Sleep was an elusive treasure for Daring in her many years at this profession. Always having to be on the move towards her next lead and being stocked by some of the most horrid low lifes Equestria had, it wasn't always easy for her to trust the walls around her. Weather it was in a jungle hamlet or a dune encased oasis bazaar, she had to rest light. Tonight was no exception as a steady creak of the oaken trade cog she rode on sounded as if it had taken the mythical travels from ol' equis too.

Daring, ever the avid traveler preferred the quick speedy ships that the Abyssinians and their folk rode as they dominated the narrow seas in the far east, often they could travel the length a traditional pony trade ship could in a third the time. Those single masted, triangular runners unimpeded by doldrums and generally having hands on board that didn't ask questions when she needed to be dropped off in dangerous waters or past the odd emergent blockade. That kind of elegant vessel was the kind she would make herself known to and became in her days a excellent sailor on. The 'Mired Hobb' was not one of these ships, not by a long stone's toss.

In a usual way she expected that to be the case when she first heard of Paces intentions to pay for the rescue party. A ratted old barge like this likely took quite a small pittance to buy for her mission next to the runner she knew he knew she preferred, but as they didn't know where the weeks would take them across the southern cerulean, a well worn, bulking mass like this would have its uses on the rough waves.

Waking for the third time in as many hours she arose and after finding her sea haunches on the damp floor, her hooves took for the galley at the vessels keel, if she couldn't sleep she might as well eat before the crew was up to ask her questions she couldn't answer. But as she drew closer to the galley the noise of shouting laughter made her lose all expectations of just not interacting with anypony.

( Just walk into the room and grab some bread and water, then walk back out, close the door. Easy.)

Daring budged the door open into the dinning quarters, getting a few looks from the 4 sailors that were occupying the only table in the cramped cabin. After a moment all but one returned their attention to the stack of cards and bits on the table. She walked briskly around them, while being beamed by a lanky pale pegasi stallion who was closest to the draft table her target was on. He had diseased eyes that Daring had seen before in her kind to often. Always looking as if they could judge your thoughts before you had a chance to act on them. The look was pervasive to many pegasi, it appeared on the statues of heroes in Cloudsdale and the masks of the old theater in Baltimare. On the faces of guardsmen from her earliest years in the northern forests where she was raised. In her culture its meaning was unmistakable, the saying being that a pegasi was never able to miss judge character. He didn't trust her in here.

“Don't think you got me Bosen, take a look at these...” a red maned earth stallion that looked as if he was carved from a appleusan desert mesa, laid out a hand of cards that Daring couldn't quite see from where see had crept behind the draft table. By the looks of it though he had won and was actively sweeping a decent sized treasure into his already existing mound of gold and silver bits.

“Dang nabbit, how in tartarus do you always get a fools gambit when ever I sit down? This is buckin' horse apples!” Bosen, a brown-cream mottled unicorn snarled at the smug red coat across from him.

Daring, reaching the draft, took out her canteen flask and began pouring a decidedly non water liquid inside,

(15 seconds tops then just grab a piece of bread and back to bed.)

“Best 12 out of 23 then lads?” Came a third gambler from red coats left, a middle aged gray striped zebra mare with what Daring could only guess were wooden teeth by the way she spoke behind her.

Daring had now had filled her canteen with what ever was in the draft keg when the room grew quiet again.
She turned towards the table as the 3 formerly chatty players were eyeing her 'admirer'.

“Watts! What are you doing staring at our guest like that? I swear you have no social filter!” the zebra had brayed at the pegasus that had up until now had been mentally probing Daring. Watts turned back to the table.

“What? I thought she looked like somepony.”
Watts deflected scraping his stubbly beard with a wing.

“Well of coarse she looks like somepony, she is somepony.” Bosen heckled out. Apparently very amused with himself.

"Somepony famous, treadmark."

The red one shook his head at Bosen as the zebra turned her attention on Daring. “Dear do not you mind Watts, hes always thinkin' somethings out to get him.”

Watts huffed, his gaze shifting now on his cards instead of Daring.
“We gonna finish then stripey girl? I'm tired of playing this blasted game week after week only for Caspian to win every time! If he didn't use our pay money on those damned mini's we might even be able to afford getting a new game to play!”

“No one makes you play kid.” the red one Daring assumed was Caspian said in a low slow way earth pony farmers often did when sassing a high horse.

Watts breathed out slowly, through almost gritted teeth “No one likes a smart ass.” turning to again veiw the adventurer head on, he started in on her with a voice that sounded as pleasant as sandpaper on metal “I apologize deary, I just thought you were lookin' like someone I've always wanted to meet. Why don't you pull up a chair so we can be getting to know ye better?”

“Ugh, I don't think that's necessary, I accept your apology. Watts was it?”
(no she didn't)
“I'm very tired and were gonna need our strength for the mission. So I would really just like too go-”

Caspian looked up at Daring trying to weasel out. “Hey what exactly are we sus'post to be doin this far south anyway? The captain hasn't told us much.”

“Yeah, thats true, ain't like capt' to keep us in the dark.” Bosen pondered aloud. Him to now also staring at Daring.

(Shit, I better draw away attention...)

“Well... I guess I could play a round of... ugh, what are we playing?” Daring went to get a upside down stool from the corner of the room, deflecting was one of the things she did best, sometimes her mother would say that was her special talent not treasure hunting.

“Oh just ol' black pott, Los Pegasus style.” Bosen said in a fo bison accent.

“No one calls it that but you.” Caspian gave Bosen a shit eating grin.

“Oh shove off codger” Bosen started shuffling the cards with his surprisingly adept telepathy. “I'm the dealer so I can calls it what I calls it, besides I don't see you guys being able to do this.” Bosens emerald green magic shuffled the cards so thoroughly that Daring couldn't keep track of the movements as he started doing it. Seeing her concentration he closed his eyes and leaned back, making it into an exhibition.

“Come on boy this ain't your magic show an' tell, just lay the dang cards.” the zebra remarked as if she had seen this act before. “Just cause you show her a few magic tricks doesn't mean she'll take a stall with yus.”

Daring blushed at the thought, letting out a chuckle, he was half her age and not exactly a knight in shinning armor. How was it that such a young thing could be a Bosen on a ship like this anyway? Maybe captain Cutter was his uncle or something. Either way if Daring was red, the Bosen was twice so.

“Bu-, ugh... fine.” Bosen passed the cards out, two to each player taking especially long on the zebras hand. Then flipped out three cards in the middle face down.

Daring kept the cards close to chest, a 7 of unicorns on purple, and a prophet of unicorns also in purple. Knowing what little she had seen of the sailors playing, it didn't seem to be an impressive first draw.

“You familiar with black pott dear?” the zebra said back to Daring.

“I do not believe so, I've played a lot of games though, I'm what some might call a fast learner.”

“Well we will just have to give you a run down then. Its only proper being yours first hand.” the zebra pointed towards the three cards in the middle. “Those are called the pasture, they are communal cards that everyone can use but at the beginning they're always face down see?”

“I see.” Darring said pretending to seem coy.

“Now at the beginning of the round everypony throws in a bit for the pott see?” as she was talking the zebra nosed a coin into the center of the table. Followed by Caspian, Watts and Bosen who did same.

“I don't have any bits on me.” Daring said,

(also a lie)

“Oh then you can just use some of Caspians winnings, isn't that right dear?” the zebra took her right hoof and dragged 30 some bits from Caspians last win making the once mountain esque pile more of a molehill now.

“Hey, Savana that ain't-”

“Hush, I saw you take that 10 out your boot when she came in.”

the other players turned to Caspian.

“Dude. Bucking really?” Bosen said deadpanned as Watts laughed at his expense.

“Hey you said Los Pegasus style! What happens in Los Pegasus-”

the whole table “-stays in Los Pegasus.”

“Celestia on high...” Watts said before resuming his look at Daring and Savana.

Savana pooled the bits in front of Daring and motioned for her to throw some in.

*clink*

“Good, now what we do is everypony around the circle can either bet on their hand right out or toss in a bit to the pot if they want to peak at the pasture. We keep at it until no pony is lookin', we all done, all cards get flipped and the highest set wins. Got all that?”

Daring looked at her cards and then at the others gathered around, Watts was peeking at the pasture, Caspian and Bosen were not.

“Ok so like this...” Daring used a wing tip to through in 2 bits. Sliding the two closest pasture cards to her and lifting their tabs, a modest looking earth pony prophet bordered in black and a radiant alicorn sentinel draped in golden yellow.

“You seem to get it then girl. You boys done?” the stallions at the table eatch gave a nod in their own way to Savana. Daring pushed the cards back in place.

(they must all think they have the best hand. Atleast no pony is asking about the mission anymore...)

“I think i'll fold, better I see how its played before I get serious.”

“Ha! Serious with our money.” Bosen snorted out in a immature way. “I'm gonna double.” Bosen levitated out 2 more coins from his pile into the center.

“Wow, 2 whole coins. I'm impressed Bosen,” Caspian said in a sardonic tone. “Ill match that.” his red right fore hoof slid 2 more coins into the pile.
“Pass.” was the only thing Watts said as his black ringed eyes swam about the room. Daring only hoped they wouldn't be drawn back to hers anytime soon.

“I guess ill pass too.” Savana yawned.

(Must have been a rough day...)

Daring had been in her room for the majority of the week and had previously kept her distance from them, but maybe, Watts was just blasted or tired like the others. The only lively one among them was Bosen, either he had an addiction to cards or his youthful vigor wouldn't let him slow down, maybe both.

Savana leaned over to Darings shoulder, “Just you wait, give them another few rounds and the pissing contest will be in full steam again.” she chuckled and reclined back to her sitting position.

Caspian and Bosen were still raising each other.

“Hey, when I came in the Bosen said something about a fools gambit?” Daring replied.

“Oh he's no bosen girl, his parents named him that so he would get a bosen's mark,” the zebra pointed at Darings compass cutie mark “Much better for them than his real talent...”

Daring looked at Bosen leaning over the table, his mark was a broom with mud or, something else covering it with a single silver coin sticking out.

“So what is his talent then if he is not a Bosen?” Daring whispered covering her face with a wing as not to let the others see.

“Well you see-” the zebra was cut off.

“Hey! Is everypony cheating tonight?!” Watts spat at them. “No damned collusion laddies, this ain't a gossip circle!” He stomped twice on the wood table.

(I'm was really starting to get peeved at this Watts fellow.)

“I just wanted to know what a 'fools gambit' is.” Daring replied.

(Jack ass)

Bosen leans towards Daring
“Ooo I can tell you, its when the draconequis card is combined with a card from each suit. The fools gambit is better than another hand except a High Princess or a Queen. Most card games don't use it, but it adds a little chaos into the the game that-”

“She gets it, can we finish the hand already?” Watts cut him off.

Bosen looked back at Caspian flipping his cards like a parlor magician. “Alright, duke of dower, I got 3 prophets, beat that Red.”
The dreary face of a blue pegasus prophet and a the gold alicorn prophet joined in the pasture with the black one already there.

(3/5ths of a Prince, definitely not a bad hand.)

Caspian grunted and simply said “You win then.”

“Yeas!” Bosen took the dozen coins in the center into his corner of the table.

“Lose the battle...” Caspian started, “Win the war.” grinning at Bosen.

“What ever man. Lets play again”

And it went on like that for two hours, with Savana eventually leaving for her cot but the rest kept at it, Daring learned that Caspian Flight was a soldier for the Trottingham militia in his past life and reluctantly that Water Under the Bridge was the ships actual Bosen, as well as its first mate and doctor, a factor that Daring hoped didn't mix with his unusual views about her, for the sake of the ponys stranded at the ice walls. Right onto the break of day they played, when the brass bell of a change of shift rang out her gambling companions said their adieus then marched out the hatches onto the topside. Daring typically liked being alone, but aside from Watts, these sailors seemed pretty alright as anypony could be, she thought back to her experience with the princess of friendship, this time may be different for her.

(Never again.)

.-=O=-.

The slow scuttle of Flavians paws carried him through the cathedral sloped halls of Mirefort. The entire stone walkway exuded the feeling of a small fish being swallowed by a tremendous sea serpent, it always made him feel uneasy when heeding his masters call. The shadows of the battlements obscured most of the walk and the small high windows allowed no respite to the eternal storm's gloom outside. They only allowed the scantest light through into the bailey as he made his way towards the keep's massive doors, flanked by gray marble reliefs of the once great satyr lords, their eyes filled with malice.

At the wrought iron breach into the greathall stood two sentries in dented but still capable onyx plate armor. The smell of long dismembered flesh wafted from under their black masks, blood dripping down staining the once gaudy sky blue fur on there cuirass into a sickening adobe smear, accented by fresher pings of deep red.

“Hault!” Came from the right side guard, in a voice more like a beasts then a civilized being. Although Flavian knew he had no right to judge.

“Whut bussy nies do you havve with th' masser?!” As the creature talked more of what the page could only guess was the entrails of some cretin who spoke ill of the master dribbled out of the guards hidden mouth. Flavian looked at the other creature on the doorways left to see if he would react, but he only kept the same vigil as they both had held earlier.

“Flavian, Fastwrit. Squire and page to the Great and eternal storm king, here on request of the Viceroy.” Flavian spoke calmly and directly at the right guards eye slits in the mask. Making sure to enunciate so the bestial soldier could hear him clearly.

After a few moments of non movement in which Flavian assumed the guard was eyeing him down, the beast lifted his billarm from the pathway.

“Gow wieth speed Flaavein Fasen Wright!”

Without word Flavian pushed open the doors into the great hall. The size and weight of which was intended for a creature three times his size. They never again to be touched by their true master, only by cheap pretenders to his legacy.

The great hall of Mirefort used to have a wicked driftwood table that zig-zaged down the room. It could seat 200 hedge warriors shoulder to shoulder from its croft to its narrow and still have room for dancing with a band of minstrels and for chefs and performers to spaciously preform their crafts about the patrons meal. Now the hall was barren of that table and all of its fine silverware and its banners of the blue and black eyes and the trophy's of the king in his most famous encounters. They were no longer wanted by the new master, and only served to aggravate the hedgelings at court. The only thing that still occupied the room now was the throne of the stormking and a additional collection of medical instruments and magical technology. As Flavian made his long approach he spied a dozen or so guards like the ones outside, all in mismatched or missing armor and two tall equine figures dancing to and fro the machines and the viceroy, limp on the throne.

“You called for me master?” Flavian bowed at the dark cloaked grey-blue furry mass of a pony that lay on the throne of his dead king.

With great effort the Viceroys eyes fluttered open revealing a ghost eye and a simple brown one that ensnared the figure of Flavian. First in confusion, then in recollection.

“Flavian...*Breathes*, So you return to me after all... I was under the assumption you disavaled your commitment to the stormfront when your letter met me.”

Flavians canines ached madly, how badly he wanted to gore the pretender to the throne, how could such a weak and foreign leader lead the stormfront? Especially a ponykin being who only perverted the natural cycles of life and death, his kind who had killed the king in his moment of triumph. Many said the ponys were the kindest and loyalest of all creatures upon this earth, but in fact they where only like that to their own kin, to others they were only monsters.

“I heed the call of the stormfronts needs, not the captain at her helm viceroy.” after standing back to his feet's full height he added in monotone, “What has't it need me for?”

“Yesss... I think your talents could afford me a large deal of needed skill,” the viceroy took off his seat slowly, needing to adjust himself twice before being able to stand and walk to Flavian down the steps of his three sizes too large throne.

(I hope you get bedsores on your throne, horse.)

“Walk with me to the examination table...” The viceroys withered hoof pointed to a alcove in the room where the two tall pony folk were examining charts and preparing a blanket on a examination table accordingly.

The Viceroy by means of a step stool climbed up and lays down apon the blanket coughing as he goes.

“Ali, Baba, prep the treatment please...” As soon as the words had left his mouth, the two curved horned ponykin swiftly acquired a vial of purplish fluid and a set of silver and glass needles from the lockers and desks they had situated in the alcove and began counting back from 100.

“100, 99, 98”

“This is profane what you do here viceroy, your 'ponies' desecrate this building and the islands ancestors.” Flavian said with only the slightest edge of his hate.

“Hahaha, and why *wheeze*, is that son?” the Viceroy chuckled as he adjusted the examination table so he would be able to lie down and still speak at eye level to his guest.

Flavian cocked an eye in astonishment to the viceroys nonchalentness, had he forgotten?
“These beings kind killed our king, we may still have ruled the continent if in they didn't betray us...”

“Child you forget yourself in your furry, and it is very misplaced I might add,*wheeze* my bed nurses are not mages from the lands of equestria, they are simply to my needs healers... They are saddle arabians, not even of the same tribe as my countrymen...” Pausing before continuing, “Do you still carry so much hate for my kind because of the actions of tempest shadow?”

“85, 84, 83”

“Do not speak her name, tempest was a good general, it is the being who birthed her to be blamed, she was too weak to resist the pull of your herd mentality viceroy, and yes to be honest I don't believe I could ever stand your kind again...”

“That is a shame, I was hoping you would help my newest commander in a operation involving, an appropriation of the equstrians heritage.” the viceroy said closing his eyes

Flavians mongrel ears shot up at this...
“What do you mean?” Flavian breathed out.

“Have you ever heard of the Charm of Coal Heart Flavian?”

“No I haven't.” Flavian responded whilst he commandeered a stool from the equipment pile and sat down next to the Viceroys bed.

“68, 67, 66”

“It's an equestrian legend, very old and time worn. It exists in every corner of the pony lands in some form or another, although rarely in its entirety.” the viceroys dead eye twitched as he talked, as if to try and tell Flavian not to listen.

“Over a thousand years ago, in an age of myth beyond myth, the three original tribes of my people existed on a island nation to the far south. This place now referred to as the frost gates by our kingdom was the genesis of the ponies. But in that time it was temperate and lush, *coughs* filled with creatures and plants like... nowhere else. It is there that the first pegasi invented brazorium, that the first unicorn occultists discovered the dark arts of sorcery and the first earth treeders made the soul of the planet bend to their will.”

Flavian felt his interest waining,
“Save me the imperialist dogma viceroy, I too was once a citizen of the continent, I know the mission sermon on the so called harmonic superiority of the pony folk.”

“Ah excuse my windedness then child. If you know that already then surely you have heard the songs of hearths warming?”

“Yes, I know as much as any other race in the north. The festival of comrodery and friendship.” Flavian spoke putting emphasis on the salty foreign words in his mouth.

“Well the many wars and rebellions between the tribes lead to a great deal of thought being put into devices to stall the natural orders. Before the exodus." *breathes heavily*

“41, 40, 39”

Flavians right claw tapped on the wooden exam table to get the viceroys attention “What do you mean by that exactly? Wind and Fire and Water? That kind of natural order?”

“Heh, no these were the orders of entropy. The one thing that magic can not bend. Things like primal emotion, creation, death, chaos... things that had fortunes beyond the scope of one being. They in old equises terms, the orders of the draconequis or dragon born ponies.”

Flavians usual neutral face gave way to a broad frown as he thought of all the crap he had been taught as a pup in the mesa outposts. He never believed that the ponies who to him always looked down on his peoples god, that some time ago they had divines of their own.

“I've never heard of this before, was that some nature of religion to the first tribes?”

“Again im afraid it wasnt. Many old depictions of these natural orders showed them as princes and princesses, the old gods of the equestrians if you'd call them that, *cough-cough*, we believe were in fact, living creatures. Often with temperamental minds. Its little known even that before the emergence of the alicorns the draconequis were the symbols of the tribes confederacy against other creatures. The most important was-”pausing, the viceroy shook his head and restarted. “Forgive me this is getting off topic, all you need to know is that the ponies desired a way to control the forces of entropy, and often were at odds aginst the malice fueled spirits that controlled them.”

(as is their nature, to control or neutralize anything they don't like)

“One of these creations was meant to effect the changes of time, as a sort of perverted shield charm. My nurses and I have devised a way to prolong my life and maybe, in theory anyway, return our king to us if we could find this item.” The viceroy out from his black satin cape, pulled a yellowed page that looked to be from a manuscript depicting a ash wood pendant with runes that looked to steal ones desires if they gazed to long.

“27, 26, 25”

If Flavian was interested before now it looked as if he had peeked, eyes wide and tail for the first time since he entered the castle was fully erect.

(My ears must be deceiving me.)

“What was that you speek? You lier, always with your false promises, how dare you claim such a thing?! To give long dead hope a spark is the worst crime of all horse!”

The viceroy saw the obvious emotion in the diamond dogs face, as if given the chance he would rip the poor old stallions mortal soul from his aged body.

“I'm not pulling your tail Flavian, I assure you this is not a cruel joke, the king with help from this artifact could be reconstituted.”

Flavian let out a shallow growl letting out his own beastly side. As he did so the previously statue esque Hedge knights turned towards him. Raising their poles and hammers in case of a incident.

“13, 12, 11”

The viceroy still kept his calm on the table and held out the paper for Flavian to read it. “Believe me or not Flavian, this is the best chance to fix what my peoples weakness have afflicted the stormfront. Captain! *cough Make yourself acquainted, this dog will be your finest first mate, I can garentee it.”

With that the guards resumed their statues vigil.

Out of the darkness of the thrones rear a orange and yellow unicorn paced towards the table startling Flavian when he eyed him coming out. It wasn't like Flavian to miss a person when he entered the room, one of the few perks being half bloodhound could provide. The admittedly small pony approached them looking at Flavian while answering the viceroys call.

(He has no scent? How?)

“Aye, I can tell sir, these dogmen have a reputation where I'm from.”
The orange coat shimmered like that of a freshly washed carpet but his eyes were the strangest of all to Flavian, they were inversed, black with white pupils. The unnaturalness of his appearance made Flavians gut sink, his eyes were like a demons in the middle of an unholy deal.

“3, 2, 1”

The arabians in synchronization reached 0. They injected the viceroy with the purple liquid and his body wretched before becoming still, one last time he looked at his two lieutenants beside his table, the drug making him slur. “Be good...” The body was now still once again on the table.

Silence filled the chamber. Broken by the terrible orange thing.

“Don't worry Dogman, the viceroy ain't dead, yet, he just needs some resting before he can take on the world.” The stallion chortled as he walked back towards the throne, motioning for Flavian to follow.

“This all seems wicked, who exactly are you pony?”

Flopping himself onto the thrones basin the pony kicked up his rear legs and smiled at the diamond dog before him. “My name isn't important dog, what is is that I know how to get the object these good folks need and the stormlands have well enough gold to keep me on retainer savvy?”

Being a page for the stormlands meant constantly hopping from ship to ship, port to port so Flavian and his tribe were used to pirates, fighting with or otherwise but again to Flavians heart the pony who was before him was distinct and not in a flattering way.

“What can I call you then? Pirate?”

“Call me the stallion of the galleon...”

Author's Note

In this second chapter i wanted to establish a paralel of Flavian and Daring in the A story, both are in a situation where team work is nessisary to complete their quests even if it means allying with questionable people they don't trust. Flavian in particular i like to write as a rouge element, its true he lives under the stormlands flag but his interests are more towards the cult of personality that the stormking once had in the islands and not the government itself. He like Daring is a proponent of the status quo, not to unearth anything that could hurt their worlds, the difference is Flavian has already lost much of what he cherished and Daring is being proactive as her character demands, hopefully we will get to see more of his and Darings personality and how they work to fix the world in future additions.

I plan on uploading a new chapter every week or so, so stay tuned if the story so far has interested you. Thanks.