, and can probably tell you a bit about the residents of Equestria and who they're related to."

Cygil grunted. "I just walk in and interrogate her?"

"You'll have to get creative."

The two of them stood in silence for a moment, watching the waves drift slowly by. Finally, an idea struck Cygil. "I've got it," he said with a grin. "You said she likes books, right?"

"Right."

"So I could tell her that I'm compiling a book of family histories and I'd like her assistance."

"Hm," Jas replied, rubbing his chin. "That could work."

"It could, and it could end up a complete debacle. So, how is your sister?" he said, changing the subject abruptly.

"Thymar is well." Jas made his way for the stern, Cygil following close behind. "She's taken up residence with that guy she likes."

Cygil had met him once before. A sinewy fellow with a love for excursions and grand gatherings, he didn't seem like much of a spouse for the reclusive young girl. "I did not think them suitable for each-other," Cygil said, voicing his thoughts.

"You know what they say about opposites."

"Veritably, I do."

It was far less busy at the back of the ship, with only a few scattered members of the crew tarrying about. "I honestly think this is a fool's errand," Cygil said, looking around to make sure no one was listening. "Only a dolt would risk a war to win a war."

"I concur it is not the best choice of action," he said. "But perhaps it's worth a shot. Ofttimes throughout history leaders have had to make seemingly brash decisions to gain the edge."

"Ofttimes throughout histories those brash decisions have led to brash downfalls."

Jas chuckled, shaking his head. “Yes they have. Well, let's hope that this isn't one of those times, shall we?”

Cygil offered a smile. He looked around, seeing nothing but ocean and sky stretching towards infinity. While adventure did not suit him, he always found that vistas such as these incited a certain fervor within: made him wonder what was beyond those distant horizons, made him dream about the world beyond. What ruins of forgotten civilizations lay basking in the sun, nought but a glimpse into an older time? What caverns lay beneath the earth, and to whither did they go? Those questions he would ask himself as he gazed out upon the forests, or the sea, or the rivers that flowed to places unknown. They were questions that all gargoyles asked themselves at some point or another; curiosity was inherent in their nature, whether Garedian or Fweilan. At least they had that in common.

“Anyhow,” Jas said after a lengthy pause, interrupting Cygil's train of thought, “I should probably go scrub the deck or something.”

Cygil laughed, nudging his friend on the shoulder. “Of course. I'll catch you around.”

Jas winked at him, making his way to the fore of the ship. Cygil remained, resting his hands on the rail and gazing out at the ocean.

The stars seemed brighter that night, shining in the ebony sky. Cygil stood on deck, unable to sleep. Towards the horizon was the moon, casting a silvery reflection on the black surface of the sea. A thin layer of clouds sat in the sky, illumined by the glow of the moon.

By now the rest of the crew had gone to sleep, Jas included; that left Cygil alone.

He had been pacing back and forth, trying to keep his mind off of things when the captain had shown up and told him to keep the noise down. So he did, tarrying by the rail and watching the stars. It was unusual for them to be so bright, he thought; it felt almost as if they were watching him. Shifting uncomfortably at the thought, he looked towards the moon. It was even brighter still. Good night to make a wish.

Picking a star at random, he proceeded to do just that. I wish...everything turns out for the best. He smiled, chuckling at his own childish whimsy. As if the stars can hear my thoughts.

When the stars offered no response he shrugged, resolving to get some rest. It was then he noticed an eyeglass seated precariously on the edge of a crate, looking like it could fall at any moment. He picked it up and went to set it down, then curiosity struck him.

Bringing it up to his eye, he squeezed the other one shut and swept his gaze across the horizon. He descried what appeared to be hills and mountains, little more than dark silhouettes. He blinked, rubbed the lens and had another look. Surely enough there was a long trail of land there, seated stoically against the black sky. It wouldn't be long until they reached it, and so he resolved to try and get some sleep, if possible. Gently, he placed the eyeglass on the crate and retired to his quarters for the remainder of the night.

By the time they disembarked, the sun had crested the hills and the day was uncomfortably warm. Jas walked with Cygil down the docks, the decrepit buildings a stark contrast to the docks of Garedion.

Dishevelled carts littered the wharf, caked with mud and containing various assortments of wares and rotting fruit. The ponies hawking their goods looked to be in no better condition than their carts, filthy and haggard. One nervous looking pony waved them over, clearly intrigued by the sight of gargoyles. "Hello, kind sirs," he said amicably. "We don't get many of your sort around here. What's the occasion?"

Cygil laughed nervously, wondering if gargoyles always meant some sort of occasion. "No occasion," he said, motioning to his partner. "This here is my friend Jas, who's here on business. Me on the other hand, I'm just a simple traveller, come to experience the sights and sounds of Equestria. I'm thinking of heading to Ponyville first."

"Hum, Ponyville you say? Baltimare across the bay would make more sense if Ponyville's your destination; they have a rail heading straight there, couple day's ride for a cheap price."

"We have cities aplenty back home," Cygil said, “I was looking for something more rural.”

"Well, Ponyville is fairly rural. It's also the home of the new princess. Surely you've heard?"

Cygil arched an eyebrow, feigning ignorance. "Oh?"

"Aye, Princess Twilight Sparkle."

"I thought royalty lived in Canterlot," Jas observed.

"Not her; she's got ties to that little town."

Cygil shrugged. "Fair enough."

He nodded towards his cart impatiently. "So, are you going to buy something or what?"

The two gargoyles perused its contents, which mostly consisted of cheap baubles and trinkets. There were several rings of copper, as well as a few silver.

A lone necklace caught Cygil's eye: a golden chain with a flat disc-shaped pendant. On the pendant were several excrescences: a set of spikes girded the upper left; waves on the right; a thorn on the bottom. It was a peculiar thing, quite unlike anything he had ever seen. He was almost tempted to buy it on the spot, but decided some enquiry was in order. "What's this?" he said, picking it up and showing it to the merchant.

"That," the merchant replied, "is something I found lying on the sidewalk. You want it?"

Cygil scrutinised it, flipping it over in his hands. He tossed it and caught it, testing its weight. The merchant grimaced at this, but said nothing. Feels like real metal. "I kind of do." He scratched his chin. "Just a shame I don't know what it is."

"You won't find answers here. Say, perhaps Princess Twilight could tell you."

Cygil stared at the thing for a while, then made up his mind. "All right, I'll buy it."

"Two bits."

He rummaged around in his pockets, producing two gold coins. "Will these do?"

"Eh, sure. I can trade them in if I have to." The pony grabbed the coins out of Cygil's hand and dropped them in a pouch. "It's all yours."

Cygil fastened the clasp behind his neck, stuffing the pendant down his shirt. "My thanks."

"Anything else catch your eye?"

"Not really, but aside from Baltimare, how would one get to Ponyville?"

"You come all the way to Equestria and don't know how to get where you're going?" he said with a guffaw. He smiled, trying not to appear condescending.

"Getting lost is part of the adventure, is it not?" Cygil replied with a grin.

He had directed the gargoyle towards a nearby tavern that overlooked the bay, instructing him to look for a sorrel pony with one eye. Prior to entering, Jas pulled him aside into an inconspicuous drang, holding up a finger to his lips. “Jas,” Cygil said, raising an eyebrow, “what’s this about?”

His friend reached into his satchel, pulling out a small, glass flask. A murky reddish-brown liquid sloshed around inside. “In case you need it,” he replied, pressing the flask into Cygil’s hands.

Cygil looked at him curiously, then examined the container. He popped open the lid and took a whiff of its contents, then immediately recoiled, clasping his hand over his mouth and nose as his eyes watered. “Jas, what...”

Jas reached over and shut the lid. “Diodamir instructed me to give it to you.”

“W-what is it?” Cygil wheezed, still reeling from the repugnant odour.

“It’s a poison,” Jas explained.

Cygil’s eyes snapped up, his brows furrowed. “What for?”

“In case you need to” — His voice lowered to a whisper — “forcefully bring one of these ponies back to Garedion.”

Cygil glared at Jas for a while, then lowered his eyes, sighing. “Jas, I do not like the idea of this.”

Jas reached out, gripping his friend’s shoulder. “I don’t like the idea of it, either; so let’s hope you don't have to use it.” With that, Jas turned and left, moving back out into the street. Cygil gazed down at the small jar he held, then quietly stuffed it into his satchel.

Within the tavern it was dark and musty, the only light shining through the lone window and emanating off the several candles. In the gloom, the patrons' colours were mostly indistinguishable, though one pony had a noticable bandage wrapped around one half of his face.

Cygil approached the pony, who seemed to be lost in his mug. He cleared his throat, which caused the equine to give him a startled glance. "Wha—"

He held up his hands in a friendly manner. "You Scruff?"

The pony furrowed his brow, taking a swig from his mug. After a moment, he spoke up. "That I am."

"I'm Cygil. I heard you're headed for Ponyville."

"Me, and a couple of others."

"I require passage."

"We don't have the space," he replied with a look of indifference. "The wagon's full of trade goods, and I'm not sure someone of your...size would fit."

"I could run alongside, so long as you show me the way."

"Yeah well, I'd rather not have any stragglers holding us back."

Cygil motioned to the bow on his back. "I'm good with this," He pulled back his cloak, revealing a dirk, "and this."

"You ever fight a timberwolf?"

A befuddled look came across his face, which must have been fairly conspicuous – because the pony laughed, taking another swig from his mug. "Let's just say that a few arrows and a knife won't help; still, maybe you could act as a diversion in case we get into trouble."

Two white female unicorns entered the tavern, sauntering over to the table. One had the depiction of a flame upon her flank, and the other had the head of a manticore. Scruff smiled at them, sliding his mug aside. "Spark and Snarl, I almost thought you wouldn't arrive."

"We were considering it," one of them said, eliciting a laugh from the one-eyed pony. "Who's this?"

"This," he said, waving a hoof at the gargoyle, "is Cygil. He's come asking for passage to Ponyville."

One of the unicorns eyed him, smirking slightly. “You going to help pull?”

“What, the wagon?”

“What else?”

Cygil furrowed his brows. “You mean to say you two are pulling the wagon? Don't you have mules or donkeys for that sort of thing?”

Scruff grinned, bemused by the gargoyle's ignorance. “Yeah, and they would ask for the same pay, if not more. Besides, these two are fighters; keeps the paths safe for a little old merchant like myself.”

“So,” one of the unicorns said to Cygil, “what are you contributing?”

Scruff rose up from the table, turning for the door. “He's wolf-bait. Come on, let's get moving.”

The shadows of the canopy had given a trivial respite from the hot afternoon sun, but that was the only positive thing that could be said. Everything else, Cygil thought to himself, was pure unbridled torture; from the occasional leech to the incessant mosquitoes, to the mud that sloshed beneath, around, and within his boots, he'd had enough of this swamp to last a lifetime. Not even during Zygar's brief but bloody campaign against Versitigas, when his squad was stationed in the Cerusian marshes, had the conditions been as deplorable.

He grunted, swatting what was possibly the hundredth mosquito in the last two hours. The merchant and his two bodyguards plodded on ahead, an azure shield ensconcing them that kept the insects away. Spark had casted it seemingly without effort, and initially Cygil had been impressed. Now he was just frustrated as he stumbled after them, wrenching his boot free from the mud. Why they refused to give him a shield of his own he didn't understand. Perhaps they disliked outsiders, or perhaps they were testing his patience. Either way, he didn't appreciate it.

There had been a tenuous path, Cygil noted, running through the swamp. Even though they were following it, he felt they wouldn't be much worse off if they were to simply go astray. “How much further?” he said wearily, doing his best to keep up.

“Oh, not far,” Scruff replied, grinning obliquely at the gargoyle. That was in fact the same response he'd been giving for the last several hours. At this point, Cygil wasn't going to accept that answer again.

“I asked you a question.”

“And I gave you an answer.” The two unicorns both chortled, casting him their disparaging glances.

“No, you keep saying the same thing over and over.”

“Very well, if you need to know,” he said, putting a particular emphasis on 'need', “then I would guess another half hour and we'll be out of the swamps.”

Half an hour later, and they were not out of the swamps; Scruff did call for a break, however, and for the nonce Cygil was contented. They stopped upon a kopje, pulling several victuals out of the wagon. As a gargoyle, Cygil was somewhat discomfited when he saw their diet consisted primarily of flora. Withal, they had lettuce and mushrooms, so he wasn't going to starve. After muttering some thanks, he went and found a patch of dry ground to sit on.

He chewed idly on a mushroom, going over his mission in his head. Spark and Snarl's magic was definitely useful, the kind of thing Zygar wanted to see; shields had several uses, from defending against arrows and other physical attacks, to potentially blocking crumbled sections of wall, they would go a long way in the fight against Silah. However, the two unicorns weren't about to let their guard down. They had been eyeing him the whole trip, seemingly waiting for him to make a wrong move. If he was to abduct any of these ponies, he'd have to catch one alone; these two wouldn't do.

After a few minutes, Spark sauntered over and took a seat next to him. For a moment there was a silence, and then she spoke. “How are you enjoying your stay in Equestria?” It was a question meant to goad him, he knew. He let it pass.

“I think the more appropriate question is how I like its swamps,” he stated blankly.

“And?”

“And—” he said, his features contorting in disgust, “I don't like them very well.”

She smiled then, gazing off into the distance. “It's not so bad once you get used to it.”

Another silence fell over them, longer than the last. Cygil ate another mushroom, then expended an audible sigh. He was never fond of new places, gargoyle curiosity or not. Becoming a soldier in Zygar's army, he remembered, was not something he would have done if he wasn't under duress by his now late father. Grimacing, he reminded himself that it was too late to go back now; he'd made a promise to the old man, who had been upon his death-bed, that he would live the life his father couldn't.

For years it had been that his father wanted to be a soldier, but under duress from his own father, he never got the chance. He had been told to do something productive with his life; so he went to college, learnt the art of blacksmithing. Cygil's father toiled to make the swords he wished to wield.

Sometimes during lazy afternoons, after they returned home from selling their wares, his father would take him out into the grassy yard behind their home. Thither they would go to practice with wooden swords, sometimes for hours on end. Cygil's arms would always feel like they were falling off by the end of it, but he enjoyed the work. There was something graceful, something artistic about the way one wielded a sword. He was even becoming good at it.

Ironic then, that he would be assigned to the archers.

There was no more need for swordsmen, Zygar had said many years ago, when a much younger Cygil approached him at the annual fair. His father was dead then, and he had made a promise that he would be a soldier; it was either learn the ways of the bow, or go home to his father's angry spirit.

When his mother was asked what would happen to father's shop, she smiled sadly and took his hand, and together they walked down by the river's edge. The air was cool that day, the first sign of autumn after a long and relentless summer. Some leaves had already begun to turn. He had watched them fall, drifting lazily down to land in the sparkling water, which carried them away to places unknown.

There by the river, she told him that his father's shop had been bought; a fellow from Yaheme to the west, who had travelled over moor and ridge to reach the capital, had stopped in their village a few nights prior. Being of deep pockets, he offered to purchase the business. He knew a person, he told her, that was inexorably deft with hammer and anvil. He would install this person to work her husband's business, and the family would receive a share of the profits.

With Cygil going off to the army, and there being little other ways to stay afloat, she agreed to the idea almost immediately. What she wasn't told, however, was that they were only going to receive ten percent of the income. It was apparently in the fine print, which she neglected to read. Never trust a stranger, was her motto. She trusted one that day at her expense. Still, it was better than nothing – she could continue to work the garden on the side, as she was somewhat renowned in the village for her herbs. Those things combined, plus the stipends from Cygil being enlisted in the army would be enough. She only asked one thing of her son, then: She implored him not to get himself killed.

And here he was, in a foreign land on a mission for King Zygar; a folly that could very well be the impetus for war, where he could very well end up buried six feet under.

As Snarl and Scruff rested, he decided to tell Spark this story. He told her everything, omitting the particular detail of why he was really here. Instead, he fabricated a different story; one that was partially true.

“A lot of gargoyles on both sides died in Cerusia that day. It was my first real taste of battle – thitherto most of what we had done were ambushes or scouting missions. You don't realize how terrible war can be until you're in the chaos, the scent of blood and sweat pervading the air around you, the screams of men filling your ears, the clashing of steel on steel, the utter confusion of it all.

“We weren't meant to be in the thick of the fighting. But somehow they flanked us, came up on the southern side of the hill with blades drawn. Screaming, they charged us. A few of us fell before we knew what was going on. I managed to loose a few arrows; some of them dropped, but more were coming – we had to retreat down the hill, down to where the rest of our forces were tangled up in the battle. It was the only chance we had of surving, as stupid as that sounds. When we reached the valley below, some of our men who were fighting realized what was going on, and they sortied forth to help. I had lost my bow by that point, so I was swinging left and right with my short sword – fortunately all those hours in the yard had paid off.

“Eventually the tide of battle had turned. A deep horn blew thrice in the distance, then the enemy started to fall back, leaving only a few stragglers behind that were too engaged to break formation. The ones that were still fighting quickly realized that they were surrounded; many tried to surrender, but our commander wasn't in a merciful mood that day. Each and every one of them was captured and tied to stakes, and he had timber piled up beneath them. I'm sure you can guess what happened next.”

Cygil stopped, a hoof rested on his hand. He looked at the unicorn, an expression of sorrow plastered on her face. Seeing it made him smile, if only transitorily. To think this unicorn that had treated him like chaff several minutes ago was condoling with him; it was touching, really. He continued.

“After Versitigas's forces were defeated, the king decided it was time to go home. Since I wasn't being deployed against Silah, I decided to come here for some respite,” he lied. In truth, he wished he was in Equestria on leave. However, he was glad he wasn't fighting up against Silah's clans; at least here he could take his time, and he didn't have to kill anyone. No killing, just abducting, he thought bitterly to himself.

They resumed travelling an hour later, the swamp giving way to forest and rolling heaths. The wagon trundled along slowly, Spark and Snarl keeping a steady pace while Scruff walked beside, telling the story of how he lost his eye. They had heard this story several times before, but neither unicorn spoke up. Cygil remained silent as he walked behind the wagon, staying aloof from the group. Spark's demeanor towards him had lightened up, though the same couldn't be said for the other two. Withal, he couldn't complain – at least they were out of the swamp. “There was nowhere for me to go,” Scruff was saying. “Wolves closing in on every side, I had no choice but to jump into that great roaring river.”

“Yes, we know. You've told us already,” Snarl finally said, patience worn thin.

“And I was telling it again. Why, do you have any better stories to keep us awake with?”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Not really.”

“Okay, what about you, Spark?”

“I once set a pony on fire.” Upon saying this, everyone looked at her with varied expressions of horror. “It was an accident!” she said, quickly finishing her tale. “Besides, I put it out before it got serious.”

Walking on in silence, they rounded the corner of a shaded dell. Before them the path sloped away gently into the distance, the trees thinning out towards the horizon. There, a few miles down the winding road, a group of houses dotted the fields with their thatch roofs glowing softly in the sun. In the center of them sat a tall blue and lavender crystal tower, a stark contrast to the surroundings, though elegant in its own way. Cygil had no doubt in his mind that it was where he would find the princess, and so he made a mental note to head there.

“Well,” Scruff said as they looked at the town before them, “we've made it.”

Four

They arrived in town just short of midday, the sun nearing its zenith as the caravan drew to a halt. Cygil reached into his pocket and pulled out a few gold coins, holding them up to a very confused Scruff. “What's this for?” he said, eyeing the money.

Cygil chuckled as he glanced at the pony. “For showing me the way?”

Scruff smirked, lightly shoving Cygil's hand away with his hoof. “Keep it. You let us put you through Tartarus and that's remuneration enough.”

For a moment Cygil hesitated, mouth hanging open slightly. He then proffered a smile and placed the coins back in his pocket. “I seem to have misjudged you,” he said tersely.

“Most do,” Scruff replied with a wink. He then turned his attention to the two unicorns. “All right, these goods aren't going to sell themselves. Let's head on over to the market.”

“One second,” came Spark's reply as she unfastened her harness. Her eyes fell upon Cygil, and with a nod of her head she motioned for him to come over. After a moment he complied, ignoring the smirks on the others' faces. Together they walked over to the nearby umbrage of a tall oak tree. Spark smiled, though she averted her eyes. “Hey, I just...” She scuffed the ground, meeting his gaze. “Thank you for confiding in me. I know that must have been hard to do, and I can't possibly understand what it's like to go through what you did, but I just want you to know that if you ever need somepony to speak to, I'm willing to listen.”

Cygil couldn't help but smile at that. “Well, er...thanks?”

“Don't mention it,” she said with a laugh and a glint to her eyes. “I'll be in Ponyville for a few weeks.”

“I'll stay in touch.”

She grinned up at him. “Please do.” With that, she turned and went back to the wagon, fastening herself in. Scruff said something that Cygil couldn't quite make out, but from the way she rolled her eyes, he knew she was being teased. With a word from Scruff the wagon began trundling its way down the dirt path, Spark glancing over at Cygil one more time before they disappeared behind a thicket of trees and bushes.

The gargoyle sighed, realising that he had the goofiest grin plastered onto his face – and as he started making his way towards the town, that grin stayed there right up until a pony caught sight of him, shrieked, and scurried off in the opposite direction. The smile fell from his face and he raised an eyebrow, only then noticing the odd stares everypony was giving him. “What?” he said to the crowd of onlookers. “Hasn't anyone seen a gargoyle before?”

When he received no response aside from a few nervous mutterings, he grumbled and walked away from the scene – ponies giving him a wide berth as he went.

His stomach growled lightly, and after some questioning and many terrified looks, he learnt that there was a bakery near the centre of town that went by the name of Sugarcube Corner. He had laughed when they told him to look for the building that looked like a giant pastry, only to find his mouth ajar when he saw they weren't joking. The door was a tad diminutive for his size, though he was able to duck his way inside without much effort.

Within the shop the sickly sweet aroma of cake and cookies pervaded, and there were many of the aforementioned treats lined up for display behind a glass counter and on the shelves. Despite the conspicuous theme of pastry-everything, Cygil concluded that it was rather quaint and nice in the shop, and seeing no one else around, he took a seat by one of the many round wooden tables and waited patiently – though he had to admit the chairs were a little small.

The door behind the counter creaked open, and out ambled a bright yellow pony with an orange mane, three slices of cakes depicted on his flank.Cygil cleared his throat to get the pony's attention, and with a startled glance he looked over at Cygil.

The gargoyle's size must have been intimidating, because the pony blanched, attempted to stammer a greeting, and fell to the floor with a resounding thud. Another pony rushed out from the back, cyan-coloured with a pink mane that looked oddly like whipped cream. She saw Cygil and managed a smile, nudging the collapsed pony on the shoulder. Addled, he woke and glanced about his surroundings. He nearly fainted when he saw the gargoyle again, though the cyan pony caught him in time.

“I apologise for my husband's demeanor,” she said by way of introduction. “I'm Mrs. Cake, and this here is Mr. Cake.” The latter managed a weak wave of the hoof, attempting a grin as he readjusted his hat.

“And I am Cygil,” he replied. “I'm sorry about frightening you, Mr. Cake.”

“That's quite all right...” He rubbed the back of his neck with a hoof.

“So, is there anything we can do for you?” Mrs. Cake enquired.

“Well I was just stopping in town, figured I could use something to eat. I haven't had sweets in a while, admittedly.”

“You've come to the right place, then!” Mr. Cake said with an awkward grin. “Is there anything in particular you'd like?”

Cygil hummed thoughtfully, eyeing the various goods on display. “Do you have cookies?”

“Of course! What kind do you want?”

“How about chocolate chip?”

Mr. Cake smiled. “Absolutely. Just a few minutes and I'll have some ready.” He turned to leave, but then Cygil spoke up.

“Actually, how about oatmeal?”

The yellow pony thought about this for a moment. “Why not both?”

Cygil chuckled, nodding slightly. “All right, fair enough.”

Mr. Cake disappeared into the kitchen, the doors swinging behind him.

The cyan pony offered a simper. “I'll go help.”

They returned minutes later with a tray full of hot, steaming cookies. Cygil grinned, eyeing the cookies hungrily. He offered his thanks, then reached into his pocket to pay them. Mrs. Cake shook her head, however. “Newcomers eat free,” she said, laying the tray down on the table. Cygil raised an eyebrow at this, but he simply shrugged and thanked them again.

He popped one into his mouth and his eyes went wide. “These are the best cookies I've ever had!” he said, wharfing down another, then another. Within a few moments there was nothing left but a few crumbs, Cygil licking his fingers clean.

“Well, we're certainly glad you enjoyed them,” Mr. Cake said, moving to take the platter. “Would you like any more?”

Cygil shook his head. “No, that's all right.”

“Okay, well if you want anything else you let us know.” Mr. Cake picked up the tray and headed back into the kitchen, disappearing behind the doors. Mrs. Cake turned to the gargoyle and smiled. “So what brings you into Ponyville?”

“I'm a genealogist, actually. Have you ever heard of Garedion?”

She shook her head.

“Well it's a place across the sea, to the west,” he replied, motioning in the general direction. “Anyhow, we're looking into pony society,” To put it lightly, “and I'm here to document family histories. I could start with you and Mr. Cake, if you don't mind – though if you don't have time that's fine.”

“It's no problem,” she assured him. “We haven't been getting many customers today, and Pinkie is away at the moment, so there's some time to spare!”

“Pinkie?” he asked, fumbling in his satchel for his paper and quill. Soon he found them, setting them neatly on the table in front of him along with a small jar of ink.

“Oh yes, she helps us out around here. In return we rent a room to her since she doesn't have a proper place of her own.” A trace of sadness came to her eyes then, but it quickly dissipated. “Anyhow she's quite the boon, as she does a lot of work and is tons of fun in general. But enough blathering; you were asking about family history?”

The gargoyle grinned slightly, dipping his quill in the ink. “Go ahead.”

Several pages later and Cygil had assembled most of the Cake family history with the help of Mr. and Mrs. Cake. He set his quill down and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “That's fairly extensive.”

“We're an extensive family,” Mrs. Cake proclaimed. “We have relatives all across Equestria; some even in Canterlot!”

“And you're all bakers?”

“Every last one,” Mr. Cake replied with a nod.

Well that doesn't help me one bit. Cygil rubbed his chin, sighing softly. “There's one thing I don't entirely understand.”

“What's that?”

“You're both earth ponies,” he said. “How is one of your foals a pegasus and the other a unicorn?”

“His great great great great grandfather was a unicorn,” Mrs. Cake said matter of factly.

“And her second cousin twice removed was a pegasus.” Mr. Cake added, seeming a bit dubious of the words he spoke.

Cygil looked at them both with his brows raised. “I understand.” He feigned a smile and tried not to give Mrs. Cake a sidelong glance. He dried off his quill on his sleeve and folded his notes, stuffing them into his bag. “Well, I should be going. I've got a lot of family histories to document.”

“Good luck,” said Mr. and Mrs. Cake in tandem.

“Thanks.”

Twilight's castle loomed above him, its coruscant exterior reflecting the sun. He raised his fist and knocked thrice on the cold crystal door. Within seconds the door swung open to a commodious interior, and Cygil held out his hand only to become obfuscated when he saw no one was there.

"Bah!" came the small dragon's cry of alarm. Spike immediately slammed the door in Cygil's face, scurrying to push a chair up against the door.

The gargoyle sighed, knocking again. When there was no answer, he shrugged and pushed the door open, the chair sliding out of the way with a high-pitched squeal. The dragon had his back to the far wall, tremulous with fear. Cygil stepped inside, eyeing the chair as he stepped under the threshold. "It goes under the knob, not against the door."

"W-what do you want?"

He smiled, bowing lightly. “Who, me?”

“Yeah...y-you!” Spike pointed nervously at the gargoyle. “I've got fire and I'm not afraid to use it,” Spike exclaimed, puffing a small green flame as a demonstration.

“Take it easy, I'm just looking for someone,” he said, holding up his hands.

The young dragon sighed in mild relief, stepping away from the wall though still keeping a close eye on Cygil. He raised a brow in question.

“Do you know Twilight Sparkle?”

“Do I know her?” Spike paused, considering his words carefully. Applejack always said honesty was the best policy, though apprising this gargoyle of that information could potentially put Twilight in danger. He hadn't actually seen a gargoyle before, except in the various comics that he read. There were tales of their existence, though he didn't think they were true. Now with one standing before him, he found them every bit as frightening as the illustrations portrayed. Spike had no doubt that those claws could tear him to pieces, and it was putting him on edge. “I...”

Over on the eastern side of the room was a long shelf, several baubles arranged on top of it. In the center of these was a single picture encased in a black wooden frame with gold inlay. It was of a lavender pony sitting atop a kopje, surrounded by what was presumably her friends as they enjoyed a picnic. Cygil walked over to it and picked it up gently, scrutinising it further.

He noticed that the lavender one had both wings and a horn, whereas the others only had one or the other, or neither. During his boat ride to Equestria, Jas had spoken at great length of the various types of ponies and how to identify them. Alicorns, he explained, were the only kind to have wings and horns both, and there were only four: Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, the royal sisters who ruled Equestria from Canterlot; Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, co-ruler of the Crystal Empire along with her husband Shining Armor, and Princess Twilight Sparkle, who resided in Ponyville. Seeing as to his current location, he had no doubt as to which one was pictured.

“So she lives here?” he enquired, setting the picture back down on the shelf.

“I, uh...”

“Hey,” Cygil said. “I'm not going to hurt her; I just wanted to speak to her. Do you know where she is?”

Spike hesitated, eyeing the gargoyle. If dragons could sweat, he would have been drenched. After a moment he managed to speak up with a nervous inflection. “I...I'm not really sure I can trust you.”

The gargoyle pursed his lips. “What's your name?” he said in as friendly a tone as possible.

“Spike?”

“Okay, Spike.” He knelt down, smiling at Spike as he held out his hand. “I'm Cygil.”

Spike took an inadvertent step backwards, glancing at the clawed hand, then Cygil's toothy grin. “W-what are you doing?”

“Hand-shake?”

The young dragon gulped. “Uhm...maybe later?”

Cygil's grin faltered for a moment, but he brushed it off and returned to his feet. “Sure.”

Spike sighed, looking away from the gargoyle. “Sorry, that probably wasn't very nice of me. It's just that your appearance is a little off-putting. No offense!”

He smirked. “None taken.”

“So,” he said, “what do you want with Twilight?” He was terrified of what the answer might be, but when Cygil took out a stack of papers his fear was replaced with mild curiosity.

“I'm here to document family histories and I figured Twilight could help,” he said, motioning to the papers.

“Oh.” He paused. “So you're like a scholar?”

Cygil offered a lethargic shrug. “You could say that.”

“Huh, I guess you and Twilight would get along, then.”

“Truly?” he said, raising a brow.

“Yeah, Twilight loves learning and sharing information. You'd learn a ton from her, and I'm sure someone like you would have plenty to teach, too.”

“I'm not sure about that.”

“Come on, you're saying that a gargoyle has nothing to tell? I thought they only existed in fantasy books!” he said, motioning to the gargoyle in front of him.

“I suppose I am rather fantastic,” he said, brushing back his mane in an exaggerated manner.

Despite his misgivings, Spike couldn't help but let out a small laugh. A grin crept across Cygil's face as he folded his arms, chuckling inwardly at his jest.

“That was really bad, you know,” Spike said.

“Oh, I know. I'm just full of bad jokes.”

“Then Pinkie would like you as well!”

Cygil rubbed his chin. “I heard that name earlier. Isn't she the one that works at Sugarcube Corner?”

Spike gave a nod of affirmation. “The one and only!”

“Well I look forward to meeting her.”

“You know, you seem all right.” Spike said, stepping a little closer.

“Thanks.”

“Would you like some tea?” he said, motioning towards the kitchen.

Cygil grinned. “I'm parched, so yeah, I'd love some tea.”

“Right this way, please.”

Spike led Cygil through a tall, open doorway and into the spacious kitchen. He leapt up onto a stool and opened a cabinet, pulling out a couple of cups. By the stove there was a kettle, which he carried over to the sink and filled up with water. He grunted, struggling with the weight as he brought it back to the stove.

“You want a hand with that?” Cygil offered.

“Nah, I'm good.” Spike set the kettle down and turned the knob. “Well, could you pass me the tea? It's up top and I really don't want to get a ladder right now.”

The gargoyle walked over to the cabinet, pulling it open. There was a few boxed foods, noodles and vegetables mostly, and on the top shelf were different types of tea. He pulled out a box labelled 'Chamomile' and set it on the counter next to Spike.

“Thanks a bunch,” he said, pulling out a couple of bags and dropping them in the kettle.

“It's not a problem.”

“So how are you liking Ponyville?” Spike turned away from the kettle, meeting Cygil's gaze.

“It's nice so far, though I admit you have some strange ideas for buildings. A giant pastry? A large crystal tree? I was under the impression that such designs would result in structural infirmity.”

Spike raised a brow, a quizzical look on his features. “Structural what-now?”

“Infirmity, it's like a weakness. If a building is structurally infirm then it's not built well and bound to collapse.”

“Oh, I see.” Spike smiled at him. “Don't worry, the Cakes' shop has been standing for longer than I've been alive and it's fine! As for this castle, well...it's a long story. I'll tell you over tea, okay?”

Cygil smirked. “Okay.”

Soon they found themselves seated by a large window that looked out across Ponyville, their cups resting atop small glass platters on a prosaic table. Cygil picked up his tea and sipped it, and the steam that danced off its surface permeated Cygil's senses and eased the pain from his journey. Next time, he concluded, he would certainly hire a carriage if possible. He inhaled the flowery aroma, taking another sip as he glanced obliquely over to Spike. The young dragon wasn't touching his tea.

Noticing his gaze, Spike grinned awkwardly. “I actually prefer it cold.”

Cygil made some noise of affirmation, setting the tea down on his platter. “Hey, after you tell me about the castle...is it okay if I rest here for the night?” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Sure, there's a few guest rooms, but they don't really have beds.”

“A bed would be preferable,” Cygil replied with a wave of the hand.

Spike bit his lip nervously. “Well Twilight won't be back until tomorrow, so you could sleep in her bed I guess? I don't think she'd like it if she found out, though.”

“Does she have to know?” Cygil raised an eyebrow, his expression slightly bemused.

“No, but she would find out sooner or later. She's very in – uh, what's the word? In-something.”

“Inquisitive?”

“That's the one!” Spike said, pointing a finger at the gargoyle.

He smiled slightly, resting his hands on his knees. “Okay, so how about this castle?”

“Oh, yeah...” Something akin to deep sadness plastered itself across Spike's features just then, and Cygil found himself wondering if perhaps he should divert the conversation. After several moments of silence, he was about to do so when Spike begun the dolorous tale, starting with the very beginning before they had ever come to Ponyville.

Cygil listened intently as the young dragon told of the Golden Oak Library and how it was their home, of the many memories they had made there, and the quiet days when they would return to it after a day's adventure, sipping tea while Twilight lost herself in her latest book, and sometimes speaking to each-other for long hours until the sun fell from the sky and Luna's moon began to shine in the east.

Then they would go upstairs, where Twilight had a small but comfortable bed against a curtained window, whither she would sometimes keep herself awake gazing at the stars as they scintillated in the ebony sky. Spike's bed was at the bottom of Twilight's, he explained, and sometimes on the nights when she stayed awake stargazing or reading, he too would turn the knob of his small oil lamp and read comics by its faint orange glow until Twilight told him to go to sleep. And once in a while, mostly upon gelid winter nights, they would cuddle up to each-other and watch the stars together, and sometimes Twilight would sing him to sleep if she wasn't in her usual demure mood.

Then he told of Tirek.

Cygil found himself poised on the edge of his seat, listening as Spike told of the centaur and his insatiable quest for power which all culminated in the battle between Tirek and Twilight, resulting in the fiery destruction of their home. “The rainbow power sent him back to Tartarus,” Spike explained, “and it also gave us the castle. It's nice and all, but it's really not the same...”

It remained quiet for several minutes after that, the two of them drinking their tea as they looked out over Ponyville below. Cygil was not entirely certain of what to say to assuage the small dragon's mood, but he knew the depths of Spike's pain were very great. While Cygil had faced loss, both with some of his squad mates and his father, he couldn't quite fathom what it would be like to lose a home. While it was true he was not living there any more, every once in a while he would stop in and visit his mother, and they would sometimes go for walks in the weald, taking the paths they had known for years. He remembered being a boy on those same paths, pretending to be a great and powerful warrior – fighting enemies that only he could see with an imaginary blade. Losing that home would hurt more than he could imagine, he realised – and suddenly Spike seemed much older to him than he initially thought. The dragon was very young, but the depths of pain he must have faced, to not crumble under that weight, Cygil knew that Spike was very strong. There was not much he could say.

“I'm sorry.” A small condolence for an ineffable pain, but it was all he could think of.

Spike smiled weakly, finishing his tea and setting the empty cup down on the platter. “It's all right,” he assured, hopping down off of his chair. “Are you done with your tea?”

Cygil nodded briefly.

“Then I'll get to washing these,” he said, taking Cygil's platter and cup in his other hand. “If you're sleeping in Twilight's bed you should probably wash up, and try not to clog the drain with your fur.”

Twilight's chambers were, like the rest of the castle, commodious. The most salient thing, Cygil noted, was the red canopy draped over Twilight's large bed, which itself was placed against the far wall. The bed was covered with cushions – a motley of colours – and many of the pillows had various types of frills. He wondered then how many pillows it took to support a single pony's head, before realising – with some degree of self-deprecation – that most of them were purely for aesthetics.

Sitting beside the bed was a single nightstand with two drawers, made from what looked like mahogany. He approached it, and then looking over his shoulder to ensure no one was watching, slid open the top drawer. There was nothing within, so Cygil then unclasped his pendant and set it inside, pushing the drawer shut.

In the adjoining bathroom he found a single mirror with a marble sink beneath. He looked at himself in the reflection and noticed just how bedraggled he was. Most of his fur was matted down and pallid with dirt, and in some places it even clumped together. No wonder everyone's been afraid of me.

Chuckling, he turned on the faucet and splashed some cold water on his face, drying himself off using a nearby towel. A black smudge appeared on the towel from the grime he was certain must have accrued over the past several days, and he muttered a curse before setting it down on the edge of the sink; another thing Spike would have to wash.

He turned on the shower and waited for it to heat up, which to Cygil's surprise did not take long. Within half a minute the water was steaming, and so Cygil locked the bathroom door and began to get himself undressed.

It took a moment for him to become acclimated to the scalding heat of the shower, but once he did he sighed in bliss. After the long journey, he had needed this almost as much as a good sleep.

Within minutes he was clean, and he stepped out of the shower. He cast a transitory glance at the drain, which was surprisingly clear.

Drying himself off hastily with a towel, he wrapped it around his waist and stepped out of the bathroom, the steam billowing out behind him and dissipating into the air. Back in the room he was finding himself unusually cold, and so he quickly made his way over to Twilight's bed with the intent of burrowing himself into it.

He pulled open the covers and then hesitated. He reflected then that Twilight would most likely not appreciate him sleeping naked in her bed – if she ever found out – and so he pulled some extra habiliments out of his bag and set to donning them. It was not his preferred method of sleeping, but he supposed he had little choice in the matter.

His eyes wandered to the night-stand, and he felt a swell of curiosity nagging at his mind. He pulled open the second drawer, and within he descried a single book, a tan cover awkwardly bound with loops of string. Taking it out, he set it upon his lap and flipped it open. On the first page was a photograph; the very same one he saw framed upon the shelf earlier. He turned the page, and the next picture was of what appeared to be the inside of a large tree, book shelves girding the walls with a single horse-head sculpture on the centre table. He stared at it for a while, and then it dawned on him that this must have been the place Spike was referring to: their former home. Twilight herself sat next to the table, a red book open in front of her with her horn bathing the scene in a lavender glow. She seemed utterly oblivious to whomever was taking the picture, though on the next page it was the same scene with her looking towards the camera, wearing a mirthful smile.

On the next page, he found a picture of Twilight and all of her friends standing in front of the tree, everyone smiling under the effulgent light of the sun.

As he flipped through the pages, something ineffable stirred within him. He had the oblique feeling that moments like the ones pictured had somehow been lost to time, scattered to the wind like leaves in autumn – broken into innumerable pieces like gelid drops of rain – and that he, looking through the sundry pictures within the book, was seeing the final vestiges of a simpler time, falling immutably into a dim and bitter future – much as embers slowly fade and die once the flames have gone.

Five

Cygil rolled over, vision bleary as he cracked open his eyes. He shuddered, cold despite the blankets, pulling them tighter around himself. When the smell of pancakes wafted in from the door, he sniffed a couple times then hauled himself up to a sitting position, rubbing his eyes until his vision had cleared.

The light poured in from the glass doors leading to the balcony, casting a long ray of sunlight across the room. In the far corner of the room he saw a tall assortment of shelves, filled to the brim with colourful books and apparatuses. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, shivering as he set his feet down on the cold marble.

He strode across the room to the tall dresser where he had stored his habiliments the night prior, dressing out of his robe then throwing on his brown doublet first, then shimmying into his pants. Lastly he took the boots over to the edge of the bed and plunked down, pulling the arduous things over his feet and then wrestling with the laces. Finally, once all was done, he buttoned up his shirt and ran a comb across his mane. He double-checked himself in the mirror then nodded in satisfaction, heading over to the bookshelf.

There were several books of varying sizes and colour, and they all seemed to be arranged alphabetically by title from top to bottom. He supposed the books on genealogy would be somewhere near the top, and he would need a ladder to reach them.

He glanced around, but couldn't see anything he could use to reach. He tapped his foot and crossed his arms, then saw out of the corner of his eye a book with its pages already opened, sitting atop a small wooden desk.

Cygil sauntered over and turned to the book's cover, reading the embossed gold letters. A Canterlot Tale. Curiously, he flipped to the first page and read the first sentence. Long ago in the quondam times, afore the age of Celestia wherein the pony tribes travelled in great droves and had yet to settle, a flame was borne in the east... He blinked, then shook his head, returning the book to its former page.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Spike was humming a light tune as he balanced atop a stool, a couple of pancakes frying in the iron pan. He dug his spatula underneath, setting them aside on a plate. Cygil smirked, walking up silently behind him and crossing his arms. The dragon didn't seem to notice as he grabbed the box of pancake mix and poured it into the simmering pan. Cygil noticed that there was another plate, presumably for him.

After a moment had passed, Spike set the finished pancake on the plate and turned, still humming his tune – which was cut short with a yelp when he noticed the gargoyle standing above him. He stumbled, stool tottering as he swung his arms in an attempt to regain his balance. The spatula clattered to the floor as the stool toppled beneath him. He fell, though Cygil managed to catch him before he hit the ground. Cygil set him on the counter and smiled apologetically.

“Sheesh, you can't just go sneaking up on somepony like that!” he said as he dusted himself off.

“Sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “Thought it would be funny.”

Spike glowered, but then gave a small smirk. “I guess it was a little funny – but don't make a habit of it, okay?”

The gargoyle nodded. “Sure thing. So what's for breakfast?”

After they had finished their pancakes, Cygil stood, brushed his doublet, then straightened his collar. “Do you happen to have any books on genealogy in this place?”

“Yes!” Spike replied eagerly. “We have all kinds of books, but...”

Cygil raised an eyebrow. “But?”

“Twilight's extremely possessive of her collection, especially since most of it was destroyed along with...well, you know.”
He pursed his lips and sighed. “I know. Well that's okay; I'll ask her about it when she gets back.”

Spike nodded with a smile. “Sounds good. So, what are you planning for today?”

“Well,” he said, “I'm planning on getting some better habiliments.”

Spike's brow scrunched up in confusion. “Habili-what now?”

Cygil rolled his eyes with a chuckle. “Clothing; I'm afraid I'll need something a bit fancier than this.” He motioned to himself.
“Oh...” He paused. “I don't think you look that bad. But if you want you could head over to Rarity's – the Carousel Boutique – if you need some custom clothes. She's really good! Uhm, she's probably not home, though. She went with Twilight the other day.”

“All right,” came his reply. “Maybe I'll take a walk around town while she's gone, then.”

“Sounds good! Be safe out there.”

“What, you don't want to tag along?”

Spike sighed. “I would, but if Twilight got back and I wasn't here looking after the place she'd go beserk.” He blushed slightly. “Plus I should probably wash her sheets.”

“I was clothed.”

“I would hope so!” He bit his lip. “It's just a precaution; you know how she is – well, you don't, but I'm sure you can imagine.”
“Oh I can imagine, all right.” Cygil rolled his eyes. “Anyways, have fun whilst I'm gone.”

Spike shook his head, grinning furtively. “It's going to be a blast.”

He egressed from Twilight's castle, and outside the sky was lucid as Cygil perambulated towards town, some of the ponies greeting him as he passed – though most kept their distance. Before he left, Spike had given him a general description of the Carousel Boutique, and Cygil inferred that it wouldn't be too difficult to find. Surely enough, after a few minutes he saw the flag atop the spire, flapping lazily in the wind.

He rapped twice on the door, and a voice jubilantly called out “One minute!”

Cygil tucked his hands into his doublet's pockets, glancing around at the ponies ambling about. Though a paltry few cast suspicious glances his way, most simply ignored him and went on with their business.

The door opened, revealing a small white filly with purple hair. “Hello, and welcome t—AH!” The door slammed in his face and he heart a faint click. He sighed, then supposed he would have to get used to this.He knocked again, and when no answer came he shrugged. “Hello?”

“Who's there?” came a tremulous voice.

“Cygil.”

A pause. “The big scary gargoyle?”

He rolled his eyes, grinning to himself. “Veritably so. May I come in?”

“Why?”

“I require custom tailored clothes and I heard that this is the place.”

The door opened a sliver, and Sweetie Belle peeked one fearful eye out at him. “Rarity's not home right now.”

“Ah, Spike told me that might be the case; figured I'd check anyways.”

“You know Spike?” The door opened a smidge wider.

“Yeah, I'm staying at Twilight's castle for a bit while I do some research. I'm a genealogist.” He smiled at her.

“You're a genie!?” she exclaimed.

He chuckled. “Uh, no. A genealogist is a person who studies families and their histories.”

“Oh...” She scrunched up her face. “That's boring, but okay!” She flashed a grin at him. “Rarity should be back later. I'll tell her to expect you!”

Cygil smiled down at her. “Thank you. Farewell for now!”

“Bye!” She waved a hoof.

He sauntered away, racking his brain for things to occupy his time with. It was a bright day, and he supposed he could take a walk around town – maybe he'd pay a visit to the Cakes. He was considering forfeiting the mission and staying in Ponyville, if just for the cookies. Then again, that would probably mean Zygar sending others after him, and that was bound to end horribly.

Towards the centre of town he found the market, an open circular area with several vendors selling their wares. The smell of fresh fruit was ubiquitous, and he saw a group of ponies lined up at what appeared to be a lemonade stand. I suppose I could use a drink, he thought to himself, ambling over and getting in line. The pony in front of him turned and looked up at him, the visage of fear plastered on his face. “Greetings and salutations,” Cygil said amiably.

He gulped, but managed to feign a grin. “Hello!” He then brusquely returned his attention to the line of ponies in front of him.

Cygil shrugged, whistling a tune as he waited.

The line in front of him soon dissipated, and he found himself looking down at a bright pink pony with blue hair. She smiled up at him and waved. “Hello!” Juniper said. “Care for a glass of lemonade?”

“Sure.”

She set an already-made glass on the counter, plopping a few ice-cubes into the sunny liquid, then nudged it towards him. “Two bits, please.”

Cygil placed two golden thrysmas on the counter, and she looked at them quizically. “Sorry, I'm not from around here.”

“Oh! That's okay. I'm sure I can convert this if I bring it to a bank,” she said as Cygil took a sip of the lemonade.

“I should probably look into that; can't go around inconveniencing people, after all.”

She smiled at him. “I'm sure most ponies won't mind, but that's a good idea.”

“Erm...where is the Ponyville bank, by the way?”

“I'm not sure!” she said. “I'm new here, too. Though I'm certain if you ask around somepony will help.” Juniper paused and looked around the marketplace. Then she said: “You know what? I'm sure I could step away for a moment and we could go looking together.”

“Oh no, I couldn't ask you to do that.”

“I insist!” she said with a grin. “Besides, it's not every day you meet a gargoyle.”

He smiled at her warmly. “All right.”

They walked together, passing through the bustling town. A few birds flitted overhead, and Cygil found himself unusually happy – perhaps all the bright colours were getting to him. He turned to her as they moseyed along. “So how long have you been in Ponyville?” he enquired.

“Oh,” she began, pursing her lips, “it's been about a week.” She grinned at him. “You?”

“This is my second day.”

“Are you staying or just passing through?”

“The latter.” He chuckled. “Though I could be held up here for a while.”

Juniper caught the hoof of a passing pony, causing him to stop and glower at her. “Excuse me,” she said. “Do you know where the bank is?”

He sighed, pulling his hoof away from her. “Down this street and to your left; can't miss it.”

“Thank you.”

Cygil looked over his shoulder at the pony and smirked. “Where I come from that probably would have gotten us into a brawl.”

She smiled at him. “You'll find we're much more lenient here. Usually.” Cygil noted that she spoke the last word with a bit of tension.

Soon enough they found the bank, and they stopped to admire its purple marble pillars, holding up a roof with blue and white filigree above. They walked through the grand double-doors into a room with a red carpet sprawled across the floor, large paintings of noble ponies hanging from the walls. There was a glass chandelier suspended above, casting shimmering blades of light that pervaded the room. Ahead of them was a long black marble counter, and behind it were several ponies with cropped manes, quills scrawling over their ledgers.

Aside from Cygil and Juniper, there didn't seem to be any customers; though the tellers were as lively as ever. One waved them over, and the two of them strode up to her – a lanky yellow mare with purple eyes and a bright, gleaming smile. “Hello!” she said, reaching out and shaking Cygil's hand, then shaking hooves with Juniper. “How may I be of assistance today?”

“Well,” Cygil said, pulling open the laces on his satchel and placing four bags of coin on the table, “I'm going to require a conversion of currency.”

Juniper placed the two coins on the counter as well. “So am I.”

The clerk eyed the copious amounts of coin, then pulled out a book, flipping to a new page. “Thrysmas to bits, I'm presuming?”

“Yes – wait, how did you know?”

She grinned at him softly. “Well, gargoyles are a bit of a rare occurrence — but you’re hardly the first.” Her gaze trailed back to the bags in front of her. “Anyhow, what's your name?”

“It's Cygil,” he said, proceeding to spell it out.

“And I am Juniper.”

The nib of her quill scratched across the parchment, jotting down his name and then marking the date. “Coins per bag?”

“Fifty.”

“Fifty,” the teller repeated, clicking her tongue as she took further notes. “Okay, just a moment.” She folded the book and grabbed the coins, ambling off towards a tall door. She undid the latch then stepped inside.

Cygil determined this would be a good time to get to know his acquaintance better. “So June – if I may call you that – where do you come from?”

She giggled at him. “You may; also, I come from the north – it's a place you probably haven't heard of, and I suppose that's unimportant. My family...” She sighed, then shook her head with a grin. “Far too many siblings, and almost all of them cantankerous. I decided to get away for a while.”

“I understand,” Cygil said. “Sometimes the ones closest to you can upset you the most.”

“Now isn't that the truth?” Juniper grinned at him.

Cygil drummed his fingers on the counter-top, looking around at the room. One portrait in particular caught his attention. He nudged Juniper on the shoulder to grab her attention, pointing towards it. “Who's that?”

She squinted for a moment, then smiled. “That would be Princess Celestia,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Wow.” He scratched the fur on his chin. “What's with the mane?”

“Well it's always like that; it even blows in the wind – when there's no wind.”

He raised a brow, then laughed. “Good one.”

She frowned. “No, really.”

Cygil ceased his laughter, looking again at the image of the alicorn – almost glowing in the light of the sun. “Huh.”

“I know it sounds strange,” she assured him. “But I've seen it, myself.”

“You've met her?”

“Oh yes, well...” She bit her lip. “I saw her once, a couple of years ago.”

“Why didn't you ask her about it?” He chuckled, eyes filled with mirth.

“Hey, don't look at me,” she said with a laugh. “I was just there for the food, and of course the party.”

The door once again opened up, the clerk sashaying back to the desk. She set several bags of coin on the counter then pushed two lone bits towards Juniper, who thanked her and placed them in her pouch. “Will that be all for today?” she said with an amiable grin.

“Yes, thank you,” Cygil replied, setting the bags into his satchel and tying it shut.

“Have a nice day,” she said as the pair walked out.

“Likewise!” they replied in tandem.

They descended the steps outside of the bank, once more setting foot on the hard dirt ground of Ponyville. A few others walked past, and a lone pony pulled a wagon laden with vegetables in the offing.

“Thank you for accompanying me, June,” he said as he turned to her, a grin on his face.

She returned the smile. “No problem! Anyhow, I should probably get back to my lemonade stand.”

“Very good. Take care of yourself, Juniper.”

“Always have.” She chortled, then plodded off towards the market – her pink fur catching the sunlight.

For a few moments he stood there with his arms crossed, staring up at the cerulean sky. He wondered how Jas was doing, and then he wondered how in the world he was going to go about abducting a pony with no one else knowing about it. It was something that had to be done, eventually – though aside from Spark's shield he hadn't seen a great deal of magic – definitely not the abundance that Zygar was claiming there to be. If anything, most of these ponies seemed to be fairly ordinary – if you could call colourful talking horses 'ordinary'.

He was broken out of his reverie when a gray stallion with a slicked black mane shoved past him, nearly causing him to topple over. “Watch it!” the pony said as he kept walking.

“You could have gone around,” Cygil muttered under his breath, causing the stallion to stop in his tracks. He looked over his shoulder, glaring at the gargoyle.

“What was that?”

He smiled as wide as he could, shrugging innocuously. “I said that's a wonderful mane you have.”

The other grumbled and shook his head, then kept going. Cygil waited until he was long gone, then sighed, heading back into town and towards Sugarcube Corner.

Cygil swung the door open and ducked under the threshold. He shut it behind him, then found himself an empty table by the window and sat down, the few ponies that were in the shop casting him uneasy glances. Soon Mrs. Cake appeared at his side, smiling amicably at him. “Hello, dear,” her lilting voice came. “Have you come back for the cookies?”

He matched her smile with his own. “Perhaps a slice of cheesecake – and coffee, if you have it.”

“Can do! Anything else?”

Cygil pursed his lips. “Not today.”

He watched as she left, then caught sight of a pony across the room staring at him. Their eyes met, then, feeling as if he had just been slapped across the face by the sudden intrusion of privacy, diverted his eyes out the window where the throng of ponies walked on by without paying him any mind.

Mrs. Cake returned, a slice of creamy cheesecake drenched in chocolate syrup on a small plate. His eyes glazed over at the sight, his mouth watered – and in that one instant, the door flew open and collided with the wall, causing Mrs. Cake to yelp in surprise and stumble forward, the plate sliding off her head and splattering the cheesecake, and syrup, down his doublet. “Oh dear, sincerest apologies!”

He trembled slightly, noticing the brown streak trailing down his front and the smudge of white near his chest. “That's quite all right.”

Mr. Cake poked his head out of the kitchen door, but his wife simply waved him away, silently mouthing that everything was fine. He doffed his hat, then once more disappeared behind the doors.

She moved to grab the nearest towel, which was sitting atop a counter. Cygil held out his hand. “That'll just smear it,” he said, glancing towards the door. There, he saw a bright pink pony with a puffy mane staring at him, pupils the size of saucers. Cygil leaned down, picking up the plate – and the remains of cheesecake – and set it on the table. He stood and strode over to her, a scowl on his face. “You have cost me a doublet,” he growled, not bothering to hide his anger.

Mrs. Cake walked up beside him, smiling nervously up at Cygil. “Uhm, that would be Pinkie Pie,” she said, nudging him gently.

He looked at her, then returned his focus to the pony before him. “Ah, so you're the one I've heard about,” Cygil stated, trying to calm himself. If she was close to Twilight, he would have to do his best to make a decent first impression. He held out his hand. “The name's Cygil.” She continued to stare at him, mouth hanging slightly ajar. He thought he could see the faint glimmer of drool beginning to form on the corner of her lip. “Is she okay?” he said to Mrs. Cake, furrowing his brow.

“Don't worry, things like this tend to happen...”

Cygil waved his hand in front of her eyes, getting no reaction whatsoever. Then, after an inordinately long while, Pinkie Pie gasped for air and snapped back to her senses. She narrowed her eyes at him. “It's Pinkie Pie Party Planning Phase...pronto!” she said, bolting up the stairs, her hooves thumping on the rickety wooden steps and causing the neatly-stacked dishes on the shelves to shake and clatter.

Cygil turned back to Mrs. Cake, looking nonplussed. “Am I going to be okay?” he stammered.

Mrs. Cake tittered softly. “Oh, yes. It seems she wants to throw a party in celebration of your arrival.”

“Myarrival? She doesn't even know who I am.”

“Well, she does this for almost everypony. I imagine she might throw one for that new Juniper girl as well, but a gargoyle is a rare occurrence in our town...sort of.”

“Sort of?”

She rolled her eyes. “Ponyville is far from being the most quiet town on the map; we've had our fair share of—” She tried to think of a proper way to phrase it “—happenings. Anyhoo, you can't very well attend a party looking like that – again, my apologies.”

He sighed, but then smiled at her. “Wasn't your fault; I was on my way to Rarity's, anyways. She can probably fix this up for me, or make me a new one.”

“Oh, yes! She is very talented, I think you'll find – very generous, too. She is the Element of Generosity, after all!”
Cygil grinned at that. “Then I look forward to meeting her.”

Minutes later he stood once more outside the door of the Carousel Boutique, slightly miffed by the ponies that had chuckled at him and his sorry doublet as he was making his way hither. He took a deep breath, then knocked twice, patiently waiting for an answer. “I'll be right there!” a voice called out – a different voice this time.

The purple door opened, revealing a white mare with a styled purple mane. Her eyes were closed, and she was levitating a steaming cup of tea to her lips. She took a sip then sighed in content, smiled, then opened her eyes. “Greetings! Welcome to the Carous—” Her introduction was cut off by a shriek as she noticed who – or rather what – was standing before her. In an instant she flung her tea, the scalding hot liquid splashing in his face as the door slammed shut.

He stood there drenched, the hot tea running down his face and further tarnishing his doublet. He found himself shaking, teeth clenched, and his fists balled up so tight that his knuckles were turning white. Cygil turned and stormed off, a string of curses erupting from him as he made his way through a bewildered crowd of ponies, giving him a wide berth.

Inside the boutique, Sweetie Belle was yelling at her sister. “I told you to expect a visitor!” she said, glaring at the older mare.

“You didn't tell me he was a gargoyle!” she said, shaking her hoof in admonition.

The filly sat there, shrinking before her sister's anger. “I...didn't?”

“No!”

Sweetie turned her head away from her. “Oops.”

He didn't bother knocking afore shouldering his way through the tall crystal doors of the castle – didn't even so much as call out to announce himself as he trudged his way up the polished steps then down the vaulted hallway. He came to the door leading to Twilight's room, reached out for the golden knob and grasped it, no thought on his mind except getting into some fresh clothes.

“Cygil, I presume?”

Before thinking, his hand went to the hilt of his sword and he spun around, finding himself looking into the eyes of a tall lavender pony, her wings flattened against her sides – an alicorn. “Twilight Sparkle,” he managed to force through a smile.

She forced one of her own, feeling uneasy. Though Spike had told her a bit about the gargoyle and he had seemed decent enough, she couldn't help but remember Celestia's warning. Fire, bloodshed and death. Words that seemed more pertinent now, seeing this tall, boorish-looking beast reaching for his sword. She shivered involuntarily.

Twilight made a mental note to keep an extra close eye on this one. His presence might have been a total coincidence, having nothing to do with Celestia's premonitions – or it could have had everything to do with them. Either way, she wasn't about to let her guard down.

She scrutinised him from top to bottom, then decided to ask the obvious question. “What exactly are you doing outside of my room?”

Shit. He grinned even wider than before. “If you didn't notice, I need to get myself changed.”

That took her aback. “Your clothes are in my room?”

“...Yes?”

Twilight's expression fell, and she glared at him. “You slept in my room,” she said. It wasn't a question, but a cold, hard fact – one that Cygil couldn't deny.

He looked at her for a moment longer, then shrugged. He opened the door and walked inside, his footsteps clapping on the smooth marble beneath his feet. Twilight was right behind him – now beside him. “You slept in my room?!” She paused, then a more terrible realisation came to her. “YOU SLEPT IN MY BED!?”

Cygil waved his hand at her, as if dismissing a slight inconvenience.

She drew herself up in front of him, her face contorted in anger as she stared him down. “Do you have any idea as to the violation of privacy that is? You can't just go around sleeping in other pony's beds!”

He walked around her, making his way for the nightstand. She came around again, stopping him in his tracks. He drew a sharp breath, then sighed. “I don't have cooties, if that's what you're afraid of.”

She gawped at him for a moment. “You think this is about cooties?” she growled through clenched teeth. “This is about you sleeping in my bed!”

Cygil did his very best to smile at her, though he knew he wasn't fooling anyone. “Yes, well I'm not partial to sleeping on the floor.” That seemed to make her stop and think for a moment, which was all the time he needed to slip past and pull open the drawer containing his spare shirt. “Now if you'll excuse me I have to change.”

She looked at him uncertainly, then muttered something under her breath. She said, “Fine, but after that I want you out.”

“Don't worry, I won't set foot in here again.”

“Good.”

A moment of silence passed between them, then he nodded. “Good.”

She ambled towards the door, pulling it open with her magic. She looked over her shoulder one more time before shutting the door behind her.

Cygil set about pulling his bag of things from the drawer. He quickly undressed, pulling off his besmirched doublet and setting it on the table. There was a white cotton shirt with a frilled collar that he had been saving in case he needed it, which he figured was right about now.

After he had dressed, he donned his pendant and stuffed it into the front of his shirt, humming a tune as he grabbed hold of his bag and walked out the door. Twilight was in the middle of conversing with Spike when he reached the bottom of the stairs, the two of them seated by a round glass table. He coughed to get their attention. “How do I look?”

Spike whistled, then gave him a thumbs up. “Looking good!” he said with a wink.

Twilight merely scoffed at him. “Better now that you don't have cake smeared all over you – but not by much.”

He couldn't help but grin at that. “I'm hurt.”

There was an empty seat propped up against the wall. He carried it over, plopping himself down at the table. “Let's put all of this bed business behind us, shall we?” he said, holding out his hand. “I'm Cygil, as you know.”

Hesitantly, she placed her hoof in his grip and gave a light shake. “Twilight Sparkle, as you know.”

“She's also a princess!” Spike piped up.

“Not relevant,” she said, looking slightly annoyed.

“You can't keep downplaying your position, Twilight. He's from a foreign land; you're royalty – you've gotta represent the nation!”

Twilight glared at him briefly. “The last thing I wanted to do today is represent all of Equestria. I was just going to come home, enjoy a warm bath, do some reading, and go to sleep – but clearly that's not going to happen.”

“So you being a princess, am I supposed to kiss your hoof or something?” he said, deadpan expression on his face.

She rolled her eyes. “No. Next silly question.”

“Do you have any books on genealogy?”

Twilight paused for a moment, raising her brow. “Yes, actually. Why do you want to know?”

“He's a genealogist!” said Spike with a grin.

“I...see.” She gave him one glance, then said: “Let me see your notes.”

That surprised him, and hesitantly he reached for the papers he had stuffed into his satchel. “Of course.”

He slid them across the table, and she used her magic to levitate them up to her face – her lavender eyes mulling over the text. After a few seconds of reading she set them down on the table, sliding them back across with a strange look on her face.

“Something the matter?” Cygil enquired.

“No, nothing's the matter,” she said with a faint smile – though it was a dubious one at that.

“It'll be better once it's finished.”

“Mhm.” She turned towards Spike, who was in the process of twiddling his thumbs. “Can you get us some tea?”

“Absolutely!” he said, hopping off his seat and hurrying for the kitchen.

They sat there in silence for a couple of moments before Twilight spoke up. “So you're from Garedion, correct? Spike told me a little about you before you got here.”

“That's right,” he said with a nod. “The isle is referred to as Caledonnis. To the south is Garedion – and to the north is the land of the natives: Fwei.”

She looked at him quizically. “The natives?”

He made a faint gesticulation with his hand. “Hundreds upon hundreds of years ago my ancestors migrated across the Bitter Sea in search of better lands. When they arrived they found that great, wandering tribes inhabited the whole isle.” Cygil paused, considering his next words carefully. “Apparently there were some...disagreements. Most of the natives were driven back to the north, and the southern half was claimed in the name of the first king, whose name I can't seem to recall at the moment.” He looked up, noticing that Twilight had somehow produced a notebook and quill, and was busy scribbling away. After a moment she finished, looking him in the eye.

“So where'd the name 'Garedion' come from?”

“Well, the first king named it after Gared the Lion; he was apparently a great hero a thousand years prior – though don't quote me on that.”

She nodded, finishing her notes and poofing both the notebook and quill out of existence. He smiled at that, admiring the brief display of magic.

Soon Spike returned with three steaming cups of tea, setting them down on the table and climbing, albeit awkwardly, back into his seat. A knocking on the door caught their attention, and Twilight sighed and stood up from her seat, wondering who was possibly interrupting now.

Spike and Cygil looked up as Twilight returned, followed by a very embarrassed-looking Rarity. Cygil coughed lightly as she approached, sliding his tea away. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that Spike had a slight blush to his cheeks. He couldn't help but smirk at that. Young love, eh?

She stepped up to the table, then smiled up at the gargoyle before her.

“Cygil...it's Cygil, right? I'd like to apologise for my demeanor back there; I realise it wasn't very polite of me, and I assure you I am not the sort to impetuously fling tea at potential customers – your appearance startled me, is all...” She trailed off, her gaze sidelong.

After a moment she snapped back to reality with a smile. “Anyhow, as I ruined your old garb I'm afraid I'll simply have to make you a new one!” She then levitated out a measuring tape. “Could you stand up, please?”

“Uh, sure.” He pushed his chair aside and got to his feet, standing up as straight as possible. It didn't take Rarity long to take his measurements, and when she was done she nodded curtly. “Very good, very good. I don't usually make clothes for gargoyles just so you know, but I am an expert after all! Now, what sort of clothing do you prefer?”

“Another doublet will do.”

She bit her lip. “Any specifics?”

“Black.”

Rarity stared at him for a second, then sighed. “Black it is.”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “Is there a problem with that?”

“No no, it's just a little drab is all.”

“Well I was going to wear this shirt underneath,” he said, motioning to himself.

“Oh, of course!” Her eyes sparkled, almost as if seeing it for the first time. “Some say frills are antiquated, but I find them simply exquisite. Yes, I imagine that'd go nicely with a black doublet.”

He smiled at her. “I'm glad you think so; let's just hope it's suitable for the party.”

Everyone looked at him as if he had just spoken some foreign tongue. “What party?” said Twilight.

“I ran into Pinkie.”

There was a pause, and then an expression crossed her face that sat somewhere between exhaustion and resignation. “Tonight?”

He smiled and offered a small shrug. “Tonight.”