The Ambassador's Son

Chapters

Where Dragons Rule
The Flame of Youth
The Warrior Inside
Evening Star
All's Fair in Love and War
Thaumomancy
Monster
A Change of Place
Courting Disaster
Tough Call
The Journey Home
Secrets and Lies
The Box of Delights
A Night on the Town
Revelations
Fury of the Storm
Wheels Within Wheels
Prepare For War
In Training
The Echoes of History
Epilogue - End of Book 1
Through Fire and Flames
Mending Wings and Broken Things

Where Dragons Rule

═ The ══════════
Ambassador's
══════════ Son ═

Chapter Two
Where Dragons Rule
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow

Chip yawned. It was late. Sharptooth had decided to walk down the mountain to the house. Complaints had been met with the information that he may fly down if he didn’t want to walk. Pointing out he had no wings had had very little effect.

“So...” Chip yawned again as the front door was opened. “Where do I sleep?”

“I think, tonight, you may sleep in the room with the models. I do not have a second bed, but there is an old couch in there that may suit you. I shall fetch what blankets I can find and a pillow or cushion.”

The only light was from what appeared to be an oil-lamp; the dragon had lit it with a single puff of flame breath. Chip sat on his haunches in the middle of the living room staring around at the dancing shadows as the dragon searched through a closet.

Books and scrolls lined one wall, with a writing desk underneath. The adjacent corner featured a small brass telescope, pointed out a window which was currently behind some thick curtains. A curious globe with what appeared to be maps on the surface was next to it, with an odd line down the middle of what appeared to be a great sea. There was a fireplace, with what appeared to be burning rocks in it that never went out, and a comfortable chair. A small pile of cushions lay in one corner, plush and red. Celestia had lain in them. Sharptooth turned around with a bundle of blankets in one paw. He gave the lantern, which was on a long brass stick, to Chip. Chip took it in his muzzle. The dragon then picked up a couple of the red cushions and motioned upstairs.

Chip trotted up the winding stairwell to the door he’d opened the day before. He pushed it open with a hoof and stepped in. The room was rather large for a small pony, with one long window down one wall. There was the desk, a long mahogany creation with many scuff marks and cup-indentations and stains on it. It smelled of age and use, and glue. Down the adjacent wall was the couch, beaten and torn and somewhat decrepit.

“Hop up, lad, and get yourself comfortable. I’ll tuck you in. If you don’t feel like going outside to do your business should you need to, then downstairs, past the kitchen, down the long corridor, you’ll find the necessary.”

Chip looked at the couch suspiciously. He pushed it with one hoof. It seemed soft enough. Two hooves seemed agreeable. He jumped up and turned around several times before dropping to his belly and squirming until comfortable. a red cushion was placed under his head and neck, and a second one was placed near his hind legs. Sharptooth pulled the blanket over the colt and he did indeed tuck the little fellow in. With a goodnight nuzzle, Sharptooth exited the room and tramped down the stairs to his own wallow.

Sharptooth got himself comfortable in his weir, which involved much wriggling and twisting and writhing. The previous night it had been difficult for him to fall asleep, at first, but he had finally found a suitable position with the colt nestled between his forepaws and back legs, tail and wings wrapped around the both of them. Now the hollowed out depression in the rock felt... strangely empty. He breathed deeply and sighed, closing his eyes. The next day promised to be easier than the current...

clip-clop, clip-clop...

drag-drag-thump...

clip-clop, clip-clop...

drag-drag-thump...

Sharptooth opened one eye and shifted a wing. He peered at the door. Sure enough, it creaked open. There was the soft pitter-patter of hooves crossing the floor, complete with the dragging swish of a blanket being pulled after them, via application of teeth in muzzle.

“Can... can I sleep with you, tonight?” asked a small voice.

Sharptooth tried hard not to laugh. He wriggled himself into a different position and lifted a wing. “Come on then.”

Moments later he felt the small shape clamber into the nest-like space he’d made in the crook of his paws, down near his neck and belly. Chip dragged his blanket with him and rolled himself up in it before making himself comfortable.

“Goodnight, little one,” whispered the dragon, but the colt was already snoring.

♦♦♦

Chip opened his eyes, basking in that lethargic feeling one gets after a good sleep. He felt good... then he remembered, and he felt sick to his stomach again. The knowledge hit him, like the time Frostpepper at school had bucked him in the flank. It took the breath away, leaving a sick and heavy feeling in the pit of the stomach.

He was awake now; there would be no getting back to sleep. He decided to take proper stock of just where he was. It turned out he was lying on his back, hooves in the air, in the grasp of a dragon. Turning over as carefully as possible, the pony took the time to examine his benefactor. He hadn’t, so far. He’d been just... moving like some enchanted golem; reacting, not acting. As he lay there, the dim light of dawn filtering under the door, the colours and other unique features of the dragon were becoming visible.

Sharptooth was green, a deep and emerald green, with white horns on his head and at the joints of his wings. His claws, mostly his hind claws which were large and sharp, were similarly white and pearly. He seemed to have much smaller claws on his forepaws, Chip guessed it made manipulation with those odd fingers easier. The spines on the dragon’s back extended down his tail. They were pointed, but they weren’t sharp. They felt like... well, he guessed they felt like bone with a soft yet tough hide covering. He couldn’t help but notice that the dragon wasn’t scaly, like he’d thought dragons were. This one, at least, had a kind of... well, it wasn’t like the skin on a pony where the fur didn’t cover. It was more the same sort of hide as the scales, only more flexible and mobile. It was tough, yet soft and warm.

He hadn’t realized he’d been poking and prodding until the dragon woke up, giggling and snorting.

“He-hey! Cut that out! That tickles!” cried Sharptooth, snorting and belching. A small puff of smoke burst from his nostrils and the dragon hiccuped, belching again. There was a moment of silence, and then the dragon resumed hiccuping.

“Oh, dr—” hiccup “—at, now look what you’ve got m—” hiccup “—e doing!”

“Sorry!” said Chip, covering his muzzle with a hoof as he laughed. He was tumbled unceremoniously out of the bed, where he landed in a tangled heap with the blanket.

“I should thi—” hiccup “—ink so!”

Sharptooth padded off, hiccuping randomly, until he finally got a cup from somewhere and drank a little water. The dragon reappeared in the doorway, and yawned. “Come on, it’s time you got up. You’ve got school to get to.”

“School?” whined Chip in amazement from in the middle of his blanket-pile. “But... but...”

The dragon shook his head. “Young Master Irontail, if there is one thing you must learn, it is that life will out. You need things to do, lad, and being cooped up in this cave isn’t ‘things’. You’re a Diamond Expanse dragon now, my son, and no son of mine will be without an education. If you feel it’s too much, if you need someone to talk to, then we will deal with that need. However, I don’t know the full story of what happened to your parents yet, and I must enlighten myself. I can do that better without you under my claws all day. So, pride of my clutch, you are going to school.”

Chip opened and closed his muzzle a few times, silently. He opened it again in a laugh when Sharptooth’s stomach decided to announce that it was feeling rather ignored, and that if everybody was quite done explaining, it needed filling.

“...Right after breakfast.”

♦♦♦

Sharptooth liked cooking. Truth be told, Sharptooth loved cooking. It was part of what had attracted him to the life of an ambassador with the gregarious and plentiful ponies. Their lands were large, mostly peaceful, and diverse. This meant, all in all, that they had time aplenty to experiment with their food. Like most dragons, Sharptooth could eat almost anything. He had a little meat now and again, although in deference to his friends he made sure that the source of it couldn’t talk and wouldn’t be missed. He even ate gems and other rocks, adding diamond powder to taste like other creatures added salt. However, he felt it best that Chip be given as close to a normal pony diet as possible, at least to begin with. The more exotic foodstuffs could be eased in later, maybe as a little father-son bonding time. This morning, therefore, he would make haycakes.

Haycakes were deceptively difficult. If he heated the stove too little, they would be stodgy and poor. Too hot and they would be rubbery at best, burned at worst. His stomach growled again. There was nothing for it, he’d have to flash-fry.

He mixed the batter quickly, poured it out onto an over-large flat baking tray and took a deep breath. As he exhaled, a blue-white flame played over the flat circles and they went from a very light to a very golden brown. He flipped them expertly and breathed a quick flash of green fire, he liked to think his green flame gave them extra flavour, and seared the other side. He smiled to himself. Just right.

He turned back to the table to see Chip sitting there with his bottom jaw practically on the floor.

“Ah, er, yes. You’ve never seen a dragon flash-cooking before?”

Chip shook his head, muzzle still open.

“Best thing in the world, seals in the flavour. Try them!”

There was nothing for it, Sharptooth reasoned, he’d just have to hope that tastebuds and appetite would overcome surprise. He shovelled half of the golden brown disks onto one plate, the other half onto another, and placed one plate on each side of the small table. Adding some fruit preserve, he said, “Dig in.”

Sharptooth used a fork. His son, he noted, needed neither fork or knife. The colt took a few careful sniffs and an exploratory lick, then rolled one up with his lips and tongue and practically inhaled it. The colt’s ears pricked up straight; he licked his muzzle clean and devoured the rest in a bloodthirsty orgy of gastronomical destruction.

Sharptooth smiled to himself—phase one complete. Now for phase two: the grooming.

The colt was surprisingly fast and maneuverable, but the dragon’s prey wouldn’t get far. He cornered the colt in his bedroom and pounced. The metal forked brush was then repeatedly applied to chestnut mane and tail until the unruly locks were shiny and straight, and the hideous spectre of ‘bedmane’ was banished until the next time. Then a smoother-bristled brush was applied to the light creamy-brown coat all over until it shone. Sharptooth noted that the foal was without a cutiemark, he made a mental note to discuss such things with Celestia. Time and childhood for normal dragons was markedly different than that of ponies, he would have to know if there were to be any differences.

“Ugh! I hate having my mane brushed!”

“Well don’t you dare muss it up, at least until I don’t have to look at it. It’s time we got you to school, young dragon. Every other student should just be breaking for their lunch, so you’ll have to wait until later if you get hungry.”

“Dragon?” Chip snorted. “I’m a pony!”

“You’re my son, Chiphoof Irontail Leatherback of the Diamond Expanse, and that makes you a dragon, even if you’re ‘pony-shaped,’ and don’t you forget it. Out you go, let me lock up here and I’ll fly you down.”

“Fly?” Chip gulped.

The dragon shooed the colt out the front door and then bustled around inside, readying the cave for a day spent empty. He exited via the front door and locked it. “Of course fly. What, you thought you’d walk all that way? My boy, until you can fly yourself there, you’ll either have to get up very early or I’ll have to give you...” Sharptooth sprung into the air, dived over the edge and reappeared riding a thermal a few seconds later. He spiraled, dove, and snatched up the pony in one smooth movement. “...a lift!” he finished.

Chip was screaming. The wind was whistling in his ears, his tail was streaming out behind him, there was nothing directly under his impotently kicking hooves and the ground. The ground was a distressingly long way away.

“Open your eyes, boy!” shouted the dragon, over the noise.

Strangely, Chip did. The scream died in his throat. Seemingly the whole of Equestria was below him, lit by the sun which was now high in the sky.

“Feel it in your wings, lad, spread them!”

“I don’t have wings!” he shouted back.

“Then do your best with what you have!” the dragon shouted. “Welcome to your first flying lesson!”

The claws, which had up until now held him so securely, flicked open. Gravity, that mysterious force which sought to keep most creatures attached most firmly to the ground, reasserted its dominance. Chip fell. He started screaming again.

“You must feel your wings!” Sharptooth said. “Feel them spread wide, will them with your whole being!”

“Aaaaaaaaaaah!” screamed Chip.

“Feel the wind beneath them, filling them, buoying you up.”

“Aaaaaaaaaaah!” screamed Chip, louder.

Sharptooth pulled his wings in close to his side, extended his claws and snatched the creature up very carefully. He spread his wings again, and lifted high into the air, above the clouds.

“You’re crazy!”

“Feels great, doesn’t it?”

Chip was shaking, his eyes were wide and he was panting. He spluttered out a few rather grown-up words and then went silent.

“Ready for another go?”

“Don’t you...”

Sharptooth let go.

“...Daaaaaarrreee!”

Again Sharptooth dove, caught the pony, and lifted him higher. This time the pony didn’t swear, instead he whooped and screamed with joy.

“That’s it, son! Ready to go again?”

“Hit me! YAAA-HOOOOOOO!”

The pony fell, eyes open, with his forehooves outstretched and his hind legs kicking up towards the sky. A shape spun past in the air, rose up underneath him, and Chip landed, galloped in a mad dash from the tip of Sharptooth’s tail and up along his back, and he springboarded off the dragon’s head. The dragon dropped away for a moment, came up underneath him and then jockeyed him into the air.

Chip drank in the sight as Equestria flowed beneath him. He was flying—well, falling with style—and he felt like he could do anything. Claws caught him again at the apex of his parabolic course, and the pair swooped down towards the ground. He was still breathless when the dragon released him at speed a few feet above the grass. He galloped madly in a rush to slow down, and finally came to a halt, panting.

“I think you mussed my mane up, Da—Sharptooth.”

“It’s windswept; it’s all the rage.”

♦♦♦

Chip shuffled his hooves nervously. The thrill and rush of his first flying lesson—heavy with the promise of first—was fading into a very real and powerful dread of that most terrible of social situations, the first day of school. It was even overriding that ever-nagging feeling of loss and pain from the nebulous and as-yet still somehow unreal situation of being an orphan. Sort of.

Dad.

He’d almost called Sharptooth Dad.

Then again, he thought to himself, I’ve called my teachers ‘Mom’ before now...

“Ah, your son, emergency relocation, uh-huh...”

The teacher, an earth pony with what looked like a book with a compass emblazoned upon it for a cutie-mark, was talking with Sharpie and making notes on a clipboard. Chip listened in whilst pretending to take great interest in his hooves.

“Sex?”

“Male.”

“Age?”

“We’ll go with, uh, ten summers for now.”

“For now?”

“Bear with me, Miss Calligraphy, this is a rather unusual situation.”

“Race?” the pony continued, after a moments thought and a moue of disapproval.

“Dragon.”

“...Excuse me? He-he’s a, uh...”

“Dragon. He’s my son.”

“I... see.”

“Miss Calligraphy, if you are unable to deal with a dragon in your class, I am quite sure the board of governors would be delighted to find you a rep—”

“Dragon it is then,” said the teacher, primly.

“Very well. I shall be along after school to pick him up. When do lessons commonly end?”

“Four o’clock, Ambassador Sharptooth, although the children do often play in the grounds until their parents send for them.”

“That will be acceptable.”

Chip watched as Sharptooth extended a paw and shook the forehoof of the teacher-pony gently. He bent and gave her hoof a kiss, which caused the pony to blush. Chip rolled his eyes.

Sharptooth turned, nodded once to Chip, and then loped a small distance and spread his wings, taking to the skies. With a few flaps, he was gone.

Miss Calligraphy, light-green earth pony, coppery red mane and tail, clip-clopped to Chip. “Master Leatherback, the others are just finishing lunch. You may mix and mingle, and follow the other children in when the bell tolls. I’ll have a place and your school things set up for you, alright?”

“Yes, Miss.” He nodded.

“And that’s another thing, it will be ‘yes Miss’ or ‘yes Miss Calligraphy’, clear?”

“Yes, Miss,” he repeated. It seemed this teacher was like so many others—selective hearing.

“Off you go then.” The pony turned around, and trotted smartly back into the school building.

♦♦♦

Chip clip-clopped through the school grounds. It was a relatively small school; he’d generally had private tutors before. Cheap ones, he recalled, but private none-the-less. This was his first private school... wait, was it public or private when it was paid for by taxes? He couldn’t remember. Either way, it was school.

The noise of children playing reached his ears, and seemed to be getting louder. As he rounded another corner and nosed through some trees, he belatedly realised that it would have been a much shorter trip if he’d gone around in the other direction.

The children ranged in age from what seemed like five summers to fifteen. More importantly, they weren’t all ponies. Some were griffons; some appeared to be diamond dogs. As for the ponies, there were all sorts.

He was the only dragon.

Chip blinked. Had he really just thought that? Why yes, yes he had.

He steeled himself and headed towards the crowd. There was nothing for it. He’d just have to make some friends.

♦♦♦

The Flame of Youth

═ The ══════════
Ambassador's
══════════ Son ═

Chapter Three
The Flame of Youth
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow

Chip puffed out his chest and raised his head and tail. He trotted smartly out from behind the schoolhouse and over to the horde of screaming children. He was going to be masterful, suave, sophisticated. He was going to march in there and be instantly liked by everypony.

His resolve faltered somewhere around the twenty pace mark.

He came to a halt under the shade of a small tree and stood at the sidelines as a group of some ten ponies, with a smattering of diamond dog trolls and a couple of griffons, played a variation of hoofball.

The ball was a strange egg shape, with what looked like handles on each side that could be grabbed by muzzle, claw or paw equally. Each end of the pitch had three goals—one at ground level with a net at the back, one basket several feet up and one hoop even higher up.

There didn’t seem to be any score difference between the three, Chip wasn’t sure there even was a score. The game seemed to consist of kicking, punching and biting the other players in a struggle to get the ball, at which point the lucky player would presumably head for the goal they most wanted to put the ball in. Pegasi should have had the advantage, Chip reasoned, but for the fact they wouldn’t play as a herd and lacked paws. The griffons refused to cooperate, letting the pegasi dive and separate the players from the ball so it more often than not ended up on the ground. The diamond dogs, on the other hand, played as a pack. After a few moments of watching, he came to the conclusion they had to be winning.

“Hey. You must be the new kid.”

Chip looked up, from where the phantom voice had come. A griffon lay languishing on a branch. She had coloured head-feathers, so he reasoned she was a... what was the term? A chick? A hen? He wasn’t sure. A girl, anyway. Girls, in his opinion, were often trouble.

“How’d you know? I got here a few nights ago.”

“I hunt at night, dufus; don’t you know anything about griffons? Carriage like that, you gotta be somebody important.” The creature jumped down with a flick of her wings and tail, and landed lightly in front of the colt. “Name’s Carmine. What’s yours?”

“Chip,” said Chip.

“Short name for a short kid. What’re you doin’ all the way out in Tacksworn, huh? Family on the run? Dodgy business back home?”

“I...”

“Earth ponies, pfah.” Carmine turned away, apparently bored.

“I-I’m a dragon,” blurted Chip. “I-I mean my... my dad’s a dragon.”

Carmine turned back, her neck-feathers ruffling. “Dragon, eh? Only one dragon around here; old coot lives alone up on that mountain.”

“That’s the one.”

“Horseapples, short stuff.” The colourful crest on Carmine’s head fluffed up in surprise.

“Hey C, this creep botherin’ ya?”

“Heeeyyy Butch. Dozer, Digger, Ruff. Meet the new kid, Chip. He’s a dragon.” Carmine flexed her forepaws, rearing up on her hind legs and spreading her wings wide to pantomime something between shock, horror and fierceness. Chip blushed, stomach knotting up inside. Why did he have to go and blurt something so stupid...

“A dragon?” Butch snorted, and gave a barking laugh, punching Chip on the shoulder. “Don’t dragons usually have more... rah, and less... you know... this.”

Chip pouted, gritting his teeth, saying nothing.

“What’s that, dragon boy? Gonna rip us apart with those fierce claws, huh? Fly away with those huge wings?”

Chip ground his teeth. The other diamond dogs laughed as their leader, Butch, continued,

“Oh, oh, right, your mama isn’t a dragon though, is she? One lonely night, she pro—”

The breath exploded from Butch’s lungs as a head slammed into his chest. From there, it was only moments until there was a full-scale fight, with teeth, paws, legs, tails and anything else within reach.

It shouldn’t have been surprising, really, but the fight was ended rather simply. An orange glow surrounded the combatants and each was lifted into the air and, importantly, away from each other.

“And what is the meaning of this? Who started this fight?” asked a stern voice. Two adult ponies approached the still snarling and lunging creatures. Four paws pointed directly at Chip.

“Is this true?”

Chip hung his head.

Calligraphy frowned. “I shall have to tell your father. Ordinarily I would give you detention, but I don’t quite think I’ve had the whole story.” She glared meaningfully at the dogs before continuing, “Recess is over. Back to class.”

♦♦♦

“Alright! Alright! Settle down. Good afternoon, class.”

“Good afternoon, Miss Calligraphy,” intoned the children.

“Today we have a new student amongst us. Some of you—” She shot a glance towards the diamond dogs’ table“—may already have met him. This is Chiphoof Irontail Leatherback, of the Diamond Expanse Dragon Clan. He is a dragon; his father is the ambassador Sharptooth. Say hello to Chip, everyone.”

“Hello Chip,” the class dutifully replied.

“Chip, tell us about yourself.”

Chip gulped nervously, and clip-clopped to the front of class. This hadn’t been in the brochure. “M-my name is Ch-Chip, Chip Irontail. My folks... come from Neighvada, originally. I... recently moved here wi-with Sharptooth; he’s kind of my dad.”

“Miss?” asked a lavender unicorn filly suddenly. “If he’s a dragon, why does he look like a pony?”

“It’s... complicated,” mumbled Chip.

“Go on,” urged Calligraphy Quill.

Chip choked. He stood there, breathing heavily. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t say a word. His stomach hurt and he couldn’t force the words out. Not yet. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he whispered, voice breaking, eyes shining and wet with almost-tears.

Miss Calligraphy cleared her throat and moved quickly. “Th-that’s okay, Chip, you may take your seat.”

Chip walked morosely down to the indicated desk. He noted it was next to Carmine, the lavender unicorn who had asked the awkward question, a bronze pegasus filly and some other griffon he recognized partially from the hoofball game. He didn’t know how to recognize griffons, really. Carmine’s tinted headfeathers and her face seemed expressive enough, although the rest of her was a mixture of an eagle’s brown and white feathers, and a lion’s golden coat. The other griffon was much the same, but with a different set of colours.

He winced as he heard whispers and giggles from the dogs’ tables; echoes of ‘dinky dragon’ burning in his ears.

“Pay no attention to those mutts, Chip. You’re cool. Butted Butch straight in the gut, no fear.”

“Really?” hissed the other Griffon.

“Sure did B, you should’a seen him. Butch tried to give him the usual; the kid here gave it first. He’s alright.”

“So,” whispered the unicorn filly, “you really a dragon?”

“Sharptooth adopted me, if you have to know,” growled Chip, “so he says that makes me a dragon.”

“Adopted? Never would’ve known,” joked the pegasus. “Bright Pinion, Penny.”

“Chip. Just... Chip.”

“Well I’m Carmine, that bundle of feathers is Beth, and horny over there is Bella. Fuller name Isabella Liriope. Don’t call her Izzy or Bell, she hates that. Otherwise known as B-one and B-two.”

“Hey!” cried Bella.

“Alright, B-one and B-prime.”

“I’ll stick with Bella,” said Chip with a small smile.

“Shush now, children. We’ll start with a math recap for this period, and then move on to history and geography and then my favourite, Equestrian Literature.”

There were groans all around, followed by the sound of pulpets being opened and books being placed on desks and pages flipping. Chip found a well-organized stack of materials in his own pulpet, and quickly slipped out the necessary books. If there was one thing about schools everywhere, he noted, it was that lessons were invariably the same—boring.

He sighed. A rock and a hard place, that’s what he was between. He looked at the clock. Three hours until school finished, three periods to get through... and then his life would be over. Stupid Butch. Stupid diamond dogs. Stupid teacher. Stupid school. Augh!

♦♦♦

School had been out for what felt like hours. All the other kids had gone home. Chip was the only one left. He’d even done his homework, under the watchful and disapproving gaze of Calligraphy Quill, the earth-pony teacher. Bella had been excused for the Equestrian Literature to have her magic lesson with Whisp Spark the orange unicorn. Southern Storm would be in the next day for a morning of flying lessons for the griffons and pegasi. That would leave Chip, the earth-ponies... and the diamond dog pack. All in the same room. Together. What fun.

The classroom door creaked open and a familiar scaly shape eased itself in.

“Ah, Ambassador Sharptooth.”

“Just call me Sharpie, Miss Calligraphy, when it’s just you and me.”

“Cally.” The teacher batted her eyes at the dragon. Chip rolled his own. “I’m afraid I have some bad news, there was... a bit of a ruckus today, before class. I have made it clear there will be no further infractions of this nature, but...”

“Fighting, hmm? Have no fear, madame, I shall have a word with the boy. I can’t have a growing dragon like him fighting, he might hurt someone.”

“And that’s another thing, are you sure he’s a...”

“Yes, Miss Calligraphy?”

She made a moue of disapproval again. “Nothing, Ambassador Sharptooth. Have him back here tomorrow before the bell, lunch starts at noon sharp.”

“Until the morrow, my good mare. Come, Chip.”

The flight home should have been exciting. It should have been awe-inspiring. Chip found he dreaded every second of it. He was landed, carefully, and then ushered in through the front door. His legs felt like lead, his stomach full of ash, twisted in knots. He clambered onto a small pile of cushions, turning around three times and wriggling until he settled as deeply as possible into the pile. He tried to see if he could get the ground to open up and swallow him, leaving nothing but a pile of cushions. Maybe he could burrow down under them and Sharptooth would forget he was there.

“Fighting, hmm?” The dragon poked at the ever-burning fire. It flared up and lit the room.

“Uh huh,” answered Chip, in a small voice.

“I see,” the dragon said. He wandered into the kitchen and started opening and closing cupboards, finally filling something with water and shaking some sort of powdered substance in after it. He returned, an old and ornate teapot in his paws. He eased himself back into the plush seat and inhaled deeply, exhaling gently. A spurt of blue-white flame enveloped the bottom of the vessel. Chip watched as the metal started to glow slightly on the bottom. Sharptooth held it then, and looked at it.

“Tea leaves are usually added to boiling water,” he said, “but not this tea. This tea is made with cold water, and boiled after adding. It’s important, I find, to make tea the correct way. Badly made tea is bitter and spoiled. Growing a dragon is much the same. One must be careful to grow your dragon properly.”

“Are you going to send me away?” Chip whispered.

Sharptooth shook his head, breathing out on the teapot again. “I just want to know what happened.”

“It’s your fault.” Chip sulked.

“Hmm?”

“Insisting I’m a dragon! I told them I’m a dragon and it’s all your fault! They all think I’m weird and I hate you!”

“But you are a dragon, young Chip.”

“I’m a pony! Everyone can see I’m a pony! I don’t have fangs, or wings or horns! I can’t fly! I can’t breathe fire! I’m a pony! An earth-pony! I’m nothing! I have... I have nobody and I’m nothing and...”

Sharptooth noted that the tea was boiling. He’d made the water too hot, too fast. It would be a barely passable brew this time. He put the pot down on a wooden coaster on the table. “That’s not what I asked though, is it. What happened?”

“He... Butch. He’s a diamond dog. He-he said m-my mother...” Chip squeaked out between sniffles.

Sharptooth took the tea-towel he’d been using to wipe down the table and picked up the colt. He cleaned snot and tears off the face again and made soothing noises.

“Ah, your parents. You can always expect the ignorant to dig at the most sensitive spots. I see why you got into a fight now, but I won’t have it again, you hear? No silly dog-troll can take the memory or the honour of your parents away, and if they try you do not simply attack. You challenge, you duel, and you do not do it on school time or school property. If you get into a fight, you certainly do not start it. Clear?”

“Yes sir.” Chip sniffed.

“Piffle. I’m no sir, not to you. If you can’t call me Dad then you can call me Sharpie, okay?”

“Yo-you’re really not going to send me away?”

“Over a spat with a mongrel? ...Don’t say I said that. No, no, of course not. Come, I think I need to teach you something.”

Sharptooth bodily carried the young colt out the front door before leaping into the air off the edge of the cliff and riding the wind currents to the top of the mountain. The sun was going down by now, and the sky was slowly getting darker.

“Chip, I think it’s time I taught you to breathe fire.”

“Da—” Chip caught himself, and then shook his head. “Dad, I’m not a dragon though. I can’t breathe fire.”

“I thought we’d had this talk. Do dragons all have wings or horns?”

“Nnnoo... but...”

“Alright then. Do ponies all have wings and horns?”

“That’s diff—”

“Do they?”

“No, but...”

“So, do your lack of wings and horns make you not a pony?”

“But I’m not a pegasus or a unicorn!”

“No, you’re not. Pegasi and unicorns are still ponies, however. You, my son, are a dragon because I am your father. Not all dragons have wings, or horns. Not all have legs or claws. We dragons come in many shapes and sizes; who is to say there cannot be a dragon that is pony-shaped?”

“But that makes no sense!”

Sharptooth smiled. “That is because you’re still learning. Trust me, Chip. By an accident of birth, you were born a pony. By an accident of fate, you are now a dragon. Now, do you wish to learn to breathe fire?”

“But you said... not all dragons breathe fire.”

“No, and not all dragons have wings, but they all learn to fly. You, then, will still learn to breathe fire. It’s all in the breathing. Your head”—Sharptooth tapped the colt’s head—“holds your thoughts. Your heart”—he tapped the colt’s chest—“holds love and hate, sorrow and joy. But your gut... your gut holds your fire. So breathe, young dragon. In through the nose, out through the mouth. That is lesson one.”

“In through the nose, out through the mouth. Is that important?”

“Very. Flaming bogeys are neither big nor clever, despite what you may have heard.”

Chip looked up from going cross-eyed in an attempt to peer at his own nostrils, to see his dad choking back laughter. He let a giggle escape his lips and soon the pair of them were laughing heartily.

“Flaming bogeys? ...Can you do that?”

“Yes, I’m ashamed to say I can, but not tonight. Tonight you will breathe fire. Now concentrate. Some say anger is the wrong fuel for fire, but with what’s happened to you today, I feel it most appropriate we harness and direct that energy. You feel it in your gut, don’t you? That heat, that tightness?”

“But... I’ve never...”

“Take hold of your anger, young dragon; hold onto it. Keep it between your paws and feed it. Don’t hate, don’t rage, just feed that feeling. Let it boil up inside you, grow and swell. Breathe in through your nostrils, out through your maw, each breath feeding the fire, topping it up, like bellows. When you feel it will overflow, spill out of your ears, then push and breathe it out.”

Chip did as he was told. He felt that heat, it was like a golden burning light inside his stomach. The more he thought about the heat, the less he thought about Butch. The more he breathed, the clearer his head became. The light grew inside, warmth and heat, and he he felt ready.

He took a deep breath, and hissed and growled in a half-neigh.

“There! Perfect! I do believe I saw a whisp of smoke!”

Chip hiccuped. “W-what? Really?”

Sharptooth smiled and hugged his son. “No, but you believed, didn’t you? Just for a moment?”

Chip nodded.

“That’s what I wanted. Breathing fire isn’t all about the flames, little one, it is about self-control. Do you feel better? A little?”

“Uh huh.”

“Good. We will continue our fire-breathing lessons another day. For now, I have another thing to teach you. I will teach you to bellow.”

“What?”

“To bellow, to roar. A dragon without a roar is a very sad creature indeed. Each dragon has his or her own, and it may take you awhile to find one which suits you.”

“Is this like breathing fire?”

“Yes and no. Remember your gut? It holds all your powerful emotions. Anger and rage go into your gut; they knot it up with hatred. A dragon that cannot roar cannot let it all out, and he ties himself up with those knots. Take all your frustration, all your anger. Everyone has a little. Some have a lot. Remember, think, then feel. Then... roar.”

Sharptooth walked to the edge of the mountain and was silent a moment, head bowed, and then he seemed to inflate. He suddenly threw back his head on his long neck, and roared. The explosion of sound was followed by a red and white oily flame that speared skywards, echoing faintly from the far mountains and the valley.

Chip’s hair stood on end and his tail and ears flicked up to alertness. He found himself breathing heavily, shaking almost. The emerald-green dragon turned, eyes burning in the growing starlight, and all of a sudden the monster seemed to shrink back down into Sharptooth the amiable.

“That is a roar, young dragon. In battle, it can confuse your opponents, break their spirit and cause them to flee. It is your best, first weapon for defence and a core component in your arsenal. Now, you.”

Chip was led to the edge of the mountain. The sun had gone down; the sky was red. Chip looked out over unfamiliar terrain. That direction was scrubland, a few forests, deserts. It was a barren tundra until it met the endless ocean, far off in the distance. It made him feel lost, alone. He breathed in, and gave a half-hearted whinny.

“That is a good start, Son. Roars can serve many purposes. I... I admit to having an ulterior motive for teaching you to roar.”

“What?” asked Chip.

“Emotions for dragons, as they are for ponies, can often be fickle things. Hard to deal with. I have something to tell you, and I do not know a better way for you to process it.”

“It’s about my parents, isn’t it?” asked Chip, guessing.

The dragon nodded in the twilight. He twisted his claw, and with a burst of light a set of small scrolls appeared. The dragon put one down, and handed the other to Chip, solemnly. Chip took it in his muzzle, broke off the seal with his teeth and unrolled it. The dragon, using a little magic, summoned a mage-ball of light which illuminated the writing.

Chip scanned the page, quietly. It was all so... clinical. His parents had been visiting with some diamond dog dignitaries, as thought. They’d been in the mine, crossing from the old section to the new on the way back to the surface. Ironically, the new section had been the one to fail. There was hints of a gas explosion, sparks from some machinery... the investigation was still underway. The blast had been huge, the pit had collapsed. The diamond dogs, natural diggers, had excavated the section where his parents had been... and they had been found. All had died, diamond dogs and all. The concussion wave had most likely killed them; the falling rubble had finished the job. They would be buried with all due haste, once the investigation was finished. He, Chiphoof Irontail, had been proclaimed sole heir of the Neighvada Irontails through right of birth. He noted with idle amusement that his subsequent adoption had no impact on his inheritance.

He was alone.

They were gone.

Both of them.

His whole family; his whole world.

He stomped on the paper. He slammed his forehooves into it. He ripped and tore at it with his teeth and his hooves until it was nothing but shreds and then he fell to his knees and hocks and wept as the wind whisked the paper away silently and without fanfare.

A paw touched his withers. “Roar, young dragon.”

Chip sniffled. He got to his hooves. He walked to the edge of the mountain. He breathed deeply, and he roared.

His roar was from deep in his heart. It forced its way out of his lungs like an animal as it leaped for the infinite horizon. It sung of loss and pain, and loneliness. It echoed from the valley and it echoed from the far mountains as Equestria answered.

♦♦♦

Sharptooth had put the colt to sleep in his room, again ensconced in the couch. He’d tucked the foal in securely and nuzzled him. Chip had still been crying softly as they’d come down from the mountain, but he’d gone to his room of his own volition.

Sharptooth eased himself into the weir, his own roar still playing on his mind. Pain never does leave, he mused, but it does lessen.

clip-clop, clip-clop...

drag-drag-thump...

clip-clop, clip-clop...

drag-drag-thump...

The door creaked open and a small figure dragging a blanket pitter-pattered across the hard-packed dirt floor.

“Can... can I still sleep with you, just for tonight?”

They curled up together in the weir. Sharptooth placed his wing protectively across the blanket-wrapped foal and nuzzled softly, but once again his son was already asleep.

♦♦♦

The Warrior Inside

═ The ══════════
Ambassador's
══════════ Son ═

Chapter Four
The Warrior Inside
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow

Sharptooth woke first. He yawned and stretched, before nosing the gently snoring pile of blankets and hooves that was his son. Chip yawned, and then belched.

“Good grief, you’re more dragon than I realised, Chip my boy. You may not breathe fire, but you can certainly rival the best when it comes to morning breath. Up you get!”

The pile of blankets and hooves shook, indicating the negative. “No. Don’t wanna.”

“Chip...”

“Nooo.”

Sharptooth sighed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Today’s flying lesson and magic lesson day.”

“So?”

“So I don’t have wings. They won’t... they won’t teach me to fly. They won’t teach me magic. That means I’m left with the ponies and Butch.”

“Ah, the dog-troll? Hmm, well, as a dragon I think it is my right to teach you how to fly privately. What say you miss morning class, and I give you some private lessons instead?”

Chip poked his muzzle out from the pile, the blankets forming a cloak around his head. One ear flicked free, perking up with hope. “Really?”

“Really, but one thing first.”

“What?”

“Fierce, poisonous gas-breathing dragon or not, you have to clean your teeth. And eat some breakfast.”

♦♦♦

So it was that Chip found himself on top of what he was rapidly deciding to call dragon lesson mountain in the harsh morning sunlight as a cold wind whipped around him. Summer was over, autumn was fast approaching, and the winds had changed. Apple and cinnamon porridge warmed his stomach and he felt surprisingly good.

His thoughts drifted to the night before, he really was an orphan now, he felt it in his bones. The scroll had made it real, he knew it wouldn’t stop there and there would be more tasks to see things through, but the reality had settled in his mind. He was sad, he was lonely, and he would miss his parents. He would cry, he would mourn, but whilst he was lonely, he was not alone.

I’ve made my decision, Chip thought, I’ll call him Dad.

“Today, son, I thought we’d skip the flying lessons,” said Sharptooth as he ambled up to the colt with a small but ornate metal case.

“Huh? But you said...”

“If you don’t tell them, I won’t. I think you’ll like this, though. How many of those trolls are there, did you say?” Sharptooth placed the case on the ground and opened it up.

“F-four?”

“Hmm, one for each hoof. An even match for a dragon. I think we need to tip things just a little more in your favour though. These... used to belong to me. Now they are yours.”

Chip looked down at the metal case. Inside, lined in velvet, were a collection of metallic shapes—hoops, angles, blades, balls and chains. “What are they?”

“These are training spikes. When dragons make war, especially with other dragons, they wear armour and weapons. These, son, are weapons of war.”

“War!?”

“Relax, Chiphoof Irontail Leatherback, I am not sending you to war. The reason I am giving you these is precisely because I want you to know how not to fight. These are not toys. You will do them honour when you wear them; you will honour myself and your family when you wear them. There are few things dragons hold sacred, but war is one of them.”

“Y-you want me to... wear them but not use them?”

“Quite.”

“I d-don’t understand. Why?”

“You are more than a match for any mere diamond dog, Chip, training spikes or no. What you need to be, however, is a match for yourself. When dragons fight, it is as a last resort. With these, you are a fighting dragon. I expect, son, that you are aware of both of these facts.”

Chip gulped. “I-I-I won’t let you down, Dad.”

Sharptooth smiled. “Then come. Today we will use two pieces, both for your tail. You will wear them, you will train with them, you will learn how to use them and what they mean. When you go to school today, you will wear them also. If you decide you do not want them at school, then in future you may go without. Clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And no ‘sir,’ thank you very much.”

The first piece was like a winged hawk. Sharptooth threaded it through Chip’s tail all the way to the croup, where he fastened it tight. The wings were sharp and the beak was an upwards-pointing hook that split his tail in two. Then Sharptooth took another piece, a set of five balls that fit right on the other end of Chip’s tail like a normal tail-band would.

Chip shook himself, it felt very strange. “What do they do?”

“By themselves? Nothing. Today we will concentrate on the tip of your tail. The baseplate is for contact-fighting; the wings cut and the spike digs. Both protect you from a bite from behind as well as allow you to combat attacks to your flanks—they will deflect missiles and turn claws. That is not the lesson for today, however. Today, we focus on your tail. When a dragon swings his tail, it is a fearsome weapon. It can shatter bones; its mere impact can kill lesser creatures. You, therefore, will concentrate on breaking rocks without breaking yourself.”

Sharptooth pointed toa rock. “Break it.”

“What?”

“Swing your tail at it and break it.”

Chip eyed the formation suspiciously. He swung his tail in an arc experimentally and then pirouetted his body. His tail spun through the air, grazed the rock and missed. It slapped into his ribs. “Ow!”

“This is why you need training. Know yourself, understand your body, young one. Forget motion, for now. Move your body into position and then concentrate on only your tail.”

Chip did so. He backed up until he could tap the rock with his hind hooves, then he lifted his tail and swung it. The balls hit the rock, bouncing off.

“Good! Again!”

Chip did it again.

“Now, do you know where your tail is?”

Chip nodded.

“Then do as before, but first arch your tail before swinging it up and around. Aim for it to whip out, not around. If there are many enemies, needs must your tail change direction at will. It can do that better when the direction of motion is stopped by the previous target. When you fight, your mind must be on your next move whilst your body is performing the first, this way you are always at least one step ahead of yourself. When you can break that rock in two, young dragon, then there will be nothing more I can teach.”

Chip glared at the rock. He imagined it was Butch, that big dumb stupid ugly stinky mutt. He reared up, kicked his front legs and galloped at the rock. At the right moment, he arched his tail. He brought it up, spun it around, twisted his body, extended his back legs, caught the ground and flicked.

His tail shot out like a missile, slamming into the rock. Sparks flew as the weapon embedded itself. Chip stood there, breathing heavily, before tugging on his tail.

It was caught.

“Daa-aad!”

Sharptooth laughed and pulled the recalcitrant tail free. “Did you really think there would be nothing more for me to teach you, today?”

Chip grumbled. “Breaking a rock though?”

“Watch.”

Chip stood back. Sharptooth, with a similar device on his own tail, took to the skies. The dragon lifted up, around, disappearing into the sun. It was from this position of strength that the dragon dived. He spun his body, claws digging into the rock and gouging great rivets, as his tail spun through the air. It slammed into the rock, which exploded.

“That, young dragon, is why you need training.”

♦♦♦

The great dragon-shape lifted off into the skies as Chip trotted towards school. Clutched in his muzzle was a scroll informing the teacher of his private tutoring. Delivering it, Miss Calligraphy Quill scowled but said nothing. Chip was allowed to pass and fetch himself lunch. Vegetable fries, potato chips, he believed they were called, with a mixed vegetable wok cooked in a sauce made from something called a coconut. He’d never tasted anything quite like it, and he decided he liked it.

Collecting his tray in his muzzle, he searched about for Carmine. Spying her and her friends at a table, he began trotting towards them.

“Missed you at school today, dragon-boy. Where were you?”

“Fi faf fyfing feffonf!” said Chip through the tray, coldly glaring at Butch. His tail twitched, it would be so easy. He grit his teeth on the tray so hard he heard it squeak.

“You don’t even have wings, dragon-boy!” Butch laughed. His cronies laughed.

“Fiff fy faff.”

Chip moved to leave. Butch, being Butch, stuck a paw out to trip the pony. Chip, having had lessons all morning explaining to always be one step ahead, stepped rather smartly on the paw, giving his hoof a twist as he passed. Butch yelped and snarled, but Chip had moved on.

“What was all that about, Chip?” asked Carmine as he put his tray down at the table.

“Just Butch being a butt, as usual.”

“Didn’t see you this morning.”

“I had... flying lessons with my dad.”

“You? Flying lessons?”

Chip nodded. “He says I’m a dragon, and he says all dragons need flying lessons.”

Carmine raised one eyebrow, her crest lifting in surprise. “Are you sure your dad’s... you know... all there?” She made a circular motion with one claw near her head.

Chip laughed. “He’s weird, but... he’s my dad, you know?”

“Tell me about it. My dad’s all ‘remember Carmine, the honour of your family rests on you blah blah blah’ and then he goes on about stuff and... eh.”

“Yours too, huh?”

“So, how’d you get to be a dragon? You’re... not exactly...” Carmine waved a claw, indicating a lack of wings, claws and other draconic features.

“Shaped like one? I wasn’t born one, but Sharptooth... I don’t think he thinks it matters. ‘Remember, my son, dragons come in all shapes and sizes,’” Chip intoned, doing his best to sound like Sharptooth. “‘Who says there cannot be a pony-shaped dragon?’”

Carmine snorted into her drink. “Hah! Kinda makes sense though. What happened to... you know.”

“My real parents?” Chip sighed and took a mouthful of his food. His stomach hurt when he thought about it. He chewed and swallowed, almost mechanically. “They died.”

Carmine’s head-feathers lowered. “I’m sorry,” she said after a while.

“Yeah,” said Chip, “me too.”

♦♦♦

School was boring again, until geography and history. History was about the founding of Equestria, which led neatly into geography. A large map was spread out on the floor of the classroom, it was a large and solid rug with pictures and writing woven in. The major outline features were coarser, but detailed spots were in meticulous cross-stitch.

Chip hadn’t realized Equestria was so big. He looked for one spot in particular, on the South-East, Neighvada. It was far further North than he realized. This map...

“Miss? Where’s the Southern Ocean?”

“Ah, I need to explain that to all of you. We are... yes! Here. Equestria is vast, but our borders are controlled by the Princesses. Legend has it that in previous times, Equestria was alone, in all the Three Realms of Sky, Earth and Water. The sun rose over the Eastern Mountains and set in the Western Sea... but today, the Eastern Mountains lead to the Griffon Realms, and the Western Sea is an Ocean leading to the Great Wilds where the hydra are thought to live. To the South there was once the Endless Ocean, but if you look now, it is the Southern Sea. The dragons are to the South and West, the Naga to the South East. Far, far, far South lie the Ice Trolls, to the North lie the Mountain Trolls, the Pooka and the Windigo. The Diamond Dogs and the Buffalo, amongst others, are a protectorate of the crown right here in Equestria, whilst towns like ours are on the frontiers of Greater Equestria. Once long ago, explorers tried to map the extent of Old Equestria, before the princesses. One such expedition led to the founding of Tacksworn, here in the Southern Expanse. When the Realms shifted, much was lost, but much more was gained. There have been wars in the past, children, over territory and resources—even amongst our own kind, yes! But now, with the Age of Harmony, we are experiencing peace, and our borders and knowledge expand.”

“I... saw a globe once, miss. I always wondered, how do the ponies on the bottom stay on? Won’t they fall off?” asked a curious foal.

Calligraphy Quill laughed, “The shape of Equestria will have to wait for another day, but no, it is not a globe. Some say it once was, but now we know it is something different. For simplicity’s sake, and for sentimental reasons, some maps are not flat and round like this one, they are spherical. One day it may be a globe, but that is a topic best left for advanced topological thaumatics.”

Penny’s eyes grew round. “You can change the shape of Equestria?”

Calligraphy nodded solemnly. “Unicorns of great power can achieve many, many things with magic, but to change the topological properties of all Equestria? I think that’s something best left to the princesses. So! Next week we will begin a new topic, the history of Celestia and Luna, from birth to ascension to Luna’s Banishment and eventual return, just a few years ago! We will also study basic magic, cantrips and curios, including pegasus, unicorn and earth-pony magic.”

“Earth ponies don’t have magic!” scoffed one of the diamond dogs, and there were murmurs of agreement from various other ponies.

“Now that is where you are wrong, children. We all have magic, some subtle, some more obvious. Earth-pony magic is very powerful, but due to its nature is often overlooked. We shall investigate it thoroughly and then there will be a test, so make sure you study!”

There was much groaning and complaining, but the groans soon turned to joy as the bell for the end of school rang and the children collected their things and ran as fast as they could to get away before Miss Calligraphy or one of the other teachers could give them homework.

Chip was one of the last going out the door. He spent an extra few minutes looking at the map, and at Tacksworn, which had been added in after the fact with a tiny little gold star. So far from Neighvada, yet from one way of looking at things, right in the middle of Equestria.

He regretted his tardiness when outside, seemingly waiting for him, were four hairy, long-pawed shapes.

“Where’re you goin’, dragon-boy.”

“Hey Butch. I’m... I’m going home.”

“Not yet, first we’re going to have a friendly little talk.”

“No, Butch.”

“What’s the matter, you chicken? You’re not a dragon at all, nor a pony. You’re a chicken. You know what? Diamond dogs eat chickens.”

Chip splayed his ears back, widening his stance and flexing his knees. “Get lost, Butch. I’m not gonna get into trouble fighting you.”

“Afraid Miss Calligraphy’s gonna give you detention?”

Chip shook his head, gritting his jaw at the sneers. “No, I promised my dad I wouldn’t fight.”

“You’re a chicken, and so’s your dad. Buck-buck-bukkaw!”

Chip pawed the ground. “Shut up, Butch. I’m not scared of you.”

“Oh yeah, prove it.”

Chip took one step forwards. Digger and Dozer, not to mention Ruff, took a step back. To his credit, Butch didn’t.

“Come at me, chicken-boy.”

Chip breathed deeply, letting his anger seethe and boil in his stomach... and then he pushed it out with his breath in a long sigh. Chip snorted. “You’re not worth it, mongrel.” He trit-trotted past the shocked diamond dog and headed away.

There was a sudden grab on his tail.

“What did you call me?”

“Sorry, that was mean. I apologize, now please, let go of my tail.”

“Make me.”

Chip flexed his tail, it caught Butch in the gut, and the dog-troll reflexively let go. “I’m going home now, Butch; just stay away from me.”

“You and your sissy chicken jewelry aren’t going anywhere.”

Butch leaped, claws outstretched, and he grabbed Chip by the haunches.

Ponies, whilst they are civilized intelligent beings, are also creatures of instinct. One such instinct governs reactions to being pounced upon, and that is called fight or flight.

Chip bucked, flicked his tail, and kicked his hooves.

In retrospect, Butch was lucky that he only got slammed with the hooves and tail. Had he been foolish enough to go for the traditional killing move of the diamond dog, and bite a chunk out of Chip’s neck, he probably would not have survived the spike. As it was, Chip’s powerful back legs slammed into Butch’s chest, lifting him into the air. In the same movement, Chip almost instinctively whipped his tail up. The balls on the end of his tail caught the surprised diamond dog in the face, throwing him backwards. Butch yelped and rolled, leaped up again and slammed himself into Chip’s flank, rolling them both over. Butch bared his fangs as he straddled the pony. Chip was on his back, belly exposed. Butch lifted a claw and prepared to swipe... and that’s when Chip hoofed him in the crotch.

“IN CELESTIA’S NAME WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!?” shouted a voice. Southern Storm, his countenance matching his name perfectly, thundered out of the classroom with his wings half spread, with Whisp Spark the unicorn not far behind.

“Fighting? I thought we had informed you children that fighting was not to be tolerated! Who started this? Out with it!” roared Whisp.

Four sets of paws pointed at Chip.

“Chiphoof Irontail Leatherback. I am most disappointed with you. If you think you will get any special treatement because your father is an ambassador, you have another thing coming! I will notify your father at once and...”

“I’m going to regret this,” grumbled another voice, as Carmine landed and folded her wings away. “Sir, it wasn’t Chip. He did everything he could not to start a fight.”

“Is this true?”

Carmine nodded. “Butch called him and his father a chicken, pulled his tail and then pounced him.”

Whisp turned to Butch, face scowling. “Is this true? Well?”

Three sets of paws pointed instead, now, at Butch. Butch nodded, meekly.

“Come with me. You three, home, now. You too, Miss Wildfeather, Master Longback.”

Chip lay in the dirt, breathing hard.

“That was pretty awesome, dragon-boy.”

“Why’d you speak up? I thought you liked Butch?” Chip look up at the griffon as she peered down at him.

Carmine preened a claw thoughtfully. “Naa. He’s a butt. I like you.”

“Oh?” Chip grinned.

“Not like that, you... you... you huge butt. Ugh!” Carmine stormed off.

Chip lay there, in the dirt, smiling. She likes me, he thought, today couldn’t get any better.

Just then, a large dragon-shaped shadow loomed over him.

“Fighting on school property, hmm?”

Oh horseapples.

♦♦♦

Evening Star

═ The ══════════
Ambassador's
══════════ Son ═

Chapter Five
Evening Star
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow

Chip was grounded. He hated it. It sucked. He sulked.

“I did warn you, Chiphoof Irontail Leatherback, not to fight on school property.” chided Sharptooth as he busied himself around the house to make a fresh pot of tea.

“It wasn’t my fault!” protested the young colt, all but throwing his hooves in the air.

“You gave him a black eye, chipped a tooth and almost emasculated him.”

“He pounced me! I asked him nicely not to!”

“I know, and I do not blame you. You were simply defending yourself, which is why you’re only grounded for the weekend.”

“That even doesn’t make any sense!”

“What kind of parent would I be if I did not keep my word, Chip? I always keep my word. Remember that.”

“I still don’t see why. You’re so unfair.”

Sharptooth put the gently glowing teapot down. He leaned back in his chair as Chip put his head on his hooves next to the fire. This pot of tea was perfect, warmed thoroughly and evenly, and heated slowly to the boil. He would wait a couple of minutes, and then pour it out. “Young dragon-”

“No. Horseapples! Horseapples! He made me! It’s total clop, Dad! I did everything I could not to fight him! I tried to avoid him, I asked him nicely. I let him insult me and you and mom and dad and-”

“Chip...”

“IT’S NOT FAIR AND YOU CAN KISS MY FLANK!”

Sharptooth’s eyes widened at the outburst as Chip went from zero to rage in moments. The colt ripped the pillows with his teeth and threw them in the fire. He bucked the wall hard enough his hooves went through it and he shouldered his way past the chair the dragon was on so hard they both almost went flying. The child stormed up the stairs, slammed the door and Sharptooth heard him throw himself on the sofa and proceed to cry.

Sharptooth poured himself a cup of tea. He found it didn’t taste quite so good as he had hoped.

♦♦♦

The door opened.

“Chip?”

“Go ‘way.”

“Can I come in?”

“It’s your house isn’t it?” the foal answered sullenly.

“But it’s your room, son. Please, can I come in?”

“I guess so.”

Sharptooth eased himself in. The broken model from a few days before still lay, in pieces, on the desk. The curtains had been opened, but very little else had changed. The old, tattered sofa currently held a pile of blankets and a roughly pony-shaped lump that was currently sniffling from underneath them. The dragon sat down on the end of the sofa, it creaked with his weight.

“Maybe,” said Sharptooth, “just maybe, I was wrong. I... I didn’t mean to make it sound so final. I rather thought it would mean we could do something together this weekend. I didn’t know you had, you know, plans.”

Chip laughed, despite himself, sniffing loudly and poking his head out from under the covers, “What did you think I’d be doing? I live halfway up a mountain, Dad. I barely know anypony.”

“Well, there was that young griffon you were talking to before I arrived. What’s her name?”

Chip blushed and retreated under the covers, just the tip of his muzzle poking out. “Carmine.” he whispered.

“Ah, it’s like that, is it. Say no more. How about, as long as you help me fix the wall and repair the pillows you ripped, we consider the day after tomorrow as your grounding being over? Perhaps we could go flying, you might see Carmine...”

“Daaa-aaaaad!” whined Chip, “No, that’s even worse!”

“Well, then maybe your old Dad can drop you off in Tacksworn with some bits, just so long as you promise to stay out of trouble, hmm? I believe there is a fair on, lasting for a few weeks. Some dragon dignitaries, griffon princes, pony princesses, that sort of thing. Just the right sort of place for a young dragon and griffon to have some fun at-”

“Daaa-aaad!”

“Without their parents interfering. Too much. Or would you rather stay grounded?”

“Almost.” sulked Chip.

“What was that? My feeble old dragon ears didn’t hear what you said, and my feeble dragon mind completely failed to understand.”

“No!” answered Chip, a little louder.

“No what? I didn’t quite catch that, because...” Sharptooth crossed his eyes and let his tongue and wings hang limp, “I’m thoo thtupid to underthtand coth I’m jutht a big thlobbery dragon. Bleearrrrrggghhh!”

“Daaaaaad! Stop iiiit! You’re embarassing! Celestia’s Beard! Yes I’d like to go to the fair! No I don’t want to be grounded!”

Sharptooth snapped back to normal, eyes uncrossing. He grinned as Chip emerged from the covers, still sniffling and puffy-eyed but in a much better disposition. “I’m very glad to hear it. Come on, though, you’ve got to help me make supper tonight.”

“Awww!”

“Because...”

“Why?”

“Bleaaarrgghhh-coth! I’m tho thtupid a dragon! Bleeaarrrgggghhh!”

“Daaaaadddd!”

♦♦♦

Chip helped around the kitchen. He carried things with his mouth, he whisked and he chopped and he mixed. He even had the embarrassing chore of lifting Sharptooth’s wing up and down like a bellows, which the dragon insisted was necessary for him to make the fire.

Finally, the food was ready. Sharptooth called it a vegetable risotto. Chip wasn’t very sure. Rice, some oddly flavourful vegetables... the fact it was the vegetable kind made him wonder what other blends there were. It was, however, hot and nourishing.

“Ah! This is the good stuff. Dig in.”

Chip eyed it nervously, but decided he liked it. He eyed Sharptooth suspiciously as the dragon grated some black powder over his own. “Can... can I have some of that?”

“This? Why, I...”

“Please?”

“I’m not sure you’ll like it... oh fine, there’s more in the kitchen if you don’t.” Sharptooth twisted the top on the pepper mill - at least it looked like a pepper mill, but the black spice didn’t smell like black pepper.

Chip tasted it carefully. An earthy sort of taste, kind of softly spicey. “Can I have a little more?”

Sharptooth, bemused, added some more. Chip’s ears pricked up and he proceeded to wolf it down.

“Would you like to try some other draconic spices?” the dragon interrupted.

“Yesh pleash!” said Chip, mouth full.

Sharptooth laughed, and disappeared into a small pantry. He returned with a couple of small boxes. The first opened to a strange white powder, it looked a little bit like salt but... shinier. The second held something dark reddish-pink. The old dragon took a pinch of each and added them lightly to the meal, then he motioned for Chip to try it. “If you don’t, you don’t have to eat it. Just a little, you’ve not had spices quite like these before.”

Chip once again eyed his bowl. There wasn’t too much of his food left, and now it glittered oddly. He took a mouthful, the spices were... gritty, yet... he chewed, they were quite unlike anything he’d ever had before. He took another mouthful, and another. Before he knew it, the risotto had gone. He leaned back on his haunches and belched. Eyes going wide, he covered his mouth with a hoof, so rude!

Sharptooth guffawed, leaned back and belched too, only louder. Some flame shot towards the ceiling. “Beat that.”

Chip blinked, squinted his eyes, wriggled, and then belched.

“Oh well done. I was wondering if I’d have to teach you that, I’m glad to see that ponies don’t all ignore common niceties. I am honoured you think so much of my cooking.”

“Burping’s good?”

“Aye, lad, and I thank you for the compliment. Mmm, after a meal like that, I could do with a sleep. Makes me almost miss my days when it was all the rage for sleeping on your hoard. It was the done thing to pillage, eat your fill and then sleep for a week or two. Far less civilized, but fun in its own way.”

“Dragons have hoards? Really?” Chip looked around at the modest house. They’d mixed up some quick-plaster for the hole he’d made in the wall, and it would need to be painted, but even ignoring that the house wasn’t exactly full with the gold and jewels he’d expected.

“We do, though I’m a modest sort of dragon. My hoard is less... flashy, but far more meaningful. Would you... would you like to see it?”

Chip nodded and got up, his belly full and swaying, to follow the dragon.

♦♦♦

The dragon led the way deeper into his strange house in the cliff-face. It was almost a warren, really, with the main parts heated and furnished but far more ‘under the covers’ as it were. They came at last to a big door, it was made of some hard wood that felt almost like stone.

“Petrified granite-wood, Chip, spellbound to open only to me, and now to you.”

“Me too?”

“Of course! You’re a dragon now, you deserve somewhere to put your own hoard.”

Chip rolled his eyes in the darkness, he really didn’t always understand his new father. He watched with interest as the great door swung open silently. He hadn’t heard a lock catch, but he somehow felt one open. With a wave of a paw, magefire torches burst into blue-white flame. The door swung shut of its own accord, and Chip took a good look around.

“Welcome, son, to my inner sanctum. Here I have stored all my treasures and a few other keepsakes for other people, dragons mostly but a few ponies and griffons. Few places are safer than the home of a dragon, and few places more secure than his or her hoard.”

“Woah...” Chip looked around, stepping carefully into the huge cavern. There was treasure, but surprisingly little. Many plain bits lay in careful piles, most were the almost-faceless round bits of Equestria. Others he saw had griffons, ponies and dragons on them. There were paintings, sculptures, and more than a few flying machine models that were little but ugly first attempts, masses of glue and mistakes. Chip smiled at them. They must mean a lot, he reasoned. Maybe one day his would be here?

“Like it?”

Chip nodded, he could spend an entire day in this space and never see it all. “What’s this?” Chip pointed to a case with a single butterfly in it, one of the largest he’d ever seen.

“This butterfly is a beautiful, sad, wonderful individual. They spend years as a grub, lad. Most of them are eaten, or just die, so very few make it past this stage. One day though, they just... swell up and cocoon. They lay in their cocoon in the cold earth for many more years, just waiting. Then, one day, and I don’t know what the signal is, they all burst forth and for just one single day, they are butterflies. They live their entire life in the span of one day, they mate, and then they lay their eggs, and die. The males, like this one, will often fasten themselves to a prominent place and die there, wings spread. I think it is so that their natural enemies are just as likely to take the dead as the living, and so further ensure the survival of their species. I think it is rather noble, glorious, and ever so sad.”

Chip looked at it, at the colours, the swirls, the patterns. It was very pretty. “And... what’s this? And what’s in there?”

Sharptooth drew closer to Chip, and put a paw around his withers, “This... is my egg.”

The dragon picked it up gingerly, and turned it around in his claws. “Very few dragons keep their egg. Mother was... sentimental. I have the whole egg, rebuilt with a little magic.”

Chip could see the faint cracks. “Your own?”

“Oh yes. I was... the only one. Dragon eggs are... special. Dragons are special, my boy, to the right - or rather the wrong - people.”

Chip tore his eyes away from the pearly object that seemed to be gently glowing, “Why?”

“Our bones are said to be an aphrodisiac. Our scales grant beauty, our horns strength. Our hearts wisdom, our eyes farsight. Our eggs... our eggs are said to contain the essence of a dragon, doubly so for an unhatched one. The clutch I was born from, the last clutch she could bear... my mother saved only one, me.”

“What happened?”

“The poachers were killed and eaten, their village was razed to the ground and their kith and kin were hounded to the ends of the realm. You do not simply murder forty nine dragons and walk away from it. My brothers and sisters remains, what was left after the dragonfire cooled, were saved in that chest.”

Chip turned to look at the smallish metallic chest. That hadn’t been what he’d meant, but it had been what he expected. He walked towards the chest and opened it with a hoof. It was full to the brim with shells, cracked dragon-egg shells.

“Dragons are lonely creatures, son, most of the time. A family, though... for that brief time, a dragon knows family.”

Chip turned back to see Sharptooth crying. He licked the dragon’s eyes, cleaning away the tears, a very pony way of comforting.

“They also say a dragon’s tears are a panacea.”

“It makes me feel better, sometimes.” Chip whispered.

Sharptooth smiled, and picked up his son, holding him tight.

Eventually, they broke the hug. “I have something for you. A bit sad, perhaps, a bit happy.”

“What?”

“Your things arrived. I arranged for your belongings to be packed up and delivered here, along with this.” Sharptooth brought forth a scroll.

“What’s that?”

“The last will and testament of the Irontail Family. I have taken the liberty of seeing to the mundane needs of the state as its de-facto executor. Mining, smelting, rock farming - all these shall continue. If you will allow it, I shall administer them in your name and appoint a worthy manager. That is, of course, unless you wish to take a firm hoof already. It would be your right.”

Chip looked at the scroll, his eyes going wide, “I-I-I don’t know the first thing about any of that!”

“Well then, with your permission, I shall see to your best interests. You may hire from my treasury any external inspector, wages paid in advance from the Irontail Family Funds, which are currently held in trust for you.”

Chip fell onto his haunches. “I don’t want any of that!”

“Then you may leave it to me, but, and this is important, it belongs to you.” The dragon stared into Chip’s eyes for a moment, before nodding and snorting, “as do those.” He pointed at a large collection of cases.

“What’s all that?”

“Really, I have no idea, but it’s a good start for a hoard. Shall we take a look?”

♦♦♦

Chip finished putting the final touches to his room. His room. He liked the sound of that. There were now Wonderbolts pictures on the wall, fillies and colts, and the logo for the Neighvada Roughshods, the local hoofball team from where he lived... from where he used to live, he corrected himself. There was also a picture of him and his parents, from when he was smaller. As he looked at it, he stretched out a hoof to stroke it. He knocked the picture over, and it fell against the model flying machine, which fell on the floor and broke into several more pieces.

Chip sighed, there was nothing for it but to pick up the pieces and start again. He spied the glue on the desk, and smiled, his ears flicking forwards. The first piece for his hoard from his new home. He didn’t care how well it was made, he could always make another, the point was it would be special.

Sharptooth found him there several hours later as the dragon knocked gently on the door and opened it when there was no answer. He was carrying a cup of some hot drink. “You should get to bed, little one.”

“I’ve almost finished it...”

“It can wait until morning.”

“No, please, just... hold this bit.” Chip proferred the offending piece, pointing with a hoof. The dragon took careful hold in his paws, holding it in the indicated way. Chip squeezed out some glue with the bottle in his mouth. A little too much spurted out, but at least it would hold. Sharptooth breathed a tiny jet of warmth at it to help it dry just that little bit quicker. When he took his paws off, it had set.

“Done!”

Sharptooth smiled. The broken model was fixed, good as new - better in fact, it was now complete. “We shall find the perfect place for it, young dragon, but now,” Sharptooth watched as the foal yawned, “now it really is time for bed. Will you sleep in your own bed tonight?”

“Uh-huh.” Chip yawned again and clambered up, turning around and around, his little tail flicking eagerly, before he burrowed into the blanket nest.

Sharptooth nuzzled the little one, then carefully walked downstairs. He clambered into his weir and settled, breathing deeply. Alone at last. The whole weir all to himself.

clip-clop, clip-clop...

drag-drag-thump...

clip-clop, clip-clop...

drag-drag-thump...

Sharptooth opened his eyes and lifted a wing as the door opened. Silently he laughed as he made room for the little pony-shaped dragon. “You’re getting a little too old for this, but... maybe for tonight. Just for tonight.” said Sharptooth, but his admonishment was only met with snores.

♦♦♦

All's Fair in Love and War

═ The ══════════
Ambassador's
══════════ Son ═

Chapter Six
All's Fair in Love and War
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow

Chip found himself flipped through the air to land rather heavily muzzle-first on the hot rocks. He finally came to rest on his belly, with a mouthful of dusty rocks. He spat the salty, gritty mixture out and looked up, sheepishly.

“I did say to bend your knees. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, Dad, nothing’s busted.”

“Up you get then.” The dragon proffered down a paw, then realized that his son, not having paws but rather hooves, would be unable to take advantage of the help. Instead, he lifted the pony by the chest, dusting off his withers. “Bend your knees when you’re fighting, widen your legs, that lowers your centre of gravity and gives you a firmer stance. I don’t mean scrape your belly on the ground, just give yourself some room to flex.”

“Sorry Dad.”

“Don’t be sorry, that’s why you’re learning. You only learn by making mistakes. Now, remember, when your knees are bent that means you only have to straighten them to move. If they are already straight, you must first bend them. That’s two things rather than one, meaning a longer time between thought and action. When you can fight, really fight, the thought and the deed are one. Until then, do your best. Now, we practice again. Ducking and jumping. Duck! Jump!”

The dragon swung his tail, first high, then low, then low and then high. Next, he swung it level. Chip’s eyes went wide and the pony first ducked, then folded his legs over and rolled. As he came out of the roll, he sprung up on all four hooves and leaped at the dragon, bowling him over into the dirt. When the dust settled, Sharptooth was sprawled on his back looking up into the grinning face of Chiphoof.

“Ah-ha, a sneak attack, hmm?”

“I gotcha! I really gotcha!” Chip threw back his head and did a braying bark of triumph.

“Aaarrgghhh ya got me. Just remember one thing, young hatchling.”

“What’s that?”

“I may be a big dumb dragon,” Sharptooth crossed his eyes for effect and lolled his tongue out, “buth thith big thumb thragon ith fierth! Blearrrggghhh!” The dragon lifted his head and blew a raspberry on the colt’s stomach. Chip giggled, helplessly, wriggling in the suddenly iron-fast grip of his adopted father. The pair rolled over, and Sharptooth blew another raspberry or three.

“Stop! Stop! I give! I give up! Don’t-” Chip broke down into helpless giggling.

Sharptooth did finally relent. “Well done, young one. You did catch me out, and I thoroughly deserved it, but you forgot one thing.”

“Yes?” Chip giggled again.

“Dragons, even pony shaped ones, maybe especially pony-shaped ones, have thin hide on their bellies. Letting the enemy in close renders you open to an attack which could finish you off! Blearrgghhh!” Sharptooth mock-snarled and snicked his teeth through Chip’s belly-fur, the same way his parents had when he was a younger foal and they were checking for ticks or burrs. The dragon blew a raspberry again for good measure.

“Stop iiiittt! I’ll remember! I promise!”

♦♦♦

They sat together as the sun went down. Chip was exhausted. Sharptooth similarly worn out. The dragon fumbled with something in his grip, Chip turned to look at the sudden awkward motion.

“What is that?”

“I was supposed to give this to you today. This is the third training spike. It goes on your tail, in the middle, we call it the ripper ring. On a dragon, at least those with prehensile tails, it is used for close-combat cutting. You wrap your tail around your opponent, usually his or her neck, and grip. It will slice cleanly, and often provide you some leverage in warfare. Your tail, young one, can be used to crush windpipes and choke your adversary. This training spike serves then two purposes.”

“W-what are they?”

“You may kill, or you may maim. With precision, you can cut your target and squeeze him just right such that a loosening of your grip will finish him off from blood loss. It is... the first truly offensive training spike. It does not protect, it threatens. The haunch-guard, the bolas, they are considered more decorational. They are honest weapons. The tail-knife, as ornate as it appears, is a different kind of weapon.”

“Then... should you keep it?”

Sharptooth didn’t answer at first, he just kept turning it over and over in his paws. “Were you brought up in a warrior-beast clan, training you with it would be simple. We would find something to kill, I would render it helpless, and you would... practice. It is not pretty, it is messy, but effective.”

Chip gulped, sobered, “I don’t... want to do that, but... I want to be a dragon.”

Sharptooth nodded, and turned. He slipped it on the foal’s tail, eased the strands through, and fastened it, approximately mid-way. “Then it is yours. Practice on the trees in the nearby forest, there are enough young saplings needing to be pruned that you will be doing old Flitch a favour.”

“I wish I could...” Chip sighed.

“What?”

“I love flying lessons, Dad, but... I wish I had my own wings. To get down there, like you do.”

“That is one of the downsides of being pony-shaped, my son.”

“I... I was thinking.”

“Yes?”

“I’ve got something to show you.” Chip grinned nervously.

Sharptooth spread the paper across the desk, using his globe and telescope to keep it unfurled and flat. Adjusting the magefire lantern to get a better look, he whistled, “You drew this?”

Chip nodded, pointing, “See, it’s based on your miniatures, but I’ve added a tail-section like birds have because I think it adds stability.”

“Stability, huh?”

“And these struts here, these flex... I was thinking if I moved my legs like I was galloping, then with this piece here, the motion would flap the wings there.”

It was a drawing, crude and not to any sort of scale, but it held potential. Sharptooth’s eyes flicked over every detail, the foal had been paying attention to the models scattered around his room. It held... potential.

“What do you think?”

“Chip, it’s going to take some work, but I think we may be able to give you wings.”

♦♦♦

“Dad! Dad! Daddy! Dada! Paps! Papa! Pappy!”

Sharptooth groaned and rolled over. It didn’t help. The abysmally chirpy creature just started leaping up and down on his belly instead.

“Get uuupppp, you promised! The fair!”

“Can’t it wait until this afternoon?”

“Noooo! You promised!”

“After breakfast at least?”

“I already had mine! Let’s go!”

Sharptooth groaned and got up. Chip was thrown off to land in a heap of discarded blankets as the dragon stretched.

“This is gonna be so awesome! Do they have pin the tail on the donkey? And candyfloss? Or even candyfloss clouds? And toffee apples?”

Sharptooth worked his jaw loose, nodding and mumbling the affirmative to every one of those. “Make some tea, would you?”

“Can’t make fire yet!”

“Well fetch the teapot and fill it like I showed you, I’ll do the rest.”

“Sure thing Dad!”

The eager foal skittered away, opening and closing doors and drawers, dropping pots and pans in his haste. He returned to the kitchen table and set everything up, measuring out the tea and adding the water. He even, Sharptooth noted with amusement, attempted to breath fire at it in the obligatory pre-warming part of the ceremony.

“Let me help you with that.” Sharptooth laughed, as he began heating the teapot with bursts of blue flame. This would be, he was quite sure, a very good brew.

♦♦♦

“Come on Dad let’s go, go, go! Ya-hoooooo!” Chip bolted out the door and galloped straight over the edge of the cliff.

Sharptooth barely stopped to slam the door closed and hiss something entirely inappropriate for youngsters to hear before diving after the plummeting troublemaker. He stretched out his claws and snatched the foal neatly, pulling up and flinging Chip skywards. Chip shouted with glee as he spun through the air, twirling almost like he was dancing, as the dragon flipped upside down, caught him, spun right round in a tight ball and flung him even higher.

No fear, Sharptooth marvelled to himself, if my son hasn’t gone and conquered the first key to flight without even having any wings. Now let’s hope he remembers how landings work...

Sharptooth swept lower, flared his wings and opened his talons. Chip dropped like a rock, cantered on the tips of his hooves and stopped in a cloud of dust. Sharptooth backwinged to lose airspeed and alighted next to him.

“That was totally awesome! I love flying!”

Sharptooth laughed, hitting himself on the chest and coughing, “I’m glad to hear it, but a little bit more warning before takeoff would be appreciated, young Chiphoof.”

“Sorry Dad!” Chip’s ears drooped.

“Quite alright. Now, here’s the neck-bag you forgot,” Sharptooth placed it over his son’s head, and waggled a paw admonishingly, “with some bits. Off you go, and try to stay out of trouble. Remember, the fair is an exposition of life beyond Equestria’s borders as well as in it. Each set of dignitaries will have their own unique culture on display, but not all of each section may welcome the outsider. Us dragons for example have our inner conclave, the griffons have their council roost, the diamond dogs have their den of jewels... the point is, these sections are the sovereign property of their realms, until the end of the fair. The Pax Equestrus does not necessarily hold in this regions, so be careful. They will be clearly marked and jealously guarded. Clear?”

“Yes Dad!”

“Off you go then!” Sharptooth watched as Chip disappeared in a flash. He was quite sure he heard the unmistakable clap of thunder as the sound barrier was broken. The dragon shook his head and laughed.

♦♦♦

Chip’s first stop was the cotton candy stall. For a pony treat so sticky and delicious, it was notoriously hard to handle. He settled on the nose-bag with integrated fizzy drink pouch. Nothing set the day off quite so well as fizzy drink and cotton candy, even if it did block his nostrils and stick in his fur. He was so engaged licking the pink mess off his muzzle that he practically walked into Carmine.

“Hey! Watch it, dufus!” Carmine raised a wing and batted at him, he tripped over his own legs and collapsed in an unceremonious heap on the floor.

“Eep! Sorry Carmine!”

“Chip? What’re you doin’? I’m all sticky! Ugh, you ponies and sugar!” Carmine pecked at her flank, pulling off candyfloss and spitting it out.

“Sorry.” he mumbled, getting up and shaking himself. He gave an experimental slurp at the drink-pouch. It seemed to be okay, but half his cotton candy had fallen out.

“Eh, it’s nothin’. Didn’t mean to trip ya. Want some of this?” The griffon proferred something hot and unidentifiable on a stick.

Chip eyed it and took an experimental sniff. He gingerely bit off a portion and chewed it. “Umm, ish... qui’ ‘ood. Wha’ ish it?” he swallowed.

“Rabbit.”

Chip turned slightly green, “Any chance that’s the sort of rabbit made from cheese?”

“Cheese?” Carmine cocked her head, raising an eyebrow, “You’re weird, Chip. Want some more?”

“No, no, no thank you. It was... lovely.”

“Wanna... hang out?”

“Sure! Where’d you wanna go first?”

Carmine grinned.

Ding!

The ball hit the target. With a screech, the griffon on the platform fell into the water tank. Carmine threw back her head and let out a loud raucous squawking laugh, pointing with a paw. “Get back up! I’ve got two more!”

“Wow, you’re good at this!”

“Yeah, I am. You wanna go?”

Chip nodded. He picked up a ball with his muzzle and threw it, but it went wide.

“Hah! Better luck next time! But ya can’t hit the side of a wagon with a throw like that! Lame!” spluttered the griffon, once more perched on the platform.

“I can though.” smirked Carmine, and she threw the last ball. With another resounding ‘ding!’ the griffon on the platform was once again dunked in the drink. The bedraggled creature pulled itself out, feathers fluffing up as he attempted to dry himself. Carmine selected a two-ball prize and mock-saluted her wet compatriot with it.

“Hah, dumb pony. A throw so weak your girlfriend had to do it for ya.”

“How much for just one ball?” Chip asked, locking eyes with the griffon.

“Fat chance!”

“Well, I’m not that good at throwing, but...” Chip paid his money and selected a ball. Gripping it in his teeth, he turned away from the platform. He flipped it into the air, over his head, and bucked with his back hooves.

Ding!

Chip chewed his saltlick-pop thoughtfully. They’d gone to see the pony part of the fair, which, whilst being the biggest, was also the most general. There were father-son and mother-daughter races, bake sales, muzzle painting contests and more. They’d gone to see the griffon part of the fair. He’d tried his hooves at knitting, literally - griffons wove nets which they used to catch bigger prey, and knitting was apparently a for-show version of net-weaving. Carmine could knit with the claws on one paw. Chip managed to get himself tied up as he attempted to emulate this feat with his hooves. It didn’t quite work, and he ended up in an impromptu show about the best way to disembowl a trapped meal, much to the amusement of Carmine.

“Where to now then?”

Carmine sniffed, “The dragons are off-limits to non-dragons today, it seems. I guess that means the diamond dogs...”

“But I’m a...”

“Well well well, if it isn’t Speck.” The voice was snarling and gutteral.

Chip turned his head, and sighed, “Butch, please...”

“Nice to see you know how to beg, pony.”

“Dogs beg, Butch.” snarled Carmine.

“Clam it beak-breath.”

“You leave her alone!”

“Or what, you’ll start crying in front of your girlfriend?”

“She’s not my girlfriend, she’s... just a friend.”

Butch and his cronies laughed, making kissy-kissy noises. “So, what? You’re going to stop me, yeah?”

“Butch... I promised my dad. I won’t fight you.”

“Oh, daddy’s boy. Ickle Chippy-Wippy doesn’t want to fight when daddy’s not around to save him. School’s out, pipsqueak. It’s just you and me...”

Chip pawed the ground, snorting. He flicked his tail, and felt the unfamiliar weight of the ripper ring. He remembered his promise. He backed up, “No, Butch. Not today.”

“What are you, a chicken?”

“No, Butch. I’m a dragon. Coming, Carmine?”

Carmine blinked, “You’re not going in there, are you? Chip, I know your dad’s into this whole dragon thing but...”

“Carmine, I’m not going to fight him. I promised my dad, it’s kind of a big thing for... for us dragons.”

Carmine rolled her eyes, “You’re nuts, kid.”

Chip wiped his hooves on the ground, flicking gravel at Butch, before marching past the two dragon guards standing at the entrance to the draconic pavilion. Two wings shot out, blocking his path.

“Excuse me, what do you think you’re doing?” one of the dragons said.

Chip’s resolve faltered, “I, uh...”

“You know there’s no food to be brought in from outside.”

Chip blinked, looking back at Carmine, “Her? She’s not food! She’s... my plus one.”

The two dragons stared down at him for a moment, “Very well, but mind you do not insult Lord Sapphire by eating it in his presence.”

“I won’t.” Chip almost laughed, “I promise. Come on Carmine!” He turned and nodded at the diamond dogs, who were staring with mouths agape, “They’re not invited.”

♦♦♦

“Chip, I have no idea what just happened, but that was wicked. You dragons are weird. Cool, but weird.”

“So you believe me that I’m a dragon now, huh?”

Carmine fluffed up, embarrassed, “I guess.”

Chip grinned. He bounced as he trotted. “So, what do you want to do first?”

“First? I’m famished. Let’s find something to eat...” Carmine lifted her head and sniffed, “I think I smell cooking. It’s all dragon-y and weird-smelling but it’s gotta be cooking.”

“Yeah, dragons have these weird spices... kinda gritty.”

“And you smell.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I mean... it’s like... fire and brimstone but... not as bad.”

“Gee thanks a lot.”

Carmine fluffed up again, stalking past Chip, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Well what did you mean?” Chip hurried to catch up.

Carmine ducked into a small tent, where a dragon not much larger than her was busy making some sort of small cake-like objects. “I don’t know... it’s kinda nice, I guess.”

“So... you like me?”

“Yes... wait, no! Augh!” Carmine picked up a cake, turned and threw it at Chip, who caught it in his muzzle. He grinned and chomped it down, chewing. It was hard, with that same gritty texture he’d learned to associate with draconic cooking, it was kind of like salt or sugar before being ground down.

“Mmm! Give us another!”

Carmine threw another at him, he caught it and ate it just as fast as the first. Carmine picked one up herself and pecked at it with her beak, “You like these? But... they’re rocks.”

The dragon behind the table smiled, her ears lifting, “Rock cakes. A touch of bauxite, with some tourmeline and jasper for colour and flavour!”

“Wait, what?” Chip grabbed the pecked rock cake out of Carmines paw and chewed it down, “But these are awesome!”

“Thank you! They’re a real draconic treat, the recipe has been in my family for generations!”

“I ate a rock...”

Carmine burst out laughing, squawking profusely as she rolled around on the floor, “You should see your face!”

“But... I ate a rock!”

“You ate three! Bwaaahahaa!”

“Carmine!” Chip whined, “I’m gonna die or something!” Chip stuck his tongue out, pawwing his hoof at it, which only made Carmine laugh even louder. Then, with his eyes firmly fixed on his tongue, he belched.

“Oh thank you sir! Have a great day now!”

Carmine was still chuckling, Chip was still slightly green.

“Calm down, kid. You’re a dragon. Dragons eat rocks, ergo...”

“But... but...”

“You liked them, didn’t you?”

“Well yeah, I did!”

“Well I don’t think even you would be dumb enough to eat something you didn’t like the taste of.” Carmine rolled her eyes at him, he pushed her way with a hoof, snorting.

“Yeah, I suppose. Wait... What’s that noise?”

It sounded like snuffling, and it was coming from down a gap between two tents. Chip poked his head down the gap, “Hello?”

“Hello, little pony, yes... what is little pony doing here, hmm?”

“Who are you?” Chip tilted his head, squinting to try to get a look at the stranger.

“Little pony should be elsewhere, not safe for little pony here, no...”

Chip backed up as two large diamond dogs plodded out of the shadows, “H-hey, y-you’re not supposed to be here...”

“Oh, no no no, little pony should have kept mouth shut... now will be coming with Bouncer and Bulldozer, yes.”

Chip backed up, his ears folding back, “You’re not supposed to be here, what do you want?”

“Inquisitive pony, knows too much pony...”

“Get away from him!” Carmine screeched, and launched herself through the air, sailing over Chip’s head with all four claws extended. She screamed and batted at the further diamond dog, Chip supposed it was Bulldozer but he had no way of telling, whilst ‘Bouncer’ snarled and leaped at Chip.

Chip reared up and kicked his front hooves, catching the diamond dog in the face. It yelped and rolled, snarling as it came up onto its hind legs again. Chip spun, he flicked his tail, and the bolas caught the troll in the side of the head, a solid crack that sent the creature reeling. Carmine had been thrown off Bulldozer, she landed heavily and she cried out as she landed on a wing, but she rolled back up onto her four limbs and screeched a loud warning.

Bulldozer snarled, his face and upper body showed the result from her promises of bodily harm in a myriad of deep and painful scratches.

Chip did the only thing he could. He picked up a rock in his muzzle, tossed it over his head and bucked it at the diamond dog. It slammed into the beast’s stomach, winding it.

Bouncer, meanwhile, had recovered. Diamond dogs like to attack their prey from ambush, this meant from the side, or behind. Bouncer leaped.

Chip had turned, he saw the flash of dark brown and reacted instantly, lowering his haunches to buck upwards. The diamond dog landed on his back, claws digging into his sides as the troll went for a neck-bite. The buck caught him on the up-swing, Chip’s spiked haunch-guard biting first. In a reflexive move that he barely thought about, Chip’s tail twirled around the creature’s neck, tight, before Chip flicked him off, tail unwinding like a yo-yo. The spike tore at Bouncer’s abdomen, and the ripper ring sliced neatly yet savagely across his throat. The diamond dog landed with a gurgling yelp, twitching, as Chip stood there and watched in horror.

“Plucked pinions, Chip, what the bloody shells did you do!?”

Chip just stood there, breathing heavily, stammering, “I-I-I... I didn’t mean to!”

“Shells!”

There were several loud thumps around them, as dragons dropped from the skies or shouldered their way out of various secluded tents. Carmine crossed the clearing quickly to stand next to Chip, staring up and around at the newcomers.

“I...” Chip began.

“Well done, young dragon, a clean kill. The other is alive, yes?” a large blue dragon peered down at Chip, flicking his forked tongue in and out as he glanced from pony to griffon. He nodded back at two other dragons who were examining the crimson-stained corpse.

“Y-yes, I... I think so.”

“Take it. It will be... questioned. Dispose of the other.” the blue dragon hissed angrily to the other dragons, before turning to Chip and Carmine. He inclined his great head at the griffon, and then addressed Chip, “Go home, young dragon, your teacher has taught you well and you have done your duty as a dragon admirably. Your first blood?”

Chip nodded, eyes beginning to tear up.

“Trial by combat then. You are worthy. Give Lord Diamond my regards from Lord Sapphire when you see your father, and offer my humble apologies for allowing such... scum to dirty your hide. And now, young master Chip, Mistress Carmine, we shall go, as should you.”

♦♦♦

Thaumomancy

═ The ══════════
Ambassador's
══════════ Son ═

Chapter Seven
Thaumomancy
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow

Chip sat on his haunches as the last of the dragons melted away into the shadows. He shivered.

“Chip, kid, you okay?”

Chip looked up at Carmine, his green eyes wide, “I... I think so. You?”

“Yeah. My wing hurts but nothing serious. I was more worried about you. That was...”

“Awful?”

“I was going to say amazing.” Carmine stretched, chewing at her wing with her beak before flexing it experimentally.

“I killed him...” Chip looked down morosely at his tail, the crimson stain drying to an ugly brown across his chestnut strands. He could still remember the moment. His sides stung where claws had penetrated his hide, his buck and simultaneous tail-flick had been a natural pony response to such a pounce, but he’d mixed it with the draconic fighting style that Sharptooth had been drilling into him. It had just happened, and he’d... he’d slit that troll’s throat like he was tearing through paper.

“Yeah, why didn’t you say you could fight like that? I thought those tail-things were just... jewelry or something.”

“Dad’s been teaching me but...” Chip whimpered, “I didn’t mean to, he just... he attacked me!”

“Dumb mutt was gonna kill ya, kid. You did good.”

“I killed him.”

“Snap out of it, things get killed all the time. Better him than you.” Carmine spat feathers again. She fluffed up her neck-ruff and added, “Or me.”

Chip couldn’t help but crack a small smile, “You like me, don’t you?”

“Dweeb!”

Chip’s grin faded, “Celestia’s beard, what’s dad gonna say? I promised him I wouldn’t...”

As if on cue, a circling shadow alighted in front of them, revealing itself to be a familiar emerald green dragon. “You promised me you wouldn’t what?”

Chip turned white, flicking his tail behind him. “I, I, I...”

Sharptooth strode across the small distance and picked up the foal, “Hey, hey, it’s okay. Tell me what happened...”

“I killed him.” came the muffled sobs as Chip started crying into the dragon’s chest. Chip started blubbering words and phrases, often choked out by sniffling.

The dragon held him tenderly, just listening, murmuring softly. Finally, Sharptooth turned to the griffon, placing the pony down. Chip still sniffled, but at least he was calmer. “Miss Carmine, I presume? Since Chip here is a little... indisposed, would you mind telling me just what in the nine realms is going on?”

Carmine clicked her beak softly, then scratched at the ground, “We... we were just hanging out when these two diamond dogs appeared. They... they attacked us. Chip killed one, some big blue dragon took the other one. Said he was Lord Sapphire.”

“Sapphire, hmm?

“He s-said to g-give his regards to Lord Diamond. That’s you, isn’t it?”

Sharptooth nodded slowly, “That I am. Did he say anything else?”

“He... knew my name. He said Chip was worthy. He said it was a clean kill. It was, sir, Chip was awesome. He killed that mutt like it was nothing! ...I mean, uh...”

“Quite alright, Miss Carmine. As one hunter to another I appreciate your accolades. So does Chip, or he will. Ugly truths aren’t less true for being ugly, and savagery amongst our kinds is one of them.”

“Where did he learn to fight like that?”

“He is a dragon, Miss Carmine. I have been teaching him.”

“You keep saying that but...”

“Rather unusual I know, but humour an old dragon. I also teach him to fly. Would you care to join us for a flying lesson? Something to celebrate my son’s first blood is in order, perhaps?”

“That’s another thing, s-sir, how exactly does a po- a dragon without wings, fly?”

“Let me demonstrate...”

♦♦♦

Carmine flew below the clouds, craning her head around for the swooping shape of the dragon. Above the sound of her wings flapping, she suddenly realized she could hear a strange cry, it was almost like a siren yet obviously made by a creature, not a machine. As it got louder, she realized it sounded a lot like Chip, screaming his head off.

“...YaaaaaaAAAAAAAHHHH-HHOOOOOOOOO!” the pony yelled as he plummeted through the clouds.

Carmine squawked and flapped, losing a few feathers as she twisted to first avoid and then keep and eye on the insane equine. Just as she was about to dive after what had to be a pony in a fatal plunge to his grisly, flat and wide death, an enormous bat-winged shape rocketed past her and swooped up under the pony, turning his fall into a long curve upwards and over. To her amazement, the crazy four-legged and zero-winged creature decided to leap off of the dragon’s back at the apex of his parabolic course to speed with outstretched hooves towards her. Somehow, Chip twisted in the air, looking graceful and athletic, as if he were ice-skating or dancing. She put one paw to her beak and giggled. He was mad, but he was kind of cool.

Once again, Chip dropped past her. This time the dragon caught the pony in his talons, spinning around to throw the pony upwards towards her.

Chip was shouting something now, something which she couldn’t hear as he was so far away, it sounded like... she bent forwards to get a better look and maybe hear what he was trying to say...

“Hey-Carmine-what-do-you-think-of-my-flying-”

Chip had misjudged the trip up, and Carmine hadn’t quite realized she should have moved. Chip’s muzzle, almost perfectly, came to rest for a single moment in mid-air, pressed up against Carmine’s beak.

Framed by the setting sun, thousands of feet in the air, they accidentally, but very thoroughly, kissed.

Carmine all but fell out of the sky in surprise. Chip did, screaming all the way. Carmine laughed, and turned a barrel-roll before diving after him. It wasn’t what she’d call flying, but it was falling with style, which was just as good.

♦♦♦

Celestia opened her eyes at the musical tone. It was the insistent yet kindly sort of tone that she had decreed would be used to indicate that her presence was required, and that ignoring it and sleeping would be a faux pas. Amusingly enough, it annoyed her. Something more intrusive could have real hate directed at it, and then it could be forgotten. An insipid, friendly simpering alarm made it somehow worse.

She sighed, and rolled over to get comfortable. “Yes?” she asked, addressing the air.

A globe of light appeared, solidifying into a head. The head was that of a medium-sized green dragon with white horns. “I hope I am not overly disturbing you, Tia.”

“Sharptooth! ...You are.” The princess frowned.

Sharptooth visibly smiled at her mock-anger, “You should know I wouldn’t be contacting you without good reason. This is about our... mutual friend.”

“Oh?”

“Indeed, he had two visitors today. One of them is no longer with us, the other is now an extended guest of my fellow dragon lords. I add that it was my own son that saw off our guest.”

“Sharpie, you can speak freely. Are you saying you were attacked?” Celestia sat up in bed, despite the awkward position, and fixed her gaze on the spectral dragon.

Sharptooth nodded, “As you wish. Two diamond dogs, Tia, at the Tacksworn Fair. Young Chip killed one and very likely would have killed the other if Lord Sapphire hadn’t intervened.”

“A pony? A foal at that? Killing a fully-grown diamond dog?”

“Tia, I did warn you. Chip is my son, that makes him a dragon. Were you not aware of the import of this?”

“I asked you to shelter him, what have you done?”

“I have taken my pawn, dear Celestia, and promoted him. I expect you to aid me in my endeavours to protect your subject and whichever part of the sanctity of your crown you feel was threatened by the unexpected and all-too-neat death of his parents.”

“I am not sure he is my subject any more, Sharpie, if you have made him your son.”

Sharptooth frowned, “Don’t split hairs with me, Celestia. I may not be our emperor, but I do not take kindly to a brushing off, even by you. You do not get to drop this... whatever this is on me and vanish.”

Celestia sighed, “You are quite right, my old friend. I was hoping that my fears were ungrounded, it seems not. Ambassador Sharptooth, Lord of the Diamond Expanse dragon clan, you have my full support.”

Sharptooth rumbled his discontent, “I was afraid that might be necessary. What can you tell me?”

Celestia shook her head, “Very little, just that whatever this is, it is important to some factions which have caused trouble in the past, and young Chiphoof is right in the middle.”

“Go on...”

“Well, as you know, diamond dogs are natural miners...”

♦♦♦

“...and they are actually capable of mining through almost anything. In some cases, even solid rock is no impediment.” Miss Calligraphy said brightly, changing the picture.

“Wooowwww.” the class said, as they gawked at the slides displaying a burrow from a diamond dog warren.

Diamond dogs. Chip felt sick to his stomach. He hadn’t wanted to go to school, but Sharptooth had made him. He kept expecting trouble any second, somepony to charge in and shout murderer! That’s the one! Get him! before dragging him off for imprisonment. Or banishment, and imprisonment where he was banished to. Chip’s mind wandered away from the classroom, back to the previous night. He still didn’t understand.

Sharptooth shook his head, “You were a dragon, in the draconic demesnes. Trespassing on draconic territory is unwise at best and often fatal. Attacking a dragon on top of that was already a death sentence for them.”

“B-but...”

“No, young one, this is part of who you are now. What were Lord Sapphire’s words?”

“H-he said I was worthy. I don’t understand...”

“The old rogue was watching every move, young Chiphoof.”

“Did you tell them I was coming?”

Sharptooth shook his head, “Of course not.”

“Th-then how did they know I was a dragon?”

“Quite apart from your fighting armor, every dragon knows another dragon when he sees one.”

“I ate rock-cakes.” Chip said, suddenly.

“Ah. Did you like them?”

“Yes! ...Am I going to die?”

“From rock cakes? No, don’t be silly.”

“But...”

“Chip,” Sharptooth bent down, “understand this, even if you don’t understand how or why. When I made you my son, I bestowed upon you the potential of my clan. It is ancient magic, we dragons are steeped in it. Ponies are creatures that have lost part of their nature, I refer of course to earth ponies. That, too, is your heritage. These twin legacies move within you. Let it happen.”

“So... am I becoming a dragon?” Chip asked, a strange expression on his muzzle.

Sharptooth shook his head, “No, young one, you already are.”

“...Dragon.”

“Huh?” Chip shook his head, and looked up into Miss Calligraphy’s face, “What?”

“Can you answer the question?”

“Um, can you ask it again please? Please?”

“I asked what are the defining aspects of a dragon?”

“Well some think it’s our scaly skin, wings and claws. It’s not.”

“No?”

“My dad says not all dragons have wings, or claws, and some aren’t scaly. I think it’s magic. Ponies come in three tribes, earth, pegasus and unicorn. All have magic, even earth ponies, but it’s what dad calls intrinsic, at least for earth and pegasi. It’s what they are. Unicorns cast spells, but pegasi can fly and earth ponies make things grow. Dragons are... like earth and pegasus ponies, they have magic inside them... but they can do things with it like the unicorns.”

Miss Calligraphy blinked.

“They... also eat rocks?” Chip grinned, hopefully.

“Were you listening to anything I said, young Chiphoof?”

Chip shook his head, “Sorry Miss, but... I’m right, aren’t I?”

Miss Calligraphy narrowed her eyes, “We shall speak of this later... but yes, very insightful. This leads us nicely on to the laws of nature in Equestria. As you know, all flighted creatures possess the ability to perch on clouds. This is, as Chip here said, intrinsic. It is within them. Unicorns have the ability to cast a temporary spell to allow cloudwalking which bestows that same aspect, but it is temporary and it will fade. Pegasi have the innate ability to lift objects and carry them when they fly, this is a direct form of powerful magic which would be very tiring for even advanced unicorns to keep up, yet a pegasus can do this for hours without faltering. Investigating this is part of a growing field of magic called thaumomancy, the examination and control of magic itself. Some of our most talented unicorns have invested a lot of effort into understanding how such magic is bestowed upon objects by simple close proximity, and so effortlessly.”

“Miss?” asked Chip

“Yes, Chip?”

“You mean... that there is magic that can... give abilities from one species... to another?”

“Yes. Pegasi can pull a cart in which can ride produce and goods, even other ponies, and the cart and everything in it will fly almost by the will of the pegasus. Every pegasus can do this, some better than others, but do not underestimate it simply because it is an everyday occurence. It is powerful magic, all the more so for it being subtle, intrinsic and effortless.”

Chip sat back, looking at the slideshow. He still didn’t understand, but it was starting to make sense.

“Now, class, we have our pegasus teacher Southern Storm who has fetched a cloud for us, and our unicorn teacher Whisp Spark who can cast the cloud-walking spell. We will examine the behaviour of our test-subjects both before and after this example of thaumomancy, and we will write an essay on our observations.”

There was a chorus of groans.

“And if you’re all very good, we may go on a field-trip to the local weather-factory, if we can scare up enough unicorns from the fair to cast the necessary cloud-walking spells.”

The groans turned to cheers, even louder ones when Miss Calligraphy suggested they would visit the rainbow and snowflake factories.

♦♦♦

School was out for the day. As Chip walked out of the old schoolhouse, his mind was on the day’s lessons. Thaumomancy, he thought to himself, is that what Sharptooth did? The dragon’s words echoed in his ears, you already are a dragon. He didn’t feel like one, he guessed. Or maybe he did, it was hard to tell. He didn’t have much to compare it to. When, in fact, had it happened? He idly kicked stones across the school yard as he walked.

“Rock cakes.” he said to himself, “I wonder...” He bent and took a particularly large stone in his muzzle. It was admittedly dusty and gritty, but now as he played with it in his mouth he realized that it... almost had a flavour. Sometimes, when he’d been with his parents, they’d bought him boiled sweets. Hay cakes and carrot smoothies were staple surprises in the Irontail household, but boiled sweets were something different. He remembered them, now. Hard candy, gobstoppers... he almost laughed to himself. He had to be going nuts, but this rock... it reminded him of a gobstopper.

There was a sharp intake of breath somewhere ahead of him. He raised his head, gobstopper-rock in his jaw, to see Butch. Reflexively he grit his teeth. The rock burst, and he swallowed the pieces.

Butch, the top dog in the school, biggest hound on the block, turned white. He’d been planning to lay into the four-hooved pipsqueak, to make an example of him for showing him up twice, but now... he watched aghast as the pony ate rocks. He took several steps backwards, turned, and ran.

“Butch, wait...” Chip called.

Butch turned, “W-what?”

“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to hoof you in the family jewels, okay?”

“Sure, just... yeah. Back off.”

“I-I’m sorry about what happened at the fair, too!”

Butch sniffed, and then snarled out a reply, “I didn’t want to come into your stupid dragons’ den anyway. Smell ya later, pipsqueak.”

Chip watched the dog troll go, loping across the fields back towards town. One thought rang clearly in Chip’s head as he headed to the rendezvous point where Sharptooth would pick him up, and that was that Butch didn’t know. In fact, Nopony knew. More to the point, nopony would know. He swallowed again. Something was up, something big, and whatever it was, he was right smack in the middle of it.

There was only one place he could go, and it wasn’t home - he would have to go to Lord Sapphire. He would have to be quick, the fairground wasn’t far from the school and wasn’t far from where he usually got picked up, but he needed answers. He gulped again. He was going to demand answers from a dragon.

♦♦♦

Chip quivered in front of the large blue dragon. The creature’s eyes glowed in the semi-darkness.

Lord Sapphire leaned forwards, “Trouble?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Why would you be in any trouble?”

“The diamond dog...”

“Ah, of course, your trophy.” The dragon snapped his claws, and a smaller dragon skittered in from somewhere in the shadows. It was carrying a small box, which was placed in front of Chip. “I understand your eagerness, young one, your first trophy. Your adoptive father will be so proud.”

“I...”

“I took the liberty of having it thoroughly cleaned. The hide was unsalvageable, I’m afraid. They are not a good beast for decorative leather, at least not for anything other than mats or wash-cloth.”

“Thank you, s-sir.” Chip looked down at the box, aghast. He daren’t open it.

“It’s quite alright. Snack?” The dragon snapped his claws again, and a trolley was brought in, laden with what appeared to be precious jewels. “Go ahead, young one, you have earned it.”

Chip blinked, and squeaked out another “Thank you!” before picking up what appeared to be a ruby in his teeth. He rolled it around with his tongue, to his immense surprise it tasted peppery and strong, like one of those strange chili-things he remembered his father liking - though Chip had never understood why it was called a chilly if it was hot.

“Ah, Fire-rubies, they’re rather my favourite. Good show, though you don’t have to impress me by eating it.” The dragon had clambered down off his throne, and slapped Chip rather heartily on the back. Chip hiccuped, and bit down hard on the fire-ruby. He felt it shatter, and once again he swallowed it. His eyes started watering.

“I remember the first time I ate a fire-ruby - ha! - could barely taste anything for a week!”

Chip hiccuped. There was a brief flare of flame. He squeaked, and covered his muzzle with a hoof.

“I’d never seen one before, and your father neglected to inform me! He thought it was hilarious. I see you’ve inherited his taste for spicy food.”

Chip hiccuped, a gout of flame spurting around his hoof. He nodded dumbly, eyes streaming.

“Was there anything else?”

“Why?” Chip croaked, as he hiccuped again, ignoring the spurt of flame this time. “Where did they come from, and what did they want?”

Lord Sapphire’s eyes narrowed, “That is a very good question, young Chiphoof, unfortunately not one we have been able to answer. Our other guest wasn’t exactly forthcoming.”

“What happened?”

“It seems diamond dogs aren’t made quite so tough as I remember them being.”

Chip hiccuped again, breathing another burst of flame.

Lord Sapphire nodded, “Quite. Come, I believe your father is waiting for you, and is rather unimpressed at being kept waiting. I think one of these fire-rubies will pacify the old blaggard, yes?”

Chip hiccuped yet again, singing the bow on the cardboard box containing his ‘trophy’. Lord Sapphire, for his part, roared with laughter and led the way out of the tent.

♦♦♦

Monster

═ The ══════════
Ambassador's
══════════ Son ═

Chapter Eight
Monster
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow

Sharptooth narrowed his eyes as his old friend Swiftwing, better known as Lord Sapphire, came into view, walking amiably next to a hiccuping, flame-spurting Chip. He wasn’t sure which one he was angrier with. Chip for running off or Swiftwing for allowing it.

“Ah, there you are, my good Lord Diamond. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“I doubt that, Lord Sapphire. What have you been feeding the lad?” Sharptooth pointed at Chip, whose eyes were still streaming with tears, and bright red and orange flashes of light were playing around his nostrils.

“Ah-ah, you don’t get to blame this one on me, Sharpie. The boy picked it out himself. Here, have its twin. Fire-rubies, I have you to thank for introducing me to them.” Sapphire handed a red gem to the emerald dragon, giving his old friend a very toothy grin. “I also wanted to present you both with this, a trophy, a small memento of Chip’s conquest. An admirable son you have there, Sharpie, you should feel proud.” The large blue dragon snapped his claws, and the slightly singed but still-presentable box was brought forth.

Sharptooth grumbled under his breath as he took the small, bow-tied box out of the paws of a smaller yellow-hued dragon. The creature bowed and skittered away. “A memento? I thank you, Lord Sapphire.”

The large blue dragon nodded, “It is his right, after all. Sadly, I was unable to determine just why those two disgusting creatures were intruding on our sovereign territory, but thankfully Chip here was able to teach them a lesson. Let us hope they learn by example, they certainly won’t be doing it again!” Sapphire threw back his head and guffawed louder.

“Chip, thank Lord Sapphire for his generous gift, it is time we were going home. You can tell me just what led you to be tardy for our rendezvous later.”

Chip winced, “I just... I... thought I was going to get in trouble.” He ended the sentence at a whisper.

“In trouble?”

“Only for getting blood on my tents!” Sapphire laughed again, “No, I thank you for dealing with those ruffians in my stead. To think, they should have earned the honour of being dispatched by a Lord. Pfah! Nasty beasts.”

“We shall discuss yesterday’s occurences later, my old friend. Good day.”

“Be well, Lord Diamond, my wishes go with you, and to you too, young Chip.”

Chip looked up at Sharptooth guiltily as Lord Sapphire and his entourage dispersed, and his adoptive father lead the way out of the brightly-coloured enclave. The emerald dragon had his muzzle set in a slight grimace. He was mad.

“I-I’m sorry, I just... I didn’t mean to make you late, but h-he just kept talking a-and I didn’t know h-how to stop h-him...”

“Chip,” Sharptooth looked down at his young charge, “I am disappointed, but I totally understand. I am disappointed only because I care.”

Chip’s heart sank. The standard answer number 23 from the good parent’s guide. He really was in trouble.

Sharptooth smiled suddenly, and snorted, “Breathing fire, huh?”

Chip blinked, then nodded, “H-he gave me a fire-ruby.” To prove his point, Chip hiccuped, and another spurt of flame lit up the small clearing.

Sharptooth laughed, “Old Sapphire told you about his introduction to them, I take it? Still burning, isn’t it?”

Chip nodded, his eyes still red and his nose streaming wetly.

“Ready to go home? How about you make the tea, whilst it still lasts, hmm?”

♦♦♦

Chip’s journey to school the next day was relatively uneventful, other than the fact it was raining. He went straight inside the wooden building, shaking himself off to avoid dripping in the classroom. Taking his seat, he opened his books, for want of something better to do, as school hadn’t started proper. He flicked through basic biology, eyes lingering on ponies. It was a stray gust of wind which brought him out of his reverie, flicking the pages onwards. The book featured dragons and the elusive pooka, the naga, timberwolves, trolls and diamond dogs... and then a word caught his eye: Monster.

He read, slowly and carefully. The word monster referred to a varied menagerie, dealing with two main classes of being. One were creatures like the hydra, cockatrice and timberwolf, ferocious beasts of the wild places like the distant Everfree and the Screeching Canyons. The other were mixtures of other types of creatures - commonly called chimera when non-sentient - the two main and well-known were the hippogriff, part griffon and part pony, and then the draconequus. Part pony, part dragon.

His hoof touched the picture gently as his heart skipped a beat. Surprised when he felt a wetness on the back of his foreleg, he sniffed and wiped at his muzzle before reading on.

Draconequus

a highly dangerous magical beast, these are very rare. The most famous of which is known in legends as Discord, bringer of chaos and despair, feared throughout the land as a destroyer and foul tyrant.

That was him, he realized.

That’s what he was - a monster.

He blinked and looked up. Suddenly the room felt hot, stuffy, stifled. His heart beat in his ears and his breath caught in his throat.

A monster.

He looked around, he was sat with Carmine, Bella, Beth and Penny, but the other tables... the diamond dogs pointedly looked the other way, Butch had decided that not acknowledging his presence was preferable to tangling with him. This thought worried Chip, now. The other ponies - he hadn’t even bothered to learn their names - wouldn’t meet his gaze. They feared him. They despised him. They hated him. This is what he was, now. An outcast. A beast.

He suddenly felt very alone.

The bell rang and Miss Calligraphy started prattling on about diamond dogs for her first lesson. The class had covered a short introduction on the creation of Equestria, with the coming together of the three main tribes, the previous day and would be coming to the princesses, and alicorns, later.

As Calligraphy Quill chatted about diamond dogs and their settling in the principality of Equestria as subjects under Celestia over a thousand years ago, Chip could hardly listen. His stomach hurt. Today had started so well, he’d connected with Sharptooth the night before. The fire had stopped, but it had been something... to share.

Right now, it felt like a curse.

Chip looked out the window, mind galloping at a million furlongs a minute. Calligraphy spoke, her voice droning on in the background about lost kings or something, but he didn’t care. Why should he care, he was a monster after all.

The lessons passed in a blur, lunch was memorable only in that he watched seemingly from inside his own head as other ponies crossed the room to get away from him, looked away instead of at him, mumbled instead of talking to him.

Maybe they knew, he wondered, maybe they’d heard he was a killer. Maybe he’d be kicked out of school, maybe he’d have to spend his life living at the top of a mountain like a dragon, bewaring of others sent to kill him. Forever, alone, at the top of a mountain, forgotten by everypony, hated and loathed. He hung his head, screwing up his face so he wouldn’t start crying in class.

He wanted to go home.

He wanted Mommy and Daddy.

He knew he never could have them.

Chip left school sullenly, angrily. Butch and the diamond dogs avoided him. What did he care? He hated them. Carmine tried to speak to him, but he wasn’t in the mood. He blew her off and galloped away. He reached the spot where Sharptooth was supposed to pick him up... but he kept going.

He wouldn’t be missed.

♦♦♦

Sharptooth circled higher, sharp eyes scanning the horizon for his charge who had once again failed to appear. Spotting the runaway, he dove nearer to the ground and landed in front of the foal, who stopped short, looking at the ground.

“Hey, what’s wrong Chip? I thought we had this talk, little one. You shouldn’t just disappear like-”

“I k-killed-” Chip interrupted.

Sharptooth slapped his tail angrily into the ground. “Are you still hung up on that?” Sharptooth snapped back, although he bit his tongue when he saw Chip’s ears fold back. “Forgive me, I keep forgetting you were not always a dragon...”

“I’m a p-pony t-too! I was a p-pony first!” Chip forced out, through gritted teeth, ears back. He hiccuped flames, suddenly, and whimpered.

“Chip...”

“B-buck y-you!” The colt bolted.

Sharptooth stared after him in dismay, and then down at his paws which had been half-outstretched towards the child. “Oh Celestia.” he whispered. It had all been too neat, too easy, but then those damned diamond dogs had appeared! If only they hadn’t been snooping about. But then, mused Sharptooth, if he hadn’t taught Chip to fight, the result could have been fatal for the lad. If Chip hadn’t been brought safely to him in the first place, he could have met with an accident whilst in the hooves of some other unfortunate adoptive parent, and the grieving would have been transferred to another relative. Choices, always choices, actions and consequences. Too much, too soon! It shouldn’t have to be so hard for a child!

Sharptooth took to the wing again, spiralling into the air above the scrub and the now-distant tents of the fair. He mused, as he circled to follow the colt, that the tents of the dragons were surrogate caves but with a subtle difference. Draconic society, as big and slow and old as it was, was changing. It was probably the ponies, with their gaudy, colourful lifestyles. Those dragons who interacted with the strange, four-legged equinoids picked up their ways and their lust for fun and companionship. The tents showed this - spiralling designs, gaudy stripes, banners and flags and made of colourful cloth. No longer were they hidden from the world, or fashioned from bone and hide, they were civilized, they were friendly. Even as the inner conclave was restricted to dragons, it too was... welcoming.

Sharptooth remembered the box, and realised that this change hadn’t penetrated every aspect. The gaudy, friendly box had contained a grisly trophy; the cleaned and mounted skull of the diamond dog. He thought about at it with the mind of a pony, and felt something... not shame, but that yawning gulf of difference. He’d pulled a young, impressionable and vulnerable colt across that divide, was it at all surprising that things were not easy?

Sharptooth flared his wings and dropped to hover next to the colt as Chip ran across the plains. “Are you ready to come home yet?”

Chip said nothing, but his steely gaze, set on the far horizon, spoke volumes.

Sharptooth marvelled at the lad, his legs were pumping like pistons and the flames from that damned fire-ruby were playing around his muzzle with every flex of his body. Sharptooth tried again, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lecture you, of course you can take your own time to-”

Chip leaped and flexed a tail, screaming something incoherent at the dragon. Sharptooth jinked away and the shot with the bolas went wide. So that was how it was going to be, hmm? Sharptooth dove at the foal and snatched him with his talons. Chip dug his hooves in suddenly and both of them went crashing to the ground. Quick as a whip, Chip flicked his tail out in an attack with his ripper-ring. Sharptooth took hold of the amber mass with one paw and resolutely lifted the creature up with it. “Chip...”

The pony hissed and spat, “You... you hate me! You’ve always hated me! Everypony hates me! I hate you! You’re a liar! My parents aren’t dead! They can’t be! Celestia... Celestia’s lying! She’s keeping me from them! I want to go home! I WANT MY PARENTS! I WANT DADDY! I WANT MOMMY! I WANT-”

The rest of his wailing and choked exclamations were more or less cut off as Sharptooth took hold of the young colt and embraced him, ignoring the kicking and screaming, the jabs and the bites. Sharptooth whimpered slightly, he’d faced down hydra, tangled with naga and once had neatly defused a growing civil war, but he’d never felt quite so helpless as now.

♦♦♦

Chip slammed open the front door, embedding the inner handle into the wall. He stomped up the stairs, slammed open and then slammed closed the door to his room.

Sharptooth listened intently as the painful sounds of distraught sobbing echoed from the small room. He heard things breaking, precious things, but nothing quite so precious as his own heart. Things could be replaced, or mended, but a heart... “I’m so sorry, little one.” he whispered, as he sat back in his chair. With a flick of his wrist, he magically lit the lanterns. Stoking the fire, he settled down to wait, fighting with himself. Should he go up? Should he deny the child his tantrum? Should he leave well enough alone until the fury had subsided? Dragons were easy, even small ones. Fight for dominance and drive them out. If they came back, they would submit. If they didn’t, so be it. Pony-shaped dragons, however, weren’t quite so easy. Especially not ones handed over by princesses.

The dragon perked an ear up at the sudden silence. He cast a small locking spell on the front door and ambled up the stairs. He knocked on the solid wooden door but didn’t want for an answer. He pushed it open and eased himself in. The globe was dented, thrown against the wall. The telescope was in pieces. Models had been rendered to matchsticks and Chip’s flying-machine drawings were wadded up like they’d been chewed and spat out. The sofa was empty, instead there was a quivering, quietly sobbing roughly pony-shaped lump wedged in one corner almost behind the desk.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sharptooth asked.

The lump shook - negative, the dragon assumed.

“Come with me.”

Again, the lump shook, but Sharptooth wasn’t taking no for an answer. He picked up the bundled colt and retreated down the stairs and into his weir. The lump complained and whimpered, crying and sniffling, but Sharptooth was having none of it. He locked the door with a similar spell to the one he’d used on the front door and curled up into a ball in the depression on the floor.

“They weren’t looking for you, Chip. They were looking for a dragon.”

“But I’m a dragon.” a small voice said.

“I know that, but they didn’t. I’m sorry, I should never have made you become... no, that’s wrong. Chip... I can’t... I can’t stop you from being... who you are, from being what you are, because I can’t stop caring for you.”

“Who am I, then? What am I?”

“You’re my son, if you want to be. Your parents... Celestia isn’t lying, neither am I. They died...”

Chip’s muzzle screwed up and he started crying again. Sharptooth nuzzled the colt, “It’ll be alright. I know it hurts...”

“Why? Why did they have to die?” Chip wailed.

“I don’t know.”

“Why did they have to leave me? I... wish I could die too.” Chip’s voice devolved into agonized choking sobs.

Sharptooth hissed softly, “Don’t say that, if I am sure of nothing else, I know they would not want that.”

Chip’s sobs died away, slowly, and his last words before he fell into an exhausted sleep was, “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t ever leave you, little one, but you may have to leave me.” Sharptooth’s eyes gleamed in the darkness as he folded himself up for sleep. He had to keep his piece safe, and if even a dragon’s den wasn’t safe from diamond dogs then where was? The dragon thought carefully, his mind playing across the territories he knew of. They could leave Equestria, but that would be even harder. No, there was one place, once possibility. Far from the Southern town of Tacksworn, deep in the North East of Equestria where no diamond dogs roamed, earth-pony territory. It would be easy to hide Chip in plain sight in such a place. There was even a relative, he mused, not an irontail but close enough. Better still, the city was well-known for dragons. His kith and kin could keep an eye on the lad. He hoped that Chip could forgive him.

♦♦♦

A Change of Place

═ The ══════════
Ambassador's
══════════ Son ═

Chapter Nine
A Change of Place
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow

He swept lower over the plains, great wings flapping in long slow strokes that stirred the cold air. Night time, the world was still but for him, the stars and the whispering wind as it went about its lonely trek through the mountains far behind him, the mountains that made up his home. Almost skimming the surface, he breathed deeply and let forth a gout of flame, searing the vegetation to ash. Rejoicing in his power and might, he rose once more to the skies, master of all he surveyed. Muscles rippled beneath his hide, the air itself fled before him as he lifted to the stars themselves, pinpricks of brightness that dazzled in the velvet darkness. It felt like he could almost reach out and touch them, it was as if they were singing to him... no, not singing, speaking. Calling a single word, a name. It sounded like...

“Chip! Chip lad, are you okay?”

Chip woke up, shaking his head to clear the fog of sleep. For a moment he didn’t quite remember where he was, or even who he was. He lingered in that half-way point, mind still clearing away the cobwebs. Even his name sounded foreign, a jumble of meaningless sounds forced together.

“Chip?”

Chip blinked. It was Sharptooth, his adopted father. He was Chip, Chiphoof Irontail Leatherback of the Diamond Expanse, pony-shaped dragon, and monster-in-training. The brief euphoria left him, it still hurt. He hadn’t asked for any of this. He shook his head again; no, he had no reason to act like this, even if it was all a bit much. “Hey, S-Sharptooth,” he said, not quite feeling ready to use dad again so soon after his outburst the previous night, “I’m okay.”

The dragon looked hurt at the name change, but tried not to show it, “Are you ready to get up?”

Chip yawned, stretching, one leg after another followed by his tail. “I think so... hey, what’s the time?”

“I let you sleep in.”

“Oh horsefeathers, I’ll be late for school!” Chip leaped out of bed and skittered towards the door out of the sleeping chambers. He was stopped by a friendly paw on his withers.

“No, Chip,” said Sharptooth slowly, “you won’t be. You’re not going to school today.”

“But the weekend’s not until three days from now! I’m not sick...”

“We... you, you have something else to go to. I’m sorry to bring this up so suddenly, lad, but-”

“T-there’s only one place I could need to go that badly.” Chip’s stomach fell, he gulped, mouth tasting of ash again. “The funeral.”

“Indeed, young one. It is to be held tomorrow, and we must travel by chariot to Canterlot for some official business, where we will spend the night, and then back down to Rein, Neighvada. Princess Celestia will be sending us a personal chariot as befits your station and mine, but it is a long voyage and not one that should overly tax either of us. We will be making a brief stopover in Ponyville each leg.”

Chip whistled, “That’s... a long way.”

“It is unavoidable, I apologize. If I thought I could leave you in Rein-”

“Why can’t you? Those diamond dogs? I thought they weren’t looking for me?”

“They weren’t, they were... they were looking for me. I may have inadvertently put you in the kind of danger your princess sought to avoid.”

“I don’t understand! That makes no sense!”

Sharptooth shook his head, “I am being frank with you, little one, but I cannot explain more. The less you know, the better.”

“That makes even less sense! Why would anypony want to hurt you?”

Sharptooth smiled, “I thank you for such kind works, Chip, but you forget who I am. I am an ambassador, privy to many secrets.” The dragon narrowed his eyes, looking left and right as if checking for spies, “Can you keep a secret?”

Chip nodded, enthusiastically.

“Good. Come on; breakfast, teeth, brushing, dressing and then we go. We travel light, nothing but ourselves, some documents and a few necessary sundries. The princess will see to both our formal attires”

Chip’s mouth worked emptily as the dragon sauntered away, infuriatingly. He scowled, and then skittered on the dirt floor to catch up.

♦♦♦

True to the dragon’s word, they had packed lightly. Sharptooth had decided on a mere two relatively small boxes; one was the box of ‘training spikes’. Although the collection featured blades and armor more often than not, almost every single piece featured at least one if not more sharp points to it, so the name made at least some sense. The other box was a mystery to Chip, and had been brought out from the hoard-room already packed.

Four seemingly indefatigable pegasi had arrived just as Chip and Sharptooth were finishing their breakfast of hay pancakes. The squad landed on the wide ledge with expert precision and very little fuss. One had shrugged herself out of the harness and had knocked politely on the front door, not even winded. The dragon had bid them enter. They had accepted a cup of tea but declined offers of food stating that long flights required lighter, energy-packing feed which they had already ate.

Chip eyed the chariot in the late morning sunlight, it was indeed part of the royal fleet, bearing the seal of the sun princess herself. It was large, far larger than normal chariots, which were usually pulled by just one or two pegasi. The pegasi also bore the seal of the royal pony sisters on their armor. They were royal guards, the elite of her barracks, soldiers sent on a mere escort mission. Either the guards deserved a holiday, or Sharptooth was in some real danger.

Chip wore the three training spikes that had been given to him. He had been reluctant to wear the ripper ring, but Sharptooth had placed it upon his tail anyway. He wondered if he should be worried.

“Up you get, lad, get in.” the dragon said.

Chip eyed the plush velvet, and suddenly felt as small and helpless as he had on his first night after Celestia... he gulped, memory still fresh, made all the more real despite how strange it felt. He’d been somehow scared of the old sofa, and scared of the dark like a stupid foal. He’d even gone to seek shelter with a fire-breathing dragon rather than brave the dark of an empty room, and had felt small and helpless as the strange beast had tucked him in tenderly, just like mom used to.

The carriage had a small awning at the back, and two large wheels sprung wheels. A door opened on one side with a simple yet sturdy latch. Chip flicked it open, the door moved silently and easily. The bottom of the carriage was soft and yielding, warm and comfortable. The whole thing was a sofa. A flying sofa. Chip clambered in, and to his surprise Sharptooth shut the door, placing the two chests into the main body and securing them into a travel-net.

“Aren’t you coming?” Chip asked.

“Of course, but I feel a need to stretch my wings, my boy. Good sirs, my ladies, you may take off when ready.” The dragon locked the front door with both locks, incanting a short spell to finalize things, before taking a running jump off the edge. As always, he dropped out of sight to come shooting back up with the thermals.

Almost as one, Chip felt the four pegasi and the chariot move. He whimpered, though he knew the dragon would catch him if there were any trouble. This wasn’t like flying with Sharptooth, it was somehow far scarier. He could feel the wind as they picked up speed, and whilst he didn’t feel any different, somehow the whole chariot seemed to just hover as if it were a fancy party balloon. Chip’s mind rang back his lessons, and a small part of him paid rapt attention. The rest of him was trying to relax into the plush warm alcove, scrunching up low into the royal conveyance to get out of the wind. Princes and princesses have sat here, he marvelled, and now he did too. He hadn’t paid attention to what his parents called him, what their station was. They had some title or other, but it hadn’t meant much, mostly just ancient history. To him they’d just been mom and dad, they owned nothing but a small metal-smelting business and a few scattered and mostly dead mines and the tattered remains of the Irontail name.

He’d just wanted to be a ordinary pony, and when he thought about it honestly that’s what he’d been. He’d had friends, it was true. He wondered about them. He’d had private tutors, he hadn’t gone to normal school like he’d wanted, but he had had ‘normal’ friends. He kind of missed them, even Frostpepper. Sunkiss the pegasus, flintstrike the unicorn, tinderbox the other earth-pony. Just neighbourhood foals, trying to work out who they were, finding their place in the world. Then his place had been torn up and dashed to pieces.

The wind stole the tears from his eyes, and he sniffled as the flight levelled out. Would he ever have a place again? All he wanted was friends... like Carmine. His heart jumped. He kind of liked Carmine. She kind of liked him, in that sort of not-liking way that she had, even if she was a girl. And Beth, and Bella, and Penny. They’d always like him, right? They’d seen him breathing fire, he realised. Carmine even thought it was cool. He thought again about that word, monster, and remembered the other meaning. It didn’t always mean fierce, ferocious beast. So what if he was different, they were all different in Tacksworn, in the middle of nowhere and halfway to anywhere else. He could be a draconequus, right? Monster just meant... different. So if he couldn’t have herdmates, he’d have... whatever it was that draconequus’s had. Yeah.

Chip settled down into the soft embrace of the flying sofa-chariot. He felt like a prince, swooping high above the world, laid out before him. The snatches of a dream flowed briefly through his head but it was gone quick as the wind. He didn’t know who he was, he realized, or who he was going to be, but maybe that didn’t matter. Just so long as he had Sharptooth, Carmine and all the others. Chip lay his head on his hooves, staring at the blue expanse of the sky. The soft rocking of the chariot, the rhythmical beating of pegasi wings, the sun high overhead - he felt sleepy. He closed his eyes for a moment against the glare. He could rest them, no problems.

♦♦♦

It wasn’t the jolt that shook him awake, it was the gentle but insistent paw jogging his shoulder. “Chip,” called Sharptooth softly, “wake up, we’re in Ponyville.”

“Pony-whatnow?” Chip asked, yawning. He peeked his head up over the railing just as a light purple unicorn came barrelling out of a tree-house. It wasn’t a house in a tree, it was a house made out of a tree. How strange.

“Princess Celestia!? Princess what are you-” the unicorn cried out, stopping in her tracks when she saw the real occupant of the chariot.

“Er, hi.” Chip said, laying his ears flat back against his head and blushing.

“You’re not the princess.”

Chip shook his head, “Uh-uh.”

“You do know that’s her chariot, right? Of course you do, you must be her... er... nephew? Nephew-in-law? No, that’s silly, she’s not even married... at least I don’t think she’s married, I’m pretty sure she’d have told me...” The unicorn started to prattle nervously on, tail and ears beginning to twitch as she attempted to work out just who this mystery colt was.

“I’m, uh, Chip. Chiphoof Irontail.”

“And I, my dear madame, am Ambassador Sharptooth of the Diamond Expanse.” Sharptooth took hold of the purple unicorn’s front hoof and gave it a kiss. “And whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?”

The purple, no she was lavender, decided Chip, unicorn blushed, “I’m Twilight-”

“Dragon! Get away from her you monster!” came a loud cry, and streak of rainbow and blue sped past, slapping the dragon in the muzzle with a wing.

“Hey!” cried Chip, “Get off my dad!” As the rainbow-hued streak of trouble came flying past a second time, Chip leaped onto the roof of the chariot and onto the rowdy pegasus. They both tumbled to the ground in a heap and Chip started biting and kicking.

There was an “Oh my!” followed by a bizarre bleating noise, and a yellow-and-pink pegasus curled up, trembling. This was followed by an overly-enthusiastic “Whee! New ponies!” and a pink blur joined the hue and cry, bouncing around in a circle.

“Rainbow Dash! Pinkie Pie! What in Celestia’s name do you think you’re doing? Royal guests and this is how you treat them?” came another voice, prim and proper, scolding above the noise.

“Jest what in TARNATION is all the ruckus! Quit that right now, y’hear? All y’all knock it off! Fluttershy, git up. Ah think we all should jest calm down and introduce ourselves properly like. Pinkie, Pinkie Pie! Calm down, go... go get some cookies or summat.” an orange earth-pony with blonde mane and tail said in a frustrated tone of voice.

“Ooh! Excellent idea, Applejack!” said the pink earth pony, and she disappeared almost as fast as she had arrived. Chip swore she left contrails.

“Dash, apologize!”

“But...”

“Don’t you but me Rainbow...” the orange earth-pony repeated.

Chip stopped biting and gingerely got off the blue pegasus with the amazing rainbow mane. “Sorry, you were... attacking my dad.”

“Your dad!?”

“Yeah. Kind of a long story.”

Sharptooth chuckled, “It seems we got off on the wrong, er, hoof. Now, you were saying, miss Twilight..?”

“Sparkle. Twilight Sparkle.”

“Ah, Celestia’s prize pupil!”

“You’ve heard of me?”

“In passing. Very pleased to meet you, I intended to look you up since I believe you run the library here?”

“I do! You want to borrow a book? Oh! You do want to borrow a book!” the pony sounded both in awe and terrified of the idea as the dragon nodded.

“So you’re... not the fire-breathing pony-snatching type of dragon?” asked the blue pegasus, Chip surmised she was Rainbow Dash, probably after the rainbow-coloured mane and tail.

“Oh I breathe fire, my dear Rainbow Dash, but I can assure you I do not snatch ponies, not even ones as pretty as you.”

Dash thought for a moment, then brightened, “I like you. Sorry about the whole... wing thing. You wanna hang later?”

“Rainbow!”

This time, noted Chip, it was Twilight who stomped a hoof.

“Quite alright, miss Sparkle. I would be honoured, miss Dash, to accompany you later. Maybe there is a good local cafe?”

“Sure is! Catch ya later.”

“Heh, smooth talker.” piped up the orange pony that Chip had heard called Applejack.

“She is, quite.” replied Sharptooth.

“Ah meant you. Name’s Applejack. Anybody who’s fine with Rainbow is fine with me. Sorry ‘bout yer introductions, we’ve had but few troubles with dragons and it’s always ended the same way.”

Sharptooth nodded, noting how the street was getting more or less back to normal. “I do apologize for my more... feral cousins. Youth seldom apologizes for itself, leaving us more mature individuals to make up for them. Now, miss Applejack, was it?” Sharptooth inclined his head as Applejack nodded, “I don’t suppose you happen to know where the realm-renowned designer, madame Rarity is?”

The white unicorn with what even Chip would have to call a stunning purple mane and tail, squeaked and seemed to swell almost three sizes as Applejack pointed at her, “Why, my dear... ambassador?”

“Lord Diamond, you may call me Sharptooth, or Sharpie to my friends.”

“Lord Diamond!” her intake of breathe was audible, and made Sharptooth chuckle. “Sharpie,” she squeaked again, “I would be honoured to make you some clothes... you do want clothes, yes?”

“Why of course, my dear. Something simple, yet refined for myself and the boy, Baron Irontail.”

“Baron!”

Chip was quite sure she’d explode sooner or later if she kept inhaling that much.

“Indeed, the boy and I are to travel to a most somber occasion on the morrow and we need formal attire. Princess Celestia herself has recommended you, I do hope I am not putting you out.”

Chip shook his head, he wondered idly if this ‘Rarity’ believed it, but he was quite sure Sharptooth meant it.

“Oh, the chance to design for a dragon! Oh I simply cannot turn this down. It will...” she sounded scandalously shocked, “it may have to be loose-fitting and not quite up to my normal exacting standards...”

“Quite alright, I believe loose and airy is all the rage this season!”

“And you will both have to model for me...”

“Of course.”

“Oh I have so much to do! Please excuse me! Drop by my shop later, Carousel Boutique!” Rarity fled, already mumbling to herself about designs and colourschemes.

“I shall, madame Rarity!” Sharptooth called after her, before laughing softly and turning to the ever-patient Twilight, who was practically vibrating with pent-up questions. “Shall we go inside? I may have to make do with sitting on your lawn, however.”

The door opened before either the unicorn or Sharptooth could get to it, and a small purple and green dragon shot out, calling, “Twilight! Twi! I heard somepony shout dra-” The small dragon stopped short, glancing up at Sharptooth, and then behind him at Chip who was slinking around near the chariot. The four pegasi had disentangled themselves from the straps and were stretching their wings.

“It’s okay, Spike. This is Sharptooth-”

“A dragon!”

“Yes, Spike, we have a dragon visiting us.”

“But-” Spike watched as Twilight rolled her eyes and chuckled, nosing the front door open. He turned back to look at Chip, “that wasn’t the dragon I was talking about. Who are you?”

“Hi, I’m, er, Chip. You smell like ponies."

"And you smell like dragons. Why do you smell like dragons?"

Chip cocked his head at the baby dragon, "You live here, don't you?"

Spike nodded, "Yeah, that's Twilight. I'm her number one assistant! What're you, his?"

"I'm kind of his son."

Spike blinked, "You know that kinda makes sense? But don't get any funny ideas, I'm the only cute baby dragon allowed in these parts, bub."

Chip laughed, "I'm just moving through, don't worry."

"Well good. Hungry?"

"Kinda. Got any gems?"

Spike sighed, "I wish. Come on, I can at least get you set up with some good hay fries."

♦♦♦

Courting Disaster

═ The ══════════
Ambassador's
══════════ Son ═

Chapter Ten
Courting Disaster
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow

"Flying lessons?"

Chip nodded, mouth full of hay fries, "Uh huh."

"When I said the weirdest thing your dad makes you do, flying lessons was something I didn't expect, bro."

"Uh huh. How abou' 'oo?" Chip kept his eyes on the dragon in front of him, perched on a small crate.

"Okay, and this is pretty cool you know, I... can post letters."

Chip raised an eyebrow as Spike beamed. "That's it?"

Spike pouted, "Okay, fine... let me show you."

Somehow, and Chip didn't catch how, the dragon produced a quill and parchment. The dragon then quickly scribbled a few lines and finished it off with a flourish. Then he rolled it up, tossed it in the air and incinerated it with a brief burst of green flame. Chip's jaw dropped.

"You can... post letters with dragon fire?"

"Yup." The dragon beamed again, then belched. A rolled-up scroll materialized in mid-air as the new burst of flames subsided, and fell to the table, still faintly smouldering. "Heh, er, eh-heh, there's only one problem. I can only post them to Celestia."

Chip's mouth fell open again, and then he fell over backwards laughing, "Oh boy are you in trouble! You wrote a letter to the princess? What was in it?"

"I just kinda..." Spike reddened, "said I was havingdinnerwithacoolfriendwho'sadragon." Spike coughed..

Chip perked an ear up, "What?"

"You're the first dragon that hasn't tried to eat me, okay? Or set fire to Ponyville... and Twilight's supposed to write letters about the magic of friendship to Celestia, and so are we..." Spike wrung his paws together nervously.

"You wanna be my friend?" Chip asked as he got up, walking around the small table, poking the dragon with a hoof.

"If you want... I spent ages trying to get Twilight to-"

Chip hugged the dragon in a sudden lunge that took the creature by surprise. "I could do with a friend. I... my dad..."

"I never knew my parents. Twilight hatched me, and I've been with her ever since. Is that what happened to you?"

Chip shook his head, "My parents... died. Sharptooth adopted me. We're on the way t-to the fu-funeral." Chips sniffed, breathing deeply, "I miss them. A lot."

Spike unrolled the scroll, "I'm happy with Twilight, even though her taste in pets is lame. She's got this dumb owl... don't say I said that."

"What's the scroll say?"

"Celestia says she is happy that I've found a new friend, but is hoping you're not a dragon who will burn down Ponyville. Again. You won't, right?"

"What do you mean, again? Uh, I mean, no, no. My dad does think I need fire-breathing lessons though."

It was Spike's turn to raise an eye-ridge, "Fire-breathing? You... can breathe fire?"

Chip shook his head, "My dad's weird like that. He thinks I need lessons on all sorts of... dragon-y things."

"Your dad is weird."

"Tell me about it, all parents are weird."

"Twilight's crazy too..."

Chip blinked as Spike stopped talking. He looked up as a shadow fell over him.

"Hello, son. Don't mind me... us."

Chip grinned nervously up at Sharptooth, before sharing a glance with Spike.

"Hi Twi, uh, nice weather we're having, huh?"

Twilight narrowed her eyes at Spike, "Spiiike..!"

♦♦♦

"Ow!"

"Sorry, darling, please stay still..." Rarity pulled the pin out and placed it back much more carefully. The piece of cloth was positioned with expert grace and the unicorn took more notes.

Chip shuffled his hooves, "But my nooosseee itches!" He lifted a hoof and rubbed his muzzle with it.

"Really, dear, this is not pret-a-porter! I must get your measurements right."

Chip sulked and pouted as Rarity fluttered around him with a tape-measure. Sharptooth lay outside in the sunshine, Chip was quite sure the dragon was smirking. Chip wondered if standing at attention whilst a pony measured chest-size was something to do with being a dragon or just an adult. He wanted to go outside, darn it! His hooves itched, his nose was running and he was booorrreeed! He sniffed. He sniffed again.

"Miss Rarity?"

"Hmm? Yes?" Rarity looked up from her measuring tape and notepad, mumbling as she continued making notes, "Six hands... why are they called hands anyway..?"

"Can I have a g-gem?" Chip asked, eyeing an intriguing looking basket.

"Gem? Hmm? Oh if you must, just stand still... not that one, not that one either. Yes, yes that one. And that... whatever do you want them for?"

Chip put two on the podium and a third in his muzzle, where he idly chewed it. It was a diamond, it tasted almost minty and a bit sweet.

"You eat them?"

Chip nodded. Rarity blinked, spied that he had a small collection at his hooves and sighed loudly, "You're as bad as that scamp Spike. Really. Anyway, almost done and... there! Oh you are a strapping young stallion. You'll make a filly very happy one day."

"I can go?"

"You may go."

The bell above the shop door tinkled loudly before Rarity had even finished the sentence. She shook her head and chuckled as she turned to her desk. The bell tinkled again, and the white unicorn raised her muzzle from the desk where she had seated herself, pushing her glasses up with a hoof as she turned to see who had entered.

"Are you really sure, madame, that we are not putting you out?" Sharptooth snaked his head in through the open door, the shop just a tiny bit too small and full of clothing to comfortably enter.

"Oh no, no, no, it's qui-ite alright," Rarity said, waving a hoof the accentuate her wording, "the chance to design clothes for an aristocrat such as yourself! One simply must make a few sacrifices."

"Nothing major one hopes. Anyway, madame, we shall return tomorrow morning for final fitting and payment."

Rarity eyed the basket of gems she'd collected for her more showy clothing pieces, then the door to her shop. Gingerly, checking at every step to see if there were anypony looking in, she picked up a gem in her mouth and rolled it around experimentally with her tongue. She bit.

"Ow!"

♦♦♦

Chip trotted happily back through Ponyville, generally in the direction of the strange treehouse-home of the local librarian, Twilight Sparkle. It was now the late afternoon, he was extremely happy to be out of the shop, and school appeared to be out. Two new saddlebags lay proudly on his back, both gems, with an extra for luck, were stuffed into one of them. He caught up with Spike as the young dragon was returning from a shop called 'Sofas and Quills' with a bunch of quills in one paw and a crumpled-up pamphlet explaining the need to replace old sofas every few years in the other.

"Do you have any idea how many quills that mare goes through? Or how much ink and parchment? And she makes me double check them every single time."

"Wow. You need a holiday."

"A what?"

"A vacation. You know," Chip turned his head, cocking it at the dragon thoughtfully, "time off. Doesn't she have anypony else to help her?"

"There's always Owloysious..." The dragon clenched his fists slightly as he said it.

"You gotta do what I always do, always worked with my... with my mum and dad." Chip looked pained for a second, "Wait until they're real busy doing something, and then ask 'em."

"Think that'd work on Twi?" Spike looked up at Chip hopefully.

"Does she ever get distracted doing something?"

"Reading. She once spent a whole week locked in the library at Canterlot. It was Spring Break and nopony noticed she was there."

"Alright, this is what you gotta do..."

♦♦♦

Twilight was engrossed in another copy of one of the books about the diamond dogs that the strange draconic ambassador had wanted. Apparently they'd had one single High King at some point, though nopony was really sure if it was all just a legend. Twilight suspected it was, after all he'd had a magical castle that nopony could find, and a set of magical gemstones as crown jewels. Whichever troll possessed the gems was the rightful ruler of all the diamond dogs, they were supposedly magical and gave the owner great insight and wisdom. Twilight snorted, typical atavism.

"Hey Twi, mind if I go with Chip to-" Spike called suddenly from the doorway. He mumbled the last few words.

"Hmm? Wassat?" Twilight lifted her head, eyes unfocused. Spike... her number one assistant was babbling on about something, hadn't she sent him somewhere? Oh yes, he seemed to have quills in his paws...

"I said TwilightcanIgotoCanterlotwithChip-"

"Sure, sure, whatever." Twilight waved a hoof, once more enamoured with the ancient text.

"Great! Thanks Twi!"

The door slammed, loudly, and there was a pattering as if tiny feet were running away very, very fast. Twilight put the book down, blinking, her muzzle screwing up as she frowned. The door had slammed. Before that she'd been asked something by somepony... something about going with some other pony somewhere... Uh oh.

"Spike... SPIKE! SPIKE GET BACK HERE!" Twilight ran out of the library, hooves skittering on the polished wooden floor.

"Quick Chip! Cheese it!"

"Get in! Take off! Take off!" Chip waved frantically at the four pegasi who looked at each other and grinned. They started trotting and flapping their wings as the madly-dashing mare made to catch up.

"Spike you delinquent dragon! Get back here!" Twilight leaped through the door, slamming it open with a loud crash as the four-pegasus chariot accelerated rapidly and ascended into the sky.

"Sorry Twilight!" called the dragon, leaning over the rails of the rapidly-disappearing chariot and waving, "I can't hear a thing! I'll be back tomorrow!"

"Spike! Spike! Drat. I will have words with that recalcitrant reptile! I'm going to send a message to Celestia at on-" Twilight looked down over at the pile of quills, ink, parchment, and complete lack of dragon-fire to send it. "Oh. Oh horsefeathers."

♦♦♦

Spike rocked back and forth in the red plush softness, chewing on his tail, "Twi's gonna be so mad..."

"Relax, what's she gonna do?"

"Replace me with an owl? Stuff me back in my egg and post me back to Canterlot? Make me... well she already makes me clean up the library..."

"Heh, you did ask her permission though." Chip grinned as the chariot sped through the skies.

"That's not gonna work. She's gonna ground me, and then she's gonna ground me again. Can she do that? Can she ground me twice?"

"What, like, for more than one day?" Chip thought for a second, tapping his muzzle with a hoof.

Spike stopped chewing his tail for a moment, "I guess that does make sense."

"Worth it though."

"I'm so dead..."

♦♦♦

The trip was uneventful, the landing smooth, the telling off from Sharptooth embarrassing. Chip was, as the older miscreant, put in charge of keeping an eye on Spike. The green and purple dragon hopped up on Chip's back as if he'd always been there and pointed out into the great wide city of Canterlot. As Spike started babbling about all his favourite old haunts, Sharptooth realized that, angry or not as Twilight may be, Spike probably did deserve a break. He was certain Chip did.

Sharptooth made his slow way through the bustling city. It was, at this point, much as he remembered it. The cobbled paths were now often lined with marble, the penants flew a little higher and the colours shone a bit brighter, but he remembered Canterlot. It hadn't changed, not the core of it. Celestia's domain was almost as eternal as she was. He had fond memories of the old castle of the alicorn sisters in what was now the Everfree Forest, how they had surrounded themselves with nature. Magic had been wilder in those days, or so it now seemed. Then again, he'd been a thousand years younger.

Pegasus guards fell into step with him, bowing politely. He dipped his own head in return, stepping softly through the crowds of curiously staring equines. He knew none of them, it saddened him at times. Ponies lived such brief, bright lives. It was only the most adept of unicorns and the eternal pony sisters that a being such as he had any chance of really getting to know. He sighed, wiping a single tear from his muzzle, surruptitiously turning his head as if to check upon his chest which was following him at a suitable distance, hovering in the air through the power of his magic. He was no great mage, but he was a dragon. A simple levitation spell was hatchling's play.

The pegasus guards stood at attention before the great stone archway into the castle proper. Another two pegasus guards appeared, bowing. These wore different armor, mostly ceremonial in a time of peace such as the current era. They bade him follow, and he did so gallantly. They stopped, eventually, before two ornate doors that reached up into the shadowy ceiling of the great hallway. These were the doors to the Royal Throneroom, where the Celestial Court was in session. A herald opened the doors and stepped through, his hooves clip-clopping noisily. As the doors opened, a hush descended upon the crowd of nobles and petitioners.

"Hear ye, hear ye!" began the herald. He raised a bugle to his lips and blew a loud fanfare. He lowered it and took a deep breath, "May all bid welcome to his Excellency, Lord Sharptooth Longclaw Leatherback!"

Sharptooth made to step forwards, but there was another fanfare.

"Ambassador to Equestria!"

He shuffled from claw to claw, sighing, twitching as the fanfare rang out again.

"Protector of the Diamond Throne!"

"Excuse me-" he whispered, clearing his throat.

"Potentate of the Diamond Expanse!"

Shells and shards but he hated this sort of - he cringed. The fanfare. again.

"Former map-maker to the crown!"

This time the fanfare was cut short with a sound not unlike that made when a bugle is squeezed shut and the exhalation of breath is instead forced out the ears of the bugler. The herald looked up with horror as the dragon took the now long, thin and overall flat piece of metal and purposefully bit down on it and started chewing. There were some horrendous crunching noises followed by swallowing. Oh Celestia, the swallowing.

"My dear sir," said Sharptooth, picking his teeth with the shiny remains of the instrument, "I think that's quite enough of that."

"Y-y-y-yessir!" the herald said, christening the carpet before he fled.

Celestia shook her head as she approached with her regal head held high, "Terrorizing the staff again, I see?"

Sharptooth spread his forepaws wide, innocently, "My dear Celestia, would I do such a thing?"

"Yes," the monarch said simply, a twinkle in her eye, "yes, you would. I was led to believe all dragons were impeccably polite."

"You mean that wasn't a snack? Oh I do appologize."

"Quite alright. What brings you all this way, my dear ambassador?"

"I was talking with our mutual friend and he happened to point me in the way of some most interesting literature. I thought it a wonderful idea to have a private discussion with you about it."

"Oh? Do tell."

"In private." Sharptooth repeated, steely expression not wavering.

"I see." Celestia turned, bowed deeply to her assorted courtiers and spoke rather softly, "My friends, I regret to inform you that this evening's court must be brought short. My dear sister Luna will happily extend to you the uses of her Night Court. Be off with you now, chop chop."

Sharptooth watched as the room emptied, amongst a collection of sighs and mumbled complaints. "I do apologize, Tia. I have not much time and this may be my only chance to beg your assistance before whatever plot may abound is put into motion."

"Plot? You speak of plots?"

Sharptooth smiled, laughing, "I fear it is doomed to fail, but I am quite sure that it will be messy. When dealing with dragons, it usually is."

Celestia glared for a moment, and nodded slowly, "Indeed. Enlighten me. This is about our diamond dog friends, yes?"

Sharptooth followed the princess as she walked the surprisingly long distance back to her throne. "My old pastime of cartographer comes back to haunt me, I fear. In my impetuous youth, I sought to create a perfect map of the nine realms. I failed, as so many had before me, but not before the truth of our realms had presented itself."

"Mmm, you know of the Ways, then?" Celestia paused, looking deep into the dragon's eyes.

Sharptooth bowed his head, "The magics one such as yourself must employ to stabilize those paths is phenomenal. Such awesome enchantments are far beyond the ken of one such as myself."

Celestia laughed softly, easily, "It is easier than you would think, but I thank you. Equestria has ever been in flux, it is only now in an age such as this that the deficiencies in those ancient grounding spells becomes apparent. The endless Southern Ocean suddenly becomes a mere sea, adjacent to the land of the naga and zebra, North is no longer nothing but snow and ice, now it is home to the windigo tribes and the pooka..."

"And I thought, in my hubris, that I would map it." Sharptooth laughed, "I only managed to map but one land, my dear princess, and that is Equestria, except for one small addition."

"And that is?"

"I found another realm. A Path led me there; not so grand as a Way, it was a mere break in the mountains, through a disused cave that travelled deep into the bowels of the Burning Circle. It led to a land unlike any other, with a green sun and a yellow sky, with eternal clouds covering the vastness of the ground."

"Most bizarre. Is there a point to these musings?" Celestia sniffed, indicating the emptied throne-room.

"The denizens of this realm ride upon six-legged lizards, very similar to us dragons. I thought at first we may be cousins, but they were mere mindless beasts."

Celestia sighed, "Out with it!"

"The denizens of this land seldom see their sky, covered as it is with clouds. I think they feared their sun. Even now, in their new home of Equestria, the lost tribes of the diamond dog prefer to live away from your sun, underground."

Celestia hissed, her breath caught short, "You found their homeland?"

"Once. I found it once. A natural Path, very unstable, more than likely to have moved on."

"And so they seek not the foal, but you. Their natural disposition to intrigue and inner strife has made what now appears in hindsight to be nothing but an accident, seem more than it was."

"Quite. In my foolishness, I detailed the location and nature of this Path. There are but two copies of the map. One lies with me, safe. The other is lost to the shifting sands of time."

"The treasure they seek most of all, home. A home which would no longer recognize them, would most likely leave them wanting, yet they seek it all the same. And in my... hasty machinations, I have put a piece in play which does not belong there."

Sharptooth rumbled his dissent, "The board is large, my dear Tia, and you and I are not the only players. Your chess seems to be oft inadequate to describe the games that those such as you and I play."

"Checkers, maybe, with all this leaping about?" Celestia's eyes laughed, a wry smile playing across her features.

"Indeed. My piece has been kinged and is now free to change direction. I would see him safe. Safe from those who would use him to get to me, and safe from... safe from me."

Celestia stopped walking, now wearing a troubled expression on her brow, "You are incapable of harming such an innocent, my friend."

"Intentionally yes, but... through a cruel twist of fate, he has lost his parents. In bowing to your wishes, I did what I thought necessary. I feel it is too much, too soon. I would not see him ache in this way."

"You think your being his adoptive sire brings him pain?"

"He cries in his sleep, Celestia, such heart-wrenching sobs as tears my heart out. One word hurts the most, monster. I would not have my son feeling he is a monster. To this end..."

"You would abandon him, again?" Celestia was angry, her stomping hoof cracked the marble.

"Celestia please! He has an uncle. I wish to make it clear to both you and he that this is for but a short time, and would suit both our purposes. I shall send him to Stalliongrad, to be amongst ponies, earth ponies at that. There are no diamond dogs there, so far north. They do not much like the cold, and the nature of the rock upon which that city is built precludes their subterranean incursions. I ask you place a small ward upon the city; should a diamond dog enter the walls you will be alerted, and my kith and kin will take care of the rest."

"You ask me to allow dragons to..."

"No, you do not allow, you merely... look the other way. We will be discrete, should it come to it. I feel it will not, the boy is a pawn to them. When taken out of reach, they will ignore him."

Celestia sighed, "Very well, but should I discover dragons acting against the best interest of the crown by taking matters with other subjects under my protection into their own claws, then I shall have my best people investigate."

"My dear Tia, I would protect the boy with my life, should it come to that."

Celestia narrowed her eyes, "It may." She turned, "It will be done. Go now, find your son, if he still is such."

Sharptooth nodded, hurt, "I made him my son, the only way that could end is by his own hoof. I... love him. I'm an old, lonely foolish dragon but I love him. I wish to see him safe."

Celestia nodded again, slumping into her royal throne, "I see that, my friend. Go now, I sense the lad has discovered the one shop in all of Canterlot which attracts all manner of children from any species, including dragon. Twilight will not be amused by your additional travelling companion, I feel."

Sharptooth laughed as he ambled out of the throne room, "Neither am I, but youth must be allowed to transgress occasionally."

♦♦♦

Tough Call

═ The ══════════
Ambassador's
══════════ Son ═

Chapter Eleven
Tough Call
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow

"More sprinkles!" the little pink fist slammed onto the table, making the dirty plates and cups rattle.

"Spike, my friend, don't you think you've had enough?"

"I said more sprinkles!" Spike scowled. The sugar-rush was fading, that would mean a grumpy descent into the great sugar crash of this night's post-donut orgy, if nothing was done. Spike would not stand for this, not tonight!

Chip hiccuped, "I think you'd better do as he says. That goes double for me!" the colt also slammed a hoof into the table, making the plates rattle again.

"And I mean the good stuff!"

Pony Joe rolled his eyes, sometimes he regretted setting up this sort of shop. "Woah, Spike, compadre - the good stuff? For him? You sure?"

Spike nodded, looking left and right at the otherwise-empty donut shop, "The good stuff. He deserves it!"

Pony Joe shook his head. He knew one day it'd lead to trouble, even in a high class town such as Canterlot. Ponies and donuts, a bad combination. Dragons and donuts? Even worse. He might have to cut off one of his best customers, that hadn't happened since... since... since that little mare, Twilight Sparkle, had had one too many a few seasons back. That girl, whew, she'd been able to pack 'em away. Had grown up pretty though, shame she moved away.

Joe clip-clopped around to the back room. He liked to make out, for his customers that were less than connoiseurs, that the back room was just an old store-room, devoid of anything interesting. Perhaps in a less enchanted city as Canterlot it would be. In Pony Joe's Delightful Donuts, however, the back room was a veritable treasure-trove of the weird and wonderful, guaranteed to be one-hundred-percent edible to some client, somewhere, somewhen. The honorable league of confectionery bakers' code was strict on that. For every craving, a confectionery. He dove deep into his store, and re-emerged with the prize. Draconic Donut Sprinkles. He carried them carefully back, the relatively plain box held securely in the grip of his magic. Some of the 'sprinkles'were explosive if mishandled. Some were explosive even when handled correctly.

The jars were often ancient, with cribbed, cramped, spidery hoof-writing on them. These wouldn't age, not in his lifetime. They were inherited. They came with the shop, almost. With very careful movements, precise spurts of magical manipulations, he retrieved a whole box of sticky vanilla-frosted donuts. To these blank molds he added choice sprinkles of a selection of exotic flavourings. Some of them smouldered.

Spike reached for one particularly glowing specimen and scarfed it in one bite. Joe watched as the pony took another one.

"Hey, yo, kid, that's..."

The donut disappeared, vanquished, obliterated, devoured. Chip burped. Joe swore he saw flame momentarily flicker around the colt's muzzle. Naa...

"Spike, you know those're the special deliveries, right?"

"It's cool Joe, this is Chip, he's a dragon."

Joe backed up a few steps, retreating behind the counter. Very carefully, he sat down. Some days, it just didn't pay to flip the humorous 'Sorry! We're Open!' sign outwards.

"This one... this one's got silver in it. Little flakes of silver..." Spike hiccuped, eyeing the donut with a gaze which was both distant and strangely fixated. His mouth watered.

Chip gingerly took a bite. His ears flicked up, "It tastes like... like... pop-rocks!"

"I know! But better than those pretenders, right?"

"But kinda mixed with..."

"Yup!"

Joe cringed, blank smile never quite leaving his muzzle even amidst the rather distressing sounds of dragons - even the pony-shaped one, apparently - wreaking vengeance upon his special-delivery pastries.

It was then that a horrible, horrible, awful, terrible thought presented itself. Of all the worst possible things, this was the. Worst. Possible. Thing.

Neither one of them had any bits.

♦♦♦

Sharptooth grumbled in a low, growling tone that quite raised the hackles of the unfortunate shop keeper. The green dragon looked down at the bill in his paws and then back over at the two slumped, snoring, crumb-covered, occasionally-moaning and overall pudgy figures on the floor of the donut shop. A brief whisp of smoke rose from each nostril.

"They really ate all this?"

Joe grinned, hopefully, "Hey, when it's one of my best customers out on the town..."

"And yet I end up with the bill." Sharptooth narrowed his eyes, turning a rather baleful stare towards the shop-keeper.

"That's your kid, right? You know, I, er," Joe harrumphed, "I don't really see the family resemblance."

Sharptooth glared at the pony for a moment, turning up the intensity a few notches. It could have singed metal at fifty paces. "You know I could just turn you into charcoal?"

"Hey, heeyyy, no hard feelings! I'll put it on your tab, a gentle... dragon like yourself, I'm sure you're good for it."

"Seeing as at least one of these miscreants is her royal highness' prize pupil's misbegotten assistant, I shall have words with Celestia for the other half. Failing that, I will be in contact about the remainder - after I have a word with my son over his allowance and the importance of working for a living."

Joe's ears drooped as the dragon handed over a worryingly light money purse, confiscating a goodly amount into another bag that he somehow secreted about his person. It wasn't like Joe had all that many dragons as clients, but he suddenly wasn't sure if he wanted to tangle with both a dragon and the princess. Then again, the princess was a swell filly, she always paid in full, a proper tipper too. He brightened. At the very least, it was good customer relations. He could wait a while. "Thank ya kindly, it's no problem..."

"I am glad to hear it, but I do suggest restraint in catering to the whims of children in future, the next dragon may not be so generous when presented with such unexpected demands for reparation."

The dragon left, with both troublesome youngsters slung over a shoulder.

Joe let out his breath, turned the sign on the door around so the outside would read 'Sorry! We're Closed!', turned off the lights, and cowered behind the counter for a while.

♦♦♦

Chip groaned and woke at some unfeasibly, uncomfortably early hour. His world was pain, centered around his tummy. Too much frosting. Oh Celestia, the frosting! He burped, suddenly feeling rather queasy. Something had woken him, but his brain hadn't quite caught up. As he sat up in bed, his memory came back in a rush. It was still, however, a shock that he was actually in a bed rather than passed out on the floor of some seedy donut shop in the back alleys of Canterlot City.

There was a brief flare of green flame that shook him back to reality, and a small purple and green dragon reformed himself at the foot of the bed from what looked like smoke. Chip couldn't help but notice the dragon was... just a tad frillier than he remembered, unless one-piece babywear sleepers were a standard bedtime outfit for the creature.

Chip blinked, "Did you... did you just post yourself?"

Spike's eyes watered and he staggered as he regained his footing, smouldering slightly, "Kinda. I hate when that happens. I think your dad dropped me in the laundry basket and put the lid on."

"Yeah, I... dimly remember him saying something about snoring. So what happened?"

"That much flame, a confined space... you work it out."

"And the baby outfit?" Chip waved a hoof, laughing, pointing towards the frilly bonnet, some sort of one-piece sleeping suit and what appeared to be a cast-iron teething ring draped around the dragon's neck on a ribbon.

"When you drop out of the sky and land on Celestia just as she's trying to get to sleep, you don't get off lightly. Where'd she even get diapers like these?" Spike threw his paws out, gesturing. He was mortified. At least only one other would ever know this shame, and it was a dragon - of a sort - at that.

Chip giggled, "You said Twinkle, or whatever her name is, is kind of your mom, right? I guess she had some left over. I'm surprised they still fit."

Spike growled, "Dragons don't grow like ponies, you know, not exactly. At least I don't." he tore the offending items off and dumped them back into the laundry basket which was, Chip noted, slightly blackened on the inside.

"Urgh, I need to visit the little foal's room." Chip heaved himself out of the overly-soft bed. He wasn't sure if he was going to throw up or... either way, it wasn't going to be pretty. Never again, he promised himself as he threw back the silken pink covers of the strange bed. His head was pounding, his mouth was dry and he was pretty sure that a large amount of stray sprinkles had found their way into his nose and ears. They itched.

A while later, after some gargling, spitting, chain-pulling and a large amount of ablutions, Chip staggered out of the en-suite bathroom and finally took a proper look around the room. It was... pink. Frilly. Girly. In the very early pre-dawn light, the sheer cuteness of the room was displayed in all it's entire glory. He shuddered. He could feel his stallionosity retreating from the onslaught of fru-fru.

"Spike, is this... your room?"

"What? Oh come on! That's cos I'm pink, right? I mean purple! Purple! No, this is-" Spike yawned and stretched. He'd passed out on the foot of the bed but had woken up at Chip's insistent prodding. " This is Twilight's old bedroom. We're in her tower."

"Twilight has her own tower?"

"Well she is Celestia's prize pupil. And you slept in her bed. Oh gosh I hope you didn't shed. You have no idea how crazy she is about shedding!"

Chip laughed, "Tell me about it, Mom..." he paused, the smile fading from his muzzle, "mom was kinda like that too." he added, in a smaller voice.

"What happened?" Spike patted the bed, "You never did finish telling me, earlier."

Chip clambered back up onto it, curling up into a tight little ball as he fixed his gaze upon the wall. "They died."

"You said that. Go on, if you want to, course."

"There's not much more to know, other than that a diamond dog mine collapsed on them. I was home, with Gentry our butler. Mom and Dad were out visiting with some diamond dog pack, one of our old mines was being re-opened and they'd found something, a new vein I guess. I wanted to go with them, but they... they didn't let me. I shouted at them." Chip sniffled, eyes on the wall, trying to hide his tears. "Th-then Celestia came. She just appeared, in the doorway, and-and she took me. Just like that. Next thing I know I'm in some place called Tacksworn."

"So you're here for the-"

"Funeral. Yeah. It just doesn't seem real, you know? I mean I know I know, but... I don't know. I keep wishing I'd wake up, that somepony would tell me it's all a bad dream!" Chip uncurled and rolled onto his back, gazing up at the frilly pink curtains surrounding the huge four-poster bed. "I keep wishing that it would all be some stupid trick, a lie, but... Celestia wouldn't lie, would she?"

Spike shook his head, "I've never known her to, and I got to see her a lot with Twilight."

"Sharptooth, I guess he's my dad for good now, calls her sneaky. I thought she was like... perfect or something. What's she really like?" Chip snuffled, turning to look at the baby dragon.

Spike grinned, "She's not like most stuffy royals, uh-uh. She once enchanted a whole batch of gems and hid them where she knew I'd find them. It took me a week to realize why I was waking up a new colour every day. She said it was a lesson I had to learn the hard way. I guess it worked."

"I wish this was just a stupid lesson, and that tomorrow they'll pop out and shout 'surprise!' and I'll be able to... see them and... hug them, and hold them, and... tell them I'm sorry," the colt sniffled again and wiped his nose with a hoof, "I'll never, ever, ever..."

"I'm sure they know, Chip. Get some sleep, if you can. You'll feel better in the morning..."

Chip burst into tears and wailed, burying his head in the pillow, crying out, "I miss them so much!"

Spike patted the colt's head, awkwardly. He missed Twilight, but at least he could go home again. He'd be in trouble, but she'd forgive him. He didn't really know what to do, but he did his best. Eventually the pony's sobs subsided, and the colt slept. Spike curled up at the end of the bed like he used to, and closed his eyes. He was worried about Chip, but what could he do? Even at her worst, Twilight had never sobbed like that. Then again, Twi's biggest problems had been when Smarty Pants lost a button eye or she'd got a B-minus instead of an A-plus on a test. Spike figured crying was good, ponies had taught him that, it was when they didn't cry that he was really worried.

♦♦♦

The flight out of Canterlot was pretty silent. Sharptooth once again favoured his own wings, which left Spike and Chip to share the carriage. Spike tried to cheer Chip up the first half of the journey by pointing out all the landmarks he could. The great railway from Stalliongrad that went through the mountain, the lake said to be the result of a shooting star, the distant purple mountains said to hold a treasure no pony could bear to look upon. By the halfway mark, Chip was comforting Spike, who had realized that he'd done a runner the previous day and had become convinced Twilight would turn him into a rug. The small pink and green dragon got more and more nervous, almost comically so to Chip, who watched the dragon stuff almost half his tail in his muzzle and start chewing on it, rocking back and forth.

When they landed, however, the door to the library flew open and Twilight galloped out, picking up the small reptile with her magic and holding him to her like she was trying to make him into some sort of flat, draconic fashion accessory. She rubbed her muzzle against him, tears glistening in her eyes.

"Don't you ever do that again!"

"I-I promise, Twilight, but... but... you always say I should get out more and..."

"And make some friends, just like you used to keep telling me to do. Oh Spike, I was so worried!"

"Do you think Celestia would want to hear a friendship report about it?" Spike looked up at his friend and mentor hopefully.

"I think that'd be a lovely idea, Spike, do you want to write it this time?"

"How about we both do?" the dragon offered as he hopped up onto Twilight's back.

"Deal." Twilight said, closing the door behind them.

Chip sat, still in the carriage, looking at the door forlornly for a few moments. Sharptooth cleared his throat, "I'm pretty sure you can come back to visit, and I think I heard something about posting letters?"

Chip nodded, "I just... I dunno."

Sharptooth looked at the door too. "Maybe I should ask about... no, that'd be a poor idea, what could a bookish unicorn mare know about protecting a foal from diamond dogs?" he said under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing, Chip. Come on, we've got some clothes to purchase and then we've a long flight ahead of us. I will ride with you this time, so you may have to arrange yourself, even with Celestia's carriage it's not the biggest of conveyances."

♦♦♦

Chip was too distracted to be bored with fitting, he didn't even budge much when another gem was handed to him. It was another fire-ruby, although much smaller than the one Lord Sapphire had given him. It was also flawed, cracked, which was likely why Rarity had given it to him to eat. She was generous with her time and dress-making skills, he realized, but a cracked gem, whilst still tasty, wasn't so pretty to look at.

His eyes fell on the one remaining trunk in the carriage as he clambered in next to Sharptooth. He hadn't noticed, before, but the smaller trunk that had originally held his training spikes was missing.

"Hmm? Oh, I left that in a safe place, my boy. This is your trunk now, it carries all your training spikes and a few other things. I... didn't need any luggage."

"But... why do I need luggage then?"

"Oh, I'm just a guest, you're family. Don't worry, you'll... you'll see."

Chip grimaced as the four seemingly tireless pegasi pulling the chariot took off smoothly. Sharptooth was hiding something. His stomach flipped thinking what it could be.

As the countryside rolled past underneath, Chip fell into a doze. He hadn't cried this morning, he wondered. It seemed odd, but maybe he was saving his tears for later. He felt almost empty, all the roiling and bubbling emotion that had filled the last few days was absent, replaced with simply an empty, hard feeling in his chest. It was like... it was like the world wasn't real, he realized. He'd often felt like he was in a dream, the last week or so, just going through the motions. Now it felt the other way around.

As he wondered what it meant, a claw came down upon his head, stroking through his mane softly. At least he had Sharptooth, he reasoned, the dragon had promised he'd never leave him.

♦♦♦

Being amongst ponies again, discounting the distant and hesitant crowd that had all but refused to associate with him at school, was strange. He regarded them through hard eyes. He knew most of them through pictures; mostly distant relatives, friends of the family, peers. Cousin Clover, second cousins Mint Julep and Cherry Delight, great Aunt Gilded Lilly. Various second uncles twiced removed and third aunts in laws and distant third cousin's aunt's mother's former room-mates...

If he'd been older, he'd have known the feeling. Partly anger, partly frustration at the hangers-on. Partly sadness and regret at ponies he'd probably never see again except at other funerals or weddings. It didn't seem to Chip like these were family at all, not really. For all that the Irontails were a big clan, he didn't know any other ponies he'd actually call 'family'.

He'd walked through the crowded lobby, noticing curiously that Sharptooth hung back as he himself trotted up the wide, winding staircase. A glance behind him told him that it was almost as if the dragon were invisible. Chip figured it was because he wasn't a pony, he probably wasn't 'aristocracy' enough to them - they most likely had no idea that he was a Dragon Lord. He wasn't sure if some of them would care. If you weren't a pony of means, you were a second class citizen, just like the rest of the riff-raff that lived outside of Manehatten, Canterlot, Neighvada or Stalliongrad.

Everypony was very friendly to Chip, everypony wanted to meet the new Baron Irontail, shmoozing things up even now. He heard the whispers; some pitying, some incensed. He grit his teeth and smiled blankly - he didn't feel like smiling, he felt like screaming.

So this was Neighvada, thought Chip idly. He'd only ever been a few times before to Neighvada City, when he had been much smaller. A hotel of some sort, on the classier side of town, had been chosen for the occasion, though he didn't know by whom. Maybe it had been Sharptooth. The carpets were plush and red, the drapes thick and heavy and the employees all wore expensive-looking uniforms and called everypony 'sir' or 'madame'. Every floor was opulent, well-tended and almost identical to the last, decorated in that sort of timeless high-class style that never changed nor went either in or out of fashion.

His parents had often told him of how they'd eloped and gotten married in a no-name seedy drive-through ceremony, where the required locally-known personages were often 'exotic dancers'. He hadn't known what it meant, back then. He did now. He didn't understand why, but he knew they'd loved him and each other, and whilst pomp and ceremony had been a part of their lives, they'd tried to avoid it when dealing with him, when they were home.

He passed through the great ballroom like a ghost, not sure where he was heading until he found himself suddenly there. Two caskets, made of some expensive and dark wood, with the Irontail Seal on the top wrought in, what else, iron. Mother, Father, he thought to himself. He fell backwards onto his rump, hanging his head low before their remains. Dimly he remembered that Irontails normally had a wake, and an open casket so that the family could pay last respects. These were closed. He reached out a hoof, they weren't nailed shut. He lifted the lid slightly, gasped, and turned away, retching.

He regretted it instantly. This was no joke, and somewhere in his mind he was screaming that he wished it had been. They were really in there, cold and damaged. What was left was not suitable for the eyes of the living. He listened, mind freewheeling, as somewhere somepony started a series of long, racking painful howls and sobs. It took him a minute to realize he was the one doing it. With great difficulty he turned his body, facing away from the caskets. They flanked him, one each side, the closest to them he would ever be again.

What was he supposed to do now? His brain froze, refusing even to give him the solace of the autopilot that had gotten him through the tough times he'd had in the last few days. As his gaze rose from the floor, he saw the assembled throng shuffling nervously before him, politely ignoring the sobbing which was going on, utterly failing to comfort him.

He was Baron Irontail, a snide and sarcastic part of his mind noted, this was his duty. Whilst other kids were learning purely their three 'R's, he had also been drilled in etiquette and manners. His father, Rusty, had often made fun of some of the more absurd requirements for the game of 'being a gentlepony' which had softened the lessons somewhat, but Chip had learned them all the same.

They probably expected him to make a speech, he hadn't written one. What could he say? His gaze danced from unfamiliar face to unfamiliar face and the words wouldn't come. He hung his head.

"Hey Kiddo," whispered an older pony, a strange gold and grey flecked stallion, "you don't need to worry yourself none!. Allow me the honour of giving your folks the proper sendoff?"

Chiphoof watched dumbly as the stallion took a place next to him, and opened his muzzle, and just started talking. Autopilot returned.

♦♦♦

"...And may you trot forever more, in pastures greenly filled,

where hurt is gone and weather mild.

We miss your breath and gentle face,

given back to Equestria's embrace..."

As the last few strains of the old song faded away, Chiphoof felt a light hoof around his shoulders. It pulled his head to the chest of another pony, and he sobbed out, "G'bye Mom an'Dad!" before collapsing into tears, all the while a hoof was gently stroking his mane.

As was the custom, solemn and silent unicorns were brought forth to lift the caskets in the air and escort them, slowly and with dignity, out of the hall through double doors that swung open and closed on well-oiled hinges.

"Thank you, everypony, for paying your respects to both the former Baron Irontail and his wife, and to the young Baron Irontail in his hour of need. The reception will be in a half hour in the lower ballroom, the bar is open now." the strange pony said. He stomped a hoof twice, and the assembled throng left the room, filing out silently.

"How've you been, Chip me lad?"

"Huh?" Chip, sobbing so hard his chest ached, looked up through the tears at the strange pony who was still hugging him.

"You don't remember me, do ya? Uncle Pyrite, my old lady was your dad's sister. She was... slated to be the new Baroness Irontail once upon a time."

"What happened to her?" Chip whispered hoarsely, snuffling.

"She died, I... she died. In childbirth. So did my boy."

"I'm sorry!"

Pyrite shook his head, "You've nothing to be sorry for, mate, it were a while ago now."

"Does it ever stop hurting?" Chip asked, sensing a kindred spirit.

"When you're abandoned like that? No, no it doesn't, not really. Come on kid, stick with me, it'll work out."

♦♦♦

Sharptooth eased himself in to the hotel lobby. It was large as well as relatively fancy. Bigger institutions like this one catered to more than just ponies, he knew. Griffons, a few dragons - it wouldn't be without problems, but he wasn't reduced to skulking around outside. He hung back as the lad trotted away, Chip giving a last look over his shoulder as he disappeared into the crowd. Sharptooth sighed to himself, he wasn't sure he was about to make the right decision, everything was screaming at him not to, but... he had to think of the child. He was sure, he kept telling himself, that Chip would be better off if he were with ponies for a while, and real family at that.

He searched through the ponies for one stallion in particular, with a silver-grey coat and speckled gold and silver mane, some sort of near uncle, the nearest thing to family the boy had. Spotting him, Sharptooth wandered up to the stallion and tapped him gently on the flank. The startled pony spun around, knocking several other patrons back as he reared up.

"Oh! Sorry, mister. Wheoo, you're big. What brings a dragon like you to Neighvada? Business?"

Sharptooth grimaced, he hated mind magic. Celestia didn't approve of it, truth be told neither did he, but needs must. He placed the point of one talon upon the pony's head and spoke softly, "You won't remember me, not clearly. You spoke with Chip's temporary guardian, whenever Chip mentions Sharptooth to you, you will hear sharphoof, is that clear? Sharphoof is a pegasus living near Tacksworn, he is completely uninteresting to you and you will forget all about him if he is ever mentioned."

"Yes." Pyrite the pony's gaze was curiously vacant.

"You will offer to take your nephew in, he will have with him a box... you will ignore the box once it is safely within your home. You will forget the box and everything associated with it, is this clear?"

"Yes."

"We spoke, you have agreed he will stay with you for a while, as long as is necessary." The claw upon the pony's head vanished, and Pyrite blinked. He felt strange, as if... he took a sip of his drink. Plans changed. This one was much better. Yes, he would take the boy in, give him a good home. He finished his drink, shivering as the burning alcholic beverage slid down his long throat. Time to be useful.

♦♦♦

Chip wandered in a daze, much as he had for the rest of the day. His new suit chafed, though surprisingly little, and his appetite was both raging and non-existent.

"Where's Sharptooth?" he whined, nudging Uncle Pyrite, who turned to glare at him momentarily, before his expression softened.

"Sharphoof? I think... I think he was leaving-"

"Tooth," Chip insisted, "what?"

"Your pegasus friend. Yeah, he's leaving, I think."

Chip bolted, not even bothering to correct his uncle on the fact Sharptooth was a dragon, not some stupid pegasus. Sharptooth couldn't leave without him! It had to be some mistake. The earth pony barged through the mass of allegedly-relatives with little to no thought to their disposition. It wasn't hard to spot the great green lizard attempting to sneak through the relatively tiny front doors to the hotel, but he did have a head start.

Chip head butted the doors and slammed through them, crying, "Wait! Wait Dad!"

Sharptooth, wings lifted, turned his head, "What? Chip... no... go back inside."

"Where are you- you promised!"

Sharptooth lowered his wings, "It's... just for a little while, Chip."

"You promised!" Chip stamped as hard as he could, it hurt, "What are you doing? You can't leave me! You promised you wouldn't!"

"Think of it as a holiday-"

"I don't want a holiday!"

"You're..."

"No! You said you'd never leave me!"

"I'm not, my boy, I promise-"

Chip breathed in, the boiling heat in his stomach bubbling over as he roared in sudden anger, "No! You're breaking your promise! This is no promise! You said you'd never leave me!"

"It's for your own good, lad-"

"Buck you, Sharpie," spat Chip, "you lied to me! You're running away! You hate me! You never wanted me! I'm just some freaky stupid pony, is that it? Well kiss my flank you- you-" Chip roared again, incoherent rage, as Sharptooth the dragon took off into the air, downdraft from his great wings flinging dust and dirt across the crowded streets.

"Forgive me, Chip, I'll be back to get you soon."

"No you won't! I never want to see you again! Never! Do you hear me? NEVER!" Chip screamed, repeating the last word again and again until the dragon was out of earshot.

Pyrite found the colt there, outside the hotel, and ushered him in. He looked back, one last time, at the skies where the odd pegasus Sharphoof had disappered, with a small smile on his muzzle. He had the boy now, he'd look after him.

♦♦♦

Sharptooth flew home. Time didn't seem to matter to him, but it felt like forever. For a creature of something over a thousand years, he'd never expected one night to last so long. The wind was cold, it was solitary flying at night. He usually enjoyed such solitude, but not this time. The cold air dug at his eyes and he found himself blinking both sets of eyelids to keep them clear.

Eventually the lights of Neighvada were left far behind, to be replaced by rolling tundra. He'd done the right thing, hadn't he? He'd go back for the child, who would be a changed colt. Ponies were... creatures of the herd. He was a dragon, he was entirely wrong for the boy. Half way up a mountain in the middle of nowhere, that's how Chip had described Sharptooth's home. Landing on the wide ridge, so many hours later, he had to agree, that's pretty much what it was.

He unlocked the door, manipulating both key and spell, before going in and shutting the door against the night. The eternal fire was still burning. He stoked it, tired, and it flared, warm light sending dark shadows dancing across his walls. He didn't feel like making anything to eat or drink, not tonight. He would go straight to bed, alone at last, the way he wanted it.

His weir was waiting for him, dusty and comfortable as it should be. All his own, just the right shape, just the right size, ideal for a single dragon. He curled up at the bottom of it, closing his eyes and waiting for oblivion to find him.

Why then, he wondered some time later, as the moon travelled across the diamond-speckled velvet darkness of the night, if the small hollow depression in his private sleeping chambers was so perfect, was he finding it so hard to sleep?

♦♦♦

The Journey Home

═ The ══════════
Ambassador's
══════════ Son ═

Chapter Twelve
The Journey Home
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow

The service had been boring, the function after moreso. Most of the 'mourners' had stayed at the hotel, not even invested enough to see Ingot 'Rusty' Irontail and Rose Irontail escorted to their final resting place.

The carriage procession had been slow and sedate, with Chip just staring out of the windows of the second carriage in search of the missing Sharphoof, obviously willing him to return. Pyrite furrowed his brow, the strange pegasus had accosted Pyrite in the foyer of the hotel before fluttering away, dropping the young Baron Irontail right into his hooves. To think! A pegasus mad enough to fly all the way home under his own power and crass enough to avoid the funeral itself, despite travelling all this way to bring the lad.

Chip's parents' remains had been in the first carriage, of course, with a full eight unicorns preceding in front. The unicorns trotted through the bustling city streets with the solemn coaches following at a respectable speed and distance, and Pyrite noted how the citizens doffed their hats or bowed their heads. The Irontail family had employed a lot of ponies over the years, and their business - whilst relatively small - still carried many more. The glory days of the Irontail empire were long gone, it was said, but Pyrite knew that the sort of wealth that could be found under the surface within Irontail lands could turn all that around in an instant. He settled into the wide flat seats of the second carriage, lost in thought..

Ponies in Neighvada went for two kinds of burial; flashy, and restrained. Irontails tended towards restraint. They had no ostentatious or glitzy tomb, merely neat plots of land, and simple headstones to mark their lineage, with dates to mark their passing. The Mayor herself officiated at the burial ceremony, as a sign of respect. Humble entreaties were made to Celestia and Luna both, but not the sort of prayers that had once been commonplace, despite how traditional such things were in certain locales. The eight unicorns, who were probably not naturally black but most likely dyed a glossy ebony all over, exerted their magics and the two caskets were lowered into two neat and simple graves, without a further word. An offering of food, water and a small gift of currency for the grim galloper to look kindly upon them as he took the shade ponies to whatever and wherever their final destination was, followed them. Chip himself picked two roses, dropping one into each, shedding tears that followed like rain. He cut his lip and never flinched, merely stood dumbly watching the crimson drops spatter against the bright silvery metal crests.

There was a strange, most un-ponylike keening that filled the clearing in the cemetary, as Pyrite's thoughts returned to the hear-and-now. It quite set Pyrite's hackles to rising, it was the sort of whining howl that sent shivers down the spine. Against his better judgement, he excused himself from the small group of ponies he was dealing with and headed for it.

Pyrite found the owner of the howl, more a baleful roar now he thought about it, sitting on his haunches in front of the two now neatly-filled graves, in the growing dusk and cold. It was the young Baron Irontail, the foal he'd been charged with looking after. Pyrite took a deep breath, "Hey there, kiddo, you wanna talk about it?"

The keening howl stopped, to be replaced by muted sobbing and the off-yellow colt hid his face. Chiphoof shook his head, not looking up.

Pyrite stood there for a few moments, looking up and around at the city, "You don't have to. You got a ride home, right? Wanna take off? Literally?"

"I w-wanna g-go with Sharptooth!" Chip started wailing again, taking a really deep breath and letting loose that long keening howl.

"What? Why'd you wanna go with that flighty feather-brain? He dropped you here, didn't he?"

Chip snuffled, wiping a hoof across his nose, "H-he didn't!" the colt protested, standing up on all fours like he was willing himself to rise into the air after the rapidly-receding dot on the horizon.

"He did so. Come on, son, let's you and I make like a tree and get outta here. I ain't got no fancy winged chariot, and yours seems to have gone with the wind, so I'm afraid it's the train for us. North to Canterlot, then East to Stalliongrad. Easy-peasy. Good honest earth pony like you, gotta appreciate a good train ride, right?"

"We're gonna... go now? Right now?"

"Kiddo, yer ma and pa're gone. You did 'em proud, this sorry excuse for a party ain't got much for a pony like yerself now, 'as it?"

"N-no, I guess not." Chip sniffled again, looking forlornly up at the sky. It was well and truly dark now, the autumn sun fell quickly when it was time for Luna's moon to rise. He shivered.

"Right, get that box of yours I was told about and lets skedaddle then, eh?"

Chip sighed, he just felt empty. He couldn't focus. His parents, those... small boxes. They'd have each other, right? But what would he do if they missed him? What would he do if he missed them? Every time his thoughts dwelled on them, he just couldn't help but imagine them locked in that darkness forever, the fading slithers of light through the cracks as their caskets were lowered into the ground and covered with earth.

He wished he could be there with them, in the cold, dark ground. He shivered, it scared him, thoughts like that. What would he do whilst he waited for them to wake up, if he did?

"Kid?"

Chip sobbed, gulped, and stood up. He walked over to the stage-coach he had ridden in, ignoring the other ponies milling around and talking to each other, and pulled out the black leather-bound box that Sharptooth had given him with his teeth, from under the seat. Putting it down on the grass, he asked, "What should I do with it?"

"With what?" Pyrite asked, a strange expression on his muzzle.

Chip picked up the box, angrily, "Thif!"

"Oh, where'd you get that... just keep it safe, alright? It's important."

"Why?" Chip put it down again.

"Why what?"

"Why's the box important?"

"What box?"

Chip picked it up again, "Thif bof!"

"Oh, Sharphoof told me if was important, but I really don't have time to look after it. You're a big strong young colt, keep it with you until we get home, alright?"

Chip shook his head, the over-large box swinging painfully in his jaws. First Sharptooth, now this Uncle Pyrite. Were all adults this dumb? He trotted after the retreating silvery-gold stallion, casting one last sad look back at the two mounds of freshly-dug earth. Goodbye Mom and Dad, I'll always love you.

♦♦♦

Chip ignored Neighvada, now. He wanted to be elsewhere, somewhere where he didn't have to remember Mom and Dad all the time, especially somewhere where he didn't have to remember Sharptooth. He trotted through the glitzy streets behind the stalliion who had called himself his uncle, lost in thought. Now he was here, now today was over, he felt... strangely calm. Sad, painfully alone, but... calm. Of course, tthoughts of Sharptooth burned in his brain. Why did he have to leave me? Chip snarled to himself, did I do something wrong? Didn't he want me?

"Well I don't need him. He doesn't want me, I don't want him. He can keep his stupid home and his stupid models and his stupid fat box and his stupid fat head." Chip tossed the box to the street, where it impacted, bounced and rolled with a cacophany of sound. Inside were his training spikes. No, they were Sharptooth's... but... but Sharptooth had given them to him. The dragon had told his uncle they were important, that had to mean something, right? Chip glared at the box, and picked it up. Stupid box. He hoped there was nothing broken. It'd serve that dumb fat-headed dragon if it was all busted up. Chip shook the box. He was testing to see how broken, of course. Not at all testing to see if all was well.

"What're you playing at? Come on Kiddo, we'll miss the train. I don't want to spend another minute in this dump."

Chip glared at the stallion's flank as he was led to the train station, willing that stupid tail to catch fire. Mom and Dad liked Neighvada, what kind of Irontail didn't like Neighvada? Neighvada had been Irontail Country for... for... for always! For as long back... well no, thinking about it, Chip remembered hearing about his family history from his parents, when looking at family photos and portraits. A small group of settlers had left another tiny little town in the middle of nowhere hundreds and hundreds of years ago and not exactly founded, but had settled in Neighvada long before it was the sprawling metropolis it was today. The thought made him stop, forehoof half-raised. It couldn't be, could it? Naa, that wouldn't make any sense.

Besides, neither Tacksworn nor Neighvada was his home any more, now he was being passed along again, like an unwanted parcel, re-gifted from place to place. It angered him, really. Nopony wanted him, they just... wanted what he had. Sharptooth hadn't though, had he? As Chip stepped onto the train, dutifully following his uncle, the dragon's words returned to his ears, remember, this is yours, it belongs to you. Chip hardened his heart. He had nothing, now. He didn't have a home, or parents, or friends. He had acquaintances, places he lived, guardians - he would bide his time, and then one day he would take what was his by birthright. That would show them, that would make his parents proud. It was what they'd have wanted, he told himself.

The steamtrain's whistle sounded shrilly for last boarding, it was followed by the customary, "All aboard who's coming aboard!" from the conductor, followed by the clattering of said pony's hooves as he or she left the platform. Chip looked gloomily out the window at the hanging lanterns of the Neighvada station as they whizzed by and out of sight now that the train was picking up speed. By the feel of it, even though Neighvada was a large city, this was a horse-drawn steamtrain. The great boiler in front heated water so that the relief teamsters could bathe, and the passengers enjoy tea, and heating during cold weather. The heat also somehow made the iceboxes work, heating them up on the outside made them cold on the inside. Strange magic indeed, but stranger still was the relatively new-fangled contraption that somehow allowed steam to push a train along. It had to be mixed up with pegasus magic, but Chip didn't understand how. Maybe he would have learnt if- he stopped himself. That avenue was closed, now.

Chip sank back into the plush red velvet seat, eventually rolling on his side and curling up. He missed Sharptooth. He was angry. He was tired, worn out, confused. He didn't want to be alone. His last thoughts, as he drifted off to sleep, were that he didn't want to be a lonely dragon on a mountaintop somewhere. If Sharptooth didn't want him, then maybe his uncle did - an uncle, a real relative, a pony. It was the way it should be, surely? It was what he would have wanted, if he'd been asked, right?

♦♦♦

The Neighvada train made many stops, travelling into the night, before stopping near Canterlot. From there, they hopped on an East-bound train towards, eventually, Stalliongrad. This train was one of the newer ones, but with all the power somehow used by steam to push the engine, it wasn't so warm. It was larger, but colder. Stalliongrad was in the North East of Equestria, near the Northern Mountains - domain of the Pooka. Autumn and Winter this far North came earlier, though Chip couldn't understand why anypony would want that. The wintry howling of the windigo rattled the panes of glass, which were fogging up on the inside as the external temperature dropped.

Three days of travel passed, then four! Were trains just that much slower than pegasi, or was Stalliongrad really that far away from everything Chip knew? He had no idea. Eventually the train stopped. Stalliongrad, end of the line. As the train pulled into the great iron-clad station and stopped with a final jerk, Chip woke. He shivered. He'd hardly said a word the entire time, and Pyrite had sent word on ahead, conducting business via the mail mares and postal dragons that were permanently stationed on these trains, even passenger lines.

The postal dragons watched him oddly. He had no idea whether they saw him as one of their own, any more. He began to doubt such things were possible, even, as those strange happenings which the past week had contained. He could remember eating gems, but... in the cold light of dawn, so to speak, it didn't seem real. One nightmare to the next, he reasoned, smiling wryly at his own joke. He just wished he hadn't made it this close to nightfall.

Stalliongrad was looming and cramped, in the dark. Streetlights flickered and illuminated the cold streets, but alleyways drifted off into blackness. The smoggy cloud-cover meant the stars couldn't be seen, and though that should have meant a warm night, Chip shivered. He yawned, as he stood there on the platform, hopping slightly from hoof to hoof as even his fur-covered extremities succumbed to the chill. Crowds of ponies flowed around them, each setting off on his or her own way, disappearing into the night, wordlessly.

"Chip, kiddo, wakey wakey. Coming? Got your box?"

Chip nodded, and picked it up. As soon as Chip had it in his muzzle, Uncle Pyrite set off without so much as a second glance, almost as if he had forgotten he even had a guest that would be staying with him.

Chip gazed curiously at the stallion as they trit-trotted through the icy streets, it was almost as if he were... a nuisance, sometimes. An unwanted flea. Then again, Uncle Pyrite would tousle his mane like his dad used to, and nudge him, laughing, pointing out some landmark or street musician.

Pyrite owned a large mansion, built of dirty yellow bricks, that rose out of the smoggy streets of Stalliongrad like some castle of old. Pyrite was a relatively well-to-do stallion of means, he owned his own iron ore smelting company and a string of iron mongers and blacksmiths. In his own words, though, when he had met the lovely Anthracite Irontail it had been love at first sight. "Initially I had wanted her for her assets, know what I mean? Haw haw haw! But then I got to know her better, and her other assets shone through. She was a lovely old lady, kiddo, and I miss her every day she's gone."

"Y-you said she died?"

"I did. Seems your family's cursed, lad."

"There's no such thing as curses!" Chip spat, snarling.

"Heeeyyy, woah, I didn't mean it like that, just... I lost my misses and my boy that same day. Near killed me, it did. It's dark times when your life leaves you like that."

"I'm sorry!"

"It isn't your fault, sometimes... sometimes the innocent get hurt i-in the crossfire of life's little... well, it wasn't your fault." Pyrite bowed his head in front of the door, silent and still for a moment, before raising a hoof and knocking three times. A gaunt, officious-looking unicorn opened the door, bowed and ushered them in.

"Silver Chalice, I want you to show young Chiphoof here to the guest room. He'll be staying with us a while. In the morning, you are to see to his continued education whilst I busy myself with what I've missed."

"Very good m'lord."

"And you were right, Silver, taking the first train to Neighvada absolutely made the funeral arrangements easier. Sometimes, I swear those dunderheads forget just how far away Stalliongrad is."

"Indeed, m'lord."

"Bad enough I had to sort out half of it on the trip down! I swear-"

Chip watched as Silver Chalice moved off, following Pyrite who had once again apparently forgotten Chip existed. He was about to follow, when the door to whichever room Pyrite had wandered in to opened again, and Silver Chalice, apparently the head butler, reappeared.

"Walk this way, young master Chiphoof."

"If I tried to walk like that, my legs'd fall off." mumbled Chip, eyeing the old stallion as he made slow and deliberate steps along the hallway and up the carpetted, wide stairs.

"Very droll, sir. Follow me."

Chip followed the butler, once again with his black leather box in his muzzle, as closely as he could. The house was spooky. Portraits adorned the walls, and the eyes seemed to follow Chip as he walked past them. Flickering gas lamps illuminated the upper floor hallway with small niches of warm golden light, surrounded by an expanse of dark blue shadows.

"This is your room, sir. I gather you are to retire for the night, and I shall be along smartly in the morning."

"Th-thank-" Chip turned around, after looking at the door, but the butler had ambled off and didn't seem to be in any mood to answer. Chip stuck his tongue out.

The door opened smoothly, revealing a room he could only describe as 'quaint'. Thick carpets, thick curtains, soft four-poster bed. The walls were cream, with faded gold inlaid roses. The curtains were purple, the carpet red. A brass, unlit chandelier hung from the ceiling. Chip moved to the window and opened it gingerly. There were bars on it on the outside, he noted. How strange.

Chip hoofed the black leather box under the bed and threw himself into the soft expanse of the mattress. At least he fitted in the bed better than he had the sofa. Not that he missed the sofa. Or the weir. Or Sharptooth. Chip whimpered softly, and clambered into the bed, wrapping himself up in clean linen. The bedclothes smelled clean and fresh, he wondered if they were changed daily, or if the butler or the maids or whoever had been expecting him. In contrast, he stank. First thing, next day, he would bathe. Many days of living with a dragon gave him an odour he hadn't smelled himself, until now. Add to that several days of train travel and his aroma was verging on self-aware.

He yawned, despite himself. He'd done next to nothing for the last few days, but still... he felt tired. Maybe he would close his eyes for a while. Just for a while. Just for a... short...

Chip woke up with a start. He blinked. Daylight? Bed? Not a hollow in the ground? No? Not a dragon, either, snoring beneath him. For a few moments he couldn't recall where he was. He threw himself out of bed, stretching as the muted sounds of birdcalls filtered in through the barred and locked window. Nature called, as it were, from within and without. He had to go to the little foal's room, freshen up as the fillies would say.

Chip strode to the door out to the hallway, and tried to open it.

It was locked.

Secrets and Lies

═ The ══════════
Ambassador's
══════════ Son ═

Chapter Fourteen
Secrets and Lies
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow

Chip felt a hoof in his ribs. He jumped, it was painful.

"Snoring!" hissed Sunshine.

"Sorry!" he hissed back, trying to hide a yawn behind his hoof.

"Ahem! And as you can see, the late Lady Waterwings foaled five times and bore three fillies, two colts. The colts we can ignore, as male heirs in the period they were given small titles, a landholding but no part of the Lineage. Of the three females, two were barren and the third had two offspring, one became Lady Grey and her family still brews the most wonderful tea, even if it is now under the auspices of the good Earl Nosegay."

Chip doodled idly with his hoof, running a small piece of charcoal on the parchment. Nothing he had been taught so far had been useful. He suspected that Briar Patch hated him. To tell the truth, he suspected that Briar Patch hated everyone and everything. The biggest reason for this monumental dislike was that Chip was Baron Irontail, and a colt rather than a filly. Briar Patch was a traditionalist. Stallions saw to making babies, fighting for dominance and the chance to make said babies, and very little else. It was a mare's job to run the Family Business. The fact that he, Chip, had inherited the auspicious Irontail name was an insult to all things right and true.

"Wait, wait," Chip said, yawning and trying to make it look like he was concentrating really hard, "you said that females inherited the name, right?"

"Indeed, young master Irontail."

"Wasn't my aunt the older sibling?"

"Indeed, but blood lineage is more important than sex, albeit it modern to ignore even the birthright of the rightful heiresses, the mares of the family."

"So... uncle Pyrite said something about that. His wife..."

Briar Patch narrowed his eyes at Chip, "Rightfully, his lordship should be speaking to you of such things..."

"Humour me, as Baron Irontail."

Briar Patch set his jaw and chewed his tongue thoughtfully, "Very well. Your Aunt Anthracite Irontail was the duly designated heiress, set to continue your family's noble name. When she died, she left no heir of her own, dying as she did in childbirth. Her foal was... stillborn. Upon this happenstance, title was transferred to your father, who had been in truth running the Neighvada sites. From your father, it passed down to you."

"So... if Aunt Anthracite's foal had lived, he would have been Baron Irontail?"

"Baroness Anthracite was the older sibling, and a mare. It could have gone no other way."

"So was... uncle Pyrite..?"

Briar Patch nodded, slowly, "For a time, he was Baron Irontail, just as you now are, but it was a gesture only. With no heir apparent, the law was simple and strict. Freepony Pyrite is now but an honorary lord only."

Chip shivered. Baron Irontail, living under the protection of the ex-Baron Irontail. Thank Celestia his uncle was the good sort, if a little strange...

♦♦♦

"Vanished." Pyrite said, softly. He half-turned away from the three strange little ponies, then flung himself towards them and slammed his hooves into the rocky ground, "What do you mean, vanished?" he hissed. His powerful stomp echoed seemingly forever, the cavern was large but Pyrite's anger was larger.

The yellow pegasus shied away, her twinkling jeweled eyes showing fear.

"A dragon doesn't simply vanish! According to those reprobates you force me to deal with, this missing dragonling supposedly has the map, as such it is imperative you find him! It's a dirty great dragon! How can you lose an entire dragon?"

"It just... vanished, master. It killed one of your dog-trolls that was sent to apprehend it and then disappeared nigh a week ago with his sire, who has since returned."

"I WANT THAT MAP!" Pyrite shouted, spraying his minions with flecks of foamy spittle. All three shied away at Pyrite's maddened words, which echoed through the vast cavern once more. Pyrite breathed heavily, the stuffy air irritated his lungs, and the wretched beasts irritated his sensibilities. "That map rightfully belongs to me as everything at the dig-site should rightfully belong to me! Without that map, everything I have worked for becomes worthless! If my estate is worthless, you are worthless."

"Forgive me, master, but..." the yellow pegasus said. She whimpered when he turned to her, but spoke up, "can the heir not tell you where the map is?"

"Oh, my jewel-eyed simpleton, that fop of a foal knows less than nothing, that much is clear. All he is good for are the deeds to his family's properties, and they will be mine in time as his duly-appointed guardian. Turning the child's head will be foals' play. It is the map that I need, the map that his parents found, the map that I thought you idiots had said was with his parents! Do you know how much those diamond dogs asked for in bribes to bring that mine down? Do you?" Pyrite glared, and the gaze of each of the gem-eyed miner ponies dropped. "I thought not. Never mind... what have you found for me on this Sharphoof, the pegasus?"

"He... he too has vanished. Our contacts cannot find him. He is not at Tacksworn, he is not at Neighvada. Nopony saw him return, nopony remembers him leave. Nopony by that name lives there... perhaps if you could furnish us with a better description-." This time it was the blue jewel-eyed earth-pony that spoke, in the same soft sibilant whisper of his brethren.

"Remind me," growled Pyrite with a sigh, placing his hoof on his muzzle and rubbing between his eyes, "what I pay you for? No, wait, shut up, I don't care. Get out of my sight. Search again, leave no stone unturned or so help me I will have your bones for my dogs and your hides for my furniture! Would you have me raze an entire village for a piece of parchment? Move! Get me my map!"

Pyrite watched angrily as the strange, gem-eyed ponies fled. It was only after they'd gone and the cavern was once again beyond pitch black that he remembered he'd moved away from the path back up.

Well shit.

♦♦♦

Chip was tired, lessons had been horribly, horribly boring and had dragged on and on. Finally, that old fart Briar Patch had let them go. Sunshine had fled before he could give them homework - homework from a private tutor! Ridiculous! - and Chip had headed back through the mansion to find the box that held his training spikes. He avoided the help, sneaking into the kitchen and down the stairs when nopony was looking.

The basement was deserted, so Chip sneaked into the strange little vault-like room, packed away the armor pieces and picked up the box in his muzzle. He froze when he heard voices... no, a voice, singular.

"Useless gem-eyed freaks..."

It was Pyrite, where was he? What was he talking about? Chip moved towards the door of the vault and gently nudged the door further open.

"What's that? Who's there?"

Chip retreated back into the vault instinctively at Pyrites raised and somewhat-angry sounding voice. Sure enough, his hooves clattering on the wooden-covered floor, Pyrite poked his nose into the vault-room. Chip was about to speak up when Pyrite's gaze swept over him... and carried on. He opened his muzzle to talk, nearly dropped the box and then shut it again. Moments later, Pyrite's head withdrew. He didn't even close the door.

That's odd, thought Chip, and walked slowly out of the vault, following Pyrite. As the silvery-gold stallion lead the way through the mansion, Chip kept expecting him to turn around and ask him why he was following him, but Pyrite never did.

It's almost like I'm invisible, Chip thought to himself. He cocked his head as he walked, he wasn't exactly trying to be stealthy but whatever this was, he was intrigued to see how far it would go.

"That foal's mine now, I'll have to take care of him." Pyrite mumbled to himself. Chip brightened, despite being odd, Pyrite did care... maybe the stallion would even learn to love him? "I mean that damned foal Sharphoof left him with me, just dumped him here. What sort of guardian does that? That suits me just fine though, accidents happen after all, eh? Now where is the boy... He's got his medicine to take. Chip? Chip!" Pyrite started calling Chip's name, almost trotting through the first floor hallway where Chip's bedroom was. The door was unlocked, Pyrite trotted in and cantered around in a circle, "Where is that delinquent brat."

That's not very nice, Chip thought to himself as he followed the older stallion in. He stood in the center of the room and Pyrite ignored him in his search. Finally Pyrite swore and stormed out. Chip shook his head. This was weird. Chip put the box down and kicked it under the bed, before exiting the room. Had there been something in that little room? Or something in the basement? Had he touched something? He'd heard of some magic plants that could do weird things like that, but he'd never been sure if he'd believed it. Chip resolved to see if anything would break the spell, or if he was doomed to wander like a ghost forever. Maybe that was it, maybe he was a ghost! He... he didn't feel like a ghost... did he?

"Pyrite! Uncle Pyrite!" Chip yelled, clattering his hooves around on the floor until he burst through his bedroom door and barrelled after the older stallion. Pyrite didn't seem to hear him at first, but when Chip all but crashed into him and the pair went flying, Pyrite first started shouting and then broke into a wide smile, "Hey! Chip! Where've you been, kiddo? I've been looking all over for ya! You're late for supper! Come on, it'll be cold! Get!"

"Yessir... dad." Chip tried.

Pyrite stopped in his tracks, "We're... we're not ready for that quite yet, Chip."

Chip hung his head, cheeks burning. He'd thought...

"You can call me Unc though, if you want."

"'Unc'? That sounds kinda silly."

"S'up to you, but it's time to get down to supper. Follow me."

Chip sat at the table, half hurt and half hopeful. Pyrite wanted to take care of him, to look after him... so what if he didn't want to be called dad yet? It was only a... a token, right? Sharptooth had let him call him Dad...

Yeah, but Sharptooth abandoned me here! Chip thought to himself, What if Sharptooth really doesn't want me? What if he thinks I should be with Uncle Pyrite? He's a pony, after all, not a dragon like Sharptooth. Why would I want to be a dragon? I'm not a dragon, am I? I'm a pony. Four hooves, no wings, no claws...

"Like the food, kiddo?"

"It's... nice." Chip said, choking on the sudden question, at lunch the stallion had shushed him when he'd tried to talk. Maybe lunch was more formal?

Pyrite nodded at the glass of milk, "Drink up, it'll do you a world of good. It's healthy."

Chip scowled at the milk. Drink that? Like he was some foal? Again? Chip rolled his eyes. Drinking milk like some foal wasn't such a big deal, he guessed, just as long as the weirdo didn't try to bottle-feed it to him or something. Honestly! A pony his size, drinking milk! He upended the glass and drank it. Milk smelled weird, now. He finished it, and burped.

"Manners!"

"It's... sorry." Chip wiped his muzzle, with a napkin. He'd miss that part of being a dragon, at least. Chip yawned. His plate was empty, the room swam and he felt kind of hot. Maybe he was tired.

"It's alright, kiddo. Hey are you feelin' okay there? You look a little... peaky." Pyrite had got up at the first sign of Chip's discomfort.

"I'm fine..." Chip hiccuped, "totally fine."

"You don't look it. I think you've fallen ill, lad. It'll be the stress and the trip, can do that to a colt like you. You should head to bed, okay?"

"Okay," Chip said, dully. He got up, staggering slightly, yawning again. Gosh, he really was tired. Chip started to walk out of the dining room, and suddenly Pyrite was there, holding him up.

"Ooops-a-daisy, Chippy my lad, you almost went over. This way... come on... can't have you passing out in the hallway."

Chip was led haltingly out of the dining room, up the stairs, and set into the bed. Chip lay in the large, soft bed as he heard the snick of the lock being turned. He was locked in, again! Chip struggled to get out of the bed, feeling like he was crawling halfway up the walls instead of across the floor. The world spun, strange lights and visions danced before his eyes, his head hurt. What on Equestria had come over him, and so quickly? Only a few hoof-lengths across the mat towards the door, he gave up. He had to be sick. He resolved to just... oh no. The bed was too high. He couldn't stand, he could barely crawl let alone pull his body upright. He whimpered, he just wanted to sleep! He wanted to hide, to rest!

He rolled his body heavily across the floor, pulled off the day-comforter and wrapped it around himself. He just wanted to get somewhere he felt safe. He'd felt safe in Sharptooth's embrace, under those wings. He sniffled, and pulled himself under the bed. He wrapped the blanket around himself awkwardly again and arranged it as a partial pillow on top of the black box that Sharptooth had given him.

He was like a dragon again, he guessed, a hatchling maybe. He felt weak enough. He hugged the black leather box to his body and tried to relax as muscle spasms wracked his frame. He felt like a grandpony, ancient and doddering. He laughed, but it hurt to breathe, so he concentrated on not coughing.

Dimly, he heard the lock undo and Pyrite - or some other pony - walk in. The pony shouted something several times, a name, and dropped something down on the floor. It fluttered under the bed, towards Chip. He could just make out one word... peep?

"Where in the nine realms has that brat gone? I leave him ruddy well locked in here for five minutes and he's gone! It's not possible! Oh, dammit!"

Pyrite bent down, the damned deed documentation that the stupid foal just had to sign had gone under the bed. He bent down, the bed was high off the ground, and he could see it easily. He reached out a hoof and pulled it out. He'd half expected that idiot Chip to be under the bed, hiding, but nothing was there. Nothing was there at all. He stormed out.

Chip shook, he was really starting to feel terrible. He was alternately hot and cold, the room spun, nothing made sense... but one thing stood out. Pyrite hadn't seen him again.

♦♦♦

Chip woke up with a start, coughing. He felt queasy and his head was pounding, the floor in front of him was no longer fluffy and neat but hard and tacky. He must have thrown up some time in the night, but he felt much better now. For starters, he could think halfway straight. He felt like he'd been put through a mangle, but seemed to be in one piece. He was also under the bed. That was odd. He didn't really remember going to bed the previous night... dimly, memories returned. What in Equestria had it been? That was the weirdest illness ever... it had to be a stomach bug, those things went through a pony like a dose of the salts.

Pyrite had to be going frantic.

Chip heaved himself out and up, staggering slightly. The sudden increase in altitude made him see stars, just like he'd seen in whatever delirium had assaulted him. He eased himself to the bathroom, leaning on the walls and catching his breath every few steps. His headache was fading as he started moving and he felt better and better by the moment. Washing his mouth out and using the facilities, he felt refreshed. Not completey one hundred percent, but maybe eighty. He took one last look at his muzzle before clomping downstairs to the dining room. When he opened the door, he was greeted with the astonishing sight of almost all of the available help from the mansion standing around the table not with breakfast but with a bunch of maps of the house, estate and city in front of them. They were pointing at likely places to look for somepony, with red circles and crosses.

"What's up, guys? Am I late for breakfast? I mean I don't have a clock or-"

"Chip? By the pale mare, Chip! Where in the nine realms were you?" Silver Chalice spoke up, speaking even above Pyrite, a warmth in his voice that had been absent before.

"I was..."

"We looked everywhere! Nopony could find you! We thought you might have run out into the city or something!"

"No, I was..."

"Kiddo, you gave us quite the scare! How do you feel? Last I saw you were lookin' pretty poorly!" Pyrite strode forwards, putting a hoof on the young colt's brow to feel for a temperature.

"Must've been a stomach bug or something, Unc. I'm alright now."

"Where were you?"

"In my room..." Chip didn't add under the bed, he didn't want any pony feeling stupid for having missed him there. It was a foalish place to hide, but... he'd wanted to feel safe.

"Horseapples!" swore Pyrite, "I looked under there... when I went searching for you, I mean."

A hazy memory returned to Chip... Pyrite with a strange expression on his muzzle, looking under the bed for a piece of paper, finding it, utterly failing to register that it was leaning on Chip, wrapped up in a blanket. Chip shook his head, it was one of the only clear memories he had of the previous night, but it made no sense at all! He opened his mouth, and then shut it again.

"Well!" Pyrite grinned, nervously, "Time we all just... relaxed, then. Relaxed and had breakfast, right?"

Pyrite clopped his hooves together, waving at the table. It was cleared in short order, and the staff of the mansion disappeared to whip up something to eat. Pyrite sat at the table, grinning slightly. He seemed nervous still. Chip wondered if he had just been worried.

"So..." Pyrite began, "you... feel alright today?"

"Yup. I was wondering-"

"Not... ill at all?"

"No, not any more."

"Good, good." Pyrite leaned back, sitting on his haunches, staring at Chip with a strange expression on his muzzle. "You... really did give me a scare, you know. You should... you should give me power of attorney, just in case you have a relapse or something..." Pyrite grinned, like he was only half-serious, but something in his voice put the lie to that expression.

"Power of what?" Chip's ears swivelled upwards. The memory of a piece of paper with a certain four-letter word written on it floated in his mind.

"Attorney, it means I'm allowed to... look after your- you. Look after your things. Look, it's just a precaution, you're here now and-"

"Were you really worried?"

"I was worried all night long, Chip me lad!"

Chip looked down at his hooves, "Well, I don't know... I should ask Sharptooth."

"That... pegasus?"

"Dragon. The one I stayed with."

Pyrite's eyes unfocused for a second, "Oh. Oh, him. I don't think he wants to hear from you any more. He dumped you, didn't he?"

"He d-did not!" Chip set his jaw.

"Woah, woah, hey, calm down kiddo! How about you write to him, then, ask him what he thinks? It's just a precaution, ya know."

"Well... alright, but later. I just want to eat some breakfast."

Pyrite considered, "How about, no lessons today. You just go... explore, but stay out of the basement, there's a lot of stuff down there, you could get hurt. I have a trip into town to make."

The breakfast was uneventful, but the awkward silence was palpable. Eventually, Pyrite excused himself and left. Chip looked down at his plate. He felt better with some food in his belly. He snorted though, only water to drink, no milk.

♦♦♦

The Box of Delights

═ The ══════════
Ambassador's
══════════ Son ═

Chapter Fifteen
The Box of Delights
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow

Chip hummed happily to himself. No lessons, the whole house to explore... it sounded like fun. Really, though, he wanted some fresh air. Not only that, but he wanted a way to get more fresh air whenever he wanted. Cleaning under the bed had been a chore, a nasty one at that, but he thought it better than to leave it. With the run of the house, he'd fetched a bucket of soapy water and a rag and had done his best. The carpet under his bed was damp, but clean.

After that, the next port of call was Sunshine Filigree. Rescuing her from lessons was relatively simple; apparently pulling Baronial rank was enough to quiet the private tutor, at least when he, a colt, had been excused.

Chip wanted the filly for one reason - he had to work out why Pyrite seemed to have a Chip-shaped blindspot at times. He had his suspicions, but it would behoove him to try them out with a captive audience.

"Okay," Chip said as they entered his bedroom and he pulled the black box out from under his bed, "this is my dad's case I was showing you yesterday. I want to try something out."

"Your dad? I thought you said... Is that really leather? I thought it was last time I saw it but- Where did you get it? Why would-"

"Okay, I'll tell you what I know, but you've got to promise to help me, okay?" Chip put his hoof gently on her muzzle, silencing her. He took it off again, looking pleadingly into her eyes.

"Okay." she answered. Chip breathed out.

Chip took a deep breath and started talking. Haltingly, he began the tale several weeks back with his night-time flight in Celestia's chariot. He explained about his parents, how they had died in an accident, but Celestia had sent him to be with a dragon called Sharptooth. Celestia herself had feared for his safety, goodness knew how she'd found out about the accident, or how she had known where to look. She'd appeared on his doorstep and swept him up and delivered him to the dragon.

"So... you're telling me, this dragon adopted you?" Sunshine asked, raising an eyebrow and perking her ears up.

"Yeah. Ever since then, I've... been... different." he ended, lamely.

"Different how?"

"Don't worry about it right now," Chip said. Truth be told, he wasn't sure how much of a dragon he was. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be, he wasn't sure if he had a choice. He wasn't sure of a lot of things, but he was sure he needed somepony he could talk to. Sunshine and he had a lot in common, sadly. He reasoned she would be a good choice. So far, his hunch had proved correct.

"Okay," said Sunshine. She smiled.

"Really?"

"Yeah really. So, what do you wanna do?"

"I think... every time I hold this box... I become invisible!"

"Invisible." Sunshine looked at him flatly. "Uh huh. Right. Go on then."

Chip scowled, picked up the box in his muzzle and then tried to sneak behind Sunshine.

"It's not working you know."

"Fearfy?"

"Yeah, really."

Chip put the box down. "Damn. I was sure..."

"What's in it, anyway? Maybe it's something in it, if you really did turn invisible."

"Open it and have a look!" Chip motioned towards the box with a hoof. He sat down to think as Sunshine poked it with her foreleg.

"It's locked," she said.

"No it isn't! See?" Chip lifted the lid easily.

"Wait, close it again."

Chip did so, and Sunshine tried to open it. Again, she couldn't.

"What did you do to it?" the filly asked.

"Nothing! I swear! It just... maybe it will only open for a dr- I mean for me." Chip ended, shortly.

"A magic box?"

"Yeah, a magic box. That's kinda cool." Chip grinned, flicking his tail happily, "I never knew."

"So, what's in it?"

"I... kinda have all that armor you saw yesterday and... I dunno."

"Well open it up and let's have a look, dufus!"

Chip grinned, Sunshine reminded him of Carmine. He found it a warm feeling, although he wondered at it. Chip opened the box. He hadn't really explored this small 'hoard' yet, now was as good a time as any. He started with taking out the armor, and there was a lot of it. Dragons had training spikes for everything. Four bands that fit on his hooves as guards, the bolas, the ripper ring, the haunch-plate... and more. Head plates, neck plates, barding.

"Wow, this stuff is cool! What's it all for?" Sunshine asked. Chip was about to asnwer, when he realised that looking like a princess wasn't a big enough draw today, as Sunshine was digging past the shiny treasures and pulling out other things with her magic.

"Hey! Careful with that!" Chip took something from the air in his teeth as she levitated almost everything out.

"Gems? You've got gems in here?"

"Yeah, they're tast- I mean, uh, pretty. Yeah." Chip eyed the small collection of precious stones. The fire-ruby, a big one. An emerald, a diamond, and what looked like a sapphire. The other thing was something wrapped in black velvet. It was small, flat, and seemed very light and delicate.

"What's that?" Sunshine turned her attention away from the pretty stones, to the object that Chip was very, very carefully unwrapping.

"It's..."

"An eggshell? Why would..?"

"Shut up," Chip snapped. Sunshine's face screwed up in anger, but softened when she saw his own expression. "This is... something so precious, I can't tell you how precious it is."

"It's an eggshell, Chip..." she said softly, in a questioning tone of voice.

"From a very special egg." Chip wrapped it back up, almost reverently, and placed it back in the box. Chip then picked up a piece of the armor, one of the hoof-guards, intending to examine it.

Uncle Pyrite took that moment to barge in to Chip's room in a fluster, "Hey Chi- oh, hello Miss Filigree, have you seen Chip?"

Sunshine opened her mouth to tell Pyrite that Chip was right there, but saw Chip's expression. "Yeah, Chip is, uh... in the bathroom. He'll be out in a minute." The filly looked from Chip to Pyrite and back again.

Pyrite frowned, "Okay, I was just... this... came in the post and... I was... I gotta run, okay?" The earth pony dropped a sealed envelope on the bed and vanished. Sunshine breathed out.

"That... was weird. He didn't see you at all!"

"Yeah," said Chip thoughtfully, "like I was invisible. So it's just him, and this stuff. It's not just the box."

"It's gotta be magic! That's so cool, I could do with that sort of thing when I don't want to go to lessons."

"I think it only works on Uncle Pyrite, sorry, Sunshine."

"Welllllll... can I borrow something? See if I can duplicate it?"

Chip blinked, mind already scheming. He shook his head, "Sure, just don't take the hoof guards, haunch-plate, bolas or the tail-ring."

Sunshine hummed and hawwed, and picked up a circlet that featured a rather wicked set of spikes around it. Chip didn't know what it was for, but he guessed it to be either a head piece or a collar. Sunshine trotted happily out the door with it dangling from her jaws, humming quietly to herself. Chip smiled, she liked him too. He sighed, though. He missed Carmine, Belle, Penny, Beth... he even kind of missed Butch. He wondered what they were up to, they probably hadn't even noticed he was gone.

♦♦♦

Carmine flew high above Tacksworn, thinking heavily. She missed that butt, Chip. Well, she didn't miss his butt. Not literally. Not even slightly. Yes, it was kind of pert, and he was easy to talk to... but he was just a pony, after all. Kinda. There was that... awkward word on the tip of her tongue though, hippogriff. Why was it on the tip of her tongue? As if her father would approve. As if she cared about Chip like that. She did though, she admitted to herself, worry if he was okay. She decided to find out what had happened to him, he hadn't been seen for this entire week so far, and had disappeared the previous week with only a note from the teacher that he would be away for an unspecified amount of time. The empty seat at their table was... almost painful, in a way. It wasn't as if their little group needed a male or anything.

Carmine snorted at that, they really didn't. But she did miss him, even if just a little bit.

There was an ear-splitting screech and a large, eagle-winged mass dropped out of the skies and fastened it's talons on her backside.

"Heeyy! Shards and shells, B! What'd you go and do that for?"

"Not payin' attention, C. Sloppy. You're not gonna get any rabbits like that."

Carmine folded her wings and dropped from under the other griffon, and then rolled over lazily in the air and rose up level. Beth was her good friend, neighbours since forever. Absolute pain in the tail. "Who says I was hunting?"

"Ah, mooning over Chippy then."

"I was not. You think he's okay?"

Beth burst into raucous laughter, "You do like him!"

"Yeah, I guess I do. Shut up! You're one to talk, with that pegasus your mom's hooked up with." Carmine swiped her claws playfully at Beth, who scowled.

"Steelfeather's alright. He's not my dad, but he makes my mom happy."

"I miss your dad too, my dad and mom also."

"Not as much as I miss him."

The two flew in silence for a while, just circling the town. Tacksworn was pretty small, it had been for as long as they remembered. It had no real weather team - as a designated desert town it saw little actual rain and imported most of its goods, making by on a mixture of neighbourly concern, trade and taxes. Old Stallion Withers the pegasus saw to watering what crops there were and protected the forest that kept the worst of the desert wind and dust from blowing through. The earth pony Flitch was the local forest ranger and tried to keep the forest and the animals it sheltered alive. Both needed assistants, both were already getting on in years, but so far nopony had volunteered. Two inns, one cheap and one less cheap, provided all the accommodation that was needed outside of the fairs. A small library with a surprisingly young unicorn family was situated next to the medical centre, a salt bar was across the one main road from that and the school was set a ways off further out into the desert. Thriving was too busy a word for what Tacksworn was, but getting by tended to fit.

"Come on, I can't hunt. Let's go to Beryl's Bar." Beth said.

"Just cos you like her son Thorn."

"Oh come on, he's a diamond dog."

"A big, buff diamond dog you mean. He's so dreamy." Carmine held her forepaws up to her beak and fluttered her eyes before diving out of the way of Beth's swipe, towards the ground, and the diner.

Beth snorted, squawking as her neck feathers visibly fluffed up, "I'll stop teasing you about Chip if you shut up about Thorn." She landed easily, shaking herself out, before glaring at Carmine.

"No blood from my kill, B. Come on, it's Rabbit Surprise day at Beryl's."

Beth laughed, "It's always Rabbit Surprise day at Beryl's. Every time..."

"Surprise! Is rabbit! Good surprise, yes? Yes?"

"Sure is, Beryl. Smells good!"

"Is good. Pretty birdy like Beryl's rabbit surprise. Beryl happy." Beryl wandered away from the counter, back into the kitchen where she continued making food. Her place was full, much more packed than normal, and normal was crazy enough.

Carmine and Beth took a seat at a window, they wouldn't even have to order. Very few customers did unless they wanted something special. Beryl made plenty from a limited menu, but what she made was good. The diamond dog was a nice older lady. She'd been cooking for ponies, griffons, diamond dogs and even dragons, on request, for years. She had plenty of talent with food, what she didn't have was tact or imagination. Thorn, her son, was a young adult diamond dog. As a second generation Tacksworn diamond dog, one that had actually gone through schooling, he could form whole cohesive sentences. As a bit of a beefcake, even Carmine had to admit that, he still wasn't the intellectual.

"Thorn! Thorn! Stop picking nose and deliver rabbit surprise! Shhh! Don't spoil surprise though!" Beryl shouted from deep in the kitchen.

"No, mama." Thorn said, and he visibly straightened behind the counter. He turned and picked up the trays Beryl had placed ready under the lights with expertise.

"And deliver message! To pretty birdies in booth..." Carmine winced as she could almost hear the old lady counting under her breath, "five!"

"Yes mama."

"No looking at note."

"No, mama."

"And don't slouch, is bad for posture! Ugly grandpups if you slouch!"

"Sorry, mama!" Thorn blushed through his embarrassment. Though everybody heard Beryl shouting at her son almost every time they dined, and invariably laughed it off, he still wished the earth would open up and swallow him. He was a diamond dog, he could make it happen. The only reason he didn't was he knew quite well that Beryl would march out of the kitchen and order the ground to spit him back up, and then proceed to yell at both of them for it.

"Hey Thorn," Beth smiled, fluffing her neck feathers out and raising her crown feathers.

"Hi Bethanie. You look pretty today! I mean, uh, you look always pretty! I mean, uh."

"Hey Thorn. Close your beak, Beth. Thorn? Thorn! Note?"

"Yeah, Mama gave me this note for you." Thorn dropped it on the table and then sat next to Bethanie.

Carmine rolled her eyes as the two began to moon over each other. I hope I'm not like that with Chip. Not that I would be of course, dumb pony. Instead, she unrolled the note. She peered at it, blinking. The note was short, very short. It read, simply, 'trouble, four o'clock'. Carmine looked up at the clock on the wall, powered by a very small thaumatic battery tube that fizzled and spat occasionally. It was already half five, what was that dumb dog on about- suddenly, Carmine twigged. Full house, busy, exceptionally so, even for a fair-month. Behind her. Carmine sniffed the note, sure enough it was made from rice paper. She stuffed it in her beak, chewed, and swallowed. Rice-paper wrapped desert possum was a speciality of Beryls when she was done with the days allotment of surprises, and the odd candied timberwolf brain was a real delicacy. Sweet, sticky, and sitting in a case you didn't have to pull off - which was a good thing, candied brain was impossible to get out of the feathers- darn it, Carmine, she thought to herself, get a grip, get up and see what the daft old biddy wants you to.

Carmine got up, as if she'd had enough of moon-beak and puppy-eyes - which was true enough, she had - and went to get a drink. She heaved her forepaws up on the counter and savaged her drink of water. She peered over her shoulder at Thorn and Beth, and serruptitiously at the booth behind them. Diamond dogs, four of them. At least two had strange brand-like markings on their shoulders, dimly visible under their fur. Markings like those were reserved for certain more-feral packs that didn't usually come bother a town like Tacksworn. Not enough property to worth protecting in a racket, not enough gems left to haul up from any mines, not enough excitement even with the railway. These diamond dogs were strangers, not settlers. Of course, Beryl would know her diamond dogs. Carmine's heart jumped. Trouble. She was a predator, through and through. One predator knows another, and right now she knew that four of them were sitting in a booth in the diner and pretending to eat Rabbit Surprise.

"So, Beryl, ya say your surprise ain't ready for us? When did you start making it?" Oh please oh please oh please...

"Surprise? Rabbit Surprise is- ah! Beryl is joking, haha, you caught Beryl. Was making special surprise for you and... friend. Yes. No, surprise was... started two days ago and is not ready yet. You go tell your friend," the old diamond dog said, waddling out of the kitchen with a bowl of snacks on sticks, "surprise not ready yet, yes?"

"Yes. The food was delicious, Beryl, ma'am."

"Have snack, for trip." The diamond dog handed over something animal-shaped on a skewer.

"Thanks." Carmine said, pecking at it, "I gotta run. Thorn and B are cool here though, right? I'll pay my tab later."

"Miss C, you and your father are good to Beryl, like... daughter I never have."

"I think Beth is setting to be your new daughter, Miss B."

"Thorn like her, he good boy. You think it work?"

Carmine squawk-coughed, laughing, "Probably not."

Beryl bark-laughed softly, "He good boy though, Beryl let him find out own way."

Carmine stalked out and took off, laughing to herself. Carmine the match-maker. Kind of. There was only one place she could go now, but she'd have to take it easy, circle the town a bit first, then strike out for the peak.

She didn't know what was up, but if Sharptooth didn't already know, she'd just been picked to tell him.

Oblivious, the four strange diamond dogs pecked at their food and ate, whilst Thorn and Beth pecked at each other.

♦♦♦

Chip lay in the oversized bed. He'd made out he was tired, had duly been sent to bed and had prepared for sleep. It would soon be time to put plan escape-during-the-night-so-Pyrite-doesn't-know into action. The plan was good. The title... not so much. There it was, the snick of the lock.

Chip sat up in bed, silently hoping. There was an odd scraping noise, and then silence. Chip counted to one hundred under his breath, and then rolled silently out of bed. Walking ever so slowly to the door, he spotted the piece of paper, with a key on it, and a note: Don't get caught.

Chip grinned. Caught? He was a ninja, silent like the wind, fast like the arrow, smart like... a very smart thing. He picked up his bit-bag and slung it over his neck, wriggling until it fitted snugly, and carefully pulled on the bolas, using his teeth and knees to tighten the clasps and straps. They would be loud if he swung them at something, but they were also noticeable enough by sight alone, from the box, and formed the sneaky part of his ensemble. Laughing at that thought, he gingerly put the key in the lock and turned it. He winced as the mechanism turned with what seemed to him to be a loud grinding noise now that the house was silent, but nopony stirred. He swung the door open, sneaked out, pulled it closed and locked it again. It wouldn't do for Pyrite or somepony the stallion sent to check up on him the find the door open, should they check. They probably wouldn't actually go into his room, would they? Chip entertained the thought for a moment, then shook his head. Naa, Pyrite was alright. Weird, but alright. As if his uncle would want to hurt him, he probably had his reasons for keeping Chip locked in. It was a big city, after all. Pyrite just didn't know he was a dragon and could take care of himself.

The house was dark, his hoofsteps fell muffled and silent on the thick carpet as he eased his way along the upper landing, down the stairs (avoid the fifth step from the top, it squeaks) along the hallway (pull the door open, push handle upwards, downwards it squeaks) and into a study. There was his prize, one of the only rooms without bars on the windows. Why, he had no idea. He eased the window up and clambered onto the desk to turn around and ease his hindquarters outside. From the outside, it would be a bit difficult to get back in, but Chip was nothing if not adventurous, he was sure there'd be something he could move to climb onto. He fell onto the cold, wet grass and rolled over.

He was outside. He'd done it. The elation was only momentary, he still had to get off the grounds. He trotted towards the gates, lifted the latch and eased himself through out into the night.

♦♦♦

A Night on the Town

═ The ══════════
Ambassador's
══════════ Son ═

Chapter Sixteen
A Night on the Town
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow

Chip wandered down well-paved streets, which slowly gave way to dingier, cobbled alleyways. By now it was well and truly dark. Luna's moon shone brightly somewhere in the sky, but it wasn't visible from ground level. From street-level the soft silvery light was all but non-existent. Stalliongrad was a city of industry, a city of shift workers and factory mules, of long hours and short pay. This left a visible pall that hung over the more industrial and often poorer areas.

Uncle Pyrite lived on a hill; from his mansion, almost the whole of Stalliongrad was visible when the smog was thin enough. Down here in the gloom, lit only by wan firefly lanterns, it was a whole other story. Still, something pulled Chip onwards. He was a restless soul, called onwards by the siren song of the new city. Maybe he was just in need of proving his independence from his uncle, in however clandestine a manner, but Chip felt something calling to him, and that call he obeyed.

The houses here were smaller, thinner and taller than those he remembered in Neighvada. In Neighvada, apartment buildings were tall and brightly lit. The poorer homes were gaudy and tacky, the richer homes gaudier. Here, they were worn and cramped and mostly dark, stained with soot and dirt. Strange shapes flitted about above the streets, from their raucous cries a good deal of them were griffons. Chip could only wander what they were hunting, there didn't appear to be much wildlife. Other shapes, though - other shapes told a different story. He could feel it now, deep in his bones. A kind of thrum, like he was a plucked guitar string. Dragons.

It was this strange feeling, and his nose for the peculiarly unique draconic scent, than led him to his final destination, many blocks from his new home. The draconic quarter spread out before him, distinct in architecture from the upper crust pony quarter, or the lower class working-class quarter and differing once again from the griffon quarter. The latter two had wider doorways and lower windows. The Griffons had tall eyries built for winged access, or underground homes marked with crude yet efficient animal-fat torches for those that preferred a dig to a perch.

Dragons, on the other hoof, had no windows or doors, not as such. They had basking rocks, large ledges for sunning on, and winding stone-clad hallways that spun into magefire-lit cavern-like rooms. One such building appeared to be somehow raised out of a small mountain, by either improbable magic or surprisingly handy natural formation. Chip doubted that it could be called something as mundane as a 'building', but he lacked the proper vocabulary. It rose into the sky, lit by torches and belches of flame from dragons both arriving and leaving. Music could be heard from within, and the hum and chatter of voices.

Chip stood for a moment, eyes closed, just drinking in the new sensations that flooded his body and mind. He had never felt this before, not even with his parents or friends, not like this. It was like the unspoken bond of a herd, but subtly different and - in this place, with hundreds of dragons within - far more powerful.

A hiss that snapped him out of his reverie. Looking up, Chip saw three pairs of eyes watching him from a first floor ledge. Two of the pairs of eyes, attached to one dragon each, leaped to the ground on either side of him.

"Hello there, you lost?" came the voice, soft and syrupy yet possessing a granite hardness that suggested he had better know exactly what he wanted.

Chip shook his head, looking up at the silvery-white dragon without fear, "I've been looking for you, kinda."

"Looking for dragons? That's begging for trouble, little pony."

There was another hiss from his left, "Nnnooo, Pig Iron, thisss... sssomething elssse."

Pig Iron, apparently the name of the silvery white dragon, spread his wings and almost flowed through the air down to street level. "Oh, ohhh, that's interesting, little one. I don't recognize your clan, but I do recognize your training spikes. Are you fit to wear such an honourable weapon? Or did you steal it from your master?"

Chip flicked his tail and the bolas that adorned it menacingly, "I have more armour, Pig Iron, and if you want I can show you how well I can use it."

"Feisty. I like that. You interest me, little one. You're something I've not seen before, though I have heard legends. Amethyst, fetch the boy a snack. It's a cold night, he's come a long way to Pig Iron's Palace. Bauxite, I'll send you out something."

"Yesss, boss." Bauxite, a red dragon that was little larger than Chip himself, scrambled up the side of the rock-face to the ledge he had sat on before, where he curled up and put his head on his tail, eyes scanning the darkness. Amethyst scuttled inside ahead of Pig Iron and Chip.

"You must be new around these parts, kid. I know every dragon around here, but I don't know you. You, I have to say, I would know. Name your clan."

"I am Chiphoof Irontail Leatherback, of the Diamond Expanse. Friends call me Chip."

"Leatherback, hmm? How is old Sharptooth then, you must have met him." Pig Iron's eyes gleamed in the darkness, draconic senses telling him one thing, eyes another.

"Sharptooth is my father." said Chip, after a few seconds, "he sent me to live with my uncle."

"Sharptooth has no brother, not in Stalliongrad." growled Pig Iron.

"It's complicated." Chip nodded. Pig Iron hissed appreciatively.

The silvery-white dragon put a claw on Chip's withers as they entered the main interior hall, waving the other around expansively as he presented his demesnes. "This is Pig Iron's Palace, Chip. Welcome to the best dragon bar in Stalliongrad. Every dragon comes here, every dragon is welcome, as long as you obey my rules. This is an Enclave, young... dragon," Pig Iron barely hesitated, to his credit, "a sanctuary. All feuds are left or dealt with outside, and everybody and everything inside is under my protection."

"I didn't come here to fight." Chip stated, as hundreds of pairs of eyes momentarily fastened on him, and then looked away, uninterested.

"Though you can if need be, I understand. Fire in the blood is hot in one so young, even for you I bet. I smell blood on you, Chip. How many?"

"One." Chip answered softly, "A diamond dog."

Pig Iron hissed angrily, "Mongrels. We don't tolerate their sort up here. Our workers of choice are the gem-eyed ponies from the Under Deeps. Loyal, hard-working. I don't own any though I sometimes wish I did."

Chip blinked, and was once again reminded how different dragons were. Amethyst ran up then, forestalling further speech. The small, light purple dragon had a tray with a selection of rocks, meat and gems in neat piles, held in his claws. It was a snack, of sorts, and it set Chip's mouth watering.

"On the house, Chip." Pig Iron said, as the tray was placed on a table. Chip's stomach growled, and Pig Iron laughed.

"Diamonds! They're my favourite." Chip bent and took a couple in his muzzle, chewing happily. He savoured their odd flavour - these were spicier than back home, subtly different. It still surprised him that what would have been mere decoration a few weeks ago was now a treat.

"You live up to your clan then, young dragon." Pig Iron said, relaxing.

Chip nodded, oblivious that he had passed some test, as he sampled the different snacks on offer. Emeralds tasted like fruity mints, sapphires somehow tasted like berries, coal was an interesting mixture of bread and apples and there was some sort of greyish powdery rock that tasted for all the world like baked scones. He wondered, idly, if it was his unique heritage that somehow translated flavours - or if it was this way for all dragons. He thought about it, and decided it would be as pointless as discussing colour vision.

Looking around the stone-clad multi-level room, Chip got a sense of age. Whenever dragons were involved, things were so rarely new. This tavern, inn, bar - whatever it was - was no exception. Thick smoke wafted high up where dark shapes flitted to and fro, some serving drinks or snacks, others just on the move. Hookahs were lit and re-lit with dragonfire and magelight, deep voices conversing in a lilting tongue that made his mane stand on end. Music wafted from whirling thaumatic machines, the resulting cacophony not entirely drowned out by the chattering hum of draconic speech that melted together into an audible melange. Companion creatures waited on their masters and mistresses, some were ponies, others were imp-like trolls with wings or without. Others still looked like oddly malformed miniature dragons. Some were bright-eyed and obedient, others fearful, still others were slovenly and sullen, stealing what scraps they could to feed themselves. There was the occasional screech and chattering as an errant servant was chastised, followed by heavy laughter or fierce muttering. There were griffons, too, pecking at plates of raw or at least barely-cooked meat from thankfully unidentifiable sources as they spoke in hushed squawks with other griffons or dragons. Of pony customers, there appeared to be none.

"So what brings you to Stalliongrad, so far from Lord Diamond?" Pig Iron asked, finally.

"I'm... I don't know. There was trouble, but Sharptooth hasn't told me everything." Chip said, between mouthfuls. "I want to go home, I'm a dragon, I can look after myself."

"That's the spirit." Pig Iron sat on his haunches and watched the strangely equine dragon eating. "Your story intrigues me, young Chip. I would hear more."

"What do you want to know?"

"I ask," Pig Iron said, gesticulating at his chest with a wave of his claw, "for my hoard. Do you have a hoard yet?"

Chip thought for a moment, glancing around the large cavernous room. Dragons lay all around; some sat on their haunches, others perched on spikes, others lounged in depressions similar to Sharptooth's weir.

"I do, but it is small."

Pig Iron nodded slowly, "Do you see all this? Do you know who owns it?"

"I thought you did," Chip said. "Don't you?"

"Listen to me, young dragon, because I am going to tell you something important, a story for a story, is that fair? The biggest hoard a dragon should have is not measured in floor space, it is measured in the amount of pages it would fill. You seem like a dragon who can appreciate my viewpoint, so I share it, in the manner of my clan, the Iron Hall Clan."

"You mean knowledge, don't you." Chip said, ears perking up.

"Indeed. These dragons, some of them my good friends, most don't appreciate it. They explore, fight, dig, collect - and then they come to my Enclave. They give me their baubles and their time and chatter. I don't have to fight, I give freely, and in return I collect so much more. My hoard grows without my intervention. Do you understand?"

Chip nodded, "Sharptooth's hoard has a lot less gold and jewels than I would have expected, a lot more... paintings and models and stuff."

Pig Iron's eyes narrowed, "Go on, tell me how a dragon such as yourself came to be."

Chip looked at Pig Iron carefully, considering, "My... father, my pony father, would have told me to watch my mane with you, because I'd find it missing if I gave you half a chance."

Pig Iron laughed, "Indeed you would! There is no pressure here, but I offer you something in return - your appearance has piqued my interest, young Chip. Indulge me, you may find my lesson rewarding."

"Okay." Chip took a bite of the meat, he wasn't sure what animal it was from, but he knew meat by now. It was foreign again to gems and rocks, but... it had something that grabbed his tongue and wouldn't let go. He chewed, thoughtfully. Whatever it was, was dead. It had been killed, skinned, stripped, blooded, sliced up and cooked. Wasting such a gift, even one taken not given, didn't sit well with Chip. He wasn't sure he liked it, but... he could eat it.

"I was born Chiphoof Irontail, from Neighvada. My parents died, in a mining accident. A diamond dog mine collapsed on them and the trolls they were with. Celestia sent me to live with Sharptooth, and he adopted me, said something about keeping me safe. I didn't know it would... do this, but it did. Now," Chip stopped, swallowing another chunk of meat, "now Sharptooth sent me here, to my uncle Pyrite."

"Pyrite, huh? Young dragon, what do you think of Stalliongrad?"

"I'm not supposed to be out, my uncle locks me in. It's dirty, big, busy... and it has dragons and griffons and ponies and it's really cool, and I can take care of myself. Pyrite doesn't know that."

"I bet you haven't tried to explain your... situation either, have you?"

Chip shook his head.

Pig Iron sat, silently regarding the strange dragon before him, as around the pair, the Enclave thrummed with life. "Chip, as a friend, do not tell Pyrite what you are. He couldn't understand anyway, little one, and it is far more than eating rocks and flesh."

"I know, I think," Chip said. "Sharptooth was teaching me all about being a dragon. He started with the training spikes, and breathing fire, and roaring."

"Then let me continue your training. I want to show you something. Oak Keg! Oak, come!" Pig Iron turned to the bar, where an earth pony was tending to customers, serving them drinks that bubbled, smoked, steamed or just plain burst into flames. He was a large red stallion, with dark brown-and-green flecked mane and tail. His fetlocks were long and creamy white and a wooden cask adorned his flank as a cutie mark.

"Oak, submit."

Chip watched as the large, red pony bent down on his knees until his belly was on the floor. Oak then lay his head on the ground, and rolled over onto his side, upper fore and hind legs raised to expose his belly, head angled upwards in relation to his back so his neck was similarly open. The pony trembled, fearfully.

"Look around, Chip, tell me what you see."

"I, I..."

"I said look around, not at my pet."

"Nopo- nobody is watching? They're all... mostly at least, just... drinking, eating, talking."

"And yet here lies a pony, in front of me. I could kill him now, you understand? I could spill his blood on my floor, rend and tear his flesh, and do you know what would happen?"

"N-no." Chip shook, slightly, looking down at the pony before him. Chip could hear a soft whimper from the creature.

"Nothing. I'd have to clean the floor myself, that's what would happen." Pig Iron placed a claw on the pony's withers, "Be at peace, Oak my pet, I love you far too much to ever make such an example of you. Relax, relax, you're needed here a while, okay?"

Chip watched, visibly disturbed, as the strange white dragon with the red eyes comforted the scared pony until Oak visibly went slack, lowering his fore and hind legs until they were on the ground, folded up as if he were sleeping, breathing easier. The pony's eyes remained closed, he was resting.

"I saved his grandsire, long ago, from certain death. In return, his life became mine. I owned him, body and soul. I didn't own his mares, but I did own their foals, and their foals' foals, and so on. Most I release from direct bondship, I am not a harsh owner, but some I keep. Oak Keg, here, is one such. He technically owns Pig Iron's Palace, and I own him. See his cutie mark? Look again."

Chip wandered closer, and looked carefully at the cask on the pony's flank. On the cask was a stylized iron bar, the bar itself had various lines and markings that reminded him of... Chip looked up, "That's your clan sign, isn't it?"

"Indeed, young dragon. I own him, from tip to tail, and his cutie mark displays his status. This is what it means to be a dragon, Chip. When we take others into the darkness beyond twilight, it is not a mere formality. I have had Celestia herself petition for the release of my 'slaves', but she will not have them, not without my say so, because I am a dragon. I am beyond her commands, and I am at liberty to keep what pets are rightfully mine. There was no trick, no duplicity. A pony would have died, I saved that pony's life, and in return, his life was mine. I treasured him as I treasured his foals, as I treasure their foals' foals."

Pig Iron stroked the pony, making soft and gentle noises. He looked back up at Chip from where he crouched, "I dislike the term slaves, though that is what other dragons may call them. They are pets, Chip. Pets are part of the family, they work for the family. A slave is not, a slave toils for a master. From one pony, little Chip, grew a small herd. In time, that herd may rival Equestria itself. My lifetime as a dragon will be a long one, and I invest my time and power where I see fit. This is another lesson you must learn, young one. Gold does not multiply itself, but deeds and knowledge does. In every deed, see to it that you do as a dragon would do, and do not bring shame to our kind."

Chip looked down at the pony on the floor, a pet of the dragon that stroked his mane idly and cooed softly. Chip looked at himself. He could never be like that pony on the floor, not anymore; he was beyond it, changed by everything. He wore a body of hooves, mane and tail, but his heart was that of a dragon, his mind had to be too.

"Your pet does your clan proud," Chip said, lamely. He didn't know the proper words, but he thought he understood how it should work. "He is a fine specimen."

"I thank you, Chiphoof, young lord of the Diamond Expanse." Pig Iron nodded, pleased with both the wording and the understanding, "As a gesture of my thanks, allow me to open you a tab at the bar. Spend within reason, and pay up within a century or so, and we shall remain in good graces with each other."

"Why do you keep... pets, though?" Chip asked, "If it brings you trouble with Celestia?"

"You can answer that one yourself, can't you?"

Chip nodded slowly, he cleared his throat before answering. "It's because... they're under your protection. You help keep the peace in Stalliongrad, between dragons and ponies. Your... pets live and work all over the city, even the ones that you don't keep like this one." Chip pointed to the 'animal' on the floor, realising where he stood in relation to it.

"The peace between us dragons and ponies like my pet here is fragile at times, seeing as dragons are carnivores as well as lithovores. No dragon may harm my property, so touching any pony becomes a possible matter of draconic honour. I serve the Equestrian Crown even as I defy it. And in return, Celestia owes me, and my hoard grows in importance again. You're learning. Now, what would you like to drink?"

Chip licked his lips as Pig Iron bid Oak Keg rise and tend the bar once more, "What would you suggest?"

Pig Iron smiled as he led the way to the bar, stepping behind it himself and gesturing for Chip to take a seat. "Well, there's a flaming sulfur screwball, a diamond glitter snowball, or whizbang if you're uncouth enough. I detest the stuff, but there are a few regulars who can handle it."

"What's 'Whizbang'?" Chip asked, raising an eyebrow.

Pig Iron snorted, "Something you'd best forget about. It gets popular every few years before the hatchlings grow up enough to get over it or the clan lords around here stamp it out. You can either inhale it powdered or drink it mixed, if you must know. For those unable to control their baser natures it can easily become a habit. It's not truly addictive, and its effects are mildly enjoyable, when taken in moderation. It's utterly fatal to almost every other form of life in Equestria, with no known cure and has rightly been made illegal almost everywhere. Which is the only real reason to stock it. Even having seen you make short work of that snack-tray, I can't recommend it. A youngster like you, it'd likely just cause you a bellyache, put out your fire and make you sick for the night."

"If it doesn't?"

"I'm told it's fantastic," Pig Iron rolled his eyes as he made something that hissed and bubbled, smelling rather strongly of fire and brimstone. He pushed the goblet to Chip, who sipped at it gingerly. The mixture warmed him all the way down, and caused him to hiccup. A small burst of flame shot out his nose and he grinned like an idiot as the glow seemed to spread.

"Personally, I'd stick to this stuff. A good healthy mix of sulfur and arsenic."

Chip hiccupped again, sending a gout of flame spewing across the bar. Pig Iron laughed, "See? Good for what ails you."

♦♦♦

Revelations

═ The ══════════
Ambassador's
══════════ Son ═

Chapter Seventeen
Revelations
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow

Chip weaved his way home through the rainy streets, pleasantly sozzled. He wasn't sure what he'd been drinking. He wasn't actually sure where he'd been. Something about a bar, and dragons. And drinks. Lots and lots of drinks. The bizarre beverages warmed him, and made the world delightfully spinny. He hiccuped, dimly remembering singing something back in the bar, for a brief moment. The world lit up in yellow and gold as flames shot out of his nostrils and a few bars of the tune danced through his head. He wasn't sure whether he should be worried that whatever-it-was had been in ancient draconic, a language he didn't speak, or not. He hadn't understood the words, so they'd probably been rude. Most songs you sing when mildly tipsy in languages you didn't understand were rude. He probably shouldn't have been singing it, but then he probably shouldn't have been drinking and he definitely hadn't been allowed out in the first place.

He found gates in front of him. Said gates appeared to be locked. They were made of that strange dark crunchy candy called 'iron'. A few bites later and the gates weren't locked any more! Wonderful! He wasn't sure if he liked the paint coating, it was a decent lead pigment vintage, but a bit heady for his tastes.

A few hoofsteps later, and he found his body had decided to inspect the gravel driveway without asking the rest of him if that was okay. Gravel didn't taste all that good, but then regurgitated draconic drinks didn't make anything taste good, especially not the roof of his mouth. Whatever. He huffed deeply, it was rather comfy, even if it was raining. Not that the rain was getting anywhere near him. For some reason it was puffing into steam a few inches from his pelt. He didn't feel cold and he wasn't sure how many legs he had. The rocks under him were glowing slightly, the clouds had rolled in and the world seemed to be insisting he take a nap. It couldn't hurt to close his eyes for a few minutes, surely?

There was burning, golden sunlight, and the raucous sound of birdsong.

Plenty of both.

Lots and lots of healthy sunlight and entrancing birdsong that both blinded and deafened him. It brought him back to a world that was still spinny, but no longer delightful when doing so.

"Ooohhh Luna's Fetlocks..." Chip opened his eyes again. The increase in sunlight made him wince, and he slammed them shut once more. He could do this. He was pretty sure he still had only four legs, and was somewhat enamoured of the idea that the world wasn't really moving. Right foreleg, left foreleg. There. Keep them steady... and left hindleg followed by... tumbling back down in an unceremonial heap.

Chip sighed. This was harder than it looked.

Several tries later, and he had gotten to his hooves. Putting one hoof in front of the other, he managed to amble towards the door. One of them had to open, he reasoned, once he managed to negotiate the real set of steps up. Somehow, all three front doors opened at once, and three Uncle Pyrites came bounding out of each one.

Pyrite zipped past Chip and cantered in a circle, before glaring back up the steps, and coincidentally up most of Chip. He hoped to Celestia's bright bushy blue beard he was still invisible.

"So you tell me, my good stallion, where that delinquent little halfwit is?"

Chip's eyes uncrossed long enough to glare at Silver Chalice and shake his head. The black unicorn raised one hoof and made as if about to speak and point. Chip made a zipping motion across his muzzle and the butler closed his muzzle again. He opened it a moment later to reply, "My lord, he must be in one of the bathrooms on the ground floor. Did you check them all?"

"Of course I... well, no, I guess I didn't check them all. Why would he be using the servants' facilities?"

"It is a little known fact, my lord," Silver Chalice looked reluctant to speak, but sighed and continued, "that the servants' showers are nearer the furnace."

"You mean the help has had all my hot water, all this time?"

"Indeed, sir."

"I am most displeased." Pyrite narrowed his eyes.

"Regrettable, sir."

"Any idea when he'll be out? And whether there will be anything remotely above 'tepid' left?"

"I shall stoke the furnace myself, sir, and my lord may of course avail himself of the servants' facilities."

"I'd rather die."

"Very good, sir."

Pyrite stormed back in, oblivious to the shambling wreck of a pony making its slow, painful way to the servants' showers.

Chip wondered whether whatever made him invisible could also just make him disappear and reappear in a world where an axe wasn't being used to inspect what remained of his grey matter. Hot water helped, although the colours that the porcelain turned beneath his hooves was distressingly bilious. Eventually it ran clear enough, as did his thoughts, to step out and rejoin the living. Things were looking up. The world was mostly still when he was, and he longer stank like rotten eggs and burnt tin. There was just one problem.

"Oh for the love of... where's a towel when you need one?"

"Good morning, young master, would you be requiring extra fluffy or would a regular towelling be enough?"

Chip looked up at a sternly glaring Silver Chalice. "Oh horseapples."

"So, tell me again... you're invisible?"

"I... don't know," Chip said with a sigh. "All I know is that Pyrite can't see me, or hear me I think, when I'm wearing my armor or carrying my box, which he can't see either."

Silver Chalice glared at Chip, who wilted under the gaze. "I said do not get caught!"

"I can't!" Chip complained. "He can't see or hear me!"

Silver Chalice glared for a few moments longer, snorted and then stalked off, grumbling. Chip let out his breath. Diamond dogs? No problem. Griffons? Big deal. Dragons? Pssh. Angry butlers? He shivered.

"And," called the deep, solemn voice of Silver Chalice from further down the gloom-soaked corridor, "if young master Chip would happen to know what the muffin happened to the front gates, I would be very interested to find out."

"The front gates?" Chip said to himself under his breath, what could possibly have happened to the front gates?

♦♦♦

"Three more this morning." cried Carmine breathlessly, as she bounded through the door, paws barely touching the ground as she landed inside the dragon's den.

"Three?" Sharptooth looked up from the workbench he'd set up in the corner, where he was working with semi-molten metal. Blue flames had been playing carefully over the glowing rods and struts, but now burst from his muzzle and flickered out. His eyes unfocused for a second before his gaze fastened on the young hen griffon who had burst into his mountain-clad home. "Tell me."

"They came separately, two by train and one by coach, but they met up at Beryl's Bar like the rest."

"This troubles me." Sharptooth fiddled with the strange mechanical device in front of him for a few minutes, bending and manipulating to set it as it cooled.

Carmine shuffled her feet, finally coughing softly.

"Ah, ahem, I am sorry. Would you like some tea?"

"Tea? At a time like this?"

Sharptooth chuckled, "Tea is good for what ails you, dear Carmine. Chip loved when we made... made tea together." The dragon's expression grew somber.

"Why did you send him away?" Carmine asked, accusingly, "He was happy here!"

"Happy?" Sharptooth gently put down the pieces he was fitting together and made a fist with his claw. He put it, gently, down onto the table. "You didn't hear him crying, child."

"Of course he was crying you... you idiot!" Carmine's breath caught in her throat. Had she really just called a dragon an idiot? Blustering in the face of the sudden angry glower from the huge green lizard, she carried on, trying to explain herself before the inevitable fiery death consumed her. "He'd just lost his parents! And now... now he's lost them again, you! You didn't hear how he spoke about you at school. Very first day I met him, he told me he was a dragon. I didn't... I didn't understand him then, but... he..."

Sharptooth strode over to the griffon and pulled her head up by the stern yet gentle application of a claw to the underside of her beak, "It is something hard to understand, young one," the dragon said, "but it is true, and you are right, I was a fool to send him away... but I cannot help it if I wish to save my child from the danger that even now surrounds us. Maybe I was too hasty, he is after all a dragon."

Carmine sensed that the dragon was talking to himself more than her. She stalked closer to the workbench, eyeing the contraption the dragon was building. She stroked the struts and straps with a forepaw, smoothing the strange thin webbing material. "Danger?"

"Yes, whoever is summoning these rogue diamond dogs is... most likely desperate. Nobody mobilizes their forces this visibly and clumsily unless they are assured of victory or fear defeat. Even a child could see what they're doing. The question is why they canvas Tacksworn. Surely they know where..." Sharptooth cleared his throat, "it is dangerous for you to be here, young Carmine Wildfeather."

"What aren't you telling me? This is my home, sir. My friends all live here," or should, she added mentally, "I've been watching these strangers come into town for the last week, I've told my parents and you, but if you know something everyone else doesn't, please tell me?"

Sharptooth pointed to the strange device he was building, "That is for Chip. Before he... left, he drew some simple plans for wings. I am building the first iteration of that device for my son."

Carmine squawked angrily, "And?"

"He was brought here by Celestia herself, who charged me with keeping him safe, which is why I sent him away when it became clear that the trouble following Chip was in fact following me. I am old, Carmine, in your terms. I saw Everfree Castle just after Luna's banishment as Nightmare Moon..."

"But what does this have to do with Chip? And Tacksworn?" Carmine butted in, frustrated.

"I am getting there, impatient chick." Sharptooth opened a drawer in the workbench, rifling through it. He pulled out a small leather-bound folder. "What they are looking for, is the master copy of this."

Carmine watched as Sharptooth undid the bindings and opened the folder, smoothing out the creases on a strangely flexible scroll. Carmine realised it was made on cured hide, skin. She bent closer, and made out a neat yet imperfect map of Equestria.

"This was my life's work, after both my mothers died. I spent a good few centuries finding myself by finding Equestria; I was a young dragon brought up by ponies, recently returned to the Great Flight and still ignorant of the ways of my true kind."

"You... made maps?"

"Not just any maps, but the maps to which Equestrian cartographers today still refer, though they do not have my master copy. Celestia bid me keep it safe. I found something as I was searching for myself, you see. You do know the diamond dogs are not natives to Equestria? Well, their origin is as strange as my own kind's is. Space and time are not as orderly as most think, not here on the outskirts of Equestria. These are the untamed edges of Celestia's Realm. There was, at one brief time, a path between this world, and their world. I found it quite by accident. I fear it is this map to a path they believe will lead them to lost riches, that the diamond dogs search for, and they will stop at nothing to have it."

"Can't you just give it to them?" Carmine hissed, "They're moving in to Tacksworn, stirring up trouble, and all because of a dumb map?"

"However the map," Sharptooth laughed, bitterly, as he folded the miniature copy back up, "is useless, but they will never believe me. Would you? The pride of your homelands, dangled out of reach, told you could never have it? If I should give it to them, many other secrets may be revealed - and yet not the one they seek. Who can tell what they would do? They are a fractious and ill-behaved people." Sharptooth slammed the drawer closed.

"So there's a way back home for these Diamond Dogs?"

Sharptooth shook his head, "No, it is most likely long gone. It may open again, it may move and stray, but their homeland is here, Equestria. They are not like dragons, though many of our kind call this land their home. None answer directly to the call of Celestia, however. Dragons are far too proud. Much like your own people, yes?" The dragon's eyes twinkled as he gazed at Carmine, who clicked her beak thoughtfully.

"Where was this... path?"

Sharptooth narrowed his eyes, "Near Neighvada. And so I wait, Carmine, for the inevitable move when the diamond dogs seek entrance to my cave and my horde, seeking to rob me of my collection, my memories."

"So you're sitting up here, whilst a pack of fuzzy mongrels takes over Tacksworn, looking for a map that leads back to where Chip was born?" Carmine stomped a paw, lashing her tail. A moment later, she knew she'd gone too far.

Sharptooth growled as he rose to his hind claws, neck bending down to spear her with a steely gaze, sulfurous fumes wafting from that great, toothed maw, "I do not idly sit and wait, young Carmine. I am a dragon. Do not insult me or my clan in mistaking deliberate, methodical planning for inaction. Tacksworn itself lies in oath to my kind, and to me in particular. Do not seek to lecture me, child. I will have your family's blood oath in bondage before I take an undeserved slight. You, chick, are but one pair of my eyes and ears. I have others. This town is my domain, that I do not exercise my rights is in deference to Princess Celestia and King Greybeak."

"I..." Carmine shook as mighty claws were flexed in her direction.

Sharptooth relented, his tone softening, "If you are to deal with my and my kind more, it would behoove you to know this: it is customary amongst our kind to own slaves. I do not, but answer me this, young one; To whom did you fly? To whom do they always fly?"

Carmine blinked as the world went cold around her, "To you." she hissed, and realized it has always been thus. When land needed purchasing or selling. When special weather needed arranging. When building materials from far-off lands were hard to acquire, Sharptooth was there. He herded, arranged and assisted. The annual Tacksworn Fair was organized in collaboration with the Mayor and the other members of the local council, but everybody knew it was Sharptooth who sat as the true head of the council, and had done for centuries. He likely would for centuries more.

"Indeed. And now these mongrels threaten not only my self and my home, but my town. Rest assured, Miss Wildfeather, they will not have it."

♦♦♦

Chip sat at Pyrite's long table, chasing some pony-food around a plate, the same as he had done every night for the last week or so. There was a cough, and Chip looked up.

"Have you... taken a look yet at the letter I delivered last week?" Pyrite sounded hopeful.

"Letter?" mumbled Chip through the strange greenery in front of him. It tasted weird, like most food seemed to now.

"Yes, the letter, from the lawyers for the Irontail estate once they were notified of your new change of address. Another was sent, since you didn't answer the first one. I... thought you deserved a little time, to get over the loss of your mother and father, but you really do need to-"

"Have any of my letters been answered?" Chip asked, shaking his head to answer Pyrite's question.

Pyrite scowled, "No."

Chip's brow furrowed, "Really? I could've sworn Sharptooth would've answered by now."

"Maybe they got lost?" Pyrite offered, helpfully.

Chip sullenly chewed his hay fries in plum sauce with a white-wine and carrot casserole, and sulked. He'd been writing letters to Sharptooth demanding to know when he could go home. It wasn't that he didn't like living with uncle Pyrite, but... he didn't like living with uncle Pyrite. The only thing he'd miss would be Sunshine. He'd miss her quite a lot, actually. He really liked her, as a friend. She knew all the best hiding places in the mansion, so even without his Pyrite-b-gone draconic armor they could get into plenty of trouble.

An envelope was placed on the table before him, snapping him out of his reverie.

"You should read it, and... it's probably a good idea. You know, in case something happened."

Chip scowled. He'd read the previous one, and ignored it. He was Sharptooth's son now, and Sharptooth would do a better job of looking after the Irontail estate than Pyrite could, right? Sharptooth did still want him, didn't he? Chip slumped in his wide, plush seat. He'd been sending letters to Sharptooth, so if they'd been sent by draconic flame-mail they should have arrived almost instantaneously... so why hadn't Sharptooth answered? Instead, he was cooling his hooves here. He had realized throughout the last week that he really missed his desert home, and it just wasn't like Sharptooth to act like this, even if he dropped Chip here...

Chip opened the letter with a practiced swipe of his hoof, dragging out the folded paper and opening it. It was in standard legaleze, the sort of thing he could barely understand, but he got the gist of it. He had the first time. They were angry, reading between the lines, that pony property had been given to a dragon, and felt that only a real pony should be the designated executor of the estate, let alone guardian of the heir. Chip picked it up in his teeth and threw it across the table, "Tell them to get lost. Sharptooth is my dad now, and he's down near the mines. He can manage them perfectly well."

"That... dragon, right?" Pyrite looked confused for a moment, confused and angry.

"Yes. He's my father, and I'm a... his son. I'll never change that."

"Very well." Pyrite got up, which was a signal for the staff to take the plates away, "I think you and I need a heart to heart. Meet me in my study in a half hour."

Chip narrowed his eyes slightly at Pyrite. For days something had been nagging at him about this strange uncle of his, maybe this would be a good time to clear the air. "Of course, unc," Chip tried hard to sound upbeat and happy.

"Good show, Chip my lad. We can have tea and discuss this foolish plan of yours to let a bloodthirsty beast fritter away our family's gold, would you like that?"

Chip grinned, as hard as he could. It almost hurt his gums. "I would love that, unc. I... might have been stupid. You're so rich and clever, you must know what you're talking about. I'll finish my latest letter to Sharptooth, and then bring it to you, okay?"

"Splendid!" Pyrite, half a table away, was beaming like the sun on a summer's morning. He turned smartly around and strode out of the dining room.

Chip's smile faded. It was time to stop thinking like a pony, and start thinking like a dragon. Pig Iron had been right, Pyrite would never understand what Sharptooth had done, nor how. He would never accept Sharptooth as a guardian... but it wasn't because Sharptooth was a dragon, it was because he wasn't Pyrite.

Remember, Sharptooth had said, all this is yours. The dragon had been sincere, even in trying to give it all away. Pyrite was insincere and appeared to be trying to take it.

Often, his parents had talked about wishing to be a fly on the wall during negotiations. He'd only listened with half an ear, playing with his toy trainsets or Real Tail Action Discord Doll, but their words floated back to coach him. Chip grimaced. He could be that fly. Spying was wrong, but Chip had to know. He was sure he was right about Sharptooth, that meant something was wrong about Pyrite.

♦♦♦

Chip knocked lightly on the door, it swung partially open.

"Come in!" came the cheery voice from inside.

Chip nosed the door open and stepped in. A fire was burning in the grate, and a tray with a teapot and two cups of tea was on a small mahogany table. Two bowls of some salad-like dish were next to them. Around the fire were two ofthe wide, soft plush chairs that Pyrite seemed to like so much.

"Come in, come in. I thought we should just... talk a while, you know? You can tell me how you've been, how you like your stay here, that sort of thing."

Chip sniffed at the tea as he wandered closer.

Pyrite took a sip of his own cup, and gestured with a hoof, "Imported, from Neighpon."

Chip settled himself into the other chair, and nibbled on the salad a bit. He'd never had anything like it before, it was... interesting. Exotic. "I won't sign, you know."

Pyrite laughed, and drank some more tea, "Forget about that for a while. Tell me, how do you like it here?"

"It's... nice."

"Only nice? It's got to be better than living in some desert hovel in the middle of nowhere!"

Chip scowled, "I liked Sharptooth's house! I had my own room and everything!"

"You've got your own room here, lad!"

"Which you lock me in at night!"

Pyrite leaned back in his chair, waiting, as Chip angrily drank tea and ate the salad. "It's true, I lock you in."

"Why?"

Pyrite drank some more of his own tea, slowly and deliberately. "It's so you can't follow me, when I go to meet my... employees. I wouldn't worry about that now though. You won't have to worry about anything much longer."

Chip stopped chewing. He opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. He spat the salad out on the floor as his blood ran cold.

Pyrite chuckled, shaking his head, "Oh, the salad was just insurance. There grows within some areas of Equestria many interesting plants. That is an interesting one. They call it barbed ragweed, which is a strange thing to call it, for it is neither ragweed, nor does it posess barbs. What it is, is rather poisonous. It won't kill you, probably, but it does lower tolerance for other things that can."

"What did you..." Chip blinked. The room was feeling very hot all of a sudden, and a somewhat familiar wooziness was creeping over his body.

"Relax, lad, it won't be long now. I doubled the dose on a new batch. You managed to recover, last time... I don't understand how... but this time? This time you have no chance."

"What did you do?" Chip croaked. The world was starting to spin, and his vision was growing indistinct and hazy, with odd lights flaring just out of sight.

Pyrite sipped his tea, "Oh, lad, I've been a busy pony, these last few years. So busy. I've been searching and seeking and you know what? I've made a lot of friends. I hear things, you see? I hear about odd plants and strange minerals, and most of all, I learn about this stuff the dragons sell. Apparently to them, it's like... salt, right? But to stupid little colts like you? To normal ponies who... are pregnant and think it's vitamin supplements because it's written on the side, and they take it..."

"You killed... your wife?" Chip dragged himself off the seat. He had to get up... he had to...

"I DIDN'T KILL HER!" Pyrite screamed, kicking the table, the tray and it's contents far across the room, where the cups shattered and the liquid splashed across the walls, ceiling and floor.

"You were going to," Chip wheezed as he hit the floor hard, legs giving out from under him, "only you killed her before she could give birth." He coughed, it hurt. His stomach lurched and he felt himself throw up.

"So she died. And my son died. And her worthless brother took my name. So I killed them, I dropped a mine on them."

Chip gasped, even through the pain, looking up into the mad, wide eyes of his uncle, who threw back his head and laughed cruelly. An angry heat built in his stomach, the pit of shame and fear turned at once to a boiling rage.

"An accident, yes? They told you it was an accident? Of course they did. I paid them to say that. It cost me." Pyrite got up, walked right up to Chip, and hissed in his face, "and still my name finds a new home. An ungrateful little snivelling colt, stolen away from my minions before I could end his life, too. And then, what happens?"

Chip was trying to stand up, snarling incoherently, but his legs kept failing him. He retched, and whimpered, and cried, emptying his stomach all over the plush carpet.

Pyrite ignored it, walking back to the fire, stoking it with a poker he held in his muzzle. Putting thet metal rod down, he turned back to Chip. "The stupid foal is brought right to my lap, and dropped into my hooves. So I take him home, and I tell my doctors and my lawyers and my police-ponies... I explain to them something. Shall I tell you what I explained to them?"

Chip snapped his teeth and snarled, rolling across the floor as the world refused to right itself.

"I told them young Chip has become ill, of a broken heart. He doesn't barely get up in the morning, he doesn't go out, he doesn't attend lessons."

"Lies! Sunshine..." Chip groaned, fighting.

"Yes, a pity, they will need to be dealt with, both Sunshine and her doddering sire. Never mind, I bought enough of this for everypony." Pyrite laughed again, almost jovially, as he went to a cupboard. He pulled out, very carefully, a glass jar. He was trembling as he did so, as if he were afraid to get too close. "You see this? I laced your tea with it, I'm surprised you didn't taste it, but then you've never struck me as very intelligent."

Chip struggled, his tongue felt too big for his muzzle and it was hard to breathe. He tried to say, "I'm going to kill you!" but what came out was barely recognizable.

"Oh, don't worry. I never sent any of your pathetic, mewling letters." Pyrite opened a drawer, and threw a bunch of papers from it into the fire. He kept one, smoothing the creases out. "There, now I have the perfect opportunity to forge your signature. It will be foals' play, Chip me lad. But you'll already be gone. Don't worry, I'll give you a proper, tearful burial."

A hoof in his ribs knocked the breath out of Chip, and Pyrite laughed as he trotted out of the room, "You lie here a while... it'll all be better soon. You just let that cup of grade 'A' whizbang do it's job."

♦♦♦

Chip lay on the carpet, breathing heavily. The hoofsteps of Uncle Pyrite dwindled into the distance. The room spun, the strange lights danced, his stomach heaved... but Chip began to laugh.

Slowly, very slowly, he pulled himself up to all four hooves.

Whizbang.

Chip laughed again, even as he fell against the wall,knocking over a display case. He hoofed the door open and fell through it.

Whizbang.

Of all the substances in the world to try to kill him with...

Chip threw up again, but there was nothing left any more, just bile. He navigated the stairs, mostly by falling up them. He found his door, and fell through it. He rolled around on his floor, laughing at the similarity. What had he come here for? He wasn't sure it mattered, for a few minutes, but then one thought caught in his mind.

Sunshine.

Pyrite might have been ignorant enough to try to poison Chip with draconic narcotics, but whilst it just left him feeling sick and silly, it would certainly do a lot more to Sunshine Filigree and her father.

He had to get well, or well enough, to save them, or at least warn them. He wasn't enough of a dragon though. He was just a... a hatchling.

He blinked.

He laughed.

the world still barely made sense, but he knew where his box was. He crawled under the bed, and tipped it up. His training spikes fell across the floor, and he flailed as he searched for his objective. He spotted it, scrabbling with hooves. It was small, flat, and covered in black velvet. As he twitched, breathing ragged, he unwrapped the eggshell very carefully.

Sharptooth's egg.

A piece of the egg his draconic, adoptive father had been born from.

Suffused with the essence of a dragon.

Gingerly, shaking, he bit, and chewed.

♦♦♦

Silver Chalice was busy brushing his daughter's mane and tail when there came a knock at his apartment door. "Just a moment, sir." he called. The unicorn recognized that knock anywhere, and whilst he was technically off the clock, it wasn't seemly to ignore the call of one's employer.

The door opened to a smiling Pyrite, holding a tray in his teeth.

"Sir?"

Pyrite put the tray down, "Oh, Silver, I... you know, I've been a bit of a grump, lately, and I just wanted to apologize. I thought... I thought I could do something nice for you, how about that? I've made some tea, and some fortified biscuits. I thought we could all have a bit of a nosh and a chinwag, eh?"

"I... don't know what to say sir."

"Mostly folk say thank you." prompted Pyrite, with another smile

"Well thank you, sir, but..."

"Ah-ah! No buts. Just a small cup, and one biscuit? I promise you'll like them."

Silver Chalice sighed, but then smiled. He enjoyed his quiet time with his daughter, when neither of them had places to be and he could just be with the one good thing in his life, that reminded him of his lost love... but there would be time. "Very well sir. Would you do the honours?"

"Allow me, my friend."

The tea certainly did smell good, as did the biscuits. Silver raised his cup and a biscuit, he noticed his daughter doing the same. Proud of her accomplishments with magic, he nodded once to Pyrite, and prepared to sip. The tea was hot, golden, with an intriguing fragrance... it burnt his nostrils in a pleasantly spicey flavour.

He puckered his lips and slurped...

The wall exploded.

The boards, ancient and warped. The wood old and dry, yet firm and strong. The plaster, cracked with age. None of it withstood the force of nature that demanded such fripperies as these remove themselves from its presence. It was a whirling, snorting demon; flaming eyes and sharp hooves, a whip-like tail that smote the air asunder.

"Get away from them!" Chip bellowed, as pieces of the house rained like confetti around the room. All three ponies found themselves cowering from a sudden, overwhelming presence that snuck in through the ears and went straight for the hindbrain without contacting the intellect.

Silver found his skin crawling, his tail flagging high in fear and his eyes rolling of their own accord. His magic failed him and the cup - untasted - fell the floor. The roughly pony-shaped demon slammed its hooves on the china with such force that it was pulverized into dust. The creature took a deep breath, seemed to swell to three times it's previous size, and then it roared.

A stream of hot, shameful liquid spattered against the carpet from between his legs as Silver fled, pushing his daughter as far away from the monster as he could. Both were struck dumb with fear. Silver watched, mute with terror, as the creature turned towards Pyrite.

It said a single word. It spoke it quietly, but with more malice and anger than Silver had ever heard before in his life, and dearly hoped never to hear again.

"Run."

Pyrite fled.

Silver trembled, eyes unfocused, brain latched on to the single thought that permeated his very being: monster-bad-defend-death.

"Sunshine," the monster said, "are you... okay?"

Silver blinked, shaking with shock and fear. He watched the demonic entity in front of him ignorantly for a few moments, wheels spinning idly, before it dawned on him that the creature in front of him... was Chip. The fear permeated the room like the stench of his piss, but through it his brain warred with itself to understand what it was seeing.

With every fibre of his being, his body sang monster-dragon-run-fight, but his eyes and heart told him this was Chip, the small, lost colt that had befriended his daughter.

"Ch-Chip?" it was his daughter who spoke, sobbing, yet paradoxically the first to recover.

"You didn't... drink anything? Or eat anything? Did you?" Before his eyes, the... thing... seemed to deflated, to soften.

"N-no..."

"Don't, it's poison." Chip's voice was suddenly cold, like ice.

"Poison?" Silver shook his head to clear it, spell broken, "What do you mean, 'poison'? How come you're... how come you know? Didn't you..? You must have..? Poison?"

Chip nodded, pawing forehoof gouging great tracks out of the carpet as if he bore claws instead of hooves, "My soon-to-be-late uncle tried to murder you and me, like he murdered my parents, and like he murdered my aunt."

"He what!?" shouted Silver, snorting angrily.

"Murdered them, poison and... I don't know, but he arranged the mining accident."

"Then how come..?" Silver trotted forwards, curiosity temporarily overcoming his crippling fear.

Chip looked at Silver Chalice, his gaze almost sad, before he turned his head to look dismissively out of the window, "I am a dragon, Silver Chalice. I have been since I was adopted. I can't explain it, but it's part of who I am... and it saved me, but it wouldn't have saved you. Eat nothing in this house, trust none of the other staff and get yourselves as far away from here as possible."

"Who do you think you think are, talking to me like-"

Chip turned back to Silver Chalice, and glared with a baleful expression on his muzzle, "I am Baron Chiphoof Irontail Leatherback, of the Neighvada Irontails and scion of the Diamond Expanse Dragon Clan. I am the one thing responsible for your continued existence this day, so do not make me require payment for this service I have done you. Shortly you will take yourself, your daughter and what supplies you need, and leave until I say otherwise."

"Yessir." the words were out of Silver's muzzle before he had time to fully examine the order.

"Good. Now, before you leave, you will do me one small task."

"A-anything."

"Accompany me to my room, I am to be dressed for battle."

♦♦♦

Fury of the Storm

═ The ══════════
Ambassador's
══════════ Son ═

Chapter Eighteen
Fury of the Storm
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow

"I don't understand," Silver Chalice said as he followed Chip into the colt's battered room, stepping through the rubble that had previously been a wall, "what is all this? What happened?"

"I told you. My... uncle," Chip spat the words out, "has murdered my parents. He murdered my aunt, and he tried to murder me. Celestia herself took me to safety; she left me with Sharptooth, a dragon. Rather than just keep me safe though, he adopted me. I didn't understand what it meant, when he did. I do now."

"And what does it mean?" Silver Chalice asked, head lifting from where he was lipping at the strange, shiny metallic pieces of armor strewn across the shagpile carpet.

"It means," Chip answered, as he stomped into the hoof-guards and tightened their straps with his muzzle, "I am a dragon. His attempt at poison was of nothing but a bad habit for a dragon."

"You said that," Silver Chalice scowled, his annoyance at being in the dark overriding the burning miasma that surrounded the young apparently-not-a-pony in front of him, "I don't understand."

"Haunch plate." Chip ordered sternly, and watched as Silver Chalice lifted the correct piece after a couple of wrong tries. Chip chatted, off-hoofedly as he was being dressed, "Deep inside, you are a unicorn. You are something that I could never be. I have no horn. I have no wings and I have no claws either, but with dragons..." Chip laughed, shaking his head and mane out, "with dragons, it doesn't matter. Ripper ring."

"Ripper..?"

"That one." Chip pointed, "To the middle of my tail and fasten it. Then the bolas, then the withers and chest-piece, head-piece and neck-piece." Chip pointed with a hoof to each one, presenting himself as needed such that Silver Chalice and his daughter could dress him as required.

"So you're a dragon." Silver Chalice didn't sound convinced.

Chip hoofed about in the carpet looking for something. Finding the black velvet square, he placed it reverently back into the box. Pulling out his saddle bags, he shrugged into them and tightened them around his chest. Into them went the large pepper-ruby, the diamond and the sapphire. He lifted the emerald in his muzzle, catching it in the light of the lanterns. Then, deliberately, he bit, and chewed.

The colour drained out of Silver Chalice's muzzle as the distressingly loud sounds of Chip's snacking filled the room. This was no mean feat for the black unicorn.

"I am a dragon," snarled Chip, green fire playing around his lips, "and I am angry."

Silver Chalice gulped, "Now what?"

"Get the staff to safety, get whatever valuables you deem necessary, and leave. I will face Pyrite alone. I do not trust my uncle to try anything else other than to try again to kill me, and then you. He will be in one of two places; his study, or down wherever that tunnel leads in the basement."

"And what are you going to do when you find him?"

Chip's words were level, and frighteningly calm. "I'm going to kill him."

♦♦♦

Pyrite stood at his desk, nervously, with a magnifying glass monocle on one eye as he struggled to put quill to parchment. Taking stock of the signature on the last of Chip's letters to that dirty great lizard called Sharptooth, Pyrite made a few practiced sweeps on a clean sheet of parchment to get the feel of it all. Repeating that several times over, he nodded to himself. Forging a colt's signature was foal's play, their writing skills were underdeveloped and easy to mimic. He didn't have much time, but then he didn't need much time.

Pyrite took the legal letter and smoothed out the creases. His lawyers had drafted it, and had given their expert opinion to the original team of lawyers for the Irontail estate. It was all perfectly legal, all perfectly above board. It was improper for a non-pony to interfere in Her Highness' Realm, and with the young colt in a legal grey area, it was only fitting to demand that a more suitable replacement guardian be found. The dunderheads just demanded a blasted signature for it to be fully binding.

No problem, Pyrite thought to himself with a sneer on his muzzle, it's signed. He finished the manipulations of the quill with a flourish as he signed his own name below that of his nephew's as the new legal guardian of said Chiphoof Irontail.

"And now, the Irontail estate will belong to me."

A sudden gust of wind blew the papers across the table, and Pyrite found himself buffeted by the blast.

"How dare you..." came a voice, it was snarling and angry, seemingly from right in front of him.

Pyrite squealed, bucking in fright at what appeared to be an empty room. He looked around, wild-eyed. "What? Who's there?" Pyrite searched the study but found it empty. His heart was fluttering, his nostrils flared, but he was alone. He laughed, tears streaming down his muzzle. A stupid foal, he was being. There was nopony there, it was his imagination. He had time, he still had time. That... that insolent whelp was probably upstairs, doddering about. How that foal could still be standing, Pyrite couldn't understand. But it was no matter, if poison didn't work fast enough, his insurance policy would.

"You... you dare! The Irontail estate doesn't belong to you!" came the angry voice again. It was deep and bellowing, it shook his very bones.

"It does!" snapped Pyrite, whipping his head about, trying to find who or what was speaking to him, "What are you? Where are you? Agents of that thrice-damned dragon? Hirelings of those stinking diamond dog mongrels? Show yourself! Magic will not save you, not from me!"

Pyrite's top lip curled in a sneer, he didn't know what he was dealing with, but he knew an in when he had one, "Those fool diamond dogs, weak for pretty baubles... but they won't get what they seek. It shall be mine, once I take care of that forsaken little colt like I took care of his parents, like I took care of his aunt! I should be Baron Irontail, not some snivelling little colt, not some bitchy little mare who was only good for a title and certainly not some useless firebreathing beast!"

"I'LL KILL YOU!"

Pyrite's world turned upside down as, out of seemingly nowhere, a monster descended upon him. For a brief moment, the world spoke of nothing but fire, teeth and claws. The creature roared, a deep, earth-shattering, window-rattling scream that turned his bones to water. As adrenalin flooded his body, bringing the world into crystal clarity, the full horror of his situation was revealed. It was as if a blind had been removed from his eyes, to reveal the true, stark horror of his situation.

The helpless foal he'd taken in, the colt he'd tried to poison - twice. The last living relative that stood between him and inheriting the Irontail Estate, bedecked in fearsome-looking, metallic spiked armor, phantom green flames flickering around his muzzle which was now inches from his own.

The maddened foal stank of fire and brimstone, his presence filled the room and his bellow stripped Pyrite of the last of his sanity.

Pyrite was discovering that sometimes, Chip happens.

♦♦♦

The thump was heard throughout the small building. Calligraphy Quill looked up from her desk where she was marking papers as the foals chattered nervously. "Calm down, children, calm down." She got up, gulping. Her ears twitched and her tail swished, some sixth sense was telling her bad news was coming. She'd heard rumblings, she'd been informed that there might be... trouble. Her worst fears were about to come to life.

The door opened and a large draconic head snaked in, shoulders blocked by architecture. "Madame Quill," the dragon known as Sharptooth began, rumbling voice sending chills down the spine of the light green earth pony, "you are to keep the young ones in the school, where they should be safe. Whisp Spark is setting up the thaumic shields and Southern Storm is preparing offensive weather patterns. Is that clear?"

"Y-yes, sir." Calligraphy replied, trembling slightly. The dragon nodded once, and withdrew. The door slammed shut and the pony turned back to her class as she heard chairs and tables scraping. "Children? What are you doing?"

Carmine clicked her beak, looking around. Penny, Bella and Beth had all stood up at the same time. "I'm sorry, Miss, we've got to do this."

"No! You stop right where you are!"

The four ignored her, and marched towards the door. As they passed the diamond dogs' tables, Butch stood up and put a paw out to stop them.

"Sup Butch," Carmine said, facing the door, staring at it and not at the dog-troll.

"We're coming with you. This is our town too, C."

Carmine looked up, her feathers fluffing out, "Get to Beryl's, she'll fill you in. Thorn's Alpha for this, okay?"

"Children! You can't just..."

"Miss, we gotta," Penny said, placatingly, before she bolted.

"Sorry Miss." Dozer added, as the diamond dog pups also left.

Calligraphy chewed her tongue thoughtfully, fuming. By all rights she should run after them, but... she had the rest of her class to look after. She snorted and turned back to the expectant class. "Okay, children, change of lesson plans. Today we're going to do woodwork. Grab some hammers, nails, and planks of wood. We're boarding up the windows and doors."

♦♦♦

Chip slammed both hooves down on Pyrite's barrel of a chest, bending his head down to bite and yank a piece out of his uncle.

Pyrite squealed and rolled. He was bigger and more massive than his nephew, but his nephew was currently somewhat upset. That, and the spiked armor, was proving hard to deal with. He wheezed as he staggered to his hooves. His swaying saved him from further terrible injury as he fell on his rump and the enraged armored colt slammed through his filing cabinets and the wall behind, obliterating both.

Pyrite laughed, painfully, spitting blood. He staggered to his desk and ripped the bottom drawer out with his teeth. Within lay a small flask that glowed yellow, as if within it were a bottled inferno. Pyrite took it in his teeth and threw it at the floor, where it exploded, setting fire to the rug.

Chip slammed through the door, without opening it, sending splinters flying. "What's so funny?"

Pyrite collapsed to the floor, wheezing but still laughing. "You. You think you have me. All this is... is a temper tantrum," Pyrite spat blood again, shards of his teeth coming with it, "if you wanted me dead I'd be as stone cold gone as your misbegotten parents. You don't have it in you, Chip me lad. You're soft."

Chip growled, Pyrite ignored him.

"And because you're soft, I'm going to win. You think I wouldn't have an insurance policy? Against anything? Even... even with whatever the buck you are?"

"I'm a dragon, unc." Chip, breathing heavily, suddenly didn't feel so sure of himself. The eggshell had cleared his head, still sent fire shooting through his veins, gave him certainty of purpose... but what, ultimately, did that mean? He looked down at the blooded form before him, trying weakly to chuckle, and realized it was true. He wasn't a cold-blooded killer.

"You're pathetic." Pyrite said, his breathing heavily and rattling, "Dressing up like that? You think you scare me? Your... practiced roar, and your shouting and hollering?"

"Get out." Chip said coldly.

"What?"

"You heard me." Chip leaned closer, "Everything you had is now mine, in return for your life."

Pyrite closed his eyes, and then began to laugh. It ended in a painful hacking coughing as he spat up blood. "You think you can order me around? You think slapping me about will make me give up and go away? I don't think so. I have friends, Chip my boy."

There was a loud, echoing roar from outside that shook the cracked pains of glass in the window. Chip lifted his head and looked into the night. Two dark shapes, lit occasionally by orange streaks of light, were growing larger in the darkening skies.

"Meet my insurance policy." Pyrite tried to stand, and failed, but he kept on laughing. "You think mere poison was the only trick I had up my mane?"

"What have you done?" Chip asked in a near whisper, backing up, tail end retreating through the blasted walls.

"Insurance. Meet my minions."

"They're dragons, Pyrite."

"And they work for me."

"Oh Pyrite... run. Run now. Please!"

"I don't think you understand," Pyrite finally struggled to his hooves as two loud and devastating crashes were heard from an adjacent room. Twin sets of claws ripped another wall down to reveal two smallish yellow dragons, emerald eyes gleaming in the lamplight that now shone in through the gaping hole that used to be the East wall. "These dragons... work for me."

Chip shook his head, sadly, and turned to the dragons, "I am Chiphoof Irontail Leatherback of the Diamond Expanse Dragon Clan. I have earned my armor, I do not think you want to try to take it from me, and I think my clan would be even less amused if they found out you had."

The two dragons looked at Chip, and then at each other, before looking back to Pyrite.

"What? You believe that? What are you waiting for? Waste the brat!"

One of them hissed, "No deal, pony."

"I paid you!" shouted Pyrite, "I paid you to protect me, and that means killing the foal!"

"You did not pay us enough to kill a dragon lord's whelp, pony." They both turned to leave.

"Wait! What do you mean you won't... he's no... then have a new deal!" Pyrite was desperate.

"Pyrite no!" Chip shouted, taking a step forwards.

"Shut up!" Pyrite leaped towards the dragons, "I will pay you ten times what I paid you..."

"Still not enough." The dragons did, however, turn.

"Ten times!" Pyrite felt he had them now, "I order you! Kill the dragon's other son, then, or at least everyone who he has had contact with. If you won't kill a dragon, then start with the ambassador's son's friends - everyone who sheltered him, everyone who helped him, raze their villages, destroy their homes, burn their property, erase them from existence. And then you can start on everyone else who lives here."

"Oh, Pyrite." Chip shook his head, eyes wide, "You foal. Take it back! Tell them you take it back."

The dragons looked at each other, a pleased expression on their snouts, "Paper. Sign."

"Anything!" Pyrite scribbled down something, and stamped his hoof in a spilled puddle of ink before applying it to the paper as a signature.

"Chip?" came a new voice.

Chip turned to look down the corridor, and his heart sank further, "Sunshine? I thought I told you two... get out! Leave now!"

"We came to help!" the little unicorn answered sternly.

"We!?"

Silver Chalice trotted into view, Chip's box held in his magic and several other things floating behind him. "We couldn't just leave you."

"You can and you should. Get out now!"

"The staff are safe, not that I can trust any of them any more."

"Horsefeathers. Stay there then!" Chip turned back to his uncle, who had retreated to a corner of the room as far from Chip as possible.

A manic grin was plastered on his muzzle. "It's too late, now. You've bankrupted me, Chip my lad, but it doesn't matter. I've ruined your life. They're going to hound everyone who ever thought to help you; that Sharptooth, and that Sharptooth's son. He has a map, you know. That's all I wanted. If you'd just given me that map..."

Chip's blood ran cold, "Sharptooth has only one son. Me. I keep telling you, you stupid foal, I'm the ambassador's son."

"What? But..."

The dragons turned to Pyrite, muzzles falling open as their long tongues flicked out, as if tasting the air.

"And you've just asked them to kill anypony who sheltered me. And they're going to get paid for it, and I can tell you... they're going to enjoy it."

"But... wait... no..."

Chip turned, closing his eyes, as his uncle started to scream. He turned to Silver Chalice and Sunshine Filigree, fixing them with a glare that spoke volumes about what was happening a few short feet from their mercifully sheltered position. "You need to run, now!"

Pyrite scrabbled as he tried to move further into the corner of the room, away from the two hulking shapes that had suddenly turned on him, "Wait, that's not what I... what I meant."

"We have... contract." One smiled.

"You pays us, we... deal with little problem." Other smiled, wider.

"Please... no..."

The incoherent screaming echoed down the corridors of the house, filling Chip's ears with macabre visions. His hearing, sharp and alert from the adrenalin, picked up all the little details. The snapping of bones, the rending of flesh, the wet, meaty sound of limbs being removed and then, finally, the long gurgling death-rattle as the dragons, somewhat less than mercifully, finally ended his uncle's life, once he ceased to fully amuse them.

Chip shook himself, mentally. Whatever he was, he wasn't like that. He was a dragon, not a monster. He didn't keep 'lesser' creatures as playthings, he had friends, companions... he had family, of a sort.

"Family..." Chip brought himself up short, before shouting, "Silver, Sunshine, wait, stop! You have to follow me. I can't let you... I can't let you run. They'll find you, and they'll kill you. I know dragons."

"Then let's all leave out the front door?"

Chip shook his head, "I can't just leave, I have to find out what Pyrite was doing down in that basement, and you have to come with me. You know he had that... secret passage or whatever. Have you ever been down there?"

Silver Chalice shook his head, "No, I never have. It's... it wasn't my place. I've... I've served here ever since I was discharged from the royal guard. That passageway has always been there, but... it's just not done."

"I've been down there," piped up Sunshine, "it's dark, and it goes on for ages and ages."

"You are not making my daughter lead you down an underground passageway!" Silver Chalice stomped a hoof, angrily.

Chip laughed, but headed for the basement, "Not alone. You are, however, coming with me."

"You think I'm going to just do what you say?"

"Yes."

"Well I won't." Silver Chalice glared.

"Silver, I'm a dragon. I can protect you... if you'll let me, but you still need to come with me until I can be sure they've got the message. You... you're going to have to agree to something. I don't know if it will work, or how to do it, that's why you have to stick with me."

"So to keep us safe, you're making us go down a dark, underground passageway that leads Luna-knows-where."

"Rather than staying up here with two bloodthirsty dragons more than willing to rip you limb from limb, yes."

Silver swished his tail for a second. "Point taken."

Two snarls from behind them made the black unicorn whinny in fear and start moving forwards again.

"You first." Chip said, nodding at the stairs down into the basement. Flares of bright orange and yellow, and the smell of smoke, told the three that the dragons were enjoying themselves and seemed in no hurry. That didn't mean the three were safe, or that the dragons would stop.

They trotted as a group down the stairs and were halfway across the basement when the door exploded, thanks to swift application of scaly draconic tail.

"Nothing personal," One said as he shouldered masonry aside, "contract."

"Silver, Sunshine, listen to me..." Chip turned, placing himself between the dragons and his friends, "I'm going to ask you to do something for me, and... it's a lot."

"What? You've already made it clear we can't run."

"I'm... I don't know the words!" Chip despaired, wailing, "There's probably a spell or something!"

"For Celestia's sake, Chip, spit it out!"

"I want to make you my slaves!"

♦♦♦

Wheels Within Wheels

═ The ══════════
Ambassador's
══════════ Son ═

Chapter Nineteen
Wheels Within Wheels
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow

"You want to what?" hissed Silver Chalice, eyes wide and fastened onto the large yellow and scaly forms that were currently stuck in what was left of the doorway.

"I want to make you my slaves, but I promise I'll let you go when this is all over," said Chip, his eyes also not leaving the two dragons who were forcing their way into the basement, overturning piles of clothes and boxes of junk as they came.

"How dare you suggest... that's crazy! Why?"

"Because those two," Chip nodded his head at the dragons, "have a contract to kill you, and I'm not convinced I can stop them. Unless you belong to me. Or do you think you can take them?"

"Both of them?"

"I could probably kill one," Chip said off-hoofedly, eyes never leaving the advancing yellow menace. Snorting, he shrugged himself out of his leather saddlebags and pawed a hoof at the two other dragons.

Silver blanched, the items he still held fast in his magical field dipping slightly as he flinched in fear. "I don't think I'd want to try."

"Then..." Chip hung his head, looking at the ground for a moment before he fastened a steely gaze back on the dragons, "submit."

"How?" Sunshine asked, her small voice quavering with fear from behind her sire's legs. She darted out and took Chip's saddlebags, squeezing herself into them and fleeing back as far out of harm's way as possible.

"I don't know!" Chip wailed, "But it's the only chance you've got."

"I know. If you'll let me help." called a new voice, rough and deep.

Chip raised his head and looked behind the group, into the tunnel, where it had come from. It was a voice that caused Silver Chalice to prance and put himself between his daughter and the bearer.

"Pig Iron?" Chip called uncertainly, "What are you doing down there?"

"I heard through the grape vine that you had run into a little trouble, young dragon. I came to help, and to apologize." the voice echoed back, cordially.

"For what?" Chip asked, glancing back and forth, calling to the as-yet unseen newcomer.

"You know... whoever or whatever that is?" Silver Chalice asked, ears flattened against his skull.

"That's Pig Iron," hissed Chip, "a friend of mine. A dragon."

"I'd say if that's a friend, then I'd hate to meet your enemies, but..."

"Yeah, you worked for one."

"A good reason to stay on your good side, I'd say."

Chip laughed, weakly, as the former butler smiled wryly. "You could say that." Chip briefly turned, still backing up, and called back down the corridor, "For what?"

"Well, I heard you had a run-in with some whizbang. Where'd you think it was purchased? I'm terribly sorry. When I heard who it was for, I decided to make it up to you. It looks like I was just in time, too." Pig Iron, when he came into view, was limping slightly and one wing was torn, "Apparently I had quite a bit of making up to do. On the plus side, I now own some of those gem-eyed darlings I was talking about." He laughed, scratching at a scab and flicking it away with a torn scale or two.

"Oh?" Chip couldn't take his eyes off the two dragons, now. They were close now, eyes fixated on the two ponies behind him, but they'd momentarily stopped their advance.

"It's amazing what a brush with death will do for the soul. It makes some think that little things like liberty are worth a lot less than breathing."

"I can't say I agree with you," Silver Chalice said, snarling.

"And yet here we are." Pig Iron smirked, "and you're preparing to do just that."

"I would never-"

"Pig Iron," Chip growled, a flicker of green fire dancing around his muzzle, "lay a paw on my friends and you will regret it."

Pig Iron threw up his paws, one of which was bleeding from what looked like bites, "Hey, they're beautiful specimens, but I know they're not for sale. More's the pity."

"Are you going to help me or what?" Chip grumbled, stomping a hoof. "I promise, I'll let you guys go just as soon as this is over, but until then... it's the only way I can think of to keep you safe, from monsters like them!" Suddenly, Chip leaped at the pair of dragons, catching one with the bolas on his tail and striking the other with his metal-clad hooves. They yowled and screeched, breathing fire that bathed the room in heat and light. The flames caught the clothing and other junk easily, sending crackling sparks towards the ceiling, which was rapidly turning black and starting to bubble. "Quickly! Decide!"

Pig Iron fixed the two unicorns with a steady gaze, "I can only say he's right. There are two ways to do this, and he's a little... busy."

Chip bellowed as he fought, a roar that caused the two unicorns to flinch. The pony-shaped dragon kicked his forehooves and struck one of the pair, turning his head as he breathed first in and then out - a gout of green flame spewed over the other, causing it to roar in retaliation and swipe a claw, throwing Chip off and gouging rivulets through his armour.

Pig Iron appeared non-plussed, "You have to repeat this after me, but say it at him." The dragon pointed with a claw, "And you have to mean it! I will tell you now, you are giving your life to him. All you have is his word he will let you go - he will be under no such geas, unlike you. For you, it is life long."

"I trust him." squeaked Sunshine, fearfully.

"And I will not abandon my little princess."

Pig Iron nodded, and said a few short phrases in a scratchy, guttural tongue. The ponies repeated it, stumbling a little. Pig Iron held up a claw for silence, and said another few phrases. Again he was copied. They hesitated, a little, but Pig Iron nodded, and took a breath to utter the next set of phrases.

Sunshine whimpered, mid-repetition, as Chip was thrown clean through a support post that also happened to be on fire. He groaned and stood up, and charged back into the fray.

Pig Iron said one last phrase, and then shouted out to Chip, "Do you agree? Do you take them"?

"I do! I do!" Chip shouted, and he gasped as something unseen washed over him. For a moment, everything stopped. He dropped to the floor, the two dragons growling in dissatisfaction.

Silver Chalice hissed and jinked sideways, looking at his hips, "Ow! What did you..."

"Ah, good, good. Come here, little one, you too... let me check." Pig Iron gently but firmly turned Sunshine' body so he could see her flanks. He nodded, satisfied, and let her go.

"What! What is he doing?" Silver bared his teeth at Pig Iron, who held up his paws again.

"Your cutie marks," Chip answered, "they're mine, now. They display my family's clan design."

Silver looked at his daughter's cutie mark. Chip was right. The tea-set was unchanged, but on the side of each piece was a new image, a strange sigil like an intricate diamond. A quick glance at his own hips verified that his mark, too, was the same.

The dragons snarled, and looked at each other. There followed a quick-fire round of guttural snarling that apparently passed for speech, before one of them turned to Chip, throwing him to the floor and knocking his breath out. "There are contracts still valid, Diamond. Don't think you are safe."

One of the two dragons spat, and he set fire to more of the basement before hurling one more final gob of liquid flame, and left. The other quickly followed suit. There was an ominous rumble, and the smoke and flames burst down from the floor above. The mansion was not only ablaze, it was collapsing around them.

"I suggest, Chiphoof, that we get as far away from here as possible. Come on, I have some ponies I want you to meet." There was another crash as the roof near the stairs fell in, obscuring them from view. "It's not like you have much choice."

Chip stood in the archway to the basement as his friend and his slaves trotted down into the darkness. He was breathing heavily, mostly unaffected by the smoke. Limping slightly, he turned and followed them.

With a practiced flick of his tail, he shattered the supports. Weakened, the entrance collapsed. They were sealed in.

♦♦♦

The tunnel was dark, lit only by Chip's green flames that still flickered around his muzzle, and the softly glowing horn of Silver the unicorn. The walls were no longer shored up with wood, but seemingly hewed from solid rock. They were oddly smooth, as if melted, and the solid rocky floor was uneven with the ruts made from many hooves passing.

Chip was breathing hard and trembling, still worked up from the fight. His lip was bleeding and one eye was bruised and swelling. He had some rake-marks from his stifle to his flank, where the haunch-plate hadn't quite protected him enough, but he held himself high. He'd held off two relatively-mature dragons. And survived. Intact. He'd technically been winning. Most of that may have been due to their general unwillingness to injure the son of a dragon-lord, but still...

Silver Chalice walked behind his daughter, who walked between the two. His horn was lit up to carry his new master's box of personal belongings as well as his own. The soft silver glow danced lithely around as they moved. He'd sold himself into slavery, but he'd done it to protect his daughter. He guessed best intentions often led to some pretty dark places. He hadn't guessed they would be literally dark, though.

"Chip?"

"Address him as Master." informed Pig Iron, nonchalantly. They were new slaves, after all, and couldn't be expected to know all the formalities.

"Just call me Chip. What?"

"I... need to tell you something."

"Letting your slaves talk back to you is bad for morale.." chided Pig Iron. He looked like he was enjoying himself.

"Really not helping, Pig Iron. What, Silver?"

"This concerns you, too, Sunshine. Years ago, I was in the guard. The nightguards. I guess I thought the bat wings would look good on me."

"You're not a pegasus." Chip said, flatly.

"Indeed, I was rather young and stupid and didn't really think things through. Anyway, I... was eventually sent on a diplomatic mission."

"So?"

"...With the Baroness Anthracite Irontail."

Chip was subdued as they walked, hooves echoing down the long corridor. "Carry on."

"Daddy?" Sunshine whispered.

"We were sent on a long trip to an amazing, faraway land. There were griffons there, by the thousands. It was hot, dry, and so very, very sunny. The days were long, the evenings longer. I was required to be near her, every day, all day. I guarded her at night as I watched over her in the day. The mission lasted for months. I don't really remember. What I do remember... is her."

"What happened?" asked Chip softly, though he felt he knew.

"Something that probably shouldn't have."

"You slept with Baroness Irontail?"

"And for it, I lost my job."

Chip stopped, looking back over his shoulder, first at Silver Chalice, and then down at Sunshine Filigree. "Go on."

"I was honourably discharged almost immediately from the guard when we returned. I was forced to wander Equestria, penniless and virtually destitute. There are surprisingly few jobs available for an ex-nightguard. That is the price one pays for dalliances with the upper crust and a mare of means. Eventually, I found my way to Stalliongrad, and a house, with big iron gates and a crest that I recognized. She was... gravid. It was late in her pregnancy, and the foal had not yet dropped, but the signs were visible. I signed on as her personal attache, and helped her run her business and her estate."

"What happened then?" Chip asked, stopping resolutely. Pig Iron hung back, silently observing for once.

"What do you think happened? She gave birth. I, we... persuaded a mare to be seen leaving our daughter on the steps of the mansion, I was suitably chastised for my infidelity and it was let known that this had been the reason for my disgrace. I cared not, I had my darling Sunshine. With her, no day was ever cloudy again." Silver Chalice smiled down at Sunshine Filigree, whose eyes were wide with shock. Chip could see the smile, even in the darkness.

"And we took the foal in. From then on, she was my princess."

Chip brightened, smiling, "Do you know what this means? It means I have a cousin!"

"And... I guess I finally know who mummy was, don't I?" Sunshine added, sadly.

"You do, princess. I'm sorry she could never tell you. She meant to, but... it was for the best, until you were older. We thought so, at least, and then... she died."

"She was murdered before I got to call her Mommy! She wa-was murdered by Py-Pyrite and-" Sunshine hoof-stomped, tears in her eyes.

"And look what happened to him," Silver chided softly, "look where his hate and jealousy took us."

"I don't want to lose you too, I couldn't-" Sunshine looked over at Chip, and gasped, "not that, I mean, uh..."

"At least I knew them both, for a while. That's why... I couldn't let those dragons hurt you. You're all I have." Chip looked so forlorn that Sunshine nuzzled him, gently. He nuzzled her back, "You're safe now. Both of you. Actually, I want to help make that clearer. Silver, can you take this neck-piece off? And my wither-guards?"

Silver Chalice nodded, placing the other objects he was floating around his head on the ground. With a few deft manipulations, the two pieces of armour were removed.

"I want the neck piece to go to Sunshine, and I want you to have the wither-guards. You're going to stay with Pig Iron, who owes me, until this all blows over. He will look after you as if you were his."

Pig Iron nodded his assent.

"Now wait just a-"

"No," Chip said, shaking his head and mane, "you will go with Pig Iron, when we get out of here, and he will look after you. Please," Chip's voice was strained, "don't make me make you."

"You can do that?" Silver's voice was hoarse, worried.

"I own you," Chip said, remembering Oak Keg. He opened up his leather box and placed all of Silver's belongings inside it before closing it up again. He hoofed it over to the unicorn, smiling sadly and gesturing for Silver to lift it, "I can do anything."

♦♦♦

There hadn't been much talking since the last pause in the tunnel. Chip had wandered on ahead of Silver and Sunshine. Sunshine walked behind him, Silver brought up the rear. Chip swore he could feel the glare of the unicorn boring into his skull.

"The first few weeks are the hardest, Chip. They'll get used to it."

"I don't want them to get used to it!"

Pig Iron scratched himself, easing a wing out and back as if massaging it. There was a faint pop as it stretched and Pig Iron visibly relaxed, "You weren't listening, were you?"

"Listening to what?"

"There are still contracts out. On you."

"Me?"

"And your father."

"Is that what my late uncle was doing down here?"

"Judging by the trouble I had on the way in, yes. We're almost there, now. This tunnel will open up in a second to-"

The dragon was correct, the seemingly endless tunnel did indeed end, and was replaced with a gigantic cavern that did a far better approximation of forever than mere open sky ever could. It was daunting; as Pig Iron summoned a large glowing ball of magelight that he sent upwards, the scale of the thing became visible.

"We're under the Howling Mountains, now, in the Under Deep. This is dragon country, always has been. For millenia, before Equestria even, we dragons were here. Those ponies that came to inhabit our lands... we tolerate them and their presence, but occasionally we demand our dues."

Pig Iron whistled, once, and waited. He didn't have to wait long. A small group of gem-eyed ponies, smaller and stockier than Silver or Sunshine, hustled up to the dragon, seemingly both eager and very reluctant to approach him.

"Ah, my pets, I am glad to see you have recovered from our brief altercation before. Now, how do we greet our new master? Hmm?"

One by one, the ponies fell to their front hooves, inclining their heads to the floor. Chip, embarrassed and slightly revolted, looked away.

"That's right, well done! Up you get now, up. Tell me, my pretties, who was the contract for? For whom did you think fighting a dragon was worth?"

There was a lot of shuffling of hooves, and finally an earth pony spoke up, her voice soft, "We don't know who we were working for. We were to-told it would mean we wo-would no longer have to fight for the Under Deeps. The diamond dogs would be gone."

"Ah, they sold you dreams," Pig Iron said, shaking his head, "I don't think-"

"Actually," Chip spoke up, "I think that's what this is all about. My parents... I... Sharptooth supposedly has a map, I don't know what it leads to, but... whatever it was, the diamond dogs must have wanted it enough to... to... to kill my parents for Pyrite."

Pig Iron growled, "Then wheels are in motion, Chip, I fear I cannot help you much more." The dragon looked at the ground around him, idly stroking the ears of his new pets. They were still fearful of him. He murmured to them softly, calming them for a few moments. Brief flashes of magefire burst from his clawtips as he healed their various cuts and scrapes. The first few were balking, but soon they gathered round for his ministrations. "These ponies, dragon, are used to a master. All they have are dreams..."

"So?" Chip asked impatiently, when a longer pause yielded no continuation of the sentence.

"So, dreams are powerful. They drive creatures to do wonderful, terrible things. If you stand between somebody and their dreams, you had better be ready for trouble." Pig Iron looked worried.

"Then take good care of my family. I have to get back to Tacksworn! If whatever ponies Pyrite was working with decide to cause trouble by looking for whatever this map is there, I have to stop it."

"And if they're following you, they won't be following your slaves."

"I'm a dragon, I can take care of myself. They're just ponies, I can't let them get into trouble. That's kind of what Sharptooth did, I see that now."

"Now just a minute here!" Silver protested, "I was in the guard!"

"And now you have a daughter, my cousin. I'm responsible for you until I see this ended." Chip stomped a hoof, "I lost my parents, I won't lose her. Or you."

"I shall take care of them as if they were my very own." Pig Iron said.

"Put them to work in your bar, where you can keep an eye on them."

"I will not-"

Chip turned on Silver, "You will. You will follow his orders as if they were mine because they may just save your life, and if he dares abuse that privilege, it will cost him his."

Pig Iron raised an eye-ridge, but said nothing.

Chip carried on, "This is the way it works, Silver. I'm sorry, but it has to be like this. I don't know what is out there, and you're only safe with Pig Iron. You will submit."

Silver bared his teeth, snarling, lashing his tail. His horn glowed in fits and spurts as if he were trying to use it. He probably was. Sweat beaded on his brow, he tried to nicker and lunge, but couldn't. Eventually, some force he could not resist bore him down, down, down, until his stomach was on the floor. Panting, he lay on his side, raising his legs so his belly was exposed. He shuddered, weeping, trying to spit out the words, "I'll kill you!" but not managing it.

"Please," Chip said, lips quivering, "I don't want to do this."

"Then don't!" Silver spat, immobile and supplicant.

"Daddy!" Sunshine screamed, "Let him go, Chip! I trusted you! You don't have to do this!"

"I have to! You have to! Pig Iron, tell them!" Chip sounded desperate.

"The young master speaks the truth, my little ponies. If you care for your hides, especially for your pretty daughter, Silver Chalice, was it? If you care for her, you will do as Chip says. I promise, my word to you is my bond, I will look after you as if you were my own. Would it help... would it help if I showed you what that means?"

"Rise," Chip said, turning away. He felt bile in his throat, and deep disgust. He couldn't look back at Silver or Sunshine, the latter had a heart-breakingly angry look on her muzzle. He looked at the floor, despondant.

"I want to show someone to you, to all of you. Truth be told," Pig Iron laughed, scratching his head and turning to Chip, "I want to give someone to you."

Chip choked, "What?"

"Meet Hairpin, Hairpin Turn. She's one of my best flyers. Not the fastest, but a fine strong mare. And now, she's yours."

"You what?" asked Chip, shouting, his voice echoing from the distant walls. "I don't want-"

Pig Iron whistled, and a few minutes later a silver-grey pegasus with a golden mane trotted into view. Her blue eyes shone even in the gloom, and the lightning bolt twirling around three white clouds on her flank spoke of her prowess in the air.

"Meet hairpin turn, she's one of my favourites. I'll miss her, but she's yours."

"I... wait... I set her free! I don't want any more-"

The pegasus snorted, and rattled off some very precise-sounding words in Old Draconic, abasing herself before Chip.

"What did you just-"

Pig Iron laughed, and tousled the mane of the pegasus, "She's also smart."

"My master is not pleased?" she said, soft tone of voice belying her quick manner.

"But, I... how did she..?"

"She knows draconic spells, Chip, so you're not going to get rid of her that easily. I suggest you quit trying. She was excited when I told her she'd be the personal slave of the scion of a real dragon lord's clan."

The pegasus snorted, flicking her mane out of her eyes, "I can't say I was expecting you, but... are you really a dragon-lord?"

"No."

The pegasus made a moue of annoyance.

"My father is though." Chip finished.

"A bonafide dragon lord. I can dig it. I'll be very pleased to... serve my new master, in any way he desires." The pegasus trotted around Chip, flicking her tail across his muzzle and batting her eyelids.

Chip gulped, and rolled his eyes, "I can see why you wanted shot of her."

Pig Iron's maw lolled open in a draconic smile, "She grows on you, but you need her. In truth, she is rather a lot to handle, but she's quick, clever, and strong... and I do owe you for all the trouble."

"Pin, tell these nice ponies what fun it is working for a dragon."

"You expect me to take the word of a slave about how wonderful it is to be one?" Silver snorted with derision.

"I can make her tell the truth, Silver," Chip still couldn't look at his friend, let alone meet his gaze.

"Silver, was it? Lemme tell you, I've been all over Equestria, and there ain't nothing better than this. Griffons, dragons, diamond dogs, ain't nopony tangling with a dragon's pet. I get free drinks, the best service, the best food. The perks... ain't no beating the perks."

"Pet. Slave. Traitor."

"I've said I'll let you go!" Chip wailed.

"When it comes time, you may not want your freedom."

"That's what I'm worried about," Silver growled.

"So, you believe me now? Pig Iron will look after you, keep you safe?"

"I do, master," Silver spat, "but I will not thank you for it."

"I know," Chip hung his head, "but I care about you. I can't lose you."

"Does that mean you won't be able to free us, when it's time?"

"I hope not," Chip whispered, "because that's not what I want to be."

"Come," Pig Iron said, after bidding farewell to his gem-eyed pets, "we have to head to the surface. From here, it's easy. We're not going to learn anything more from my new pets, but I'll be keeping an eye on them. If anything comes up, I'll send it via dragon-mail. We have to head back down to Stalliongrad, to get you on your way."

"I need to get to Tacksworn, and fast!"

"Well, I don't have enough pegasi for a charriot, and I'm not sure you'd be safe in the skies if there are more dragons after you. Accidents happen, after all, but there is one way for you to get where you need to get to."

"And that is?"

"The postal service. My girl... sorry, your girl, is one of the best couriers in Equestria. She knows all the routes, knows all the stops, knows all the teamsters. Get on the mail train, it goes all the way down. We're headed for the train station."

♦♦♦

Prepare For War

═ The ══════════
Ambassador's
══════════ Son ═

Chapter Twenty
Prepare for War
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow

Carmine watched as the spiked figure of Sharptooth disappeared into the waning sunlight. She shielded her eyes with a wing, and clicked her beak worriedly.

"Spill it, C. I've seen you flapping around town," Beth said, "only place you could've been going is Sharptooth's place."

Carmine looked her friend in the eyes, "I've been watching those diamond dogs, B. They're all from the same pack, ain't they, Butch?"

Butch nodded, looking back briefly as the muted sound of hammers filled the air. A foal missed a swing, a window shattered. "The pack Elders don't like it. This is our packs' territory."

"Neither does our pride. Tribe Chief Solace has called Council several times. No idea what they've been talking about..."

"What do they want though?" Bella asked, her horned head swinging to a fro on her long equine neck as she searched her friends' faces.

"The dragon says they want a map, but the map's wrong or something. I don't know where it is, he hasn't told me, but he said they wouldn't believe him if he gave it to them and it'd cause more trouble if he did. I think they're looking for it anyway, and aren't going to leave without a fight."

"Then," Ruff, the smallest diamond dog spoke up, floppy ears folding down nervously as everyone turned to look at him, "how are they going to know where to look?"

"He's got a point," Penny said, "if you were looking for a map, where would you go?"

"The library!" Bella said, leaping in the air. She blushed and looked at her hooves as she landed, but raised her head again when she realised everyone else was nodding in agreement.

"Library's closed early today," Ruff said, then he looked embarrassed. He liked the Daring Do comics, and checked them all out regularly.

"I don't think they're going to ask." Butch said.

"We've gotta get there, then, warn them if they don't know, help if they need it," Carmine squawked, pattering away and half-spreading her wings for takeoff, "Beth and me, we'll head to the library. Diamond dogs can't fly, we'll be safe"

"We'll take the subway, they won't risk trouble on our patch." said Butch, grinning and flexing his forepaws meaningfully, "we'll pick up Thorn and check on Beryl."

"I'm not gonna run around through town with crazy diamond dogs!" Bella complained, stomping her hoof.

"Maybe you don't need to," Penny said, grinning, "I know where they keep the pegasus chariot, and I've been practicing."

♦♦♦

The late afternoon sun blazed warmly, though the crisp chill in the air spoke of an approaching winter. It would be a cold night, as usual for the desert. Birds were circling lazily with not much to do. From a distance, this would have looked normal, peaceful even. For those who lived in Tacksworn, however, the atmosphere was distinctly off.

A non-descript diner stood on the corner of the high street; it featured large glass windows, pretty curtains and a flickering brightly-lit sign proclaiming 'good eats'. Again, from the outside, it was peaceful. The illusion was shattered when a two hundred pound diamond dog troll exited the building via said oversized windows in an explosion of shards that formed a tinkling rain, covering the sidewalk.

KLONG!

"Beryl is saying again! Your kind not welcome here! Thorn and Dozer, to be showing this one the door too." Beryl, the somewhat short and stocky diamond dog owner of the titular 'Beryl's Place' cafe, brandished one of her heaviest pots by the handle. In her thick claws, the large black pig-iron creation that could have almost cooked an entire pony became a crude but effective club. How good a club had just been discovered by one of the newcomer diamond dogs, though asking him how good the club was would have been rather difficult owing to the fact he was out cold, sporting a lump so large it was even visible under the thick coats said diamond dogs wore.

Thorn and Dozer picked him and heaved him through the shattered window after his friend. He landed in an unceremonious heap in the hard-packed dirt outside. Three more were cowering in the corner, whimpering, as Beryl's gaze moved back towards them. She slapped the pot-club against her oversized paw and growled

"Thorn, baby?" Beryl said, her steely gaze never leaving the strangers.

"Yes Mama?"

"Have never been liking booth number three. Whole table must go."

Thorn grinned, and nodded at Dozer. Together, they yanked the table out of the ground, bolts and all. Then they heaved it at the three diamond dogs in the corner. It and them, as they made a mad dash for the nearest window, exploded into the street. After a few moments of staggering and head-shaking, they got up and ran for their lives, yelping as they went.

"Am thinking they not come back in hurry," Beryl snorted. She fetched a wet rag from behind the bar. She ran it under the faucet and squeezed it out. Satisfied with the state of it, she yanked on Thorn's ear until, protesting, he bent down so she could dab at the scratches on his face. Beryl turned her son's head this way and that until she was happy, then let him go with a parting tap to his cheek. She then moved onto her adopted pack members and saw to their injuries as well. Luckily they'd been light, so far, but it didn't mean things would stay so fortunate. "Am to be closing shutters, youngsters. Will be no more customers today."

"I think they could use you at the school." Butch said, looking at Thorn and then back at Beryl, "Miss Calligraphy is..." Butch tried to explain.

"Mistress Calligraphy is having buck that makes wrong pony think twice," Beryl smiled toothily, "same trick is working on diamond dogs. But Beryl help. Will be travelling diamond dog metro." Thorn's mother headed into the back of the shop. The children in the front carried on tending minor wounds, Ruff and Digger keeping watch through the two faces of the restaurant respectively. Beryl yanked on a large switch that spat sparks as it connected, making the lights flicker and sending a smell of ozone wafting through the diner. With an odd buzzing noise from the windows, the night shutters came down, sending the cafe into semi-darkness.

"Out front door, Beryl is going out via basement. Must lock up."

♦♦♦

Carmine and Beth circled the town warily, landing on clouds and peering intently at the ground. It didn't take long before signs of trouble manifested. A scuffle broke out around one of the two hotels in the area when a couple of the stranger diamond dogs were harassing a local, which of course brought in more locals and more strangers. The word "hotel" was a bit generous for "pub with rooms for the drunks to sleep it off in", but it was a favourite spot for the locals. Most of Tacksworn was a favourite spot for the locals. Foreigners tearing up the place didn't sit well. Tempers were flaring, and that wasn't all.

"Bloody shards, they've set it on fire!" Beth swore, pointing, as the side of the wooden building flared up in smoke and flames, belching out from inside. A group of ponies and diamond dogs spilled out into the streets, one of them pointing up at a window on the second floor, and screaming.

"mud-brained mongrels... don't they know there're kids in there!?" Carmine swore as she saw two little figures wailing, waving their hooves out through the window. "I'm... I'm going in. My dad's gonna kill me if I burn to death..."

"I'll go find the weather patrol, where in the nine bent beaks of the great egg mother are all the damned pegasi? And the fire-ponies?"

Carmine swore again, pointing at more plumes of thick, black smoke rising over the usually quiet desert town. "Busy."

Beth dived in search of pegasi that could hopefully scare up some rain, or at least funnel some water from the Tacksworn Reservoir. Carmine swooped down to where panicked shouting was turning to screams, before tucking herself up smashing through the window. The flames were starting to engulf the building, and there was precious time to waste.

She rolled to a stop and shook her head, "Hey kids," Carmine shook glass and wood fragments out of her wings, "anyone else up here?"

"Uh-uh..." The smallest, a unicorn filly, wiped her muzzle with a hoof, "b-but mama told us to st-stay in-inside but the f-fire..." She pointed at the door, which was closed. Smoke was pouring in under it.

"You two ever been flying? No?" Carmine looked at each one, giving them a grin, "Well, today's your lucky day." She picked them up, scooping them both under one forepaw, before backing up almost against the door. She squawked as the blistering paint sizzled her backside. Whipping her tail against the painful spot, she galloped awkwardly towards the window, and leaped.

♦♦♦

"I don't think this is safe!" Bella shouted above the wind, cowering low in the small practice chariot.

"Course it is! Done this plenty of times!" Penny laughed, swooping and soaring in a maneuver that made the unicorn in back whimper.

"With a live passenger?"

"Well, with Chuck the rock. But I only dropped him once. Or twice."

"I swear by Celestia's bushy blue beard, Bright Pinion, if you drop and kill me I, Isabella Liriope, will never speak to you again."

"Ponyfeathers!" swore Penny.

"I mean it!"

"No, I mean, look, fire! We'd better go help!"

"Fire? They're burning Tacksworn?" Bella peered over the edge of the chariot, eyes wide.

"I don't know! But that's what we're out here for, right?"

"How good are you at hovering?" Bella hazarded.

"...Not very."

"Then how are you at rooftop landings?"

"Worse?"

"Oh, horseapples."

Penny swooped past the building, a shop selling horseshoes, ploughs and an assortment of other tools. Most of them unfortunately made of wood, and classable as makeshift weapons. That, and the crowd gathered outside, was probably what led to it being torched. The building next door, a multi-storey apartment block, was thankfully mostly empty as the town was rather small. Unfortunately, that was only mostly. It was also on fire, having caught from the adjacent shop.

"Where the heck are the fireponies?" Bella shouted, "Some pony's gotta do something!"

Penny swooped around, "Firefighting, look at them all!"

Bella shuddered. Tacksworn was burning. "Whoever these diamond dogs are, they aren't very smart! They're looking for a map, maps are usually drawn on something that burns!"

"Whoever said 'smart' was a diamond dog trait?" Penny snorted.

"I've got an idea!" Bella shouted, horn glowing, as she leaped out of the chariot.

"Bella NO!" Penny watched, aghast, as the unicorn sailed through the air. The pegasus blinked; Bella was literally sailing through the air, as light as a feather. "What did you-?"

"Slow-fall, remember? Dad said I wasn't allowed up your eyrie without it. It doesn't last long, but it'll last long enough to get the people next door off the roof!"

Penny whooped for joy as Bella started shepherding ponies to leap off of the building, finally following them herself. Penny landed in a dusty cloud, shrugging herself out of the chariot to run up and hug Bella.

It was a chorus of growls that broke them apart, and only then did Bella and Penny both realise they were right in the middle of two warring parties. They both flinched, cowering.

"Boss said no move." one of the stranger diamond dogs chewed out, raising a large paw that was more of a claw, "Boss no like when not listen."

"There were folk burning in there! We were supposed to leave them?" shouted one of the earth ponies, ears flattening against his skull as he bristled, pointing with a hoof.

"No move is no move!"

"Boys, I think we've had enough of this. Get 'em!" a particularly stocky earth pony, large and brown with a glossy black mane and tail, roared, as he lowered his head and charged.

The diamond dogs, ready and waiting for a rumble, snarled and cracked knuckles or stretched their forepaws, dragging long furrows through the ground as it parted like tissue-paper beneath their claws. Tacksworn diamond dogs joined the battle alongside their pony and griffon brethren, and the two sides thundered towards each other.

Bella screamed, flinching, and her horn burst into light. Penny whimpered, hunkering down with Bella, until the sudden lack of rending and tearing made her look up. Odd shadows were passing overhead. It was the intruder diamond dogs, whimpering, kicking and clawing at nothing as their abnormally light bodies floated through the air in a leap that left them helpless..

The large brown stallion grinned as he picked up an axe-handle billy-club and addressed the townsfolk around it, "I think it's time for some piñata dog."

The spell wouldn't last long... but it would last long enough.

♦♦♦

The train station in Stalliongrad was huge, mostly due to the amount of on and off-loading of goods. Not much grew so well in the mountainous regions surrounding the enormous city, and with the city being the largest population centre, it didn't make much food itself within the walls.

The evening had turned to night, but the seemingly perpetually foggy streets were still thronging with traffic. A lot of it seemed to be heading up to the remains of the erstwhile Irontail estate. Chip could see the flames even from this distance, lighting the sky in a sickly orange glow. The shouting of fire-ponies and spectators alike reached even here. It seems everypony loves a good show, he thought ruefully to himself. He glanced back at the subdued Silver Chalice and Sunshine Filigree. One was glaring at him, a very hard expression on his muzzle. The other looked simply worn and sad. Sunshine caught his gaze, but averted her eyes.

Chip sighed, "Pig Iron? Do you have a scroll and a pen and ink?"

Pig Iron raised an eye-ridge, but nodded, "Hairpin, do you mind?"

"Anything for my master." she gushed, fluttering her eyelids. Chip groaned, but took the proferred items gratefully in his mouth. Hairpin lingered longer with them in her muzzle on the hoof-over than was strictly necessary, causing Chip to blush as they brushed whiskers. She nickered in laughter as he bolted. Pig Iron raised a claw to admonish her, but she turned her flank to him, eyeing meaningfully at her changed cutie-mark. He scowled and she stuck her tongue out. At that, the dragon laughed before bowing solemnly. She wasn't his, and he knew the rules just as well as she did.

"You take such insubordination from your slaves?" grunted Silver Chalice, chewing off the last word angrily as Hairpin Turn fluttered to roost high up in the iron rafters of the station, keeping watch.

"I fear I spoiled her when I raised her, pet. She has always known where she stood, and it ever was just out of reach. Now she is Chip's tailache, much as I regret seeing her go." The dragon sighed softly, smiling, "I don't suppose..?"

"What?"

"I can offer you a contract, a fine strong stallion like yourself is... worth a lot, to the right breeders."

"What!?"

"I have a fine mare of breeding age, a pegasus, Hairpin's sister-"

"Never!"

"Pity."

"I will never sell a foal of mine into slavery-"

"Again, at least."

"Quite." Silver Chalice glowered.

"Besides, I may not need that contract. She waits tables in my pet's bar." Pig Iron grinned, smugly, at the look of rage that flourished upon the unicorn's brow.

Chip returned, a rolled-up scroll in his muzzle, which he planted at the hooves of Sunshine. "Put this in Sharptooth's box. It will open for you, now, as it would open for me... but I ask you not to read it, not yet. Read it before I set you free, you'll want to make sure all of your stuff is out of that box before I do, otherwise you'll have to wait for me to come retrieve it."

"What is it?" Sunshine asked, searching Chip's face.

Chip grinned, his ears perking forwards, "A surprise. For now though, keep it under locks. Stay with Pig Iron, do as he says. He will keep you safe. And... I'd better take all my stuff. Never know when I might need it."

The train station was busy, packed with ponies loading the night freight. The mail-train was huge, maybe two or three hundred pony-lengths. There was a team of just six to pull it, set incongruously in front of a steam-engine. The teamsters were huge too, thick set Shires from the North Eastern farmlands, with iron-shod hooves that were as big as dinner plates. They each wore a harness that appeared to be made of thick leather - Chip had no idea what from, but it looked seriously designed - that encircled their powerful chests and broad shoulders. Hitching them up was relatively difficult as the harness itself was complicated. It featured a quick release system in case of trouble, a brake built into what amounted to a sled they could stand on for going down hills, and a buffer at the front that was apparently for removing snow or other obstacles from the tracks. Chip glanced up at his pegasus, who was eyeing them like they were her next meal. For all he knew, they were. He briefly had nightmares about being presented with a foal, and being expected to pay for 'services rendered' to every stallion from Mareicious to Ponbay. He shook his head, that sort of trouble wasn't something he'd have to worry about, was it? Again, he found it unsurprising that the feathered bundle of trouble had landed in his lap, metaphorically speaking. Oh goddesses, let it stay metaphorically.

"You'd better get on, lad." Pig Iron said, nudging Chip with a wing, "They'll be setting off soon, and the fewer who see you, the better. I know your uncle is dead, bastard deserved it, but you and I both know it's not going to stop there, is it?"

Chip shook himself, and nodded, as he double-checked his saddlebags before pulling their straps tight with his teeth. A few gems, the black square of cloth, the newly-borrowed writing implements - he'd totally give those back if he didn't think Hairpin would take advantage of the proximity again - and very little else apart from his armour.

"Ready?" Pig Iron asked.

"As ever. Hairpin, get down here. On the train. Pig Iron, please keep them safe. They're... not exactly on loan, but..."

"I will treat them as you would treat them, young dragon, as much as I disapprove of that idea. They are nominally still your kin, I will spoil them as rotten as I managed to spoil Hairpin, and work them just as hard. They may not want to leave."

"Take good care of them. I don't know how to repay you."

Pig Iron grinned, "I'm working on that, though your pet is strangely adverse to the idea."

"Oh?" Chip glanced at Silver Chalice and then down at Sunshine.

Pig Iron snorted in derision at that, "The filly? Shells, no! I doubt they'll be here long enough for her to mature. I am, however, sadly lacking in unicorns. The mare I have in mind for that ex-royal guard of yours is ever so pretty a pony, or so my other pets tell me. She's certainly pleasing to the eye enough for the crowd that visit my bar."

Chip rolled his eyes, "Absolutely not-"

Silver clopped forwards, angrily, "Now see here! I'll spend time with whomsoever I choose!"

"...Without his consent." Chip added weakly.

Pig Iron grinned wider as he neatly snookered the stallion, causing Silver to scowl more.

Chip turned solemnly to Silver, "I'm sorry."

"Whatever, Master." Silver Chalice spat, turning away.

"Sunshine, keep your father and yourself safe? Please? For me? And... I am sorry. I hope, one day, you can forgive me." Chip cast his eyes down, looking at his hooves.

Sunshine nuzzled the pony-shaped dragon on the poll of his head, "One day, maybe, when this is all over."

"I did it to save your lives." Chip whispered.

"By taking them from us," Sunshine replied, just as softly, "I'm glad I get to say that, but I'm not glad I have to."

"I hope, when you get my present... you'll forgive me." Chip tried to smile, nervously, flashing furtive glances at Silver, who was now a thundercloud of disapproval.

"Good luck, master." Sunshine kissed Chip on the forehead.

♦♦♦

In Training

═ The ══════════
Ambassador's
══════════ Son ═

Chapter Twenty-One
In Training
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow

The train was moving swiftly and steadily, speeding through the mountainous passes out of Stalliongrad. Snow was gently falling, the first of the season in the lowlands where the great city was situated. Chip shivered, he was glad to be going back South, even though he knew the seasons were changing there as much as anywhere else.

Equestrian steam trains come in two flavours, pondered Chip. The first was the more traditional pony-powered train. The second had horsepower of an entirely different sort. Both of them featured a similar-looking engine-car, which had always confused him. As an honoured passenger of the Royal Equestrian Mail Line, he was finally finding out what separated the two. The latter utilized some form of magic to get the water to move the train. The former held multiple teams of ponies, and the steam engine heated water for the teamsters to bathe in when they switched, not to mention heating the passenger cars... and somehow, as crazy as it seemed, they also used the heated water to cool others. Chip shook his head in wonder; and he'd thought the idea of a pony-shaped dragon had sounded strange when he'd first heard it.

"How come you have ponies to pull the train?" Chip had asked. The ponies and dragons all had given him a dirty look, and he'd apologized.

"T'ain't a bad thing," one of the teamsters had finally said, "but what do we do if they don't need us? 'Sides," the pony had continued, "ain't no faster with one o' them new-fangled steam engines, and less to break down without."

That had got a round murmuring of agreement from all present. The dragons, pegasi and earth ponies all were often found tinkering with parts of their train during otherwise 'down' times, even with as few moving parts as a pony-pulled steam-train had. One of the teamsters had been called in to buck a sticky valve - Chip eyed it nervously, if it stuck closed, the pressure would build in the system until it blew, filling the cab with steam. The same would happen if it broke off, so the application of percussive maintenance was gentle at best. If it merely didn't open properly, the heated sections wouldn't be, and that included the bathing car for the off-duty earth ponies that pulled the train.

The caboose was large and spacious. Chip had taken that brief look in the tender, which was equally spacious, but had been hustled out until they were underway. The caboose, on the other hoof, was for relaxing in. Chip had reluctantly divested himself of his armour, and had instead put on an oily cap and neck-tie. Masquerading as a railpony was probably unnecessary, but fun. It meant he got to pull the whistle-chord, which he did with glee before the pegasi and dragons in the cab chucked him out, laughing.

"So you're Pin's new owner, huh? Don't look like much any dragon I've seen." huffed an older engineer pony, a grey pegasus with a picture of crossed spanners on his flank as a cutiemark. Chip couldn't tell if he was actually grey, or if it was just the ever-present grime that had dyed him that way. He could barely see the stallion's cutiemark.

"Not all dragons have wings or claws," Chip stated idly, gazing out the window at the dark countryside whizzing past, flurries of snowflakes shimmering softly.

"'E's a dragon, alright," stated a surprisingly small voice, which belonged to an equally small dragon. "Dragons always know other dragons, and 'e's a dragon. I'm Runt," the creature said, proffering a paw. Chip took it carefully with his hoof, and shook, looking down at the beast Runt was sitting on. Runt grinned, his bottom jaw dropping open in mirth, "And this is Biscuit, my faithful steed."

Biscuit, a gingerbread coloured creature that was all curls, tail and ears, barked a greeting before whining and turning her head up at the dragon. She looked deliberately out the window and then back at the dragon. Runt dismounted from the ornate saddle, "Alright then, but mind yourself."

Chip giggled behind a hoof as Biscuit leaped up onto the plush seats, pawed open a window and stuck her head out, tongue flapping in the breeze.

"Dogs." Runt said. "You hungry?"

Chip blinked, "What?"

Runt waddled to a contraption in the forward left corner of the car, and filled a bowl with something hot and bubbling out of a ladle that glowed faintly red, "Soup." The dragon eased it away from Hairpin when she took a sniff, "Uh-uh, this is dragon soup. Not good for ponies. It's barium feldspar."

Hairpin raised her head up, backing away from the odd mixture with the strangely acrid fumes that burnt her nostrils.

"Oh don't look at me like that, it's not refined. It's got just enough to give a bit of a kick. It's not like I'm peddling whizbang. Awful stuff. This? This is good, wholesome chow."

Chip sniffed it, his stomach gurgling loudly to remind him he was, in fact, rather hungry. Hairpin made a face as Chip chowed down. Very shortly he asked for another. And another. A fourth bowl later saw the young stallion rolling on the floor with all four hooves in the air, tongue lolling out. "S-s-s-so good." he managed.

Hairpin shook her head, "Masters, can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em."

Chip looked over at her, head askew, "What do you mean?"

"I-" Hairpin looked out the window, suddenly silent.

"I'm sorry," Chip said, blushing, "I didn't mean-"

Runt, looking up from his own bowl which he was still licking clean, snorted, "New to this, I guess? Must be quite the story, seeing as you're... you." the dragon gulped down a few more mouthfuls before continuing, "You're young, too. Still a... what do they call it, a blank flank?"

Chip winced, making Runt pause in his bowl-cleaning duties, "Oh, I'm sorry there. Didn't know it was a... a thing."

"It's okay," Chip began, opening his muzzle to explain. He was interrupted, however.

"What's it like?" asked a small voice. Both dragons looked up at Hairpin, seated on the large, wide seat, somehow attempting to hide behind her hooves.

"What's what like?" Chip asked.

"Being a blank flank. I... I never was."

"What?" Chip rolled over onto his belly, tucking his hooves in under himself, "How can that be? No pony is born with a cutiemark."

"I was. I was born with Pig Iron's clan mark on my flank. Same as my father, same as my siblings. I got my cutiemark also, but... I've never been a blank flank. I... I kind of wonder what it's like."

Chip looked down at his flank, something he'd quite forgotten about. He twisted a forehoof about to touch his haunch where his cutiemark would one day be. He hoped. He wondered, briefly, if pony-shaped dragons even got cutiemarks. "I wonder why I don't have the Diamond Clan's mark?"

Hairpin snorted, "That's easy. You're a part of the clan. I belong to it."

Chip winced, "I'm sorry."

"You should stop being sorry. I..." Hairpin clammed up for a second, "I wouldn't know what to do if I didn't have an owner. It must be scary."

"What do you mean?" Chip asked.

Hairpin looked down at Chip, a faint smile on her face, "I was born the pet of Pig Iron. He's been like... my second father, all my life. Always there, keeping me safe. My mother taught me to fly, but Pig Iron taught me to excel. When your parents tell you to do something, you stand up to them and rebel. When your owner tells you to do something, you do it better than they want. I learned to cross him, to confound him, and finally... to love and respect him, like I love and respect my parents. He's always come through for me. I know some ponies... don't get the same treatment from their owners, but I always did."

"I... I promise to be the best owner I can be."

"I know, kid, I know. If I didn't think you could do it, I'd go ho-" Hairpin paused, "back."

"You can go back, you know. I can... give you back to him?"

"Pig Iron wants you safe," Hairpin said, "only way he could help was to give me to you. I couldn't abandon you even if you sent me back. It wouldn't be right. You're stuck with me, kid, and I wanna be stuck with you. Stalliongrad is too far away from it all for me, Pig's known that for the last few years. You're the best thing to happen to me. You live down in Neighvada, right?"

"Close. I guess I live in Tacksworn, now, but I have business in Neighvada."

Hairpin's countenance lit up like the dawn, "Oh I'm going to love this."

Runt face-pawed, "Be strict with her allowance, Chip. Her gambling debts could become yours."

"Oh hush!" Hairpin flicked a tail at the little dragon, "As if."

Runt waggled a claw, "I remember a certain wage-bet about beating the train across the Canterlot Gorge."

"That was different. And you fed me anyway."

"Only because Pig Iron'd skin me if I let his favourite filly flounder."

Chip relaxed on the floor as the dragon and pony continued arguing, pulling down some cushions with his teeth. He missed Sunshine and Silver, and their anger still hurt, but he was safe with friends and he was going home. He felt good, very good. He yawned, it had been a long night. The train journey would take a few days, same as before. He could probably afford to sleep.

♦♦♦

The diamond dog bowed, eyes on the floor. He daren't raise his head to gaze at his employer. His predecessor had, and had promptly lost it. "My lord, the ambassador's son lives."

There was a snarl, "I figured as much. See to it that this extension on his time left is short."

"B-but, my lord, we-"

"Don't know where he is. This, also, I have forseen. You morons couldn't find your tails with both paws if you fell on your backsides!" the figure's voice rose to a rumbling bellow that shook the room.

The diamond dog shook with fear. Displeasing the lord was a sure-fire way to get promoted, for the surviving personnel.

The figure on the throne leaned back, sucking on a water-pipe, puffing smoke rings in the semi-darkness, "Relax, I am of a jovial mind this eve. He is... accessible. The mail train from Stalliongrad will be passing through Canterlot on its way South. He may attempt to reach Celestia if he does not head directly for Tacksworn. Such intervention would prove... detrimental to my plans. And to your health."

"My lord!" the diamond dog whimpered.

"You will see to it that he has a chance for neither option. Take your best demolitions experts. Canterlot Gorge Viaduct is old, and in need of repairs. Until now, it has stood the test of time. Think how much of a shame it will be when it falls."

"The... the viaduct?"

"Bring it down!" the figure roared, slamming a claw so hard into the throne that it cracked, "I want that viaduct blasted into rubble, and I want that wretched whelp buried under it. Make it happen, or I will reupholster my throne with your hide and my den with those of your family!"

"My lord." the diamond dog whimpered again, his voice a hoarse whisper, tail tucked between his legs. He backed out of the room, as quickly as he could, eyes not leaving the plush carpeted floor until he was well out of the throne room. Then he turned tail, and fled.

♦♦♦

Sharptooth breathed a sigh of relief, a small spurt of flame leaving his nostrils. It was finished, the first version of Chip's wings. He had taken Chip's initial foalish designs and wrought them into something admirable, with a few of his own innovations of course. Made of thin, light, yet strong metal and precision-milled gears, the strange device would be cumbersome on the ground, but in the air... well, he sincerely hoped that when in the air, it would prove more than adequate to the task of allowing his wingless son a modicum of solo flight. He smiled, wiping his paws off with a rag, as he walked around the device.

He was still in his hoard cave when an unheard signal made him raise his spines in defense. Intruders! They weren't inside, but they were trying. They were diamond dogs, but even diamond dogs cannot dig everywhere. Especially not when that somewhere is into a dragon's cave. He heard them then, scrabbling at his door. A window shattered, and various ornaments from his windowsill smashed to the ground. He growled, breathing deeply. They dared!

"Dragon not here?" one asked.

"Better hope dragon not here." the other replied.

There was a low, ominous growl from a corridor. Two pearlescent eyes glowed a warm amber, and hot red and orange flames briefly illuminated a winged, scaled, ambulatory nightmare. There was a sound not entirely unlike two diamond dogs relieving themselves, and then a reverberating roar shook the mountain top.

♦♦♦

Chip yawned, sunlight streaming in through the windows. He'd curled up on the floor of the caboose in the corner, near the furnace that was still heating the draconic 'soup'. At least, he thought to himself, draconic food doesn't tend to go off. He wondered, partially intrigued and partially horrified, how old the soup was.

"Mornin' sleepyhead," said Spanners, the maintenance-pegasus. Chip wasn't sure if that was a name or a nickname, it didn't seem to matter. "Fancy checkin' out th' engine?"

"Oh yeah! Could I? Where're the others?" Chip stood up and looked around, stretching, his bones popping and cracking as he did so.

"Runt's fixin' the brake plates a'gin, muh pegasus pals is checkin' inventory an' seeing to thu' team switchover, Ah'm fixin' this here thamaturgical whatchamacallit and Hairpin's... uh... kinna busy right now."

"Busy?"

Spanners rolled his eyes skywards, "Gal ain't got out much recently." he said, finally.

"So?"

"She's... getting reacquainted with old friends. Of the male sort. Alone." Spanners shook his head and waited, patiently, for Chip to get the hint. He did, blushing crimson. "We got a jacuzzi, see, and-"

"ThankyouI'dliketoseetheenginenowifIcould" Chip coughed out.

Spanners deliberately and carefully put the device he was fiddling with down. He'd been sitting slumped in an odd posture on a seat, device jammed between his hind legs, held between his forehooves, and an old, dirty spanner in his muzzle. Occasionally he would use a wing to flick a part before adjusting with the spanner, or just his lips. "Come on then. I'll fly ya, gotta be careful though, steam train an' all."

"Careful why?"

"Ah'm a pegasus, kid. What do pegasi do?"

"Fly?"

"And?"

"Umm..."

Spanners sighed again, "Y'all ain't so smart inna mornin', are ya? We walk on clouds. Steam is clouds, boy. Makes flyin' hard if'n you gotta dodge that."

Chip blushed, embarrassed, as Spanners ruffled his mane, "None o' that now. Two choices though; y'all can trust me t'hold ya, or ya can hop on."

Chip settled for being held, though it didn't stop him screaming the whole way - mostly with joy once he got used to it. Trusting a huge dragon to fly him was one thing, but a grubby pegasus was another. Spanners was, however, more than up to the task.

Landing in the tender was relatively simple, if lumpy. It was partially full of coal, which was being fed to two smallish dragons by pegasi - small in terms of dragons, larger than Sharptooth. They were snoring as they alternately opened their maws for more coal before chowing down on the flammable snack. Their flames were bathing a single boiler. They looked disgustingly happy with themselves. Chip snagged a piece of coal with a hoof, munching it idly, as Spanners showed him the ropes. The pegasus barely batted an eyelid.

The train was populated by twelve earth ponies - six of which were pulling, the other six were freshening up and relaxing from their shift - as well as a flock of pegasi and a hoof-full of dragons, the smallest of which was Runt with his dog Biscuit. Biscuit got spoiled by every member of the crew, but was also a valued member of the team.

"So," Runt popped his head up through a hatch in the floor, "how do you like her?"

"It's so cool!" Chip replied, hooking a hoof around the whistle-chord and pulling it again.

"Ya know, you could always join the Equestrian Mail Service. Plenty of room for dragons, even pony shaped ones."

"I can't fly though... or breathe fire that well."

At that, Spanners did raise an eyebrow, "Ye can breathe fire?"

"Let me guess," Runt heaved himself up through the floor hatch, fending off an enthusiastic Biscuit, "yer dad says every dragon's gotta learn fire breathin', fightin', bellowin' an' flyin', right?"

Chip nodded.

"Yer learnin' ta fly?" Spanners lifted his ears in disbelief.

"Mostly down, am I right?" Runt laughed as Chip nodded, laughing, "Traditionalist, then. Come on, show us."

Chip stood up straight; this was his chance to show off, to prove himself. He took a deep breath, felt the flames within his belly rise, and then he huffed out, spreading his muzzle wide as... hot air puffed out. Spanners fell about laughing, kicking all four legs in the air. Chip blushed, hotly, hotter than his 'flames', "I did say I'm not very good at it!" he protested.

"Never you mind him, come 'ere..." Runt snagged Chip's muzzle, yanked it open and peered inside, "Mmm, yes, I think I got it... hang on."

Chip balked as the little dragon shoved almost his entire forearm into Chip's body, routing around for something. There was a brief flash of green that made his ears ring, and then Chip felt the undeniably odd sensation of the little dragon pulling his arm back out. Chip gagged, "What the heck?"

"Just a little bit of a push, hatchling. You're too young for your fire to stay lit for long, so I gave it a bit of a helping paw. Now try!"

Chip hiccuped, flames spurting out of his nostrils. He clapped a hoof to his muzzle, then lowered it again. Tentatively, he breathed out. A spurt of orange flame rent the air. Experimentally, he huffed and puffed, noting how the flames changed colour from a yellow, through orange and red to a bright blue depending on how he exhaled.

"Well now if that don't beat all. You dragons get stranger every day." Spanners said, clapping his hooves together.

"Just stay away from the tender, okay kid? I'm not explaining why all that coal went up in smoke whilst still external to Blaze and Furnace there." Runt pointed to each of the boiler dragons in turn, who had opened sleepy eyes to peer at Chip.

Chip promised, then went back to staring down his own muzzle at the flames, a silly grin plastered across it.

♦♦♦

"One more support, then get clear! The whole building's gonna come down when it goes!" growled a voice in the darkness.

Butch nodded, then snorted. The movement would never be seen. He bent to his task - demolishing the supports for the building up above. As it finally gave way, he leaped for the tunnel wall, claws flashing as they sliced through the solid rock to carve out a new exit tunnel. With a rumbling crash, the swiss-cheese foundations collapsed entirely, and the building - a local store - fell terminally into its own new sub-sub-basement. With it went the fire, extinguishing itself amidst the rain of debris. Butch bounded up into the open air, it was night-time, but the town was brightly lit by fires. This latest effort had been to demolish an already-doomed store, to act as a firebreak. Clashes of locals with intruders had spread throughout the town as the diamond dogs methodically - if somewhat haphazardly - ransacked the town for anything resembling a map. It was clear they had no idea what they were looking for, but it didn't stop them. Likely belongings were piled in heaps, which were in turn sifted through by diamond dogs and then alternately protected and guarded by townsfolk. Things had already come to blows, with many small injuries and a few bigger ones. The atmosphere had rapidly changed from merely angry to enraged, and it was only going to get worse.

Butch picked up a large piece of timber from the makeshift firebreak and brandished it menacingly - it was going to be hard putting the town back together, and seeing as it was his own family's store that had just been demolished, he wasn't feeling very charitable. He growled, astonished when the low rumbling bounced off the rest of the neighbourhood. Looking behind him, and up, he saw why. the pegasi had finally returned, bringing with them dark clouds that sizzled and shook with pent up energy. The words offensive weather came back to him and he grinned as targeted lightning bolts started hitting the enemy trolls.

A cheer rose up as not only the town but the elements began to fight back. Battle was joined.

♦♦♦

The diamond dog whined, his whimper cut off as Sharptooth flexed his claws. His pack mate was slumped over, top half of his torso bent at an angle that precluded anything including 'breathing' being likely.

"Who sent you, dog?" Sharptooth leaned closer, smoke pouring out of his nostrils.

"I... I can't!" the diamond dog implored, "My lord-" he clammed up, almost as if his muzzle were wired shut.

The dragon glared down at him, baring his teeth, "Geas or no geas, mongrel, you will tell me what you know. Why now, why do you seek the map? What part does my son play in this? Why murder his parents? Speak, cur!"

"No... part..." the dog-troll eeked out, "no part no more."

"No more?" Sharptooth leaned closer, teeth a hairs breadth from the troll's muzzle.

"We... had no choice! Two days gone... by high king, please! They said you gone!"

"TWO DAYS AGO WHAT?!" roared Sharptooth.

"He... died. He was returning and... train-"

Sharptooth froze for a moment, breath caught in his throat. Then a long, low keening howl rose from deep in his heart. He clenched his claws into fists, pulping the diamond dog that had been whimpering in his grasp. Tossing the shredded body aside, he exploded through the front door of his cave, bellowing with rage as the fires of revenge lit the night. On outspread wings, vengeance took flight.

♦♦♦

Chip was jostled awake as the distant explosion rocked the train. Blinking sleep away, he suddenly came fully alert.

"Chip, Chip lad! You've gotta get up!" It was Runt, shaking his shoulder, the dragon's trusty steed of a dog barking and whining as she ran in circles around the caboose.

"What's going on?" Chip leaped to his hooves and shook his head from the sudden vertigo.

"Those friends Pin warned us about... they've gone and bombed the viaduct! Madness!"

"They who what when what?" stammered Chip. He leaped to the window and fumbled with the latch in his teeth before opening it. They were almost at Canterlot, the great city in the mountain was visible in the distance, but before they could get there the train had to pass through the famous Canterlot Gorge. The train passed across on an old stone viaduct, built in ages past. It was tall, well-built... and currently crumbling ahead and behind them.

"Whatever you did, kid, you certainly pissed off the wrong sort."

"I'm sorry!" Chip wailed as he shrugged into his saddlebags, "I didn't know they'd do this!"

"No time now," Runt said, leaping onto his trusty steed, "but you can help make things right."

"How?"

"Gotta help get the crew back here, to the caboose. Emergency pegasus release, we'll be fine if we get everypony hitched up and everyone else inside. First though, we've gotta get to the tender and the cab!"

"How? I can't fly!"

"The roof. Up you go!"

Reluctantly, Chip clambered up the ladder at the back of the car in front of the caboose, whimpering as more explosions rocked the very tracks the train was running on. A few seconds later and he was standing on the roof of the car. He felt Runt hop onto his back, taking a solid hold of his mane. He grit his teeth and started running, leaping across the gaps between the cars.

A feathered shape fluttered up beside him, "Master! I can't let you-"

"No. Time." huffed Chip, "Gotta. Move. Fast." He leaped the last car, tumbling down the pile of coal and into the tender, spilling his passenger. Bursting into the cab, he met ordered commotion.

"Shut it down! Vent it!"

"On it! Quenching!"

"Pulling team clear!"

"Brakes won't respond! Luna's bent horn but those brakes were supposed to be fixed!"

"Leave 'em! Slowing down now ain't gonna help!"

"I've got 'em!" shouted Runt, clambering back down the hatch, "Maybe I can stop us, or at least slow us down, buy some time." The hatch clanged shut.

Chip cowered away from the busy forms of pegasi and dragons as they all scampered about the cab, "What can I do?" he yelled.

"Get up top, tell us how long we got before this whole thing pitches into the drink!" one of the pegasi shouted, pointing with a hoof, "We can't spare anypony else."

"Hairpin!" Chip shouted, "Help get the rest of the teamsters to the caboose!"

"Yes, master!" Hairpin shouted, saluting, before zooming off.

Chip ran up the coal hill, turned around and leaped onto the roof of the cab. Looking behind him, he saw the viaduct crumbling to pieces. Slowing down would be at least as fatal as speeding up. Ahead, another fireball from down at the very bottom of the valley flashed. It was a while later before he heard the boom. It worried him that he could still hear it, even above the roar of the wind. Whoever it was, was serious.

"A few miles!" he shouted down, "A couple of minutes, tops!"

"Horsefeathers!" shouted one of the pegasi, "Right, that's it! Leave it! We can't save it. Get clear!"

Chip helped the non-pegasi earth ponies clamber up the coal hill. The pegasi had unhitched them and had flown them to the cab in what was obviously a practiced emergency maneuver, but flying them to the caboose would have to wait. The pegasi flew directly to the caboose, where Chip could see them, distantly, shrugging into different harnesses.

Running back across the train car roofs, Chip watched spellbound as the pegasi flew out in what had to be an amazingly difficult procedure. They were flying backwards in their harnesses until all six of the crew pegasi were in position... however something was wrong. Leaping down, Chip could hear the swearing. One of the earth pegasi had taken to hammering on a lever, but it suddenly broke.

"Celestia buck me with both hooves!" the pony swore, "That's it, we're dead."

"What? What is it?" Chip shouted.

"Damned mechanism is stuck!"

The earth pony pointed, and Chip looked. The lever led to a gear and pulley system that disengaged the inside of the caboose from the frame and wheels. It had caught, stuck firm from never having been used.

"It's okay! I think I can get it!" Chip shouted, wind whipping his words away.

"What, kid? That's solid freakin' metal down there..."

"Yeah," Chip said, grinning, "and I haven't had breakfast yet."

Chip bent down... he could almost reach it! He swore under his breath and leaped to the next car, scootched down onto his belly and then stretched his neck out under the caboose. Taking a good solid grip onto the offending gear, he bit. Yanking it out and spitting, he did it again. And again. And again. Suddenly, the whole mechanism sheared off. Before he could move, the caboose slid free, wings springing out from underneath, as the boxy but serviceable emergency sky-chariot left the train behind... and left Chip.

"Master!" screamed Hairpin, and she leaped out of the chariot, diving towards Chip.

"Wait," Chip shouted, "You've forgotten somepony... Runt!"

Hairpin swooped and landed on the car roof, "No time, Chip, Get on!"

"No," Chip shook his head, "no, we're going to get him!"

"You can't!"

"There's still time!"

Spanners watched, from the relative safety of the airborne emergency chariot, as the strange dragon-pony disappeared into the steam and smoke.

"What're you doin' kid," Spanners said under his breath, "that's a sure-fire way to get a bad case of-"

Spanners never finished his sentence. There was yet another explosion, and the whole viaduct lurched to one side. With an agonizing rumble, the great arched structure gave up, and crumbled. The train, engine and all, plunged straight down into the gorge. In a massive plume of smoke and steam, the engine and its precious cargo slammed into the rocky waters far below, a belch of flame sending the mushrooming cloud skywards.

Spanner's breath caught in his throat, "Celestia go with you, kid..."

♦♦♦

The Echoes of History

═ The ══════════
Ambassador's
══════════ Son ═

Chapter Twenty-Two
The Echoes of History
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow

Carmine and Beth burst in through the front door of the library, screaming and hollering. The diamond dogs inside turned to attack, which was when Thorn, Butch and his crew burst through the floor. Butch howled and flexed his claws, Digger and Dozer both cracked their knuckles and the griffons screeched a battle-cry. Nobody looked like backing down, the growling and spitting between the two sides grew progressively louder, until a monumental crash sent splinters of glass cascading into the open atrium. Instinctively, everybody looked up, and ducked. Two equine forms had exploded through the upper story windows, protected by a bright lavender glow from Bella's horn. They bucked off the far walls and landed in the middle of Butch and company.

"Hey Butch," Bella head-butted the diamond dog until he turned to look at her. She grinned, "fancy a game of piñata dog?"

♦♦♦

Sharptooth roared as he swept low over Tacksworn. He inhaled, threw his head forwards on his long, sinuous neck and exhaled burning liquid death over a pack of invading diamond dogs. Their screams were short but agonizing, and as he passed and the flames extinguished there was nothing but glass and dust. Landing heavily, his tail slammed through another group, and their lives ended embedded in the walls of a building, or sometimes splashed across it. His wings spread wide, the draconic battle-cry reverberated from the mountains, and the invaders turned to flee, scrambling over themselves in their haste.

He didn't let many of them get far, not if they were in reach of his talons. They were quickly learning that attacking Tacksworn had been a big mistake, and for many it was the last mistake they would ever make.

Almost before the echoes of Sharptooth's bellowing roar had died down, they were answered with a cacophony of ear-splitting screeches. The griffons had arrived, bedecked in chain-mail and fitted with wing-blades, most also bearing pikes, maces and morning stars. They too harried the now-fleeing diamond dog packs as they fled over ground. From below, the town's allotment of native diamond dogs snapped and snarled.

Sharptooth looked through the carnage in motion, glassy eyes unseeing as he pondered. Bending to tear the head from one hapless invader, his muzzle ran crimson as he spat. The mostly-spherical skull bounced to a halt, the ears of the troll twitching as the life finally left him, the silent howl of pain unheard as it left bloodied lips. Sharptooth bent his head again, peering intently at the carcass gripped in his powerful claws. Methodically shredding the clothing, he pored over it. The shoulder; something caught his attention. Summoning a ball of mage-light, he peered closer. A design, four diamond-like objects with a sigil any dragon would recognize in the center. A blast of violet flame left nothing but dust as Sharptooth cleaned his claws. Now, now he was really angry.

♦♦♦

"Piñata dog?" laughed Carmine, raising her crest feathers.

"It's my new favourite game." Bella answered, prancing around the mezzanine deck as she scouted for intruders.

Penny nickered, nodding her head. She leaped up and put her hooves over the railings, red flowing mane falling down between her hooves, "You should've seen her earlier! She jumped right out of the carriage and onto a burning building, and then hustled the earth ponies down. Then those diamond dogs attacked and she was like foom!" the filly jumped over the fence, fluttering down to land on the atrium floor before carrying on, "and they were all flapping like chickens. You should'a seen their faces!"

"So," Bella picked her claws, "anybody found anything?"

Ruff hurriedly put down the copy of Daring Do and the Griffons Goblet he was thumbing through, grinning weakly.

"Guys, I... I think I got something," Carmine said.

"What?" Beth squawked.

Carmine just pointed.

"Oh." Beth followed the claw, and looked at the walls. It was a fresco, painted right around the library's atrium, right on the walls. The story of Tacksworn, from its founding to the building of the library itself. The settler ponies' arrival, the first shanty-town dwellings, the appearance of the griffons, the diamond dogs, and finally the dragons.

Everybody knew the story of Tacksworn, site of the Pax Equestrus; long forgotten by the rest of Equestria, it had been at Tacksworn, a little-known town in the middle of nowhere and everywhere, that a lasting peace had been brokered between the four nations. The peace, against all odds, had lasted until the present day. It was to this backwoods, oft-forgotten town that the draconic ambassador had been posted. With powerful wings and magic, Sharptooth could be anywhere in Equestria in short order, and the isolation had obviously suited him.

Finding him on the walls in the old library was still a shock, however. It had to have been hundreds of years ago, Carmine marvelled, when the events in the picture occured. "How old is our school house anyway?" Carmine wondered idly.

"Don't ask me, maybe they rebuilt it... but I recognize what he's hoofing over," Bella stated.

Carmine squawked in surprise as realization dawned. There before them, where anybody could have seen it but nobody had, was the answer. The rug, the huge woven rug that they had spent so many days clambering over in lessons, was the missing map of Equestria. Even here, in painted likeness on the wall, the detail was incredible. More of Equestria mapped than probably ever before or since, untold secret locations, lost treasures and hidden cities... and it'd been under their collective noses the whole time.

"that's our map! The one we have lessons on!" Bella shouted, "We've gotta get back to the school!"

♦♦♦

Sharptooth lumbered towards the school, where a glowing shield surrounded the old wooden building. "What did you do, Swift?" He threw a bloody, matted lump of fur to the ground in front of the blue dragon.

The hunched figure stretched, flexing his claws as he sought a weakness in the forcefield, "Good evening, Sharpie. I'll say it now, I'm surprised it took you this long to get here."

Sharptooth growled, smoke rising from his nostrils as he regarded the blue dragon more often known as Lord Sapphire, "This building is protected, Lord Sapphire. It holds nothing for you."

The blue dragon hissed, "Lies! What would you know of what it holds? You foolish pony-loving sop, this building holds the key to domination of an entire nation, the entire realm!"

Sharptooth shook his head, "If you had but asked, I would have shared my map with you. Now though, now when you take my son from me..."

"I gave him to you, Sharptooth. So I took the whelp away, so what. He was nothing."

"He was my son!" Sharptooth snarled, leaping for the other dragon, claws outstretched. He collided with the other dragon, rolling over and over in a ball of teeth and spikes. Sharptooth fastened his maw on the back of Swiftwing's neck, ripping out scales. The azure dragon roared in pain and twisted, slashing at Sharptooth's face, his claw catching the dragon's eye ridge and ripping at the soft hide. It was Sharptooth's turn to roar in pain as they parted, panting.

"You didn't even enslave them! You branded them!" Sharptooth hissed.

"I needn't sully my soul with their taint, old friend. Why all this effort to protect a bunch of useless walking snacks?" Swiftwing spat a tooth out.

"You never did understand ponies, or what they stood for. You've never understood knowledge, either. You hoard it, like gold. Knowledge is useless unless shared, Swift. I share my knowledge with these creatures and they repay me a thousand times over. You've never understood that, you never will."

"And so you throw your lot in with these pathetic creatures. You're no dragon."

"I am Lord Diamond, Swiftwing, watch your tongue or you will lose it."

"We shall see, Sharpie, we shall see."

"Have at it, then. We shall battle. To the death."

"So be it."

The battle-cries dragons echoed across the town and on into the night.

♦♦♦

"There's still time!"

Chip leaped over the last train car and tumbled down the pile of coal until he rolled into the cab. Runt was stuck in the hatch that led to the underside. Chip winced as coal sprayed across his backside, Hairpin had landed at a dead flap.

"Master! We've gotta get out of here! The whole thing's gonna-" She never got to finish, as the train lurched suddenly. An ominous rumbling that started low, vibrating in the bones somewhere below hearing, grew and grew. The train was pitching. Chip grabbed the small dragon in his teeth and yanked. Runt came flying up out of the hole.

Runt grabbed onto Chip's mane as gravity took hold of the cab and yanked it downwards, "Run you fools!"

"No time!" Chip shouted, "Hairpin, get clear! Me an Runt'll be okay, but you'll be cooked. Come and get us!" And his muzzle clamped over the emergency release valve.

Hairpin hissed, leaping out of the cab and fluttering clear as she watched the train begin its terminal descent into the rocky ravine so very far below. She dived down as a billow of steam enveloped the cab, the crumbling pillars of the viaduct, and her body in hot, sticky clouds.

Down below, there was the horrendous sound of screeching metal as thundering bricks piled up upon the locomotive, burying it and the cargo. Dodging rocks and falling metal, Hairpin dived to rescue her benefactor, if it wasn't already too late.

Chip opened his eyes.

White. Nothing but endless, silent white.

Am I dead? He thought to himself. No, no, he wasn't dead. He was pretty sure that dead dragons didn't ache quite so much, especially not in the tail.

Now that his senses were returning, he became aware of not only the biting pain in his tail, but the ringing in his ears and a soreness in his head... and he was pretty sure that he was upside down, swaying to and fro. A grey shape trotted up to him, yellow mane tangled and wild. Hairpin. She was mouthing words at him. No, Chip realised, she was talking to him. He just couldn't hear anything. She eased herself under him, and the pain in his tail eased up. Moments later, a smallish winged shape fluttered down to land on his rump. It was Runt, looking relatively pleased with himself, but somewhat the worse for wear.

Chip's memories can back in a rush.

"Master? You with us?"

Chip shook his head, the last of the ringing subsiding, "Hairpin?"

"That's my name, don't wear it out."

"You... you okay?"

"I think so."

"My saddle bags?"

"Still full."

"Am I okay?"

"Just keep a good grip with those strong legs of yours. Most stallions work out how to do it after a few tries."

Chip had the decency to blush, causing Hairpin to laugh. He was perched on her back in a rather intimate position with his forelegs draped across her withers and his hind legs around her haunches. Her wings were furled and she seemed to just be standing still. Chip still had the feeling they were moving, however.

"That was pretty clever of you, boss." Runt said, "never would've thought of this."

"That's because dragons can't cloudwalk. Ponies, pegasi, can. When you grow up a pony, a few things stick in your head."

They broke through into sunlight, with all of Equestria spread out before them. The steam and smoke had risen. Apparently something in the train had exploded; maybe a package, maybe something in whatever had brought the viaduct down. Whatever it was, it was down there, whilst they were up here.

"Wow," Runt said, "I'm... not that good a flyer yet. I don't get to see views like these every day."

"Me neither," said Chip.

"First things first, where to? Canterlot? I mean, we've gotta tell Celestia, right?" Runt's ears perked up.

"Nuh-uh," Chip said, "We're not going to Canterlot, we don't have time to faff about trying to get an audience."

"Where then?" the smaller dragon asked.

"I've got to get to Tacksworn, pronto!"

"If you think I'm flying all that way with you two-" Hairpin began.

Chip shook his head, "Uh-uh, Ponyville."

"But that's... I've got to get to the tender!" Runt complained.

Chip shook his head, "Until I'm in Tacksworn, you're with us. We're going to Ponyville. And that's final."

"Yes, Master!" Hairpin stretched, and then set off at a brisk, bouncing trot across the carpet of clouds, heading almost due South.

"Oh I hope Biscuit's not too worried about me." Runt added forlornly.

♦♦♦

Spike yawned, and turned over in his cot. Twilight was out for the day. He wasn't sure where, off on another adventure with her friends. Something about seaponies, apparently. He didn't mind being left alone, it was only when she wasn't being stressed about ancient magics and doomsday prophecies that he could get any sleep.

Life, of course, had other plans in mind. There was a loud, insistent knocking on the door.

"Grrrr-rraaghhh! Fine! I'm coming! I'm coming!"

The little dragon threw his blankie off, hid the stuffed bear under his pillow and then stormed down the stairs to the front room of the library. He opened the door, "What?!" he demanded, glaring up at a three-headed pony. "Wha-ha-haa!"

"Hey Spike!" one of the heads said.

Spike blinked, repeatedly, until he realized that it wasn't a three headed pony at all. "Chip? What in Equestria are you doing here?"

"I kinda need your help... Spike, meet Hairpin. Hairpin, Spike. Spike, Runt. Runt, Spike. And I'm Chip."

Spike looked up at Chip, who was grinning, "You got me grounded last time! For like forever!"

"Worth it though, right?" Chip looked worried.

"Sure was! Whaddaya need?" Spike punched Chip in the withers.

♦♦♦

Mister Davenport's heart fluttered, he staggered slightly and had to sit down on his rump, "You... you want to buy a sofa? LIke, a whole sofa?"

Spike looked back at Chip, who nodded, "Yeah, I... I guess I do."

Davenport sniffed, "Well let me see what I have in stock..."

A few minutes later, Chip and Spike were walking around a plush little two-seater gem with integrated thaumatic heating elements and water-resistant coating for extra protection during those muddy autumn days.

"This is... all you've got in stock?" Spike whimpered, looking at the price tag.

"Well, I've got the executive model-"

"But you only sell two things!"

"Take it or leave it." Mister Davenport smiled the smile of a pony who knows a done deal when they see one, "it also has..." He manipulated a lever on the side, and the sofa extended backwards, "full reclining action, for a really comfortable seating experience."

"Fine..." Spike sighed, waving a paw dismissively, "do you take cash or credit?"

"Cash. Cold hard bits." Mister Davenport grinned.

Spike sighed, "I thought you might say that."

"But for you, I'll give you a discount. Say ten percent?"

Some huffing and puffing later, with everybody wishing at least one of them had been a unicorn, the sofa was installed in the library, and Runt and Hairpin were installed on top of it.

"I don't understand though, why do we need a sofa?"

"We don't," Chip replied, "we just need the box."

Spike face-pawed, "You realize he might have given us a box for free, right?"

Chip head-tilted, "Didn't think of that."

"Why do we need a box, anyway?" the little purple dragon asked.

"Well, I've got to get a package to Tacksworn really quick."

Spike looked from Chip to the box and back, "Oh, no, no, no..."

"Come on! You can do it!"

"He can do what?" Hairpin asked, looking at Runt inquisitively.

"You're crazy!" Runt said, jumping up and half-spreading his wings, "You're going to post him?!"

"What? Can you... you even do that?" Hairpin pricked her ears up, looking back at Chip.

"I... I don't know!" Spike exclaimed, "I mean accidentally, sure, but... you're pretty big..."

"I've got a fire-ruby," Chip said, ears perking up in a grin.

"...And I can only post things to Celestia."

Chip leaned closer, "I think I can fix that, too. What is it of hers you have?"

"What? I... I don't know what you mean." Spike blushed, wringing his paws together.

"It's familiar magic, isn't it? You've got something of hers, so you can use that to post things to her, right?"

"Maybe." Spike grit his jaw, plumes of smoke rising out of his nostrils, "So what if I do?"

"Well," Chip turned his head to his saddle-bags, pulling them off with a clatter, "I've got this." Chip routed around in the pile of belongings as he opened both saddlebags, their contents spilling out into the library, and he pulled out a small black square of cloth.

"That-"

"Belongs to my dad, Sharptooth. Can you use it?"

Spike took a deep breath, looking down at the fire-ruby, which he picked up in one paw, and the black square of velvet that he held in the other. Sizing up the box and Chip, he sighed, "If this doesn't work..."

"I'll just end up with Celestia, I hope, in which case I'll tell her everything anyway."

The fire-ruby shattered easily as Chip struck it with a metal-clad hoof. He picked up a sizeable piece for himself, and hoofed the others over to Spike.

"Ready?" Spike asked.

"As ever." Chip replied. He clambered into the box, which had been turned on it's side. His draconic armour clinked and clanked loudly as he squeezed into the relatively small space. Adjusting the borrowed neck-bag until he was comfortable, he nodded at Spike, and closed his eyes.

Spike mumbled to himself, "Oh Celestia, what am I getting myself into?" before he popped the shards of fire-ruby into his muzzle, and chewed. Eyes watering, he hiccuped, then took a deep breath. And then he exhaled.

♦♦♦

There are not enough words in the Equestrian language, Chip thought to himself as the world reformed around him, to describe pain. The heat had been intense, saturating his entire body and tearing him apart into billions of particles of black ash. It ripped, it tore, it shredded him, and it kept on burning for an eternity of agony as the particles threaded him through space as barely-living weft, weaving a tapestry of torture.

He came to, screaming, every movement a grizzly reminder of that brief trip through some dark hell he never wished to visit again. The room was dimly lit with flickering flames, strange bipedal creatures sifting and sorting through his belongings. Fury boiled up in him and he bellowed his agony out, filling the room with his presence. They turned, of course, at the flash of red and green, and attacked - but Chip was more than ready to share his pain. He screamed as he battered with fore and hind hooves, cleaving into his foes as if they were no more than paper. He screamed as his tail flashed, slashing open belly and throat alike as their bodies were flung through the air to land in crumpled heaps that merely leaked instead of moved. Finally the room was empty of life, save for Chip, and he fell to the floor and wept.

After a time, he opened his eyes. He hurt, but he was alive. He staggered to his hooves and wiped one foreleg across his muzzle. His hoof came back red with blood, none of it his. He staggered down the corridor deeper into the cave. This was his cave, now. He had to make sure it was secure. It was his duty, an almost sacred task. Leaning against the walls for support, huffing and puffing like bellows, he gradually made his way to the hoard. The great petrified stonewood door opened at his touch, and closed behind him. He bid the torches light, and their flickering mageflame showed the room to be untouched, unsullied.

Chip was tired, so very, very tired. He fell to his knees to rest, but shook his head. He couldn't stop, he had to push on. Easing himself forwards with only his hind legs, sliding across the floor weakly, his poll came to rest up against a pedestal. On that pedestal was a single, cracked eggshell, with a piece missing. He toppled the pedestal with a well-placed kick, shattering the egg. Picking up a sizeable piece with his teeth, he ate slowly but steadily.

Almost immediately, fire burned in his veins and his head cleared and he rose to all four hooves once more. Breathing heavily, but easily, he assessed the situation. There had been intruders, they had been dealt with. Nobody had penetrated the hoard, and it was unlikely more would be coming. If Sharptooth wasn't present, then he was down in Tacksworn proper - and so that was where Chip must go. Glancing around the hoard one last time, he spotted a recent addition. He'd only seen it last as a mere foal's drawing, had not imagined he could be seeing it so soon, but a flying device stood there before him, affixed to a workbench. His wings, made of gleaming metal and gossamer fabric, pistons and gears pristine and waiting. If he was to return to Tacksworn, it would be as a dragon does.

Casting his eyes about once more, his gaze came to rest on another piece of draconic armour. The fit, as he forced his head into it, was awkward, but it would stay on. A single horn adorned the helmet, like a unicorn's, with barding that covered his forehead and cheeks. He had given his own set's head garment to Sunshine, and his chest-barding to Silver Chalice. With another piece of 'insurance' he felt ready to do battle, and this time it would be as a full dragon. First the flying pack, then the flames.

Chip stood on the ledge, looking down into the night. Tacksworn was burning, he could hear shouting and sounds of fighting even here. He grit his teeth and snarled, pawwing the ground. This was his town, sort of. True, he hadn't lived here long, but by the first egg he wasn't going to let it be destroyed. The wings had proven awkward to maneuver, the straps had taken time to adjust and, truth be told, he had no idea if it would all actually work. He would just have to trust it; running down the mountain path at night would be suicide, and there was no way he was going to stay up out of reach and let his friends get hurt.

He pulled off the neck-bag and emptied it, shards of the fire-ruby fell to the ground. He gathered them up with his lips and chewed them, feeling their burn drip down his throat, almost scalding him. Tears sprang to his eyes, but flames roared up out of his belly.

He was ready, but the moment called for something. He closed his eyes, feeling in his gut that bubbling well of heat that Sharptooth had taught him about. It wasn't fury this time, nor anger, just cold, hard determination. It filled him, it felt like it flowed throughout his entire body, even through to his mechanical wings. He dimly perceived them, as if Sharptooth had worked some magic into them. Maybe he had. Chip pawwed at the ground with his hooves, one after another, feeling the wings flap. He gripped that heat with his mind, felt it flicker and burst into life, felt it bubble up out of his chest until he was surprised that the ledge itself wasn't on fire, and then he roared. Taking a short few steps back, he galloped off the edge into the night.

♦♦♦

Sharptooth slammed into the ground heavily, twisting his wing. The membrane was shredded, but the joint was intact. He rolled, catching the leaping Swiftwing with all four claws. He bit at the blue dragon's throat and whipped his head back, pulling a sizeable chunk out of his opponent's flesh. His name was not 'Sharptooth' for nothing, but then 'Swiftwing' was equally aptly monikered. The blue dragon sliced his wing-claw across Sharptooth's chest, catching the green dragon on his foreclaws. Sharptooth hissed and growled, throwing the blue dragon off. He leaped to his hindlegs and swung his tail, spikes barely puncturing Swiftwing's leathery backhide.

In response, the blue dragon bathed Sharptooth in hot, blue flame and then drove his head into his enemy's gut. Sharptooth's breath whooshed out his maw as the green dragon was flung backwards. In moments, Swiftwing was upon him, gripping the green dragon in a rough choke hold. The blue dragon sank his teeth into Sharptooth's shoulder, snapping and snarling, blood flowing freely from the wound. Sharptooth wrapped his tail around Swiftwing's neck and pulled. Bones snapped, but the deathgrip was broken. They flailed together, rolling, cursing, roaring, bellowing and swiping.

When dragons fight, it is for two things - for dominance, or for war. Neither would now back down, death would be the final arbiter.

Sharptooth snarled, claws digging in to Swiftwing's back as he sought to rend and tear at his opponent's throat. Lord Sapphire for his part dug claws in to Sharptooth's ribs, causing the green dragon to howl.

The roaring bellow of an attacking dragon rent the night.

♦♦♦

Chip sailed through the air, whooping with joy. He'd almost died in the first few moments, but then... everything had just started to make sense. The wings were clumsy, he had almost zero lift, and he really had no idea how to land them, but they worked!

He galloped through low-flying clouds, blasting them apart into less than vapour. The town was coming up before him, now, and he awkwardly tried to circle it. A stray gust of wind almost sent him tumbling again, but he regained control in time to spot what looked like two dragons fighting outside the school building. The building itself was covered in a strange bubble-like glowing field of energy, and the dragons were lit up by it's ethereal glow. As he swooped lower and lower, he saw they were Sharptooth and that other dragon lord, Lord Sapphire or something. They weren't just fighting, they were out to kill each other!

"Sharptooth! No! Get away from my dad!" Chip inhaled and then roared, sending a huge belch of flame down towards the fighting pair. Chip lowered his head, and lost more height. Chip's wings faltered, he was losing speed and his burst of flame had temporarily blinded him, setting fire to what flammable parts there were. His flight suit was done for, but It wouldn't matter, nobody was going to hurt his dad! He lowered his head, long sharp horn gleaming in the magelight, and dropped.

Sharptooth twisted in his opponent's grip, snarling and gouging, but could not get free. Lord Sapphire laughed deeply and then bent his head in for the kill.

At the roar of another dragon, however, he lifted his head, blinking in confusion.

Sharptooth twisted free as the burning winged demon fell out of the skies and slammed into the blue dragon's unprotected belly-hide, tearing Sharptooth from his grasp, flinging the pony's own body free of his helmet to crash against the forcefield, where Chip collapsed in a heap of broken tubes, twisted metal and ripped cloth.

The world held its breath.

"Swiftwing!" Sharptooth gasped, eyes wide.

Lord Sapphire blinked, coughing, "I... I would have won."

Sharptooth cradled his foe's head in his foreclaws, "Shh, be calm." He fingered the helmet embedded in the chest of his friend, a mortal wound, deep and true, speared through the soft, unprotected underbelly of his erstwhile foe.

The blue dragon coughed, flecks of blood dripping down his muzzle, "Can... can I see it? Just once?"

Sharptooth nodded, then turned, and brought the forcefield down. It shattered in a tinkling rain of a myriad motes of light.

Chip slumped into a heap, groaning. "Dad?"

"Chip, lad," Sharptooth said softly, "are you whole?"

"I... I think so. Is it... are you safe?"

"Aye, lad. Could you... could you do me a favour?"

"What?" Chip stood up, the wreck of his mangled flying suit falling off him in pieces. He shook himself out of it, shaking his head to clear it.

"Please go inside, fetch the rug you use in geography lessons."

Chip's eyes went wide, "That... that's it? That's what all this has been about? M-my parents died for a rug?" Chip glared at Lord Sapphire, who chuckled weakly.

"Now is not the time, young dragon. Fetch it for me, please?"

Chip snorted, and trotted inside, the barricades meaning as much to him as gossamer threads of spiderweb. He returned, the children inside tentatively following him, flanked by nervous teachers, with the rug in his muzzle. He dragged it through the dirt and threw it to the ground in front of the other two dragons.

"There. Much good may it do you."

Lord Sapphire looked at it, and started to cry.

"Swift?"

Breathlessly, with a bubbling voice, clearly in pain, the dragon answered, "It's... the wrong... map." he turned away, unable to look at his failure. "All this, and... I wasn't even killed... by a dragon." His sobs subsided, his eyes closed, and his chest rose and fell one last time, and then it was still.

Very gently, Sharptooth lowered his friend's head to the ground. "You were, Swiftwing." Sharptooth turned eyes wet with tears to his son, "Roar, little one." he whispered, "Roar for me, and for him. Finish it."

Chip inhaled, threw back his head, and bellowed into the night, a plume of flame illuminating the clearing as the townsfolk gathered around. A mournful keening joined it as Sharptooth too lent his breath to the farewell.

As silence once again settled over the scene, what foreign diamond dogs were left fell to their knees, foreheads planted firmly to the ground.

"What are they doing?" Chip hissed.

"Come, Lord Sapphire," Sharptooth said meaningfully, accentuating the last two words as he steadied himself with a claw on Chip's withers, turning his great head to look at his son with a sad look on his muzzle, "it is time to put an end to this."

Chip's eyes widened and he collapsed to his rump, "You have got to be kidding me."

♦♦♦

Carmine and practically fell out of the library when she heard the roaring. The sounds of scuffling and battle rang loud and true, but a dragon roaring dwarfed even that. Her blood ran cold - after life with the few dragons that deigned to make Tacksworn their home sounding off every so often, she had learned to recognize each and every one. This... this was something new. Someone new. It was met and echoed by another bellow, a throaty expulsion that raised her head-feathers. Sharptooth.

"Guys! Guys now!" She bolted from the library and lumbered into the skies, wings not even half-spread before she attempted take-off. Beth followed her, with Penny not far behind. Bella stuck close to the diamond dogs as they gained speed across the dusty, wreckage-strewn streets. They ran easily on long, thick forearms, much as she galloped, and she marvelled again at their physical prowess. As they started to draw ahead, she wished she'd paid more attention in teleportation class. She daren't use another slow-fall spell, in the flickering torch-lit semi-darkness, the loss of control could be deadly. A sweaty sheen built up on her body, but it would not be far to go.

Carmine screamed her battle-cry, answered by Beth, as they came upon the school. A strange, glowing shield surrounded it, and two fierce-looking creatures were ripping and snarling at each other. One of them was Sharptooth... and the other one she recognized too.

"That's that Lord Sapphire!" Carmine shouted above the wind.

"Who?"

"The dragon from the fair that packed up last week! The one that jumped us after... after those diamond dogs. Shells! Bloody shells and shards I was dumb! It was him! We've gotta..."

"We've got to what C?! You'll get killed! The only thing that has a hope down there is-"

"Dragon!" Carmine squawked, rolling to the side as a large, firey winged shape sped past. Adrenaline kicked in as the presence enveloped her, it was roaring like a nightmare and venting flame like a mobile volcano... and the tattered mechanical wings were on fire.

"It... it can't be! That's..."

Carmine shouted and whooped with glee as she realized what was happening, "B! We're okay! That's Chip!"

Bella rolled in the air and circled to hover next to Carmine, "Are you-"

"Cracked eggs!" Carmine swore, "Chip! Buck me to the middle of next week! Chip!"

Carmine swooped and dived to pull up running just ahead of the diamond dogs and Bella. She winced as she heard the crushing clatter of protesting metal, and the very meaty thunk of Chip impacting with the blue dragon. He rolled, he rolled and he rolled, and came to a stop...

"Chip?" Carmine whispered, pulling up short. The whole town, it seemed, was waiting.

Chip stirred, and he approached Sharptooth. In the firelight, Carmine could see, with her eagle eyes, how the older dragon was distraught. A few low words, and Chip galloped into the school, the shield dispersing as if it were nothing but a soap-bubble, and he came out again with the school's rug.

There, in the dark and the growing cold, she watched Lord Sapphire die. As the light went out of his eyes, she shuddered. The keening that followed raised hackles she barely knew she had, and finally Chip turned. And saw Carmine.

He stood there; singed, limping, cut, bleeding, flames flickering around his muzzle - but proud and tall. Hesitantly, Carmine stepped forward.

Chip looked up, as a group of ponies, diamond dogs and two griffons came closer. He held his breath now... but couldn't help himself.

"Car... Carmine? Carmine!" He galloped from his father, shedding what broken machinery remained, to entwine his neck and head with hers in a fierce pony-shaped dragon hug.

Carmine felt wet drops on her back and fluffed up, wiping her beak with a claw, "Shu-shush you dweeb. You'll make me look like I missed you or something."

"I missed you too, Carmine." Chip whispered, hugging her all the more fiercely.

"I missed you too, Chip. Welcome home."

♦♦♦

Epilogue - End of Book 1

═ The ══════════
Ambassador's
══════════ Son ═

Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow

Chip had stood guard the entire night, legs locked as he slept upright, fitfully, ready at a moment's notice to leap into action. It hadn't been necessary. Sharptooth had slept in the school, unable to fly and unwilling to lumber through the ravaged town. Nobody had dared to deny Chip his request. In the morning, things would be different, but for now he was fulfilling the role of his father, the ambassador.

Dawn brought sunlight, birdsong, and the distant sound of hammer, nail and saw. Rebuilding had begun. It would take a while, but it would be completed thoroughly and without fail. Most of the foreign diamond dogs had been run off. Those who hadn't had done the bidding of their new Lord, currently one Chiphoof Irontail Leatherback of the Diamond Expanse Dragon Clan, and also Lord Pro-Tem of the Sapphire Reaches.

New sounds outside brought Chip to wakefulness. He unlocked his legs and stretched, trit-trotting through the doors to see who had arrived. He wasn't very surprised when he was greeted with four pegasi, who spread their wings menacingly before him, blocking access to a large white winged alicorn, a silvery grey pegasus, a lavender unicorn and two small dragons.

"At ease, gentleponies, we're all friends here." Princess Celestia said, softly, her musical voice carrying across the divide.

Chip nodded, "Good morning, Princess Celestia. My father is... indisposed."

"Your father," said Sharptooth from behind Chip, "is quite capable of speaking for himself."

Chip skittered out the way, equal parts embarrassed and worried for his adoptive father.

"Tia, so nice to see you. Finally."

The princess scowled, "You wound me."

"I think you'll find it is I who am wounded, my dear." Sharptooth chuckled, then winced. It was going to be a long walk home, if he couldn't get a lift.

"I can see that. Are you alright?"

"I will live, Celestia. We dragons are hardy creatures. What doesn't kill us won't get a second chance and all that."

"What happened here?" the winged unicorn asked, "I have been kept busy with insurrection across my realm, a viaduct is blasted to rubble and a mail-train is sent to the bottom of a very deep gorge. A mail train that I was reliably informed had passengers. Passengers which, I hasten to add, I later find ensconced in Ponyville, of all places, sat on a sofa purchased under duress, having tea with my prize pupils number one assistant."

"A sofa?" Sharptooth raised an eye-ridge.

"I only needed the box." Chip replied, meekly.

"Perhaps you could have persuaded the salespony to part with just a box?"

"I didn't think of that, alright?" Chip stomped a hoof.

The dragon sighed, rubbing his temples with a foreclaw, "If you see fit to send me the bill for it," Sharptooth addressed Celestia wearily, "then you will also see fit to send me the sofa. My son here is overdue a very long talk about the value of money and ownership."

"That's another thing," Celestia added, coldly, "I believe this belongs to you?"

Hairpin trotted over to Chip and abased herself before him. Chip blushed at the astonished expressions all round.

Sharptooth looked on with an amused expression on his face, "Son, I believe we are also overdue a talk about keeping pets."

"My little ponies are not pets, Sharpie. I thought we had that settled?"

"My dear Princess Celestia, I am quite sure there's a good reason for this."

"Indeed, it had also better cover just why two members of the Irontail family now find themselves enslaved to the Diamond Expanse clan, and in particular to the young scion of said clan."

Sharptooth sighed, "There had better be," the dragon added, ominously, "Chip?"

Chip set his jaw, "They were subject to a contract put out on them by my uncle. Now deceased."

"What happened?"

"He paid two dragons he had hired to protect him, to kill him. He wasn't thinking straight at the time. They also burned down his mansion, so my cousin is currently homeless."

Celestia closed her eyes and sighed, waving the guards off, "secure the area, ponies. I am quite safe in the company of this dragon lord. We need to finish our little chat in privacy."

"Lords, Tia. Lord Swiftwing of the Sapphire Reaches is no longer with us. He was slain in battle by my son here, who is currently acting Lord Sapphire."

The alicorn looked down at the pony-shaped dragon, and then up at her friend, "What am I going to do with you? Go on, little one." Celestia prodded Chip, who opened his muzzle and continued, stutteringly, to explain.

"I... I had no choice, P-princess Celestia. Y-you couldn't protect them. I could. My clan could." Chip faltered as he gazed up into the alicorn's deep purple eyes.

"My little pony-" the princess began.

Chip shook his head, "N-no, Celestia. I'm not. I'm a dragon. I'm not your little pony. I'm not a pony. I o-own Hairpin Turn, she was a gift and I will not give her up."

"You will not?" Celestia's eyes flashed as she glared down at the pegasus, who cowered behind Chip.

Chip glared resolutely back up at the princess, "No. I tried once, and she pledged herself straight back to me. I-it's all she's known, it's not right to make her do something she doesn't want to. One day she may want her freedom, and when she does she may have it, b-but right now, she is mine, for as long as she wishes."

"Is this so, pegasus?"

Hairpin Turn hung her head, and nodded.

Celestia's jawline hardened. "I see."

"My f-family is free, if you can guarantee their safety. They are safe with Pig Iron at the moment."

"Ah, Pig Iron. I see where you have gained your propensity for acquiring pets." Celestia spat.

"Tia, stop hounding the boy! He has been through a lot."

"And he has come out the other side a mo-"

"Do. Not. Finish. That. Word. Celestia." Sharptooth growled, pointing a long talon at the speechless monarch. "My son is an honourable dragon, and the Lord of a clan. You will treat him with as much respect as you grant me. He has spent the last few days defending your crown from dangers you yourself seem unable to deal with. Cross him and you cross me. Cross me and you cross my people, Celestia. Do not make me make an example of you."

Celestia stepped back, blinking in surprise and a good deal of wry amusement.

"I gave my cousin everything, Celestia." Chip said, clearly, "It's all in the letter she has. Everything the Irontails owned, even my home in Neighvada. I don't want it, any of it. That is pony business and I am no longer a pony. Lord Sapphire took my parents away, you... you helped give me a new one. I thank you for that, but I will not turn away from him. I cannot be one of your ponies any longer." He glared at the pony princess.

She, in return, glared back. Eventually, she broke the gaze, nodding coldly to one side, "As you wish."

"I do." Chip shook. He'd just argued with the princess of all Equestria. At any other time, he'd have been running for the hills. But now... he looked back at the winged unicorn. She actually smiled, though with sadness.

"To keep them safe. To keep her happy. To protect your family. I do not agree with your methods, young dragon, but I do see your logic."

"I don't agree with my methods," Chip added ruefully, "but I had no choice."

"And what of the machinations of Swiftwing? I take it he was behind the actions of this now-dead uncle?"

"He was, and I hope they died with him. They were all for naught, Celestia. Whatever map he coveted, it is as lost now as it ever was. Misunderstandings and malfeasance has brought nothing but wrack and ruin. Now, I just wish to go home, to heal and to rest."

"And you shall, my friend... just as soon as you have satisfactorily explained to my prize pupil here why she found a new sofa and unexpected guests in her library.

"Chip, my boy, I think it is time we had that talk about an allowance."

Chip winced. His eyes met Spike's as Twilight Sparkle, the unfamiliar lavender unicorn, trotted over hesitantly.

Spike and Chip grinned at each other whilst Sharptooth and Twilight rolled their eyes.

♦♦♦

Seasons came and went, Tacksworn recovered, and prospered. Chip settled down into his new role of school-foal, and even got used to extracurricular lessons on flying, fighting, bellowing and fire-breathing.

One day, one lazy warm spring afternoon, Chip was sorting through the papers that had arrived from his home in Neighvada. Out of a nondescript set of schoolwork from his time with the private tutors back in Neighvada, fell some of his pony-father's papers.

Chip peered curiously at the pages spilled across his bedroom floor, and spread them out. He blinked. He checked again. He swore under his breath, and then turned to shout down the stairwell to Sharptooth, "Dad! Dad! Come here quick!"

♦♦♦ End of Book One ♦♦♦

End of Book 1, The Ambassador's Son.

Author's Note: Well, this is the first story of this length, that I can objectively say isn't total trash, that I've completed. I've seriously enjoyed writing it, wending my twisted way through the weft and woof of it all, and - as you can probably see - I've got several Chekov's Guns left in the armoury that I haven't even fired yet. I hope you enjoyed reading it, and I hope you'll join me, Chip, Sharptooth and friends again for the next installment, which has already hit your screens!

Make some room for...

♦♦♦
THE KING OF DIAMONDS
♦♦♦

Through Fire and Flames

═ The ══════════
Ambassador's
══════════ Son ═

Chapter One
Through Fire and Flames
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow

The dragon leaned back in his chair, it creaked as he settled into the comforting embrace and he sighed with contentment. He lifted the wooden cup to his lips, blew on the hot liquid within and sipped it thoughtfully. “Celestia,” he said in a soft warm voice, as if that one word contained within it the whole wealth of a conversation. "How are you enjoying your tea?"

“Ambassador,” replied Celestia, just as tersely, but with a small, sly smile on her muzzle. "You do make a pleasing brew."

The two old friends regarded each other in silence for a moment, the green dragon named Sharptooth having a good few feet of neck and few extra pounds in mass on the delicate white alicorn. Nevertheless, Celestia held herself with a poise and grace that spoke of surety and calm and she lay on the soft red cushions before the scaly beast.

The dragon narrowed his eyes, taking another sip. “I have recently been learning a game your ponies have started playing again, I believe it is well known to you and your sister. I think they call it... castles? No, chess.”

Celestia smiled, crafty and wise, yet kind. “It is an old game, Ambassador.”

“When playing this game, the amateur seeks only to move. The master instead plans, seeking not short term gain. He, or she, places their pieces quite silently, simply and effectively to master the board as a whole.”

“It is a fascinating game, Ambassador. We should play together, some time, you and I.”

The dragon puffed a ring of smoke into the air, watching it for a few seconds. “My dear Celestia, you would walk all over me with those pretty little hooves of yours. I would be no match for one so skilled as you.”

“Oh, come now.” Celestia laughed softly. “Is it not a joy just to play?”

The dragon laughed, but his tone held a harsh undercurrent. “You know me well. If you have finished with your refreshments, and I do hope the tea was to your liking, then we can discuss the little matter you must be visiting me for. It has been a long time since we last spoke, I take it you're calling in one of those favours I owe you?”

Celestia looked hurt. “Oh ambassador...”

“Ah-ah, none of that. You only call me by my title when you want something, you minx. Spit it out.”

“You wound me, Sharpie.”

The dragon rolled his eyes. “And Sharpie is even worse, coming from you. I must have done something very bad this time. Is it the Griffons? The Naga? It can’t be the Mountain Trolls, and those Diamond Dogs of yours are hardly trouble these days.”

“Oh, no, no, nothing like that.” Celestia looked apprehensive.

“Hrmm, worse then. You want something from me, personally. Out with it, then.” Sharptooth shuffled in his chair, glowering.

“There...” Celestia looked troubled for a moment as she lay, reclining by the fire on the plush red pillows strewn about. “There was an accident in Neighvada, An Earth pony noble family, dignitaries to the Diamond Dogs, were trapped in a mine. Something happened, there was a blast. Their son... he doesn’t know.”

“Ah.” The dragon swirled his cup between his claws, “Life is such a precious thing. Those such as you and I forget that so easily.” He drained the cup and looked at the tea leaves for a few moments. “You’d better show him in.”

Celestia looked at the doorway and nodded imperceptibly. It swung open as a hoof pushed it from outside. “May I introduce Chiphoof, Ambassador Sharptooth? Chiphoof Irontail, of the Neighvada Irontails; an old family, one of the oldest. Chip here is...” The alicorn sighed sadly, and continued in a near-whisper, “He is the last surviving Irontail from this particular branch of the family.”

A small colt peered in the doorway, swishing his amber tail to and fro. He was the colour of soft leather, Sharptooth noted, almost all over, but for one notch on a forehoof that was black.

“Come in, child, come in.” Sharptooth didn't have to raise his voice; he was a dragon, after all.

The colt stepped nervously in, ears flicking about. Dragons, especially older ones, have a particular odour which many equines find disturbing. The colt would learn to tolerate it, figured Sharptooth, if he were to stay.

“I want to go home,” said the colt clearly, glaring at the princess.

“You will be staying here for a while.” she replied simply.

“No, I want to go to Mother and Father. Where are they? Why am I here?”

Celestia looked pained, glancing at the dragon for support.

Sharptooth rolled his eyes and snorted in disapproval before turning kind yellow eyes to the colt. “Little one, you will be staying with me for a time.”

“No!”

“Just for a little while. I am afraid when the princess demands it; you must acquiesce.” The dragon chanced a look at Celestia, who bared her teeth and flicked her ears back in annoyance. He chuckled softly. “Believe me, I’d much rather be alone with my books, telescopes and model flying machines.”

“Flying machines?” asked the colt, perking an ear up.

“Oh, just an old hobby. I build them. Would you like to see? They’re upstairs; be careful, they’re very fragile.”

“You must, Sharpie? You wound me to the quick, old friend,” said the princess, as the hoofsteps echoed down the stairwell and a door slamming open was heard.

Sharptooth got up and stretched, opening the door for the princess and gesturing outside. “Just placing my pieces on the board, Tia dearest, since you insist I play.”

The princess rose to her hooves and trit-trotted past the dragon, stopping to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Do let me know how he’s settling in.”

“I will.”

“And... break it to him gently.”

“Leave it to me, my dear Celestia.”

♦♦♦

Sharptooth watched as the royal chariot disappeared into the distance, scowling, before turning around and re-entering his house. It was built inside a mountain, as befit a dragon, with a long chimney stretching hundreds of feet up through the cliff-face and out the top. He shut the wooden door, slamming it to make sure the warped and ancient latch caught, and ambled up the stairs. He stopped at the door to the first floor on the landing, and knocked softly.

There was sobbing inside and he shuffled his clawed feet uncertainly. “Are you alright, Chip?”

There were scrambling and thumping noises, followed by a plaintive, “Don’t come in!”

Sharptooth snorted, and opened the door anyway. He looked down at the wreck of a model glider which a distraught colt was attempting to put back together. “Ah, I see you found my newest project. That joint’s been a bit tricky, it always breaks... hey, hey, no lad, stop, it’s okay...” Sharptooth moved quickly, spreading his wings and enveloping the foal as the child began to cry. “It’s okay, it’ll be okay, you can always fix things like this. And if not, we’ll just have to... start again.”

“They’re... dead, aren’t they?” said a small voice, from somewhere in the dragon’s wings. Sharptooth cursed the acuity of youth. When they were supposed to listen, cajoling fell on deaf ears. When they were not...

“Yes, child, they are.” There was more crying and the dragon held the foal closer, rocking back and forth. “Life is sometimes hard, lad. I know you don’t want to hear that now, but it is. Life is also like that model. Sometimes it’s... too broken to fix, and you just have to start again.”

“But I don’t want to! I want Mommy and Daddy!” The colt started to wail and thrash, hooves and teeth catching against his tough hide. The dragon just held the pony until the rage subsided into sobs. Sharptooth, with heavy heart, cast a small sleeping spell, and the foal relaxed in his arms. Presently, he started snoring. The dragon sighed heavily and withdrew to his weyr, colt and all.

♦♦♦

Chip opened his eyes. It was dark, warm and close. He was being held.

“Mom?”

The warm enclosure stirred and a strangely angular snout nosed him. “Good morning, Chip.”

The voice was low, far too low to be Mom, or even Dad. The close enclosure suddenly felt stifling, tight. He thrashed, kicking his legs about until whatever-it-was let go and he leaped from the pile into a dusty hard-packed dirt room. He skittered back as far as he could until he felt rock at his back. He shook, trembling like a leaf.

The dragon stretched slowly, purposefully. First one wing, the the other. Then his hind claws, foreclaws and finally his tail and neck. The dragon sat up.

“Do you want some breakfast?”

Chip bared his teeth and pawed the ground with a hoof.

“I’ll take that as a maybe.” The dragon got up from a circular depression in the floor of the cave and padded across to a door, which he opened and slithered through. The door remained open.

Chip listened intently as ordinary sounds of morning filtered through. Birds sang, warm morning air wafted into the cave. He could hear pots and pans being moved around. The sleep-cave was dark and rather bare of furnishings. He considered sulking in the darkness, it didn’t really sound all that interesting a proposition. He breathed deeply, wiped a hoof across his snotty nostrils and exited through the door.

The cave was... rather ordinary, really. A small kitchen on one side was currently filled with the dragon. He was wearing an apron emblazoned with flowers and what appeared to be the words ‘kiss the cook’ and was fussing with a bowl of something-or-other and a whisk.

“Pancakes?” the dragon asked, without looking round.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, er, please?”

“That’s better.”

“How long am I going to be here?”

The dragon lowered the cooking bowl and stopped whisking for a moment. “How long do you want to be here?”

“I want to go home.”

“If you want to take a walk, I won’t stop you. There’s the front door.”

Chip looked at the front door accusingly. He glared at it, then at the dragon in the kitchen who was still cooking. He all but galloped across the living room and threw open the door. He cantered outside into bright, hard daylight.

Dragons are well known for having an affinity for rocks. Ambassador Sharptooth, Sharpieto his friends, was no exception. Stories of them living in caves is, whilst somewhat cliched, entirely accurate. Chip found himself on a ledge, thousands of feet in the air. It was a large ledge, but it was still complete with a sheer drop straight down, to more jagged rocks below. His heart beat fast as the wind whipped past. He backed up from the edge, into the stomach of the dragon.

“Beautiful view, isn’t it? If you really do want to take a walk and clear your head, there’s a path down the side. Careful though, no guard-rails. The nearest town is... ah! There." The dragon pointed off into the middle distance. "Tacksworn, a mostly pony town on the frontiers of Celestia’s domain. So named because the founding fathers—and mothers—were on a treck to discover the boundaries of Equestria. One day they called a halt, as the story goes. ‘We have to stop here, good fellows,’ said their alpha stallion, ‘tack’s worn.’ And so they named the town after the happenstance. It’s small. Unobtrusive, but friendly. There’s a school there, I think you’d like it. How about you stay for breakfast, hmm?”

♦♦♦

Chip glared across the table as he ate the pancakes sullenly. For his part, Sharptooth nervously wrung his claws together.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve cooked for ponies. Not many make the trip up here. How are they?”

Chip stuffed the pancakes into his maw and chewed. They were good, very good. The dragon offered tea. Chip was halfway through the cup when he broke. He started hiccuping and crying again. The dragon moved quickly to comfort him.

“There there, let it all out.”

The crying lasted quite a while, with the dragon giving up on tissues and moving eventually straight for the tea-towel. He figured, as he wiped snot and phlegm from the colt, that he could always burn what was left.

“Why did they have to die?” Chip whispered, when the worst of it had passed.

“I don’t know, lad, but Celestia for some reason thinks it best you stay with me for a spell. If you will, you’re welcome.”

“You’re not going to die too, are you?” the colt asked suddenly.

Sharptooth shook his head, nuzzling the pony between the ears. “No promises, but I think not, not yet, not for a long while. But there is one more thing, lad, that I think needs to be said.”

The colt looked up, cocking his head on one side. “What?”

Sharptooth took a deep breath. “Celestia, your princess, is a wily one. She does nothing without reason; so it is in your best interest to consider what I am about to say very carefully indeed.”

Chip sat at the table, awkwardly, blinking. Celestia is good, isn't she? She wants the best for us, right? Chip wondered to himself. Wily sounded kind of like sneaky, when he rolled it around in his head. He wasn't sure he liked that. “What?”

“I, Ambassador Sharptooth Longclaw Leatherback of the Diamond Expanse Dragon Clan, wish to adopt you, young foal, and name you my son. This will entitle you to the full protection of myself and my clan.”

Chip’s mouth fell open, a blank expression on his muzzle. “You... want to adopt me?”

“Yes.”

“Is this a joke? My parents are... are dead, and you adopt me the day after?”

Sharptooth’s brow furrowed. “I said consider it, little one. I will give you today. Your staying here, under my protection, does not hang in the balance. I can neither force you to stay nor prevent your removal, not as a lost waif. If, however, you take up the mantle of the Diamond Expanse clan, then you will have the full weight of my family behind you in all things.”

“I am an Irontail...”

“You will be Chiphoof Irontail Leatherback of the Diamond Expanse Clan then, young one. Consider it a contract, one you may dissolve at will.”

“I’m a pony... I don’t have wings...”

“Not all dragons have wings.”

“I don’t have a horn...”

“Not all dragons have horns.”

“This is crazy!”

“Consider, young Chip, that your parents would have wanted you safe above all else. I have reason to believe you may be in grave danger. Why else would Celestia place you halfway up a mountain with a fierce dragon for a guardian?”

Chip was breathing hard, shaking, his thoughts a turmoil pain of resentment, astonishment and confusion. He did the only thing he could think of. He bolted.

Sharptooth sat at the table, his head on his claws, looking at the still-swinging door. “Oh Celestia, the trials you do force upon an old fool like me.”

♦♦♦

Chip ran. Tears once again stained his cheeks as the icy wind, roaring up from the valley below, stung. He found the path, and galloped down it. He didn’t care where he was going, the bottom had fallen out of his world. Bundled up into furs by strange pegasi, shoved into a chariot with a princess he’d only ever heard about in stories, flown through the night to be dropped off at a house on a cliff he hadn’t seen until the next day, told his parents were gone, gone forever.

He ran.

He ran and he ran and he ran.

And, as those running in a blind panic are wont to do, he slipped. His powerful gait throwing his young body off balance, gravity took a firm hold. He stumbled, and fell.

He couldn’t even be scared, not any more. He just closed his eyes, and fell.

There is a brief moment, some say, when your life flashes before your eyes. Chip’s didn’t, not really. Instead he saw his parents, he saw himself with his parents. Waking up on Hearth’s Warming, collecting candy on Nightmare Night. The Summer Sun Celebration at the fete, and finally, them, holding him, when he was very, very small. His mother used to sing to him a lullaby, he could almost remember it. As the wind whistled through his ears, he fancied he could hear her voice. The moment stretched as the memory enveloped him. He hoped it wouldn’t hurt. He hoped they hadn’t hurt.

He wanted them back, so very, very much. He loved them, why had they left him? They’d always promised to be with him, they’d promised to always be by his side.

There was a sudden lurching sensation, and a stinging pain in his side. His neck whipped down and his stomach felt like it had jumped out of his mouth.

He opened his eyes.

“I did say,” roared Sharptooth over the wind, “to be careful on that path!”

♦♦♦

Chip sat on the top of the mountain, watching the sun go down. He’d been there all day, almost unmoving. Sharptooth had sat with him, the patience of the dragon rivaling that of the rock itself. Finally, Celestia’s warm sun disappeared below the horizon and the sky darkened. Slowly, Luna’s bright moon rose and the stars burst into view. The sky was clear, the night would be cold.

“Come, little one, it’s time to go inside. Have you made your decision?”

Chip looked up, almost over his shoulder, at the dragon looming behind him. “I have. I’ll be your son. They would want that.”

Sharptooth smiled. “Come then, son, let’s retire for the night.”

“Just like that?”

The dragon laughed, a deep laugh that shook his scaly belly. “As you wish. More formal. Shake on it.”

A paw was extended. A hoof was offered. The two met.

“So mote it be."

♦♦♦

Mending Wings and Broken Things

═ The ══════════
Ambassador's
══════════ Son ═

Chapter Thirteen
Mending Wings and Broken Things
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow

Chip put his hoof on the large flat brass handle and jiggled it, "Hey! Hey! I'm locked in! Let me out!" He pushed his shoulder into it and hammered his body against the door in case it was stuck. No joy. He snorted, and trotted over to the window, opening it and trying to stick his head through the bars to call down at some pony passing. The bars were black, thick and artfully twisted. He placed his teeth around them and experimentally gnawed on them for a few seconds before turning back to the door.

Well, there was only one thing to do - he turned around, aimed his hind legs, and...

"What's all the hubbub, hey! woah! Watch where you're puttin' them things!" Pyrite pranced backwards as the well-placed kick missed the newly-opened door but almost took his teeth out.

"S-sorry," Chip said, blushing, "I-I thought I was stuck in here; the door was locked, and-"

"Yeah, heh, sorry about that. It was a... a misunderstanding. How are ya this morning?"

Chip, now he had all four hooves on the floor, remembered his urgency, "Scuse I've gotta get to the bathroom!" He barged past Pyrite, weaved around Silver Chalice and barrelled down the hallway until he found the door he was looking for. It was marked with the rear end of a pony with a moon as a cutie-mark, tail raised. He hoped Luna wasn't offended. Not that he had time to worry about such niceties; he'd not had much to do on the train but drink soda and eat snacks, and gaze out the window. He'd entirely ignored such urges the previous night and was paying for it now.

"You alright in there?" called Pyrite, knocking on the door with a hoof as Chip tried to go with the flow, as it were.

"Go 'way I'm busy!"

"Ah, sorry. Come down for breakfast, after. If I've still got some free time we'll catch up and sort out anything ya need, alright?"

"Mmm." Chip, used to privacy in the smallest of rooms, didn't feel very chatty. What was with this pony? Bothering him all the time...

Feeling much better, Chip took a look around the relatively opulent space and came muzzle to muzzle with a mirror. Admiring his roguish good looks, or attempting to, Chip realized he looked a mess. He needed to brush his mane, his eyes were still somewhat red and puffy and his teeth... well, the less said about his teeth the better. He sniffed the barrel of his chest, each side, and almost fell over. It was past time for that bath. Chip shrugged, no time like the present, it wasn't like he was really on a timetable.

A flick of his muzzle on the taps and the water started flowing. He pushed the plug down with a hoof, and the bath began to fill. Eventually, he could sink into the steamy warm embrace of the bath. Finding various soaps and scrubbing brushes, he set to cleaning himself up. It took a while, the water went from clear to a worrying brown as the dust and grime was removed, but at the end of it, as the last swirly suds disappeared down the plughole, Chip felt like a pony again. This troubled him, slightly, but he was determined not to let it bother him.

Chip shivered in the bath. Time to get up. Time to dry oneself. Time to...

"Oh horseapples... where are the towels?"

♦♦♦

The dining room was large, with an honest wood and coal fire in the grate. Nameless, silent unicorns brought out two trays as Silver Chalice escorted a still-damp colt to his place at the table.

"Thank you, sir." Chip said.

"My pleasure, young master Irontail," said Silver Chalice, as if it wasn't. The butler took the last towel off the young pony's back and smartly bowed his head to Pyrite before exiting the room.

"Ah, breakfast, most important meal, yadda yadda yadda. Dig in!"

One of the silver trays was placed on a large mahogany table before Pyrite, the other before Chip. The lids were removed. Chip eyed the breakfast suspiciously. Alfalfa, carrots, apples. He narrowed his eyes and poked them with a hoof, in case they would spontaneously turn into hay pancakes. They didn't. There was also milk to drink, milk! Healthy! Ugh! He sniffed it, it smelled funny, but then again he hadn't drank much actual milk for a while. The wide, shallow cup tasted oddly metallic even through the milk, and Chip was momentarily struck with an urge to chew, but reckoned that would probably be a faux pas. Maybe he could eat it later, as a snack, when Pyrite wasn't watching?

He put it down, and nibbled the alfalfa. It was at least fresh, and top-notch.

"So, how did you sleep?"

"'Mf mff mmff mff."

"I see."

Chip doubted it. He swallowed, "When do I start school?"

"School? No, no Irontail will be going to school. Silver has hired a private tutor, kiddo. I think he'll be here shortly before lunch to check your smarts, and then your studies'll start. Until then, go... play or something. I must be off, I'll be working in the master drawing room. Come find me, ask Silver or another of the help, if you dunno where that is. 'Kay?"

"'Kay."

Pyrite stood, regarding the colt for a moment, before turning tail and leaving the room.

"Where should I-"

"Anywhere but here, sir." Silver intoned in a deep voice. The butler-unicorn had returned, and shook his silvery mane out, and pointed with his horn a way out of the room - through a different door than Pyrite had used.

Chip stuck his tongue out, tossed back his unruly mane and flick-trotted his way out, kicking all four hooves at the butler as they bounced free of the floor. The thick carpet muffled the thudding impacts, but the butler rolled his eyes and sighed.

♦♦♦

Chip bounced through the overly-large house. There were windows, so plenty of healthy sunlight filtered through various open doors and panes of glass, but it was still cold. He poked his nose into every nook and cranny. Most of the rooms were guest rooms, or studies. He found the library, but it didn't look half as interesting as Sharptooth's room. A momentary knot in his stomach brought him up short, but the pain was different to the one that had washed over him at the funeral. He was... more angry, kinda... sad and frustrated, but angry. It felt, however strange the feeling was, that he'd turned the page. The fugue that had befuddled his mind was gone, but the confusion still lingered. It was different to before, he reasoned, as his hooves spun a globe in another study. The globe was different, too. New lands, new vistas, but not new parents. Sharptooth had been dad. Pyrite... Pyrite would never be anything but uncle. Chip knew that.

The idle flicking of a hoof knocked the globe onto the floor, and it rolled. He tripped over his own hooves trying to catch it. As it rolled under a table, he bumped his muzzle trying to catch it in his teeth.

There was a giggle behind him. He bumped his head again on the underside of the table as he jumped in shock. The giggle returned.

"Ow! That hurt you know!" Chip said, as he pulled himself out.

"Sorry," the pony said, giggling again. She was a little pink unicorn with a dark silver mane and tail, and her cutie-mark was a stylized teaset. "You looked rather silly under there. I'm Sunshine, Sunshine Filligree. Who're you?"

"Chip, Chiphoof Irontail."

"Oh! You're the one... oh. Oh, I'm sorry," Sunshine looked down at her forehooves, shuffling them nervously.

"It's... okay," Chip said. And he realized it was. "What're you doing here?"

"I was going to ask you the same question!" Sunshine retorted. "I live here, what's your excuse?"

"Same. Apparently. I was... living elsewhere for a while, you know?" Chip, too gazed at his hooves.

"Yeah, I gotcha. So, no cutie-mark?"

Chip shook his head, "Uh-uh. I guess I'm a bit old to be a blank flank." He rubbed the back of his head with a hoof and grinned sheepishly.

Sunshine shrugged, "Dad says it's quite common in rich pony families. They get all this stuff put in their heads, they don't know what they want to be or do, so finding it out gets harder."

"How'd you get yours?" Chip pointed, he was jealous.

Sunshine blushed, giggling softly again, "I was... playing dollies, and Miss Tabatha Kitten wanted tea, but I had to tell her she should eat her crumpets first. It just... there was this kinda noise and the next thing I knew, there it was!"

"Dollies?"

"I was five."

Chip pouted.

"Girls mature faster than boys! That's what Daddy says, which is why he said he's bought a big stick to scare them off with. I think he's just being silly, calls me his princess. Ugh, parents... oh. Oh, I mean, uh..."

Chip's pained expression faded, "I know what you mean. Mine were... pretty much the same. Wanna go play? That stuffy Silver Chalice hired me a tutor already, ugh, I hate him."

Sunshine scowled, "No, no, I don't think I shall. Good day." She stormed past him, her tail held high.

"Wait! Wait! What did I say?" Chip leaped around the retreating filly and blocked the door, begging her to pause.

"My Daddy is the bestest Daddy ever..." she faltered, her voice fading, "umm, I mean, I know you've... but you shouldn't say mean things about Daddy!" she stomped a hoof.

"I'm sorry. Hey, if Silver Chalice is your dad, Who's your mom?"

Sunshine looked away, "I don't have one."

"Everypony has a Mom, unless..."

"I don't. I mean I do, I must do, but Daddy won't tell me about her. He says she was very pretty, and very special, and had to go away."

Chip sighed, sitting back onto his haunches. He reached out a hoof, and touched the unicorn gently, "I know what it's like."

"At least you know."

"Well I promise to find out what happened to her. Somehow. I'm Baron Irontail, I can do anything. Why, the other day I ki-" Chip broke off suddenly.

Sunshine turned to him, "What?"

"Nothing. Long time ago."

Sunshine looked like she was about to say something, but then her eyes unfocused. When she looked again at Chip, she sighed, "Daddy says we both have to go to lessons. I hate Briar Patch, he's so booorrring!"

"Heh, I hated my tutor too. When I was with Sharptooth, he's kind of my dad, I think... I guess, even though I'm here... when I was with him, I went to a normal school. There were dragons and diamond dogs, and even griffons in my class!"

"There never were! You're such a liar!"

"There were too! Well, there was only the one dragon."

"A dragon? Really? What did he look like?"

"Well, heh, he kinda had four hooves and a mane and tail, and he couldn't fly and didn't really breathe fire."

"That sounds like a pony! I'm going to tell Daddy on you!" Sunshine giggled, nudging Chip playfully.

"He was a pony-shaped dragon," explained Chip, protesting weakly.

"That doesn't even make any sense!"

"Does too."

"Does not."

"Does too! It's like... he's a dragon on the inside, alright? Oh and he ate gems."

"Cool! I've always wanted to meet a dragon. Mister Pyrite meets them all the time."

"Well now you can-" Chip stopped, and shook his head, "hey, do you really want to go to class?"

"Nnnooo... why?"

"Then get lost!"

"What!?"

Chip grinned, ear to ear like a cheshire, "I mean us! Let's get lost! They'll never find us!"

♦♦♦

Silver Chalice blew his mane out of his eyes and scowled as he stomped through the mansion. That annoying little brat was leading his princess into disrepute. Thinking they could hide, and from a unicorn at that! His horn glowed dimly as he homed in on Sunshine. At first he'd thought they'd explore the attic, that had always been a favourite place for his daughter, but then his magic had lead him down, down into the basement. Suddenly, their trace disappeared. This was odd, very worrying. His daughter was far too young to blink... it had to be a relic of the Mistress from before her death. She always had been one for surprises. A generic, if effective, shielded vault. That definitely meant the basement, and he knew precisely where.

"Okay, okay, what's this then?"

"That's... I don't know that is."

"Where does it go then?"

"Right here, I think!"

"Oh! Ohhh, I see... oooh, ow... it's not going in... push harder!"

There was the sound of grunting and sweating.

"It almost fits..."

"Ow! Harder!"

"Almost..."

"Harder!"

Silver Chalice burst into the small room, yelling, "keep your hooves off my-!"

"Daddy!" Sunshine leaped up and pranced across the room towards her father, "Aren't they pretty? Chip was showing me his... what did you call them?"

"T-training spikes, Sir..."

Silver Chalice glared. It was a move he had perfected long ago on difficult clients and visitors, and it worked wonders on recalcitrant foals. Under that gaze, Chip wilted.

"Daddy! Stop it, you're scaring him! He made me a princess! Look!"

Silver Chalice looked briefly away from the earth pony at his precious daughter. She had on four hoof-guard slippers that, whilst not as dainty as those worn by royalty, and a good deal more spiky, certainly made her sparkle like a little pink Luna. What hadn't fitted was a neck-piece, and that was because it was obviously not built for ponies, and hadn't been loosened properly. Just where had these odd museum pieces come from? He had seen a lot of battle-armor in his time from his brief stint in the royal guard, but nothing quite like this. The colt was looking up at him with a worried yet hopeful expression on his face, ears splayed back and eyes wide.

"You look divine, my darling. Thank you," Silver Chalice turned back to the earth pony, voice softer, "Chip. But you must come now, I know old Briar Patch isn't the liveliest of ponies, but I won't see my own pride and joy deprived of an education."

Chip and Sunshine shared a glance. They both rolled their eyes.

Silver Chalice laughed despite himself, sometimes it helped to be reminded of his own youth. "I know, I know. Okay, young Master Irontail, I'll make you a deal. If you make sure my daughter gets her lessons, I'll make sure you have the run of the house the rest of the time. Old Pyrite has his ways, I've learned to live with them, but a kid like you... sneaking around is in the blood, hmm?"

Chip pricked his ears up, Pyrite had been... odd, but kind, hadn't he? "Is this why my door was locked?"

Silver looked at the ground, "When your employer asks you to do something, sometimes you don't think twice. In truth, lad, I feared for my daughter. You two are both getting to that age-"

"Daaad! Embarrassing!"

"-and I perhaps had the wrong impression of you. You were, forgive me, rather..."

"Scruffy? Stinky?" Chip's ears pricked up in mirth, "Sorry. I've been staying with... near dragons, out in the desert. Long story. They kinda smell, I know."

"I noticed, but you're here now, with friends. Your uncle is a good pony, but rather set in his ways after so many years of living alone."

"So you won't lock my door?"

Silver shook his head, "I won't, or if I do I'll make sure another key is inside with you. I wouldn't want to upset Pyrite, he can get a bit loud at times. Come now, lessons."

Silver Chalice led the way out of the small vault. It was behind a solid door with a lock on the inside. Chip wondered at it, to be honest. His black box was left behind, but he reckoned it would be safe. He'd return to get it later that night.

The basement was messy, full of all sorts of weird junk. He decided to have a good rummage on the weekend, which was coming up shortly. The windows sunk into the walls were small, they didn't let a lot of light in, and a weird passage led off into some dark tunnel. Chip wondered what was down there, it seemed to lead off far further than the edge of the mansion. A secret passage? Whatever could it be for?

The stairs back up were dusty, made of stone. The wooden door creaked if it was opened far enough. At the top was the kitchen, built for a whole gaggle of chefs, apparently ponied by only a hoof-full of cooks. Chip guessed that in the mansion's haydays, the cellar had been used to store food. Maybe that vault was originally a cold storage? He shrugged, moved on.

Following Silver Chalice through the old mansion, the two young ponies were lead back to the library. There, muttering to himself, was an aged unicorn with a pair of spectacles perched on the end of his nose. The pony had been a rich creamy dark brown colour at one time, but now appeared faded. He was engrossed in a collection of books that Chip new only too well; books on the lineages of the royal families of Equestria. Utterly useless, utterly boring. His heart sank. He wanted to learn about diamond dogs and dragons. Instead he was going to learn about more long-dead ponies.

♦♦♦

Sharptooth woke. For a moment, he didn't know where he was. This wasn't like him. He lay there, breathing, until his mind prompted him with an explanation. He wasn't in his weir, he was instead upstairs in Chip's room.

Chip's room - it was Chip's room, not his, not any more. In a very real way, he knew he was trespassing. He buried his snout in his paws and sighed. He was a damned fool dragon. Almost a thousand, and acting like a hatchling. He rolled off the makeshift bed and stretched painfully. The couch was really too small, even though he could curl up small and tight. As he stretched, his joints popped and snapped. As he stretched, a wing brushed the table, knocking a piece of paper off the desk. It floated to the floor, and Sharptooth bent to pick it up. Chip's wings, he'd rescued the drawing and put it on the desk. He sat, and looked at it. Crude, badly formed, but... there was a truth to it. Sharptooth thought, and then reached out a talon. He took a piece of parchment, a mechanical pencil, an eraser and a straight-edge. He began to sketch.

Slowly, very slowly, a smile began to form.

♦♦♦

Pyrite trotted carefully through the basement, checking to see he wasn't followed. He opened the door, careful not to open it fully, and stepped down into the darkness. He checked the old store-room, it was empty, but the door was open. Had that brat of the butler's been playing in there? Had it been Chip? No matter. He retreated from that room and turned instead to the dark passageway. He didn't carry a lantern, he knew his way. The ponies he was meeting didn't like the light.

The passageway under the house was long, low, cramped and very, very dark. The only sounds were his hoofsteps. In the distance, he began to see lights. He thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, at first - he always did, he had never gotten used to it. With only his tail flicking left and right to tell him where the walls were, he headed down further and further underground until he could tell, by the changing echoes, that he was in a cavern.

There was a brief flare of light, and a feeble magelight lit the small space between Pyrite and the group of three ponies before him. One was an earth pony, smaller and stockier than his own frame. Another was a unicorn, with a similar dwarven build. This was the one that had created the light with her horn. The third was unexpected, but logical. A pegasus, the poor creature's wings were small and malformed from disuse. They looked... not fearful, but cautious. Their strange, gemlike eyes glittered as they watched him.

"Tell me, have you found him?"

"The one you seek... the dragon... has vanished."