Ponest Dungeon

Chapter 2: Beleaguering the Blacksmith

Week 20, Day 6, Dawn

“I’ve been past Rivet’s Metalworking a few times,” Shining said to Tempest as they walked in the growing daylight. “It looked like it was about one or two steps from being condemned. I’m not sure if Blueblood is going to want us to go to Rivet for upgrades in weapon quality when he can’t even keep his own business from falling apart.”

“Nonsense.” Tempest glared straight ahead. “As a blacksmith, Rivet would have a completely different skill set than a mason or carpenter. If we do find out who is responsible for building maintenance in this town, however, we may wish to make them disappear so that somepony with actual competence can take their place.”

“That’s a joke, right?”

“I never joke,” Tempest said flatly.

Shining looked over to Tempest. “Speaking of serious things, are you going to talk about yesterday?”

“Only if there is something you wish to discuss.”

“Well yeah,” Shining said. “Because we were all ready to kill each other.”

Tempest scoffed “Hardly. Twilight was not going to kill Blueblood by merely restraining him and I was not going to kill her with a mere headlock.” She turned to Shining and pierced him with a look that was both accusatory and reprimanding. “Now, you are the one who escalated things into potentially deadly territory.” Tempest huffed wryly as she faced forward again. “You are skilled enough with a sword to know that you were not going to be able to reliably kill me with that weapon unless you had placed it differently. With what little of the blade was pressed against my neck, I doubt you would have been able to cut down to the jugular. And I know that you know that. But still, you drawing a deadly weapon laid the precedent for others to do the same.”

Shining swallowed. “So, I almost got everypony killed when I—”

“Like I told Blueblood last night,” Tempest interrupted, “from my vantage point, I was able to see that Zecora purposefully had the back of her knife pressed to your neck, not the cutting edge. And Miss Dash,” Tempest huffed again. “Miss Dash failed to load her weapon before threatening Zecora with it.”

Shining breathed out a sigh of relief. “So,” he said, “nopony was actually trying to kill each other.”

“Except for Blueblood.”

“Yeah,” Shining said. “He had the same look in his eyes yesterday as he did when he killed Neighsay.”

“While I cannot speak from personal experience, as you can, it was clear enough what he intended when he pinned Starlight to the floor and readied to strike. I later voiced my opinions regarding his apparent willingness to dispatch her.”

“And?”

“And nothing,” Tempest replied. “Blueblood is aware of the possible consequences to company morale, but he stood by his choice. Starlight treated us like pawns in a chess match, and he has made it quite clear what the consequences will be should she do it again.”

“You really think that’s what she’s doing?”

“Yes,” Tempest growled. “It appears that she has much more knowledge of the current overall situation than any of us. And she controls the flow of information to ensure that we act in specific ways.” Her eyes narrowed. “I personally despise that she chooses to use her ability in this manner. She could easily use it to help us in our efforts, but instead uses it to play these petty games.” She turned to look directly into Shining’s eyes. “Blueblood would have been right to kill her.”

“But didn’t you just say you’d have advised Blueblood against killing her?”

“What is right seldom agrees with the reality of sudden shortages in both marepower and morale.”

Shining looked away from Tempest’s scrutinizing gaze, choosing instead to focus on the muddy road. “I’m definitely not happy with her. But I don’t think I’d go so far as to say that it would be doing the right thing to kill her.”

“Open up your eyes,” Tempest said, not unkindly. “She is playing with the lives of ponies. That includes the life of your sister.”

His eyes shot up to meet hers.

“Yes.” Tempest stopped walking, bringing them both to a halt. “That is how you should be feeling about this situation.” She nodded her head to the side. “Later, though; we are here.”

Shining frowned at the dilapidated structure before them. Its back half was tilted to the point where it seemed to be in serious danger of collapse, and its front didn’t look too much better. A sign proclaiming “Rivet’s Metalworking” hung at an angle, from only one chain.

“Your selflessness is an admirable trait,” Tempest said. “But do not let it blind you to your own needs, and the needs of those closest to you.”

After thinking for a few moments, Shining turned to Tempest. “I appreciate the advice, though I can’t help but feel you’re being… uncharacteristically open.”

“Do not read too much into it,” Tempest replied. “I just hate watching ponies make the same exact mistakes I’ve made in the past.” She walked up to the rotted wooden door on the front of the building and knocked. “It is like watching one of the many wrecks of the friendship express, before they decommissioned that death-trap.”

Week 20, Day 6, Morning

“Do you believe me now, Twilight?” Starlight used her magic to spread jam on a piece of toast.

Twilight sighed. “Oh, I believe that he’s going to want you killed now. But what I don’t understand is why you’re provoking him into doing it!” She slammed her hoof down on the dining room table, causing her orange juice to slosh outside the glass.

Taking a bite out of the toast, Starlight shrugged. “It has to be this way. Despite what your brother and miss giant-grumpy-pants are discussing right now, while I do know a lot about what is going on, I don’t really have control over it. And I am not playing petty games!”

Twilight just sat and glared at Starlight.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Starlight’s tone was defensive. “I’m serious.” She took another bite of toast. “There are a ton of things that I have absolutely no control over. There are events I’ve thought of trying to change, but every time I look at the outcomes, I find that my actions would cause chains of effect to just swing back around and make things ten times worse. So, I’ve decided to limit myself to reverting what’s already been changed. It’s less stress and a lot less work than trying to write an entirely new outcome.” Finishing her toast, she used her magic to pull her glass of juice closer.

“And just how long did you look at all of these other outcomes?” Twilight said.

“Long enough to know that I can’t prevent my own death,” Starlight replied glumly. “You remember when you came to see me about the necromancer?”

“Yeah. It was the first time I’d seen you since… since it happened to you.”

Starlight sipped her juice. “Well, that was when I finally accepted my fate, as soon as you walked through the door. Before then, I spent every waking hour just trying to find a way to… not die.” She frowned. “You have no idea what it’s like to be able to see yourself, before you even start, wasting weeks of your life looking into the future. But when you showed up, to tell me what I already knew, I decided to do my part to save our world from destruction.”

Twilight rubbed a hoof on her temple. “That sounds a little grandiose, even for you, Starlight.”

Starlight shook her head slowly. “Nevertheless, it’s true. Things are happening now that will determine the fate of all of Equestria. Everypony is a cog in the giant machine that moves things forward. My role is relatively minor, but yours—” a sigh escaped her lips “—isn’t. I’ll be long gone when your… your sacrifice… becomes the turning point.” With that, she finished her juice and got up to leave.

Twilight watched as Starlight left. “Just tell me one thing.”

Starlight stopped.

“Who kills you?”

“If I tell you, it will change things… and not for the better.” Starlight sidestepped as Tempest entered the dining room, exchanging frowns with her.

Starlight held a shaking hoof over her heart. “Not for the better, at all.”

Week 20, Day 6, Morning

Shining shook his head at the ever-slumping interior of Rivet’s Metalworking. The sagging roof was hard enough to look at from the outside; now within, he saw jagged lances of sunlight streaming down from on high, illuminating birds that flapped between nests in the rafters. However, much to his relief, the actual blacksmithing setup seemed to be in top condition. A sturdy, mahogany weapon rack comprising much of one wall displayed a gleaming array of freshly-forged death-dealing equipment. The furnace, anvils, and workbenches shone in a manner suggesting they were regularly cleaned and polished, resulting in a very professional workspace despite the building’s advanced state of disrepair.

Rivet himself eyed them warily as they approached. He was a large, very muscular, dark-orange coated earth pony who had an impressive amount of dark stubble poking through his muzzle fur. Shining noted an air of irritation in both his stiff motions and guarded bearing, as if he was averse to being distracted from practicing his craft.

“What do you need?” Rivet was straight to business, apparently not one for wasting time with idle banter or friendly greeting.

Shining had agreed to let Tempest take the lead. But he furrowed his brow and glanced at her as a moment of hesitation stretched into uncomfortable silence. Tempest, in a manner quite uncharacteristic of her normal behavior, stared at Rivet with what appeared to be mild confusion, rather than her typical disapproving scowl.

Rivet returned the stare. “Something wrong with my face?”

“Apologies,” Tempest said, quite unapologetically. “I thought you looked familiar for a moment.” She proceeded to unload the saddlebag of weapons they’d brought onto one of the workbenches. “We need you to assess these.”

Rivet grunted and walked over to the pile. He picked up Lemon Hearts’ cleaver-style sword. His critical eye ran up and down the length of the blade several times. “Shoddy work.” He slid a hoof along the cutting edge, where it caught on several chips and dents. “This lump of scrap is in bad shape, but I’m willing to bet it hasn’t seen action more than twice.”

“I believe you are correct,” Tempest replied.

Reaching up, Rivet hung the blade by its crossguard from one of several leather straps that trailed down from the room’s primary—or perhaps only remaining—support beam. He knocked a hoof against the blade and turned his head so that his ear was right up next to it. He repeated the process a few times, striking the blade in a different location each time.

“Yeah,” Rivet said, “there’s your problem.”

“Substandard quality, then,” Tempest said harshly.

“That’s putting it lightly.” Rivet tapped the blade again. “Bad temper. Tartarus, I’m hesitant to say that this is even made from a proper steel alloy.” He made a face at the cleaver, as if it had made a disparaging comment about his heritage. “One thing is for sure, though; whoever did the original forging needs to go back and apprentice under somepony who knows what they’re doing.”

Shining tried to angle himself to get a better view. “How can you tell?”

Rivet continued his aural inspection. “The sound is all wrong; the metal is too soft.” He pointed a hoof at the large divots which were prevalent in the blade edge. “I’m sure you noticed all these deformations. Some of the deeper ones might still be there if the blade were forged and tempered properly, but they wouldn’t be anywhere near as severe as what I’m seeing here. This is more a hunk of molded iron instead of a proper steel blade.”

Shining felt heat in his face. “This blade was provided by the Equestrian Guard.”

“Yeah.” Rivet put a hoof to his chin. “It definitely makes sense now. They feel like they don’t really need quality when they’re outfitting hundreds or thousands of ponies at a time. It’s pretty common practice nowadays for them to just go with this lousy mass-produced drop-forge garbage. They probably figure the Guard don’t even face real threats half of the time anyhow.”

The warmth in Shining’s face intensified. He wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment, rage, or both. Guard issue weapons were supposed to be top of the line; he’d never had any problems with—

“Give me your sword, son.” Rivet hadn’t seemed to notice Shining’s silent flusterment, instead having extended a requesting hoof.

Shining begrudgingly unsheathed his own sword and hoofed it over to Rivet.

Hanging Shining’s sword up on a strap next to the one holding Lemon’s, Rivet commenced another quick but thorough examination. “I can already tell, from the hilt artistry and the sheen on the blade, that this is a superior piece of work.” Rivet struck Lemon’s blade with a hoof, and then Shining’s.

“The pitch is different,” Tempest observed.

“Right you are,” Rivet said. “The young stallion’s sword here is—” He paused, then moved his ear closer and tapped the blade a few more times. His brows furrowed in concentration as he continued to hit along the sword’s length. “Saying that it is just a much better alloy would be the understatement of the year. An honest-to-Celestia master-smith made this.” After a few more hoof impacts, Rivet’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, my. And they added some magical enchantments to this beauty as well.”

Rivet continued to carefully listen to the reverberating metal. “This is a higher quality item than even something a high-ranking guard officer would be entitled to. There is earth pony magic embedded in this blade. It’s a technique that’s only employed by earth pony master smiths.” A few more taps, and Rivet grinned. “There’s a unicorn enchantment on the blade as well.” The grin widened. “Let me guess, you’re a personal bodyguard for a member of the royal family.”

“How did—”

“This kind of quality comes at a price,” Rivet said, cutting Shining off. “Only the extravagance afforded by royalty can or would spend the bits to make a blade like this.”

Shining scrutinized the weapon that had been given to him when he’d been promoted to Blueblood’s personal meat-shield. “It can’t possibly cost that much.”

Rivet grunted. “If I were to wager, I’d say that a blade with the same enchantments as yours would set the crown back around… fifty-five hundred bits.”

If Shining had been drinking anything, he would have immediately spit it out. “Fifty-five… hundred?”

“That would be for just a plain blade, mind you.” Rivet began to point to different parts of the sword. “With this decorative hilt, the finely etched gilding on both it and the blade itself, not to mention the inset gems, which do appear to be flawless.” He took a step back and looked at the blade the way a pony would look at a painting in a gallery. “With all of the artistry, this weapon could easily sell for ten times the price of a similarly enchanted blade.”

“Fifty-five… thousand?” Shining was surprised he’d managed to actually say the words without stuttering. He looked at his weapon with newly discovered wonder.

Meanwhile, Rivet looked completely unaffected by the number. “Eh, closer to seventy-five, really. That’s silver inlay, and this intricate runework is just exquisite. It’s probably representative of at least a few hundred marehours between the various component parts.”

Shining Armor stared dumbly at the sword that Blueblood had given to him without pomp or ceremony. “Seventy…” His breath hitched in his throat. So much for not stuttering. “Seventy-five thousand?”

I’ve been hacking things to pieces with something that costs more than my parents’ house!

Rivet struck Lemon’s cleaver again. “By comparison, the most the crown could have spent on this piece of junk is a whopping hundred and fifty bits.” Sighing, Rivet hit the cleaver again. “And more than likely, less than that. It’s such a shame, really. Instead of wasting millions on pointless extravagance like the Grand Galloping Gala, they could at least make sure that their soldiers have quality equipment that doesn’t endanger their lives in combat—”

His words dying in his throat, Rivet looked to the cleaver, then down to the floor. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Somepony died because of the substandard quality of this gear?”

“Correct,” Tempest said. “We lost four ponies.”

Rivet unhooked Lemon’s cleaver and dropped it unceremoniously onto the bench, as if it had personally offended him. Perhaps it had, by merely existing. “You have my condolences.”

“They are appreciated,” Tempest said. “But we are more interested in preventing future occurrences like this.”

Rivet pointed to the weapons rack. “Even five hundred bits would be sufficient for me to make you a fresh weapon, forged from proper steel. I consider it a point of pride that I have never made, and will never make a blade that would easily dent or chip during regular usage.”

Tempest looked back to Shining’s weapon. “Tell me about the earth pony enchantments you mentioned. Surely you must be capable of using your own abilities to create such an effect.”

“Yes,” Rivet said. “The end result would be an increase in both the durability and efficacy of the item. The costs would be manageable, at around one thousand bits to enchant an existing item.”

Shining’s blood went cold at the number. For the cost of my weapon, fifty members of the Equestrian Guard could have been equipped with actual enchanted blades. And Moondancer’s team… The wonder that Shining had felt regarding the quality of his sword melted away, leaving only a vile feeling of contempt and disgust for the waste its very creation represented.

Tempest had moved closer and was inspecting Shining’s sword. “I doubt you can perform unicorn enchantments.”

Rivet crossed his forelegs. “I know the methods. And the unicorn—” he coughed conspicuously into a hoof “—need not be alive, nor even attached to their horn, for me to be able to make use of it. Just have to grind it up and inlay the powder into some etched runes.”

Shining felt his gorge rise at the suggestion, yet Rivet placed a hoof to his chin as if in blissful contemplation. “However, if we’re talking about bigger jobs, it’d probably be less trouble just to hire a unicorn assistant and direct them in the proper techniques.” He shook his head. “Unfortunately, even then, exotic materials and extra labor would be required; the additional cost would be around three thousand bits.”

Tempest intensified her scowl. “While that seems rather exorbitant, it does line up with what you quoted as the base price for a weapon similar to what Mister Armor carries.”

“I’d quote you lower if I could,” Rivet replied. “Honestly, I’d enjoy the work. But it gets expensive when you’re mixing more than one type of magic.”

“Interesting,” Tempest said. “Then you could also perform pegasus enchantments.”

Rivet tightened his lips. “Yes. I've done it before. The resulting elemental effects are very impressive. But it does require powdered pegasus feathers, assistant or not. You prolly wouldn’t be interested; trying to apply all three enchantments would be incredibly expensive, prohibitively so.”

“Just say it,” Tempest said flatly.

“Six thousand, and that's on top of the other costs.” Rivet weathered the heat of Tempest’s increasingly intense gaze in a manner that was testament to how he managed to endure working near a blast furnace all day. “Plus, I would need at least one, preferably two assistants. The first would have to be a unicorn, to prevent the combined enchantments from unraveling. A pegasus assistant would make the whole process easier as well.”

Shining stepped forward. “With all due respect, we’re interested in your skills, not in growing your pool of apprentices. Why do we have to pay six thousand for an earth, unicorn, and pegasus enchantment, when we could just get a pegasus enchant?

Rivet shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way. Enchantments need to be layered properly, or they will just unravel. You have to understand, the different types of pony magic are very peculiar as to what they will bond with. Earth pony magic will stick to plain minerals and metals. Unicorn magic will only stick to something that already has inherent magical properties, or things that have already been enchanted, typically by earth pony magic. As for pegasus magic…” He grimaced. “Working with pegasus magic is like trying to herd cats. It wants to do pretty much anything other than stick to other things. You need to trap it, cage it, and then anchor it in place with unicorn magic.” He shrugged. “And it’s feisty, just like a cat. If you lose your hold on it, and it tries to escape, there’s a good chance that it’ll tear you up just for trying to keep it from getting away.

Shining looked at Tempest, and frowned at the interest he saw reflected in the cant of her chin. “That sounds needlessly complicated, and risky.”

“If it were easy,” Rivet said, “everypony would have enchanted gear. I consider myself pretty skilled, and while I can manage unicorn enchantments on my own, the only way to safely apply pegasus enchantments is with an assistant or two. One would pin the pegasus magic in place while the other would prevent the other enchantments from unraveling while I finish binding it all together.”

“Do you have any prospective assistants in mind?” Shining asked.

“I’ve been looking, and have found a few prospects. Orphans in need of a profession, mostly.”

“Orphans.” Tempest took a step towards Rivet, scrutinizing him as she had done when they first arrived.

Rivet noticed and returned the probing gaze. “You’re eyeing me up again, and I don’t much care for it.”

Raising a forehoof onto one of the workstools, Tempest undid the straps on, and removed one of her gauntlets. She hoofed it over to Rivet. “Tell me what you make of this.”

Looking singularly unimpressed, Rivet hung the gauntlet on a strap and began a cursory visual inspection. “Why do you soldier ponies always insist on painting your armor black?”

Tempest regarded Rivet coolly. “The armor is not painted.”

“What?” Rivet looked at the gauntlet, closer this time. Scraping a hoof across its surface resulted in a light line of abraded keratin, instead of flakes of paint. As his hoof struck the metal several times and he brought himself closer and closer to it, his ear twitched in faint recognition. His eyes widened and he looked over at Tempest as if somepony had just walked over his grave.

“Who… who are you?” There was a quaver in Rivet’s voice. His previous air of surly, yet professional confidence had vanished like foggy breath on a cold day.

Tempest took one step towards Rivet. “Tell me your assessment.”

Rivet looked at the hanging gauntlet like it was a venomous snake. He swallowed loudly. “Storm Steel. Without a doubt.”

“Ah.” Tempest took another deliberate step forward. “You know of it.”

Slowly, as if dealing with a predator that might spring at any moment, Rivet stepped backwards. “I… worked with some… master smiths, years ago.” He licked his lips nervously. “But… the Storm King… took both of them, and their techniques from Equestria.”

Shining watched in shocked confusion as Tempest slowly backed Rivet into a corner of the workshop, the terror on the smith’s face growing by the second.

Tempest stared into Rivet’s eyes. “The Storm King was obsessed with maintaining his image. Anything proprietary had to be kept strictly in-house. And whenever he discovered something that he thought would fit, he would first ruthlessly acquire it… then make sure that no one else could.”

“Please—” Rivet’s voice cracked as Tempest bore down on him like a slow-motion avalanche. “Don’t—”

“I didn’t remember the name immediately, but the likeness is unmistakable; you are truly the Rivet they spoke of. If you are the son of Bolt and Pin, the master metalworkers who first synthesized storm steel—” Tempest knelt, and bowed her head. “Then you have my most sincere condolences.”

Shining watched Rivet’s expression morph from one of fear to one of shock. His gaze lowered to the floor. “They’re… they’re dead?”

“Yes,” Tempest replied. “Once the Storm King was confident that his own smiths had learned the technique for creating storm steel from them…”

The thought turned Shining’s stomach. He’d seen—and caused—more than his share of death. But family was irreplaceable, and killing loyal noncombatants was dirty pool.

Tempest furrowed her brow. “My telling you this will not bring your parents back. But it might give you some solace to know that the Storm King is dead.”

Rivet trembled, either from sadness, rage, or both. “I always thought… that maybe… I’d see them again, somehow.” He looked up from the floor.

“I knew your parents.” Tempest locked eyes with Rivet. “You resemble Bolt the most, but… you have Pin’s eyes.”

“How did they die?”

“I do not know.” Tempest stood. “I was away, on the campaign to subjugate Mount Aris, when it happened.” She looked back to the dangling gauntlet. “I would have advised the Storm King against it, had I been there. I often told your parents that it was dangerous to acquiesce to his demands to teach their secrets to his smiths, rather than to continue to create for him.

“I reiterated my concerns to them before I left for Aris. I don’t know why they finally gave in. Perhaps they felt they would be permitted to return home if they were no longer needed.” Her gaze hardened. “Or perhaps they were tired of being his slaves.”

Tempest reached into her chestplate. When she withdrew her hoof, it held a small stone orb. She held it out to Rivet.

“What is this?” Rivet carefully took hold of the trinket. He turned it over in his grip, carefully examining it.

Tempest glared at the orb. “The Storm King met his end when he was petrified and sent hurtling from a high-altitude airship. He shattered upon impact.” She pointed a hoof. “That is his right eye. The left was not recoverable.”

Rivet stared at the orb. One side clearly had an iris and pupil. “How did you get this? Unless—” He looked up at Tempest.

“Since it happened—”

“You killed the Storm King, didn’t you?”

“—I’ve kept it as a reminder.”

“You did.”

“Do with it what you will.”

“If you killed him, then you have my—”

“No.” Tempest hadn’t shouted, but the force behind the word halted Rivet mid-sentence. “Never thank me. And do not dare to forgive me.” Tempest’s eyes burned like coals. “I did not kill the Storm King because of what he did to your parents, or because of what he did to countless other innocents. I was deeply involved in far too many of his schemes, planned and executed too many campaigns in his name. Never will I be able to claim that I wasn’t a willing party to the carnage he wrought. This token I have presented to you does nothing to make up for what you, or your family, has lost.”

Rivet narrowed his eyes at the orb. “But it’s a start.” He dropped the stone eye onto the floor, and brought his hoof down hard enough to pulverize it. When he raised his hoof, only a fine gray powder remained. “Good riddance.”

“Yes, just a start.” Tempest reached up to the dangling gauntlet, grabbed it, and placed it on one of the workbenches. She then removed her other gauntlet.

Rivet crossed his forelegs. “What are you doing?”

Tempest placed her other gauntlet down, and began to undo the straps which held her platemail in place. “Removing my armor.”

“Is there a reason for that?”

“After I killed the Storm King, his minions violently expressed their displeasure regarding my actions. I was forced to use his own flagship to lay waste to his fleet of dirigibles. His entire fighting force was obliterated in the ensuing conflict. I hunted down the remnants, and made certain that none survived. All of their storm steel equipment, and all of the storm steel used in the construction of those dirigibles, either burned in the ensuing wrecks, or sank to the bottom of the South Luna Ocean. As for the flagship itself, a diminutive associate of mine took command of it and left the region, headed westward, for lands unknown.”

Tempest finished placing the last metal plate onto the workbench. “This is all of the storm steel that remains in Equestria. It is your parent’s legacy.”

She glanced towards Rivet again, before turning back to the pile of dark metal. “As it was never mine to begin with, I am returning it.”

Rivet walked to the workbench and carefully scrutinized one of the plates. He blinked, then pulled out a loupe, fitted it into his eye, and examined the metal very closely. He finally looked up, astonishment written across his face. “How long did it take them to make this particular suit of armor?”

“Three months from when I requested it.” Tempest stared at the metal plates. “They delivered it to me right before the Aris campaign. The Storm King had been most displeased that they were taking so long, especially when they claimed that they were unable to work on any other items for his army during that time. I was surprised that the process for design alteration was so lengthy.”

“That’s because it should have only taken them one month to both redesign and create a full suit of armor to fit you,” Rivet said.

Tempest swiftly turned her gaze back to Rivet. “Explain.”

Lifting a single plate, Rivet turned it ever so slowly, until the light caught the faintest hint of designs inlaid into the metal. “Have you ever noticed this patterning before?” He didn’t wait for a response. “I almost missed it, myself. Hard to find unless you know to look for it. This… this is not a rushed or forced job: the very shape of each individual plate, the precise fitting, the subtle nuances in the design, these tiny inlaid runes that are only visible from certain angles, and the gracefully hidden filigree along the edges; all of these things show a level of care and effort that could not exist in something created under any form of duress.”

Rivet placed the plate carefully back onto the workbench. “If I were to somehow create a suit of armor that compared to the quality of this, I would gladly retire.”

Rivet locked eyes with Tempest.

“This suit… is a magnum opus.”

Tempest’s eyes widened in the closest approximation to shock that Shining had ever seen from her.

“Regardless of what you’ve done, real or imagined, they made a career-defining suit of armor for you. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the last suit they ever wanted to make.” Rivet ran a hoof lightly along one of the plates. “It would be a crime against the craft itself to melt this down, or to even try to refit it for another individual. But, more importantly to me, since they chose to make this specifically for you, it would go against their wishes for anyone else to have it.”

Tempest opened her mouth, but then closed it, seemingly at a loss for words.

“They must have thought very highly of you,” Rivet said.

“I… cannot fathom why,” Tempest finally managed. “Why… they would deign to bestow such an honor upon me.”

“Maybe they saw something good in you.” Rivet looked at Tempest, as if he were trying to see that very same quality. “Something… decent, perhaps.”

Tempest looked at Rivet as if he’d suffered brain damage. “Nothing I did in the Storm King’s employ could be considered even remotely decent.”

“You said you warned them,” Rivet said. “How many other seemingly small or insignificant things did you do? Even the faintest light brings hope in darkness. Obviously it was enough for them to do this.”

Tempest stared silently at the armor.

Rivet tapped one of the plates. “I’ll tell you right now, that there is already an earth pony enchantment on this. I’ll bet you’ve never had to polish out any scratches, or repair any dings or dents?”

“Correct,” Tempest said. “I always assumed it was because I wasn’t utilizing my full strength in combat.”

Shining, who was quite uncomfortable with sharing what should have been a private moment between Tempest and Rivet, had been slowly backing towards the front door. He halted upon hearing Tempest’s statement. “Wait.” Shining looked askance at her. “You’re telling me… that you’ve been taking it easy on our missions?”

“More like grudging restraint,” Tempest replied. “Knowing that this was the only extant storm steel armor in all of Equestria, I was loath to risk permanent damage to it.”

His head threatening to go completely sideways, Shining stared at Tempest’s statuesque build and rippling musculature. “Why do you even bother with armor?”

“I have enough scars. I do not need to add to them.” Tempest gave Shining a sharp glare, which caused him to look away to focus on the armor itself.

Rivet looked up from the plates. “Since I have a unicorn assistant in mind, you could leave the armor with me. If you give me one, maybe two weeks, I will have a unicorn enchantment layered on top of what is already there.”

Tempest turned her glare on him. “I’ve already explained this; you owe me nothing.”

“Oh, I know,” Rivet said. “That’s why you’re going to pay me to do it. You somehow think that you owe me. So, you can repay that debt with your patronage. In addition to me needing the business—” He gently ran a hoof along one of the plates again “—working on something my parents made… might be like spending time with them again.”

Tempest nodded, then opened her saddlebag and reached inside. “Your proposal is… acceptable.”

Shining took a closer look at one of the plates. “You’re sure that you want him to work with this… masterpiece? You both just said that everyone who knew the secret to creating it is dead. Can it even be replaced if something goes wrong?”

Tempest fished a lumpy sack from her saddlebags. “It likely cannot be replaced if damaged or destroyed. But I am more than willing to leave that in the hooves of the heir to the storm steel legacy.” She opened the sack, revealing an assortment of gems, one of which—

“That’s the something-hedron that the shambler dropped.” Shining’s voice was tinged with what was now becoming habitual confusion. “Why do you have it?”

“Trapezohedron. And when I first joined the company, the Prince made it well known that he was having issues unloading the gemstones acquired during previous missions. I’ve been buying all of them from him since then, at cost.”

Shining stared at the massive gem. “But Blueblood said that that particular gem was worth—”

“Thirty-five hundred,” Tempest said, hoofing the trapezohedron over to Rivet. Several emeralds and sapphires joined the enigmatic gem. “Together the gems are priced at six thousand. That should cover both my gauntlets and the armor.”

Rivet nodded, collected the gems, and took them to the till.

“How could you possibly afford to buy up all of his gems?” Shining asked.

Tempest released a well-practiced, exasperated sigh. “I was the top general for a profit-driven warlord for years, I had unrestricted access to the treasury vault on his flagship, and all of that was before I cast him over the side of said flagship like an anchor without a chain. Suffice it to say, I am not working for the Prince because I need the money.”

“You being loaded does explain all those exotic teas you drink.” Shining watched as Rivet threw the weapons they’d brought with them into a smelting crucible. “But, more to the point, I think we can safely report back that Rivet will be able to supply our company members with equipment that won’t break as soon as somepony looks at it.”