Twists, Turns, Scars, and Steel

"You failed", the Storm King said. He wore a bored expression, staring at her from across the Mistwater message.

Tempest lowered her head, barely able to look at him. It had been two days since her retreat from Yeltras, her ships sailing back towards the Storm Kings citadel. They had sailed past their own reinforcements, who joined them in their retreat. One of the other captains must've sent their own message, as now Tempest was face to face with him.

"Y-yes, my lord", Tempest said. "The Pryhan forces proved to be too much for our own, given that your reinforcements had yet to arrive by the time they attacked."

"At least tell me that you escaped with either/or a bunch of supplies and slaves or with a large portion of your force", he said, tilting back slightly to look at her at a slightly lower angle.

"No, my lord", Tempest said, trying to remain resolute in the face of his accusing eyes. "I haven't gotten a full report yet, but, at the very least... we escaped with only three-thousand troops. In terms of those that weren't wounded, then it'd be closer to around seven hundred."

"And you didn't get anything else", the Storm King asked.

"No, my lord. In our haste to retreat, we were unable to bring anything else with us", she said, head bowing lower.

The Storm King clasped his hands in front of the Mistwater message, shutting his eyes and sucking in a deep breath. Pointing them at her, he asked, "So, let me get this straight. You lost well over half of the troops I sent with you, including at least three airships, and I don't get ANYTHING out of it. I got that right?"

"Er... Yes, my lord", she said.

The silence seemed to be so everpresent, that it was almost a person in the room with them. Finally, after what seemed to Tempest to be an eternity, the Storm King said, "Ok, so here's how this is going to work. You are going to come back here. And you and I are gonna have a nice, long chat about this. Ok?"

She stammered, "My lord, it was bad intel. I doubt even you could've salvaged the situation given the circumstances. I-"

"A bah bah bah", he interrupted. "Save it for our chat. I'll see you then."

The message faded, and Tempest stood stiff and still as a pillar. She breathed in hard, looking down at the steel floor below her. Around her, the captains of her battlegroup looked in between each other, unsure as to what to do. Finally, one of them said, "Whatever happens, we're with you, Commander."

She looked over at the yeti who spoke; Petrovich, if she was right. "Thanks", she said. "I... I will be retiring to my quarters. I go back to your ships and make the necessary preparations for our return. Whatever you think those may be."

They all nodded, turning and leaving her main cabin on the Falchion. Soon, the only one left was Grubber, who had yet to move since the Storm King's message came in. Tempest said, "Grubber, if it's alright, I'd like some time alone with you all."

He nodded slowly, muttering, "Sure, boss." He turned and left, shutting the door behind him.

Tempest marched over to her room, shutting and bolting the door behind her. The room was sparse; perhaps bare being a better word for it. A simple wooden desk and chair, an armor stand, a hammock, blanket, and pillow hung from two rings on the ceiling, and a punching bag hung from another ring. Still, this was her home.

She walked over to the stand, subconsciously pulling on the straps to loosen her armor. After a process that took less time than the last time she had, she had taken off and hung up all the Void-steel plates. After that, she pulled off her jumpsuit, laying it over a small hook in the wall. While it was like a second skin to her after so many years sleeping or spending days in it, it did feel good to get out of it.

She sat down at her desk, bowing her head to the point that her chipped horn almost touched the smooth desk. It would've, if she still properly had it. Now, she would never get it back. The Storm King didn't say that he wouldn't be doing anything to her about it, but she knew. She didn't have to go too far down that train of thought to come to the conclusion that she would never get what she wanted.

As she almost allowed tears to fall from her eyes, she heard something behind her. A faint whooshing noise, and a loud click. A voice said, "Make any sudden moves or loud noises, and I'll have no choice but to blow your brains out."

Tempest tilted her head slowly, making sure not to give whoever was in her room an excuse to kill her. Looking out of the corner of her eye, she saw a cloaked figure, wearing a cloak and a steel mask. She said, "Go ahead and shoot me. You do that, and you won't be making it off my ship."

"Not exactly", the figure said. "We're still over Pryha. I got a little something that can make sure I get down to the ground before any of your troops can even get up to this level. If I wanted to, I could kill and be out in a heartbeat."

Tempest snorted, turning her face back towards her the desk. She said, "So. Why are you here?"

The figure removed the pistol from the back of her head. Looking back at him, she noticed that the pistol wasn't being held by him exactly. The figure was a unicorn, meaning he could put the pistol back to her head before she could get back up. He said, "Simple. I came to talk to you... Fizzlepop."

Tempest stood up and whipped around, ignoring his earlier threat. Sure enough, as she faced him, the pistol was square with her face, right between her eyes. She snarled, lightning crackling from her horn, and asked, "How do you know that name?"

"Why wouldn't I? It's yours, isn't it?", he asked.

Tempest growled, "That name doesn't mean a thing to me. Now, how do you know it?"

"Right. Mask", the figure said. The pistol still floating in front of her, the figure used a hoof to flip back the hood, revealing a clipped short blue mane, slicked down by a trio of leather straps. Dropping the pistol into a hoof, he switched his magic aura to the straps, which undid a clasp behind the mask. The mask was flipped over, resting on the back of his head, and Tempest sucked in a deep breath.

"Sp-spring Rain?"

Sure enough, her old childhood friend stood in front of her. Despite the scar on his cheek and the slightly rough more hardened expression, he was still almost identical to how she remembered him. Soft, almost mare-like features, a soft smile, rose-colored eyes. His face contrasted almost entirely with his armor and weapons, not to mention the pistol pressed to her face.

Spring Rain said, "Yeah, it's me. Now, can we talk?"

"Yes, we are. Namely, how the Tartarus are you working with the Pryhans?"

Spring Rain sighed, looking away slightly. "After I became old enough, I went looking for you. Ended up joining a crew on a ship. I thought that, if I could travel enough, I could find you. But, one day, my ship crashed off the coast of Southern Griffonia. I spent about a week on a large piece of wreckage before I was picked up by a Pryhan navy patrol. The Caesar at the time, Drusilla, took an interest in me like she did Praetor Rainbow Dash. Like her, I was essentially turned into her living tool. Rainbow was her fist, I was her scalpel."

"Why were you looking for me?", Tempest asked.

"To say I was sorry, and to try and make it up to you", he said.

Tempest snorted, walking forward. Even with the pistol pressing further into her forehead, she walked up to her to the point she was looking right into his eyes. "Why? You abandoned me. Why would you want to risk life and limb to find me if you left me along with Glitter Drops?"

Spring Rain's head lowered, barely able to meet her eyes. "Fizzlepop-"

"My name, is Tempest", Tempest said.

"Fine. Tempest", He said. "My point is, we were foals. I was the oldest one, and I was only eight! And one day, THAT happens. They, you start pushing everyone away and can't use magic properly, making shit explode! We thought that asking you to play with us was making you upset, so we stopped asking. And again, I'm sorry. I know it likely means nothing, but I'm sorry."

Tempest looked at him, studying Spring Rain's face. She had gotten decent at ready faces after all those years alone or on the streets. He looked sincere. However, that merely raised another thought to occur to her. "So then, say I believe you. Why are you here now? I'm pretty sure that whoever you work for wouldn't let you just try this in order to find me."

"You'd be right", he said, removing the pistol yet still keeping it ready. "I'm not. It's just lucky that the Caesar has a proposal for you."

She asked, "A proposal?"

He nodded. "Yep. An offer for you to turn against the Storm King and help end this war before it could escalate further."

Tempest looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "Go on."

"Well, you saw what one regiment could do against a force that outnumbered it three-to-one. Now imagine an entire campaign group: six regiments, with an accompanying Frumentarii contingent and naval transport. Last I heard, they already have a landing point in mind: Mount Aris."

Tempests eyes widened further. "They mean to go for the Hippogryphs. Get them on their side."

"Yeah. From there, spreading across the Storm Kings lands. Kilometer by kilometer, closing in on you like a noose. You know that you won't stand a chance", Spring Rain warned.

"Why are you telling me this?", she asked. "If you do let me go, then what'll stop me from telling the Storm King?"

"Because I know your situation with him. You know he'll try to kill you due to your failure, right?", he said.

Tempest said, "No, he won't. I'm useful to him."

"Tempest, I've seen and dealt with Tyrants of all types. This kind, he's an egomaniac with anger issues. He will kill you, even if you are useful to him", Spring Rain said. "The Caesar is making you an offer to defect."

"Defect? As in betray him?", she asked.

"Yes", he said. "By one of two means. The first, you would simply pull off of your retreat and surrender to the nearest Pryhan military unit. You would provide intel to the Pryhan army, and then be put on trial for your attack on Pryha."

"And the second?", Tempest asked.

"You take an active part in an assault on the Storm Kings citadel."

Tempest, despite Spring Rains' threat about speaking loudly, she couldn't help but laugh. "Really? Now?"

"Yes. While I can't get into specifics, there is a unit that is preparing to attack his Citadel", he said. "You would make some sort of easily identifiable mark on your troops and ships, allowing the Pryhan army to prevent any friendly fire. Then, you help them bring the Storm King down, again preventing the war from dragging on."

"And why should I?", she asked. "He knows how to restore my horn. If there's even a slight chance he won't kill me, I have to try. I just have to."

"You really want your horn back that badly?", Spring Rain asked.

"YES!!", she said, practically roaring. "That is the one thing I've wanted all this time. What I've killed to have back! I don't want to be a fucking freak!"

Spring Rain watched her breath heavily, grabbing his pistol in his aura and reaching into his cloak. He pulled out a small conical shape, polished to the point of reflecting the rooms sparse light, and with a razor-sharp tip. At the bottom end was a simple leather strap connected to a few metal taps and a clasp.

Tempest looked back at it, eyes narrowing. "What is that thing?", she asked.

"A prosthetic", Spring Rain said. "Don't know if this is a sign of innovation or a sign of being in too many wars, but the Pryhans are good at making them. It works; this is a similar model tested on an Equestrian pony who also had a broken horn. It won't restore full functionality, but about eighty-percent it's previous effectiveness."

Tempest eyed it suspiciously. Still, she was presented with a means to get at least some of her horn's effectiveness back. "A-are you gonna give it to me?"

"I can't", he said, putting it back into his cloak. "Part of the deal. You help us in either way, and this is yours."

Tempest turned, looking away from him. She looked around her room, taking all of what Spring Rain had said in. She said, "I-I... this is a lot to take in."

"I understand", he said, sheathing the pistol and heading for the door. "I won't be going anywhere. You won't find me, but I'll be on this ship. You simply ask for me, then I'll find you and we can talk again. Keep in mind, if it is a trap, then I'll have no choice but to kill you. Goodbye, Fizzlepop." Before Tempest could turn to him or say anything, his horn lit up and he vanished. The lock opened, the door opened, and as she assumed Spring Rain left, the door shut."

++++~++++

"So, that's what the Pryhans are offering us", Tempest said, voice resolute.

The various captains under her command looked amongst themselves, talking in hushed tones. She had decided to let them in on Spring Rains plan, and called the officers of her battlegroup to the Falchion to discuss it.

Grubber asked, "So, our options are: A, turn around and go surrender. B, go to the Storm King and help the Pryhans kill him. Or, C, go to the Storm King and be killed for failure."

"That is what the message implied, yes", Tempest said. "And, despite it being a Pryhan, I have a feeling that the author might be accurate in that assessment."

One of her captains asked, "So, which one do we do?"

"I, for one", another one said. "Am not going to just stand by and let him execute Commander Tempest!"

Others mumbled in agreement, and Tempest asked, "You're all standing with me? Really?"

Grubber said, "Tempest. You familiar with Strife?"

The name rung a bell to Tempest, but not an immediate connection. "Remind me. It sounds familiar, but I want to sure."

"He was the Storm Kings old second, back during the Abyssinian campaign. A type of cloud spirit", Grubber said. "Guy was, quite literally, a gasbag. Arrogant, always thought he was smarter than everyone else, and he was a pain to clean up afterward. He's dead now: tried to rip the Storm King off and steal a bunch of treasure barges. Despite being a bit of a bitch-"

A loud crackling interrupted him, and Grubber found Tempest right in front of him. "I suggest you choose what you're going to say next, very, carefully."

"W-what I-I mean is that, you had some... issues. B-but, you're still a cool new boss. R-right guys?", he asked. The others nodded in agreement.

Tempest sighed, letting her magic fade. "Are you just saying that because I implied I'd melt your skin off your skull?"

"No. I mean it. Strife never let me even have anything to eat on missions. You're strict, but at least you aren't as bad as him. Maybe not the best metric, but still", Grubber said. "We're with you."

Tempest trotted back to her desk, sliding into her seat and groaning. "And the rest of the troops? Would they stand by my choice?"

"You noticed how some of the NCO's painted tufts of hair on their tails and manes with rosy stripes?", one of her captains asked. "That's in emulation of you. Maybe just in this battle group, but they'll stand by you."

Yet another asked, "So, does that mean we're going to defect?"

Tempest looked between all of the captains, looked down, then back to them. "I planned on it. We all know the Storm King, most of you likely longer than me. We know he'll kill me. Besides, if the Pryhans do go to war, which they will... we're all dead anyway. We might as well die looking out for our own interest. So, you're all with me?"

The Captains stood, bringing their hands up in salute. Tempest nodded at the show of loyalty, before giving another nod to the cabin entrance. "Well, Spring Rain?", she asked. Her old friend appeared, startling her captains. After she got them to calm down, she looked back at him and shot him a small, hard grin. "What's the plan?"