The Pawn Who Would Be Queen

If there was anything the tropics of the South Luna Sea had a surplus of, it was heat. Despite the early hour of eight in the morning, Orzel's best estimate for the that it was probably already around eighty-seven degrees, and exceptionally, relaxingly humid... Apparently warm and muggy was the preferred temperature of Orzel's people, and that was one thing her new region of residence had in spades. The Princess honestly felt better with every degree the mercury creeped above eighty, making this perhaps the best she'd ever felt physically... Ever.

The trip so far wasn't anything like she thought it would be, and most certainly nothing like what Mother, Aunt Celestia, or anyone else in the Royal Family would've expected for that matter. Then again, they all expected her to actually be at Amberjack Island by now... Indeed, she had spent some time on the aforementioned island, but no more than an hour or two, just long enough to scarf down a decent meal. Orzel had been eating her fourth plate of spiced ham and eggs when a maintenance worker accidentally bumped into her table, dropping an envelope in front of her as he did so.

Said envelope was sealed with black sealing wax, the emblem of the stamp being a triangle with an eye at its center, the emblem of the Nocturne Agency. More surprisingly, she could deduce that it had been heavily enchanted to prevent anyone but its intended recipient from opening it. In this case, that was Orzel. Curious, the Princess had opened it to find a letter instructing her to sneak aboard a Bluejacket on the western side of the island, fittingly owned and operated by the Nocturne Agency.

The Director explained in the message that she was supposed to slip away from Amberjack Island, then fly Fantom on a heading of two-zero-zero, South-Southwest... The ultimate destination was a place called 'Pulauapi', a heavily jungled island, home to an active volcano and not much else. The place was so obscure and out of the way that it failed to appear on any official map of the modern era. Orzel's only experience with the island at all came from her extensive library of fiction, a 'Daring Do' novel to be precise, but even then it was only mentioned in passing.

For her benefit, the envelope included a highly detailed map to said island and a set of coordinates, which her mind committed to memory within milliseconds of seeing them. From the look of it, Pulauapi possessed no settlement of any kind. It had a natural harbor, steep a steep and fiery mountain, but nothing that denoted much, if any, human habitation. The map did, however, indicate where Orzel was supposed to go once she arrived. An 'X', settled on an unassuming outcropping of rocks on the volcano's northern slope. It was fortunate that Orzel could memorize the layout of the message so quickly, because exactly two seconds after first looking at the message, it and the map erupted into black and green flames, incinerating both to such an extent that no ashes remained.

Apparently, Director Orcus had yet another trick up his sleeve to ensure no chance that Orzel's true location would ever fall into the wrong hands. If even Luna and Celestia didn't know where she was going, it would be that much harder for any infiltrators to discover it as well. Orzel admired the man's commitment to reducing the number of parties in the know, even if it meant she'd have to deceive Mother in future communications. Much as she was furious with him for not informing her about the true nature of the Changeling menace, she also had to accept that he could be quite cunning when he needed to be. What was more, he apparently trusted Orzel to accomplish this task of her own accord... To such an extent that he'd just given her an objective to reach and left the rest of the details up to her to figure out.

While certainly eager for the challenge, there was an aspect of the scheme that left Orzel feeling greatly conflicted. She'd just two days earlier literally sworn on her soul to be as honest and truthful as possible, and now the Director was asking her to violate that oath, by deceiving Mother, Aunt Celestia, perhaps even Spike... She supposed the morality of it all was a bridge she'd have to cross when she came to it...

So, after finishing her meal, the Princess quietly made her way through the spacious pre-fabricated mess hall to a nearby woman's lavatory, where the watchful eyes of the Agents disguised as MPs assigned to guard her couldn't conceivably follow. For a few moments they gave her static about bringing her belongings with her, but she explained that she merely needed to freshen up, and change into something more suitable to the island heat. After all, she had been been wearing the same flight suit for over thirty hours. That was evidently enough to convince the guard, and with that Orzel set to formulating a plan to exfiltrate Amberjack Naval Base.

First and foremost, she needed to get out off the mess hall, and her best opportunity would be in the restroom. It was reasonably sized, at least compared to similar facilities she'd seen at Maksym Field. She briefly considered just going through the wall, as it was only made of quarter inch corrugated metal, which for Orzel might as well have been cardboard. Still, that was bound to make some noise, and the object was to get out of the base as quietly as possible. The bathroom did possess a feature ubiquitous to many of the buildings she'd seen in her brief journey from Port Amberjack to the base, and that was the presence of several large windows. They were high off the floor so as to afford privacy, but Orzel had now doubt she could reach it with a little effort, not that she'd need to exert herself... She had Fantom, after all.

It took Orzel a couple minutes to change out of her flight suit and into something less distinct. She chose a pair of olive drab fatigue pants and a coyote brown tank top, much like those worn by the Lunar Marines, both of which afforded her superior range of motion. As usual, she chose combat boots over sneakers. The sneakers might've been more weather appropriate, but the boots had better traction... More importantly, they were identical to every other pair of boots on the base, further selling the illusion that she was supposed to be wherever it was she was going...

The Princess tied her hair up into a tight bun, then stuffed the rest of her clothes into her sea bag, including her headscarf... Much as she felt naked without it, it was one of the many aspects of her appearance that might be recognized. Sighing faintly, Orzel assessed her appearance in the mirror. It was rare that she wore anything with short sleeves, let alone no sleeves, and the reasons for doing so were on full display. From the nape of her neck, to her shoulders, all the way down the top portions of her arms, Orzel a more or less constant tapestry of glittering metallic bronze scales. Her hair was fortunately long enough that she could style it in a way to conceal her horns, at least from a distance... Overall, she could probably pass for a Lunar Marine, again, assuming no one got too close.

With her disguise more or less in place, she turned to finding a means of egress. Mounting Fantom, she levitated up to the window, where she found her progress hampered by a metal insect screen. She held there for a few moments, examining the surroundings outside... The mesh was certainly warranted, as Orzel watched numerous insects of varying sizes buzzing to and fro. Above she found the sky to be clear and blue, occasionally broken up tufts of white clouds. The mess hall was situated near the edge of the base, a twenty yards or so from the perimeter fences, both of which were topped with concertina wire. Two guard towers to her left and right directly overlooked the area between the fence and the mess hall, but Orzel couldn't determine what direction their occupants were facing.

Orzel looked at the fence with a discerning eye, uncertain if she could effectively climb the wall without being noticed... She then looked down at Fantom, face palmed, and was inwardly grateful no one had been party to such a stupid concern. By that metric, her carefulness to put on a believable disguise also seemed somewhat pointless... Perhaps she'd need to work on her improvisational planning skills, it might've saved her a little time.

Adjusting the sea bag over her shoulder, the Princess leaned forward and punched the insect screen hard enough to knock it loose. Tightening her grip on Fantom, she rapidly flew out the window, across the gap, and easily over the fences. It took her less than five seconds to accomplish, but she couldn't be sure no one had seen her depart either. Just to be safe, the Princess stuck low to the ground beyond the fence, skimming along a foot above the dense underbrush, passing through a heavily jungled portion of the island that would lead her to the western side of the island.

It was probably the most green she'd seen in her life, even the forests she'd witnessed from atop the Canterhorn couldn't come close... The trees were so densely placed that she nearly slammed into one or two of them, their thick verdant leaves obstructing all but the most persistent streams of sunlight, easily visible by the rays that lanced down through the dense humid air. The underbrush was just as dense, and just as potentially dangerous. Thick sturdy vines dangled from countless tree limbs, just high enough to risk catching Orzel in their grasp. Vines, however, weren't strong enough to stand up against the combined speed of Fantom and the density of a draconic body. Several times they came close to knocking Orzel loose, but each time they snapped before they could become a serious impediment.

The insects here were also louder than any previously encountered, as were the animals, creating a disturbingly soothing symphony of shrieking birds and countless other creatures the Princess couldn't hope to identify by call alone. There was something about this place that gave Orzel a familiar sort of rush. Not driven by anger or aggression, it was just... There. The air was heavy with the smell of rain and decaying plant matter, and.... The Princess's flight through the jungle came abruptly to a halt, slowing completely to a stop on her broomstick. She smelled something else, something... Yummy... Fresh blood... Perhaps an animal had been wounded by another predator? Her pupils dilated, and instinctively she allowed her tongue to dart in and out of her mouth.

"O-Oh... That is... That is quite good..." She purred in Szafirian, scanning her surroundings with a renewed hunger. Even though she'd only just eaten, what was the harm in a little pre-flight snack? All animal sounds surrounding her faded to silence, and in the matter of a few moments there was nothing to fill the deafening silence. They must've known that a new predator had wandered into their midst, or... Perhaps an old one.

She knew that her people on Equus had predominantly been island and coastal dwellers, controlling large swathes of territory with a high level of volcanic activity, stretching from the frigid waters of the Southern Ocean up to the cost of the Western Unknown... For all Orzel knew, Amberjack Island very well might've been one of the territorial holdings of her ancestors. She'd be well within her rights to seek out that oh so delectable odor, wouldn't she? Drawn further into the jungle by the intoxicating bouquet, Orzel hovered along on Fantom for only a minute or two before her rational mind managed to reassert itself over the primeval hunger for more.

"I have not had the opportunity to meditate since Hearth's Warming Eve, that is the only excuse for such weakness." Orzel stated harshly to herself. "I am a scientist! I am a scholar! Not some... Mindless eating machine!" She affirmed forcefully, but by now the smell was all around her. "I am in control of my instincts... I am in... Control..." It almost overpowered her again, the aroma strengthening enough that Orzel's inner predator told her it was a big, juicy, mouth wateringly succulent wild boar... "Maybe... Maybe just a bite?" She questioned rhetorically, mightily struggling. She'd not eaten nearly enough breakfast, what would the harm be in stopping off for a little nibble? "No! I am in control!" She shouted at herself, the sooner she resumed her journey, the sooner she could get back to work. "I just need to get out of... Here..." So consumed was she by the smell that she'd completely lost track of her current position. "Kurwa..." The girl actually whined. "Note to self, add land navigation to the list of skills that need improvement."

The girl turned her eyes upwards, trying to use a trick her Father had taught her, but the tree canopy prevented any hope of judging her direction by the position of the sun. Sighing, the Princess reached into her satchel and withdrew a pair pilot's goggles, a back up pair she'd acquired at Median Atoll... Her first had been thoroughly unsuccessful, and she'd been forced to complete these whilst the first Bluejacket was stopped for fuel and a crew rest period. Pulling them on over her spectacles revealed that they displayed a myriad of important information. Compass heading, altitude, airspeed, vertical speed, even an artificial horizon.

She would've preferred to find her way without turning to magic for help, merely as part of the challenge, but she very much wanted to get back under way. While she was certain she could get a grip of herself, it was bound to create a headache that would make the day that much more difficult. With the goggles resting on her face, Orzel was able to use the enchanted compass to find her bearings quite quickly. Not wanting to waste any further time, she willed Fantom forward and resumed her trek to the west.

The smell still lingered in Orzel's nostrils, making it difficult for her to focus... She nearly crashed into several trees for the second time that day. Somehow she managed to navigate through the jungle without further incident, and thankfully the distracting aroma was replaced by a familiar but no less welcome smell. Salt water, fresh sand, palm trees... A few moments later she heard the sound of waves crashing against the shore, steady and rhythmic, a sound that easily soothed her somewhat frayed nerves.

The abruptness with which she emerged from the dimly lit jungle surprised her. One moment she'd been plowing along through the dense undergrowth, and the next she'd virtually spilled out onto a pristine sandy white beach, dotted by tall palm trees, which swayed lazily in a warm easterly breeze. Out to the horizon stretched an ocean, the most gorgeous shade of turquoise Orzel had ever encountered, with water as clear as glass... Had she a few extra minutes, she might've stopped to admire the place, but odds were Pulauapi would look very similar. The Princess continued out over the ocean, skimming along at a foot above the wave tops. She made a wide banking turn until the goggles displayed her heading as two-zero-zero degrees South-Southeast.

Ahead of her she saw nothing but the ocean for as far as the eye could see, and that was the first time she really realized what she'd gotten herself into. Outside of the Director, and perhaps the people waiting for her at Pulauapi, no one would know where she was. If something went wrong, if she fell from her broomstick and couldn't recover it, or ran into a storm, or Lexicos only knew what else, she'd be entirely on her own... There was a time when that would've paralyzed her, and to some extent it still did, but she was able to force the fear down and set her jaw. She needed to do this... The sooner she got to the island, the sooner she could get back to her vital work...

Gripping the broomstick tightly, she mentally willed it to shed its disguise... The facade of a normal broom melted away, leaving the sleek, aggressive, speedy craft she'd crafted. Orzel harkened back to the night she'd first crafted it, how Piercing Gaze had told her the reason it trailed smog rather than stardust was because she wasn't going fast enough. Taking one final deep breath, decided that it was time to see what Fantom was truly capable of. If she was going to cross an area of unknown danger, it was probably best she do so as quickly as possible. Who was she kidding... She'd just turned down a very tasty smelling boar and she had to do something to burn off that excess aggression.

In a matter of moments she'd sped up to forty miles an hour, or forty-six knots as displayed by her goggles, the maximum speed at which Mother had authorized her to travel. She'd pushed it as high as seventy knots before, but Orzel knew her creation was capable of so much more, the question was... How much more? The Princess's eyes narrowed predatorily as she mentally willed the broomstick faster and faster. One-hundred knots... One-twenty-five... One-fifty... the speed just kept going up. By now the wind had blown her hair out of its bun, causing the strands to flap wildly behind her.

Peering over her shoulder, she could see that the broomstick was trailing a dense cloud of black smog... She was going nowhere near fast enough. One-seventy-five... Two-hundred... Two-fifty... Still she saw no sign of stardust. Never mind that at present she'd gained no more than ten feet above the ocean surface, or that a crash at this speed would likely prove lethal to a normal Equestrian, the danger only made the ride that much more exhilarating. She remembered a time, not all that long ago, when she'd yearned to own her own steam locomotive... To control where she went with it, to do what she wanted... The destination might not have been hers to choose, but the speed with which she got there?

There was nothing to get in her way, no trees or hills to hamper her speed... It was time to quit messing around. The broomstick surged forwards like a bat out of tartarus, the airspeed indicator now reading three-fifty... Three-seventy five... A quick glance over her shoulder saw that the smog wasn't nearly as thick now, but the resistance of the wind resistance was picking up something fierce. Gripping the broomstick like a vise, Orzel crouched down low, moving to be as aerodynamic as possible. Four-twenty-five... Four-fifty... Watching the horizon for any sign of danger, Orzel soon spotted a shape floating on the water to her right. The mast, the white hull, the assorted other accessories, her mind processed all of it in a fraction of a second, ultimately providing her two words. Fishing boat.

Within seconds of it coming into view, Orzel had whizzed past at close to five-hundred knots. For her, however, time seemed almost painfully slow. It was just how her mind processed visual stimuli at such a high rate of speed, but she was quite pleased by the shocked and confused looks on the fishermen's face as they watched what, to them, might well have been some sort of... UFO buzz their boat. The Princess cast a look over her shoulder, she was cruising at five-hundred-ten knots, now the broomstick was trailing stardust. It probably could've gone even higher than that, but she was satisfied with the broom's performance... For now.

If she recalled correctly, and she did, Pulauapi Island was something like eight-hundred-fifty nautical miles away. So far she'd been flying for fifteen minutes.... Time being distance divided by speed, at her current speed of five-hundred-ten knots the trip would take her approximately one hour, twenty-four minutes, thirty-eight seconds, give or take an error margin of say... Ten minutes, twenty if she stopped to grab a snack... Jokes aside, that gave her a good amount of time to think about what she'd do when she got there...

The Director's message had assured her that all the equipment she could ever want, including that which she'd sent ahead, would be ready and waiting upon her arrival. First and foremost, and Orzel couldn't do so quickly enough, she needed a shower. Not just because she'd been wearing the same clothes for the past two days, though that certainly played a role. She intended to tour the island's facilities as soon as possible, that included the laboratory, workshop, motorpool, and so on... While the latter two were guaranteed to get dirty through use, she wanted to keep her laboratory as sterile as possible.

Once she'd showered and toured the facility, it'd be time for lunch... Orzel was certain they'd probably have some sort of canned rations with them, but doubted they'd have anything as fresh as she might've liked. Not just canned meat either, but vegetables, fruits, probably even canned bread. Canned meat she could tolerate to an extent, but the other foods didn't necessarily agree with her in their canned form... Granted, Orzel would probably be eating more meat than anything else, but still...

She'd just need to see about having some seeds delivered from the mainland. According to 'Dr. Logic's Guide to Volcanism', volcanic soil was excellent for farming, at the very least it'd give her a hobby... Considering how her social life had just about ceased to exist, it wasn't like she had anything else to do with her spare time. Maybe she could convince her bodyguards to play a game of O&O with her, or maybe Kriegsplan, if that was more their style...?

She sighed, not that one would've been able to tell with so much wind in her face. Grim and Fable weren't much for talking, let alone games, and Orzel got the sinking suspicion that there'd be a lot more tight lipped Nocturne Agents to work beside them. It was only natural that the ones that talked the least would be selected to guard a highly secret outpost, so maybe it'd just be her and Midnight... Come to think of it, she hadn't been seeing as much of her familiar of late, not since she'd left the train at Unicorn Point. That wasn't the first time she'd noticed it either, sometimes the little mouse would scamper off to Lexicos only knew where... Speaking of, she glanced down to ensure the pendant was still around her neck. Thankfully it was... That was the last thing she wanted to lose in the middle of the ocean.

Back to business at the island... Once she finished eating, it'd be time to get back to work. Orzel's first task would be to machine a prototype of the fire control group for her new rifle, as a closed bolt firearm was a little more involved than an open bolt like the PM-72. It was probably the most crucial portion of the weapon, and would be an important step towards developing a reliable 'select fire' mechanism. That in and of itself presented a number of issues... While at first she'd been eager to produce a fully automatic weapon, her experience with the PM-72 led her to believe that, while feasible, such a weapon might not be accurate enough for the battlefield.

While the PM-72's use of a smaller caliber made its recoil easily controllable when fired automatically, she'd gotten the best results from two or three round bursts. Her experimental 7.62x39mm round, while not nearly as powerful as a full rifle cartridge, would pack a lot more recoil than a .45 ACP. It'd have to be taken one step at a time, first develop a fire control group that worked, then focus on getting it to work semi-automatically, and from there step it up to automatic or burst. She could probably accomplish the burst function with some sort of cam mechanism, though that presented its own issues...

These were the matters on which Orzel spent the next hour or so pondering over, all the while scooting along at an average altitude of twenty feet or so. There was little else to draw her attention for the majority of that time, just miles and miles of featureless blue ocean... It might've been enough to even lull her into a sort of hypnotic trance, if not for the risk involved in wiping out at such a dangerous speed. None the less she struggled to keep her focus on her surroundings... 'See and Avoid' was safety mantra of Equestria's aviators... Probably not nearly as effective when taking into account the speeds Orzel was flying at. Back and forth she would scan the horizon, occasionally spotting a pod of dolphins or some floating debris, but nothing alarming... Then she caught sight of a significant object on the horizon. It was larger than a fishing boat, but most certainly not Pulauapi. Within a few moments she realized it was ship, the silhouette made it look to be Equestrian, and yet... It was the oddest thing

If there was one thing Orzel knew, it was the ships of the Equestrian Navy. From their first sloop to the Sokol-Class aircraft carrier, she'd memorized them all, in part because she intended to own at least one model of every class... That was beside the point, because the vessel she saw speeding along at a paltry fifteen-knots didn't make any logical sense. It looked like an Argonaut-Class Torpedo Boat Destroyer, a class of ships intended, as their named suggested, to attack and destroy torpedo boats. They were the precursor to modern Destroyers, and that was what didn't make sense to Orzel...

There weren't any Argonaut-Class TDs left in the Equestrian Navy, not even in aging ranks of the South Luna Fleet. The last Meadowbrook-Class TD, had been placed into mothballs five years ago, and with the exception of a few museum ships, almost every ship of the Argonaut-Class had already been scrapped. The Princess knew she should've just passed the ship by, but she couldn't, it was too... Surreal. What were the odds she'd ever see an Argonaut-Class sailing around on the open ocean again? They were, as she already knew, infinitesimal... Maybe this was some sort of privately built replica? The question it posed gnawed at her, so Orzel circled the ship as she slowed down, easing down from five-hundred-ten knots over the course of a minute or two in order to match the ship's speed.

Curious to get a better look, the Princess actually came within fifty yards of the ship, and sure enough she saw the telnyashka-esque Equestrian Naval Jack fluttering from the ship's stern... It was faded and tattered, barely any of it remained that could charitably be called a flag. Orzel could tell right away from the rounded forecastle, two raked smoke stacks, and low free-board that this was definitely an Argonaut. She certainly looked like a production model, in that her paint was so faded and her hull so rusty that Orzel doubted the poor thing had seen the inside of a dry dock for over forty years.

There were dozen's of men working on her deck, though some flocked to stand at the edge of the rail, looking at Orzel... All of them wore uniforms that looked familiar, very similar to that which Spike had worn on Nightmare Night. Like everything about the ship, these too looked battered by years at sea... Torn and tattered, strands of seaweed clung about them in some places, and the crewmen themselves looked hauntingly, unnaturally pale. Some of the men were waving at her, as if trying to coax her aboard. Curiosity nearly got the better of her, but she was shaken from her trance by a sudden warm sensation on her chest. Glancing down, she was startled to see that the rubies encrusting her Monolith Pendant were glowing a bright crimson. Seeing that, Orzel dare not venture any closer...

The crew still kept imploring her closer, she could actually hear their voices, but they sounded distorted... Near and distant at the same time, all echoing over one another. Orzel's eyes were drawn to the front of the ship, where it's name, 'Avenger', and hull number, '19' appeared in faded white lettering. She could've set aside the other odd features merely as bizarre circumstances, but that all changed as the name clicked in her mind. Orzel's face went pale, and she couldn't ignore sudden chill that sprinted down her spine. Heeding the advice of her instincts, the Princess quickly turned away from the ship and resumed her journey to Pulauapi at a faster speed than before, just over five-hundred-fifty Knots.

That ship shouldn't have been there, it couldn't have been there! There was no conceivable way that ESS Avenger, TD-19, could be sailing around the South Luna Sea, it was quite literally impossible! An avid reader of history, Orzel had first learned the fate of ESS Avenger in the lead up to the christening of ESS Sokol... Thirty eight years ago, fresh from her commissioning in Manehattan, she'd been assigned to the Fifth Celestial Squadron off the coast of North Zebrica. There, under the command of one Captain Tailor, she was responsible for sinking or capturing twenty pirate vessels.

One evening, according to the Navy's reports, Captain Tailor took the Avenger out with a squadron of other TDs to weather a storm at sea. A Griffon merchantman reported watching Avenger collide with an 'object of indeterminate description or origin', which had as far as the history books were concerned, just appeared without warning. After several minutes of attempting to dislodge itself, Avenger vanished in a flash of brilliant green light. Taking the entire compliment of her crew, fifty enlisted sailors and fifteen officers, with her. In her wake, it was said nothing remained by a single sailor's cap and life raft which had been knocked loose in the initial impact. Neither the object nor Avenger was ever seen or heard from again.

Orzel had always found the mention of the object being 'of indeterminate description or origin' to be unusually vague, especially seeing as the other details provided by the Griffon ship were highly detailed. Moreover, there were no reports from any of the other ships in Avenger's squadron, of which there were twenty... Twenty Navy ships, each with their watch officers on deck to look for sign of approaching pirate vessels, and not one, not one saw anything?

The Argonaut-Class was the pinnacle of naval design in its day, it'd been the fastest, nimblest, most advanced light warship on the oceans of the known world. Avenger in particular was virtually brand new, the incident taking place less than seven months after her commissioning. She'd been serviced by some of the best trained sailors in the Navy, with one of the highest crew competency records on record. How did the Navy just 'lose' one of its newest and most expensive ships without finding out why?

As with all things relating to government oversight in Equestria, Orzel had at first chalked it up to incompetence, but now...? Now she wasn't sure what she believed. She had to report this, didn't she? Who would she report it to? Obviously the agents at the island, but would they believe her? Strange things like that didn't just happen, right? They'd think she was crazy? Of course they would, Orzel had seen it with her own eyes and she thought it was crazy. What she'd seen shouldn't have been possible, and by all laws of physics it wasn't, but... There was more governing life on the Equus than 'the laws of physics', enough that they weren't so much 'laws' as they were 'guidelines'... The broomstick she rode upon at that very moment was proof enough that fantastic things could happen. Magic was, as Mother was so fond of saying, the means by which one made possible the impossible.

To that end, Orzel had to wonder what caused the rubies in her Monolith pendant to glow as intensely as they did... Neither it nor the necklace it dangled from appeared to be enchanted, not by any means that Orzel could discern from a casual observation... Maybe it was something else? Casting a look over her shoulder at the dwindling outline of the ship-that-couldn't-be, the Princess decided that now was a good time to say another prayer, this time for continued protection on the remainder of her journey. Hopefully she wouldn't be out over the ocean for much longer.

Within a matter of minutes Orzel was relieved to spot an indistinct smudge some fifty miles away, further accented by a steady column of dark gray ash and smoke that rose into the heavens. Swiftly that splotch of land took the shape of a rocky, craggy patch of green and gray upon the cerulean horizon. It didn't take her long to draw close to the island, which was much larger than she'd expected, large enough that she didn't understand why it hadn't become the site of at least colony of some kind...

A towering volcanic peak dominated the surrounding island, reaching such a staggering height that it could very well rival the Canterhorn. An eerie white mist lingered atop the primordial jungle, which carpeted every visible inch of land in dense foliage, not unlike that briefly experienced on Amberjack Island. With every mile she flew closer, Orzel had an rising sense that she'd been here before... Again, such a thing was ludicrously impossible, and yet... The Princess could've sworn that once upon a time, she'd gazed upon the daunting cyclopean volcano, or that she'd walked the verdant tracts of oppressive jungle, and supped the cool clear water that cascaded along some undiscovered river in the dense foreboding wilds.

Orzel slowed to a complete stop as she passed the breaking waves, and with a sensation that she had done this before, first set foot upon the pristine white beaches of ancient Pulauapi. Nervously, she tucked Fantom into her seabag, then removed her goggles and slipped them into her satchel. Even at the edge of the jungle, the towering treeline of tropical flora swelled with the thrumming sound of wildlife. The waves crashed behind her, rolling up the sun bleached sand, to just barely graze the heel of Orzel's boot. She crouched down on the sand and picked up a handful of it, allowing the fine powdery substance to freely cascade through her fingers.

For a few moments she stayed there, sniffing the air, then darting her tongue out... In the air she unsurprisingly tasted sea mist, salt, various odors from the countless species of jungle plants and animals that must've called Pulauapi home... But there was something else, something unnatural... Orzel's pupils narrowed as realization donned, and very slowly she reached into her satchel. From within she pulled the familiar form of her personal PM-72... Mother would've disapproved, but Orzel needed at least one working copy to tinker with while designing the new fire control group. Orzel felt all the safer for having brought it with her, especially now.

The aroma on the wind grew stronger as soon as the weapon cleared the lip of her satchel... Firearm's lubricant had a very particular scent, and Orzel had become intimately familiar with it over the course of her work. Somewhere nearby, someone had recently cleaned a gun... That was really the only time enough of the oil was in one place to leave a distinctive odor. Given her run in with the Avenger, Orzel was feeling particularly on edge. While it was very likely the smell originated from the Agents assigned to protect her, she wasn't about to take the chance that it was someone else. Especially with the risk of the Changelings fresh in her mind, beings which could potentially replace said agents.

The message from the Director had been rather vague about what she was supposed to do once she arrived at the prescribed coordinates, but she whatever encampment she was supposed to approach couldn't be that far away. The girl flipped open the dust cover and double checked that the magazine was seated properly, then cautiously began making her way inland from the beach. The chatter of animals and buzzing of insects was far louder here as they had on Amberjack... Amberjack's jungles were regularly hunted by locals, and Orzel doubted whatever soldiers were assigned here wouldn't be enough to make a dent in the animal population here, even if they tried.

Orzel moved through the dim depths of the Pulauapi jungle at a slow and steady pace, pausing every now and then to search for any sign of recent human activity. The soil deformed easily beneath Orzel's feet, and was of a dull rusty brown color, interspersed by hundreds of thick vines and roots. Every now and then she'd hear a strange high pitched whining noise, obviously an animal of some kind, but again Orzel had no idea what kind. Between the insects, the chirping birds, and Lexicos only knew what else, Orzel was certain she'd have plenty of new creatures to research and catalog in her spare time.

Darting her tongue in and out, Orzel was able to determine that this area was once frequented by a large species of prey animal. She wasn't sure of the exact type, only that they'd stopped coming to this part of the island a month or two ago, and that she would very much like to acquire one... For scientific study, of course. Her 'tasting' of the air also indicated that she must've been on the right trail, because now there was the distinct presence of diesel exhaust, sweat, and... Spiced ham. Most of the smell seemed to settle on the right fork of Orzel's tongue, so logically she started moving to the right.

For twenty minutes she moved with a tight gripping her PM-72, inundated by the mixing flavors of so many plants and tasty- fascinating animals. By now Orzel's mind was turning once again towards food, there were plenty of animals all around her, even if they thought they were hiding... There was only one creature that seemed content to remain her presence, an odd colored bird... It looked like a starling, or maybe it was a myna bird... Weren't they the same thing? Orzel wasn't nearly as good with animals as she was with machinery, just another thing to add to the list of subjects to read up on, now that she had so much more free time.

Whatever it was, the bird was more or less entirely black, save for its beak and legs, which were a shade of gold. There were also two narrow golden cheek patches, one on either side of its face, below the eye. Every time Orzel looked over her shoulder she'd find it perched on a branch, or a vine, each time closer than the last. The Princess briefly considered trying to spook it away, but... Maybe that would work to her advantage? She was certainly getting hungry. Then, just as she was ruminating on what bird might make a good mid-day snack, it made a loud squawking cry that startled Orzel enough to take a step back.

She was just about to pounce on it as retribution when she idly darted her tongue out several times, a few moments later she felt the color drain from her face for a second time. Looking to her feet, it was clear there was something unusual about the brush a few feet ahead of her. With a great deal of caution she crouched down again, then brushed away some of the dirt and other detritus. What she beheld beneath actually made her heart skip a beat... A pressure plate, something she was far more familiar with.

It belonged specifically to a license built copy of the Griffon Mk. VII 'Jumping Mine', known by its more ominous nickname 'Bürgermeister', on account of its 'hamburger' like effects... When triggered, it would be propelled out of the ground by a powerful spring, then detonate at waist height... Which was more like chest-height for Orzel. With it's payload of TNT and metal ball bearings, it was capable of maiming legs, feet, and other important bits at waist level, to a degree that Orzel was frankly uncomfortable with considering she'd almost stepped on one. Upon the pressure plate she saw the words 'Prop. Nocturne Agency'... Okay, yeah... That made a lot of sense.

The Mk. VII was officially banned by the Equestrian Armed Forces several years ago on account of its controversial nature, but there was still a large surplus of them sitting around in Equestrian Armories that had yet to be destroyed. It certainly wouldn't be hard for the Agency to get its hands on a few, especially given the state of the Equestrian Logistics Corps...

"The Director is really not messing around." Orzel mumbled quietly, covering the landmine again. She looked up at the bird, which by now sat on a branch not four feet away from her. "Thank you... Bird. I will not eat you." The bird turned its head, allowing her a better look at its eyes, which allowed her to see they were glowing a bright golden hue. "Midnight? Why are you a bird?"

"Midnight! Bird! Not eat I!" Midnight responded in perfect Szafirian, not as one might expect of a bird, or maybe it was? Again, Orzel didn't know much about birds. The voice sounded fairly familiar, a mix of Orzel's voice and someone else's, though she couldn't quite place who. "You bird!" It added emphatically, nodding its head down towards mine, then at Orzel's sea bag. "You! Bird!" Orzel furrowed her brow, then looked over her shoulder at the end of Fantom protruding from the bag.

"What about it?" She stated dismissively, turning her attention back to the mine. "What person would stop at just planting just one landmine. They would need to plant a whole..." She then froze, then looked over her shoulder at the path she'd been walking, entirely ignorant of threats from below... "Field." She finished with a slightly higher pitch, a sudden wave of wooziness striking her. "I do not feel so well..." Midnight repeated the phrase 'You! Bird!' several more times, fluttering over to perch on Orzel's shoulder, then tapping the end of the broomstick. "Oh... Right." So it was that Orzel once again took Fantom from her sea bag, then hopped aboard, riding with one hand while holding her PM-72 in the other. Midnight continued riding Orzel's shoulder, perched in the same position where she always felt comfortable in her mouse form.

Together they hovered along at a good five feet off the ground, well out of range of any further potential mines. Passing through the jungle at a far greater pace, Orzel was still less than happy... Partly because she'd nearly blown her legs off, but also because in all honestly she much preferred walking at the moment. Riding Fantom for such an extended period of time at such high speed had gotten a little uncomfortable, and she was already planning to include a more comfortable seat when she started work on Fantom 2. For now, a little discomfort was preferable to picking fragments of shrapnel out of her face.

Over the course of the next fifteen minutes, she detected no less than fifty landmines with the aid of her tongue, so Lexicos only knew how many there were that she couldn't detect. Thankfully there was also an increased presence of the other smells of civilization, which meant soon she'd be able to get a nice warm shower. Not before she gave whoever was running this place a stern talking to about... Everything. What kind of person would tell someone to walk through a jungle and not inform them they'd planted landmines, especially considering said someone was the person those mines were intended to protect? Between the flight, the hunger, the encounter with Avenger, and now the landmines, she'd just about run out of patience. Had she been afforded a chance to meditate, and pray, she might've been in a better mood, but those coping mechanisms had also been denied to her.

Finally she could see light pouring in from a thinning patch of trees, beyond which she saw a clearing. By now she was nearing the base of the volcano, which only added to her surprise when she spotted what looked like the mouth of a tunnel, carved directly into the base of the mountain. Stopping at the treeline, Orzel peered out at the tunnel and what surrounded it. She saw an area of chain-linked fence topped with concertina wire, ubiquitous to every Equestrian military facility she'd seen thus far. There was also a lowered gate bar, which controlled access to a well used dirt road that wound off somewhere out of sight, though Orzel couldn't say where...

The foliage had grown in around it, concealing it's presence under a dense canopy of jungle. It seemed that similar effects had been achieved atop the tunnel entrance and the security area. Coiling flower-dotted vines dangled down in front of the tunnel, coming from a large patch of thick jungle shrubs that'd evidently been planted above it. The rest of the fenced in area was concealed by camouflage netting, which when combined with everything else, made Orzel certain that she wouldn't be able to see them from above without knowing what she was looking for.

Five men wearing olive drab Lunar Marine fatigues stood in or around the gatehouse, with another two patrolling along the fence's outer edge. They were also some of the biggest, toughest, meanest looking Lunar Marines Orzel had seen so far... With their sleeves rolled up to cope with the tropical heat, it was clear that more than one possessed an identical tattoo on their forearm, though Orzel couldn't determine what it was at this distance. All of them were armed, some with AARs, though most with SMG-45s... Orzel knew from her tests with the PM-72 wasn't nearly as well suited to the jungle environment as her design. Maybe Orzel would need make them some new ones? As if she hadn't already given herself enough to do... For a few moments she considered just going out and greeting them, but figured that just coming out of the jungle armed might be a good way to get shot. Closing the dust cover on her PM-72, the Princess tucked it back into her satchel.

"Just let me do the talking." Orzel stated firmly to Midnight, the bird merely nodded its little feathery head. Taking a deep breath, she dismounted the broom and stowed it for a second time, then simply walked out of the trees, briefly pausing to use her magic to fix her hair. The guards took note of her almost immediately after she stepped into view, each of them tensing cautiously, closely monitoring Orzel's approach to the gate.

"Halt!" One of them, a Captain who according to the patch on his uniform was named 'Hard Stop', shouted when she got within twenty feet of them. He was a burly fellow, who's eyes narrowed with a confidence that came from experience. "Sergeant, call Central, inform them we have an unscheduled arrival at the gate. Corporal Pines, go search her." One of the men standing in the gatehouse picked up a telephone receiver and commenced to dialing, whilst another, obviously Corporal Pines presumably, approached Orzel with obvious caution. This afforded her a chance to see the man's tattoo, a fearsome three headed wolf, accompanied by the words 'Pro Omnibus Hominibus'. "This is a restricted area. Who are you? How did you get here?" The Captain continued accusingly.

"I am Crown-Princesssss Orzel. I fly here, at requessst of Director Orcusss." Orzel stated calmly and politely, freely allowing the Corporal to lift the sea bag from her back, though the act did disturb Midnight's perch. The man opened the bag with more force than was really necessary, then attempted to remove Fantom. Try as he might, Pines couldn't so much as get the broomstick to budge. After a few moments watching him struggle with it, Orzel turned to look at him. She was already on edge, but now she was starting to feel a migraine coming on, and the last thing she needed was her time wasted. "I whissstle now. Do not ssshoot me." With that, she pursed her lips and whistled sharply. A moment later the Corporal nearly fell backwards, the broomstick now free of its arcane restraints. He looked at it with befuddlement, visibly weighing it in his hands.

"You're Crown-Princess Orzel?" Captain Hard Stop asked skeptically, ignoring the incident with the broom and crossing his arms across his chest. Corporal Pines tossed Fantom to the ground, which did little to endear him in the eyes of the Princess. It was getting harder and harder to rein in that temper of hers, but the last thing she wanted to do was provoke so many men with so many guns, especially considering they were all supposed to be on the same side. "How in tartarus did you fly here? We didn't hear any planes land, and you don't have any wings." Orzel quietly gestured with her head towards the broomstick, by now the Corporal was rifling through her clothes. "Flew here on that? You think I'm some kind of idiot?" The Princess shook her head.

"No, ssskeptickiss- SSSkeptichess-... One moment." The Princess sighed, then cleared her throat. "Subtitles!" She commanded in Szafirian, prompting a small green orb to materialize in front of her. The marines all raised their weapons, but Orzel remained calm. "Do not fear, it is merely a spell designed to simplify communication." She explained, continuing in her native tongue. "Your skepticism is perfectly justified, but as your Corporal has already seen, that is no ordinary broomstick." She responded, again as polite and professional as she could be, which at this point was just short of her typical mask. "You can confirm my story with Director Orcus himself."

The light from the sun, coupled with the continuing chatter of so many animals, did little to sooth the mounting throbbing headache... Orzel was actually starting to see zig-zagging shapes in her vision, which meant this was going to be a doozy. It was at this point that Corporal Pines was getting near the bottom of Orzel's bag. Having found nothing of consequence, he then lifted Orzel's satchel from her shoulder and opened it. The girl wasn't too concerned, what he saw when he looked inside was a perfectly normal bag, containing several spell books and an idea journal... A fake one, full of technological jargon and chemical formulas that sounded impressive, but in actuality only outlined a means of building a more efficient toaster, and a recipe for stinging nettle soup. Not Sokol's recipe, as Orzel would never allow such a thing to fall into the clutches of a spy.

"Looks like a bunch of technical stuff..." The Corporal announced, holding up the journal. "I can't read any of it though, it's in some freaky form of... I dunno, I wanna say... Prench?" Orzel rolled her eyes, Szafirian looked exactly nothing like Prench... "I think it's some kind of... Bomb?"

The girl closed her eyes tightly, rubbing her head as the sharp, pulsating, throbbing pain rushed to greet her. There had to be some painkillers inside wherever that tunnel led, and she was standing here, making a fool of herself... Temper temper, Orzel, just a few more minutes... The guards were just doing their jobs, it was totally reasonable... She was calm... She was in control... All she needed was to take a big deep breath.

"Hey, Cap?" The Sergeant in the gatehouse called, holding up a telephone receiver. Orzel opened her eyes only a crack, as anything more made the migraine that much worse. "Central on the line for you." Captain Hard Stop narrowed his eyes at Orzel, then made his way over to the waiting phone. Placing it against his ear, he mumbled a few words the girl couldn't hear, then nodded several times... A few moments later, with a look of cautious concern, his entire posture changed.

"One second, sir..." Hard Stop stated calmly, looking at Orzel. "What is the name of your father's ship?" The girl's posture stiffened, that was certainly something she hadn't shared with many people. She of course answered with the truth, 'Piorun', which Captain Hard Stop relayed to whatever person was on the other end of the phone. He nodded several times, still talking softly enough that Orzel couldn't make out what he was saying. After several more minutes the girl saw his heavily tanned face go white. "Stand down! Safety your weapons!" The Captain shouted, earning confused looks from Corporal Pines and everyone else standing nearby, who nonetheless complied.

Hard Stop hung up the phone after a minute more of talking, at which point her nervously rubbed the back of his neck and signaled Pines and the others to come closer. Orzel took this opportunity to begin putting her clothes and other belongings back into her bag. The Captain was obviously discussing the orders they'd just received, but Orzel's attention was drawn instead to the tunnel beyond the gate.

Two pairs of headlights appeared in the darkness, and after several minutes of waiting Orzel saw the quarter-ton General Purpose Vehicles they belonged to rumble out of the aperture and make their way to the gate, which the marines quickly opened. Both GPVs drove out of the perimeter, then stopped beside Orzel. She could tell right away that the rear most vehicle housed two familiar hulking forms, Grim and Fable, who hopped out before the vehicle had even come to a complete halt. The other vehicle had a .50 Caliber machine-gun mounted on a pedestal in its rear, as well as a .30 Caliber machine gun mounted to its dashboard.

"Your Highness!" Grim rumbled, surprise evident on his face and in his voice.

"Grim, Fable, it is agreeable to see you again." Orzel responded as warmly as she allowed, as her head was still killing her. The brightness of the glowing orb of light that transcribed her words certainly wasn't helping. Fable grabbed her sea bag and placed it in the back of the heavily armed GPV, which was filled with marines that were openly gawking at the girl... "I have much I wish to discuss with whomever is in charge of this island. I had no idea where I was to go upon my arrival, and as a result nearly blew myself up on the way here. First, however, I require painkillers, food, and a hot shower..." She walked with both men towards the second GPV, then climbed into passenger seat. She paused briefly, looking at Captain Hard Stop. "Your security consciousness is most satisfactory." The Captain and all the other men at the gate, who still seemed shocked that they'd detained an actual Princess, quickly snapped a salute in response.

"We would've had someone waiting for you upon your arrival, but we weren't expecting you to arrive for another four hours." Fable explained as the GPV drivers put the vehicles into drive and did a quick 'U-Turn' to head back into the mountain. They passed through the tunnel aperture, on into the dark unknown beneath the smoldering volcano. It took a turn after twenty yards, into an area that was illuminated by dull orange electronic light bulbs, spaced evenly along the ceiling. "How did you arrive so quickly?" Orzel merely pointed at Fantom. "You must've been doing five-hundred knots! Your Highness, do you have any idea what your Mother would say?"

"Five-hundred-ten, actually, and yes, she would say it was irresponsible." Orzel acknowledged tiredly, rubbing at her forehead. "As you can see, I was perfectly fine, Fable... The trip afforded me plenty of time to think about the next step in my research, though I did have a brief detour..." The glowing orb quickly spelled out the words, and looking over her shoulder Orzel could see they'd had some effect on her bodyguards. "Are either of you familiar with the ship ESS Avenger?" The men looked at one another, sharing a look that Orzel hadn't seen before. "It was the oddest thing... It looked as if it had been sitting on the ocean floor for the past forty years. Surely you must think I am crazy, but I swear I saw it, crew and all."

"We don't think your crazy, your Highness." Grim stated seriously, lacing his meaty fingers together. "Strange things like that tend to happen in the Luna Ocean, both north and south. There's even a saying about it." He explained reassuringly. "You'll never find more lunacy than in Luna's Seas." Orzel raised an eyebrow at that. "There's a lot the Director wants us to tell you about what the Nocturne Agency does, Princess... In time. For now, let's get you to the infirmary. We need to take some blood, make sure you haven't picked up any tropical bugs, y'know?" Orzel opened her mouth to reply, but thought better of it. She could ask all the questions she wanted when her head didn't feel like it was about to explode.

It at first might've seemed rather odd that Princess Luna would continue her weekly visits to Doctor Vinyl Scratch's office building, but then again, few people even knew that her Daughter was a patient of the odd part-time musician, full-time therapist. The official reason was that Luna had to keep up the appearance that Orzel was still in Canterlot, but unofficially...? Orzel wasn't the only Princess in need of psychological help, and there were few Doctors with required experience, or discretion, required when treating the Royal Family.

Equestria's mental health system was exceptionally well accepted by the public, at least as far as that same public was concerned. As with so many other aspects of life, members of the Crown that sought mental health services weren't viewed with the same amount of tolerance. Vinyl understood why that would be the case, the people wanted to know that their leaders were of sound mind as well as body... Orzel was a bit of an exception among the few outside the Crown that knew, seeing as she had a legitimate reason for seeking counseling. Still, Luna was more disappointed by the double-standard than she wanted to let on... The whole point of the enterprise was to provide all Equestrians with psychological care, no matter their standing.

The topic of discussion, however, wasn't aimed at the perceptive double standard or the rather heavy cost such a system entailed yearly. That was more a topic for the public square... At present, Luna was pacing the floor with her hands clasped behind her back, in a posture much as her daughter tended towards, while Vinyl sat in her armchair with urbane interest. Despite her best efforts, the woman couldn't keep from drawing parallels between her younger and older client. A lot of the nervous behavior she'd come to expect from Orzel had its roots in the woman that so ardently marched back and forth across her carpeted floor. Given the subject of their current conversation, a certain measure of nervousness was to be expected.

"I do not want her to think I am attempting to control her life..." Luna stated quietly, pausing to gaze out the window at Canterlot, once again bathed in the frigid snowy cloak of a rolling blizzard.

Vinyl brought a small mug of coffee to her lips from the table beside her chair, sipping it before clicking her pen and commencing to write on her newest trusty notepad. The Princess had recently bid farewell to her daughter, but not before learning that there was very likely something going on between said daughter and a young man around her same age. Orzel had spoken of him quite often in their sessions, and while at first Vinyl had encouraged it as a friendship, it'd become obvious that there was more to it than that... Honestly, she thought it was a positive step, a sign that Orzel was opening up to the world... Evidently her Mother didn't feel the same way.

"Piercing thinks that I am overreacting, but he does not understand..." Luna continued, rounding and starting to pace in the opposite direction. "He was not here when Orzel lost her parents, he did not know what it did to her. I do not want her to get hurt, not when she is just starting to get better." Vinyl also knew about this 'Piercing Gaze' fellow, again, primarily through Orzel's descriptions of him as a competent lab assistant and scientist. Still, the Doctor knew there was enough mental oddity and strange neuroses in him alone to keep a team of psychoanalysts happily employed for decades, but he wasn't Scratch's concern at present. "I do not think ill of the boy, you know? I just do not want my daughter to rush into anything so suddenly..." The Princess turned to face Scratch.

"It's apparent to me from our sessions that Orzel and Spike have become incredibly close." Vinyl offered soothingly, prompting Luna to raise an eyebrow. "She hasn't said its okay for me to give you specifics, so I'm afraid all I can say is that she thinks very highly of the young man. Even if things don't work out, I think it would still be good for her in the long run." She continued, adding more to her notes as the Princess took a seat on the couch, looking at her as if she'd said something totally insane.

"How could having her heart crushed possibly be good for her?" Luna asked skeptically, her voice soft as she laced her fingers together. "I can think of no pain greater than what I felt when I lost Piercing." The woman shook her head. "The last thing Orzel needs, especially now, is for some boy to come in and break her heart." Vinyl hummed quietly at that, taking another sip of coffee.

"I know little of what goes on behind the Castle walls, but I've gathered from Orzel that there's something amiss, something you think is dangerous..." The Doctor admitted, earning a raised eyebrow from Luna. "Otherwise she wouldn't have had to depart so abruptly." The Princess nodded, but didn't elaborate further... Vinyl supposed there were some things that even she wasn't privy to, even if they might have an averse affect on her Royal patients. Even so, she could read between the lines well enough to 'feel' her way through the entanglements of National Secrecy.

"So I take it that's the same reason you gave her permission to begin working on weapons?" Vinyl continued, there was another wordless nod. "I can't speak on that matter without knowing more, but on the topic of Orzel's relationship with this Spike boy...? Even if it doesn't work out, even if Orzel does get her heart broken, she's strong enough now to endure it..." The woman could see Luna's eyes flare. "Would you rather she go through life never once entering into a relationship? Always fearful that something might go wrong? How then would she ever meet someone truly special, or be wise enough to know they're special?" Vinyl paused, momentarily casting a glance to a photograph on the wall, depicting herself and the smiling face of Octavia...

"I see what you mean, intellectually, but..." Luna began, biting her lower lip, and Vinyl could tell that what came next was likely difficult for the Princess to admit. "The thing is that I swore to myself that I would protect her, and to just sit back when I think she is in peril... That is... Difficult." The Princess frowned, leaning back on the couch and glancing back out the window. "Maybe it is best that she not find 'someone special'." Vinyl was honestly shocked to hear Luna say such a thing, but she could also see there was more to follow. "The pain I felt at losing my love was almost unbearable, and I carried that pain with me for over a thousand years... I might have carried it even longer, had he not returned to me in a form that I need not fear his growing old..." The Princess trailed off. "Orzel may not be so fortunate. What if she does meet someone that truly makes her happy, and is then forced to watch them grow old and die, while she remains young..."

Vinyl briefly stopped writing in her notepad, stunned by the enormity of what Luna had just said. Long-lived beings weren't unknown to her in a professional sense, but she hadn't encountered the strange sense of scale their lengthy lives provided since her residency period. In that instance, she'd met a drake well over three thousand years old, who told of great battles and mighty heroes in an age long before even her most distant ancestor had yet to be born. His Mate had been killed in one such battle, and he had not taken another in all those following centuries... The look of loss that haunted the man's expression had struck the young Doctor to her core... She saw it here again, however briefly, in the glittering eyes of her client.

"Would you rather you had never met Mister Gaze? You never would've felt all the pain you described to me, nor would you know the happy memories either." Vinyl asked curiously, resuming her note taking as she recouped her faculties. Luna shook her head, appearing appalled by the very notion of such a question. "That's what I thought..." The Doctor managed to conjure a slight smile. "So, with that in mind, would you deny Orzel that same happiness? Even if it was fleeting?" Luna shook her head with a slightly less sullen expression. Satisfied that her client was in a better frame of mind, the Doctor cleared her throat and turned to a fresh page in her notebook. "Now, why don't we move on to that other matter you mentioned..."

The Canterlot Royal Guard indoor shooting range was an out of the way place, situated at the very edge of Canterlot's Old Ward, right on the border with an area known colloquially as 'Club Row'. While technically the property of the Crown, the shooting range was open to the public on most weekdays, with limited exceptions. Firstly, when aspiring members of the CRG came to complete their pistol qualifications, or when the Lunar Marines that made up the Palace Guard wanted to hone their aim on their various lunch breaks. Today, however, the range was closed for use by two people. Director Orcus of the Nocturne Agency, who in this capacity served as Range Marshal, and Sub-Director Piercing Gaze.

The latter had been working tirelessly to get better acquainted with the tools of the modern Agency, aided in no small part by his work with a certain technically minded Princess, while he was familiar with SMGs and rifles, pistols remained an uncertain subject. There was another reason the two had chosen to keep the range to themselves that day, one far less innocent than idle curiosity about a particular class of firearm. The Nocturne Agency needed agents that could be trusted completely and without question to commence their earnest hunt both for infiltrators and lost artifacts. Those agents, unfortunately, were in very short supply...

The air was split by the thunderous bark of .45 ACP rounds, which surged forth from the barrel of a semi-automatic pistol. It was like many of the ubiquitous firearms in the service of the Crown, save that this one was blued steel... Vibrant prismatic auroras of light pulsated from numerous glowing runes along the length of the slide, their brilliant flashes reflecting in shell casings that rained down upon the floor... The enchantments were some of Piercing's own design, which he'd applied a day or so ago in anticipation of the test. Among other things, they granted the weapon a considerably increased punch against foes of the dark and evil persuasion... Similar enchantments had been applied to crossbows in the old days, and Piercing was frankly surprised the tradition had fallen out of practice.

The gunfire almost went unheard, both on account of the tumultuous racket resounding off the dense concrete walls and the hearing protective earmuffs both men wore. Piercing Gaze held his aim almost unwaveringly true, the weapon's gnarled black-wood grips setting it sturdily in the scholar's grasp. Each radiant flash of muzzle fire was diminished by the amber shooting glasses, which Piercing found he rather preferred compared to the more clunky models available at Maksym Field. Seven tightly grouped holes had just taken shape in the targeted man-sized silhouette that hung approximately twenty-five yards down range, joining another thirty or so of varying accuracy. A final round roared forth, placing another hole in the grouping, at which point the slide locked back and the last casing went tumbling down in relative silence. The man nonetheless racked the slide back several times, then checked the chamber was empty.

"Weapon clear!" Piercing called out, at which point he ejected the magazine and placed both it and the pistol on the table before him. Orcus inspected the weapon for himself, and seeing it was indeed clear, he removed his earmuffs and pressed a button on the wall to recall the target. Both men wore dull gray Lunar Marine fatigues, with two of Orzel's prototype OUBCs protecting their torsos. They were surprisingly easy to move about in, even if they were a tad crude in their hand made construction... They'd only been intended as prototypes, after all.

"Let's see how you did." Orcus said curiously as the target began trundling back towards the shooting booth, though his words were muffled. Piercing lifted the earmuffs off his ears, resting them around his neck, and watching the approaching target with equal intrigue. "Decent form, though I would've liked to have seen a wider stance. Keep that in mind if we move up to shotguns or you'll end up knocking yourself over with the recoil." Piercing nodded thoughtfully at that, tucking his hands into his pockets while the target came to a stop ahead of them. Orcus counted the hits and misses quietly, then hummed appreciatively. "Congratulations, you are hereby certified to carry a handgun in service of the Crown." He slipped the magazine back into the well, releasing the slide and flicking the small switch on the side to the 'SAFE' position, then handed the weapon to Piercing.

"Hopefully I won't need this." The scholar stated seriously, slipping the empty weapon into a holster on his belt. "I know I've been working with Orzel on that PM-72 of hers, but... It's still quite a shock, going from swords and crossbows to automatic and semi-automatic firearms." He admitted, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning against the wall of the shooting booth. While modernity had a great many fascinating things, Piercing would be lying if he said he counted the great many new weapons among them. The irony that he was helping to bring more those weapons into the world wasn't lost on him either. "I trust this enables us to finally get to work?" Orcus nodded, taking the target down from its carriage and rolling the perforated sheet of paper up tightly.

"Yes, Sub-Director..." The Director grunted, ducking out of the shooting booth as the two started walking towards the range exit. "You are who you appear to be, and I'm who I appear to be. The objects in this building, likewise, are also quite mundane..." Orcus was referring to a blood test the two of them had submitted to that morning, as well as a series of arcane screenings... Since then, neither had been out of the other's sight for more than a second or two... The latter was new SOP, under the guise of 'better partner performance'. "For the moment we can speak frankly. However, if we should encounter someone else..." Piercing only nodded at that, finally removing the shooting glasses and tucking them into his breast pocket. "Let's start with the breach in the Arcane Barrier? You've had ample time to deal with the issue, how are you coming along?"

"My work is just about complete on that front." Piercing stated, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops, a minute affectation he'd picked up after a recent viewing of a 'Western Picture' with Luna. The problem Orcus referred to had taken a little careful doing to remedy, considering that his powers over Chaotic magic were still recovering following his reformation. "Intentional crossings from Orzel's realm are still possible, as are some accidental ones, but the odds of such a thing happening are unlikely."

"There may be a few small crossovers pertaining to Orzel herself, though these will be beyond her control. Like a magnet, her presence is likely to pull objects over that she has a personal connection with..." Piercing noted a small sigh on Orcus' part, but really there wasn't much he could do. Just like a torn short could be mended, it would never again be wholly intact. "There's little we can do to prevent that, I'm afraid. I've taken it upon myself to set up, well... Let's call it a 'home office', in the vicinity of the rift. Just one more means to keep a personal eye on it." He took a brief breath.

"The Exo-Changelings should pose no further threat to us here." The Scholar further explained. Orcus nodded understandingly, removing his own glasses as the two exited the range and passed into a sort of locker room. "As for the matter we discussed at the party on Hearth's Warming... I've hired a dozen or so men and women formerly in the employ of Hothoof Industries. Highly skilled, laid off due to economic instability. Orzel's instructed me to offer them an hour salary of two Bits, plus paid time off, health, and retirement benefits." Piercing grinned faintly.

"She thinks that might cause other employees from Hothoof to come over to Basilisk, but it could get expensive. The accountant you recommended is doing wonders though, so I'm sure we'll find the money." Piercing then shrugged casually. "Long story short, the first gross of PM-72s should be rolling out of Maksym Field within the month... How are things on the domestic front?" His companion sighed with exasperation, honestly the man hadn't expected anything less.

"At present we're tracking a few suspected infiltrators, under the guise of an intelligence leak..." Orcus began, removing his OUBC and hanging it in one of the lockers, an act that Piercing readily imitated. "We've got a few Agents that have passed the blood tests and screenings, but not nearly enough. The few infiltrators we have confirmed don't suspect anything yet, but we've been quietly cutting them out of the loop." The man shook his head, looking at the floor with what Piercing recognized as deeply troubled resignation. "Look, Piercing, I know I said I'd have you working with me on this, but..." Piercing crossed his arms in obvious annoyance, getting the sense that he wouldn't be involved with the spy hunt after all, even after having qualified to do so as of today.

"The Agency's primary concern is to deal with ancient artifacts and the strange doings of the occult." Orcus explained, his features becoming abruptly troubled. "My main focus has to be on the Changeling threat, but..." He looked around out of habit, ensuring once again they were in fact alone. "I need someone I can trust to find the missing artifacts from One-Two-Seven, and neutralize whomever it is that's responsible. Not to mention our standard case load of finding and securing new artifacts as well..."

"I suppose it's only proper that I be the one to sort this out, I'm one of the guys that found it the first bloody time." Piercing conceded with a touch more seriousness, closing the locker and rolling his shoulders, now thankful to be free of the OUBC vest. "I'm certain Luna also had something to say about keeping me away from any spies." He added with a dry chuckle, getting only the most imperceptible of nods from Orcus as they donned their winter jackets and made their way out through the lobby. From there the two passed out onto Canterlot's sidewalks, which had only recently been cleared of snow.

Orcus had a cigarette in his mouth and lit almost as soon as they'd stepped out into the snow. Piercing would've lit up himself, if he didn't have to meet with Luna in a short while... She was still a little peeved that he'd started smoking, but it wasn't as if he smoked anywhere near as often as the Director. Understandable, Luna's concern for the safety of the people she loved made a great deal of sense, especially now considering that one of those people was so very far away. That was part of the reason that Piercing had wanted to get to work on the infiltrators as quickly as possible, to bring Orzel home and set his beloved's mind at ease. The sooner he dealt with the Changelings, the sooner he could make good on a desire he'd had ever since his return...

At the same time, Orcus' reasoning for assigning him to handle the 'One-Two-Seven Recovery' and other standard artifact cases of the Agency also made sense, perhaps more sense than setting him to work against infiltrators. The latter required a great deal of interpersonal skills and physical fitness, while the former was far better suited to a man of Piercing's scholarly pursuits. The most likely suspects were members of the occult, as they'd likely make great use of books, scrolls, and other artifacts to hide their secrets... Much of those secrets emerged from societies deemed ancient even to his Old Equestria, and he couldn't imagine a buff field agent combing through old libraries and catalogs in search of some secret nugget of forgotten lore.

There was also the implied notion that it was, at least on its surface, safer than dealing with spies... Luna had to know better, of course... As he'd affirmed to himself multiple times before, the old adage 'words will never hurt me' didn't apply to those written by the secretive cults of the world... A chill ran down Piercing's spine, which he couldn't attribute to the cold snowy evening that pervaded around them.

"So, I'm up to speed on the One-Two-Seven Files. What new cases are the most pressing? It'd help to know just what it is we're looking for. Giant albino penguin eggs? Necromantic alchemical salts? Hideously deformed cave dwellers?" They were only half-joking suggestions, referring to numerous old adventures they'd enjoyed... Neither was quite so humorous as his tone would suggest, of course. The penguins in particular had been part of a much larger, much more disturbing affair up in the wastes of the Frozen North... Orcus simply chuckled at the mention, puffing on his cigarette while withdrawing a manilla folder from within his overcoat.

"Perhaps a bit of all three." The man stated cryptically, handing the folder to Piercing as they passed by several stores, one of which happened to sell replicas of statues from the Castle Gardens, and obscenely oversized garden gnomes.

Piercing was more focused on the statues. Some Piercing didn't recognize, others he knew all too well, men and women whom he'd made his business to place in that state... For the good of the realm, of course. The rogue wizards and warlocks of a bygone era stood all around him in their snow covered stone prisons. He knew from his own experience that they were conscious, condemned to eternal imprisonment in that cold black void. One of the numerous 'Planes of Limbo', according to his more recent research. He was considering having a talk with Celestia and Luna about potentially releasing some of the less troublesome offenders, seeing as Equestria's arcane and technological knowledge had progressed far in proportional excess to their might... That was, however, a matter for another day.

"Technically you aren't fully up to speed on the One-Two-Seven Files, we finally got one of the guys to crack this morning." Orcus continued more seriously. "You'll need to handle this in a more... Contemporary way. We aren't nearly as free to wield the Elements of Harmony as we once were, you know?" Piercing raised an eyebrow, then opened the folder. "This is the man we believe to be responsible for the raid, though we don't know who it is that might be smuggling the artifacts out of the country. We have a few leads on his domestic contacts though, so they might provide you some intel."

"Let's see..." Piercing hummed, flipping to the first page. There wasn't much, save a picture of an dark skinned older man with a beard, wearing the dirty fatigues of the Ornithian Army... The caption beneath identified the man fairly quickly, listing a few of his lofty accolades. "Coronel Trepatroncos... Says he graduated in the top twenty students of his class from the Ornithian Military Academy and Summa Cum Laude from the Griffon Institute of Magic Studies, with a doctorate in Ancient Arcane History." The picture lay atop a more foreboding sheet of paper, a collection of all the crimes the Colonel was suspected of committing, which apparently was only an abridged version. "Assets were frozen when his family fell out of favor with the Military Junta..." Piercing sighed, closing the folder. "Let me guess, our dear Coronel has been making purchases well beyond his means and that's why he's on your suspect list?" Orcus shook his head.

"He's already making a fortune off the black market artifact trade, but that's not why we think he's involved..." The man added, glancing about their surroundings, as if he didn't even trust the very snowflakes that drifted down around them. He exhaled a cloud of smoke from his nose... "Coronel Trepatroncos is a disavowed member of Division Five... He was actually next in line to run the agency, but as you said, the Junta are a fickle sort...." Piercing tucked the file it into his own jacket, only then did Orcus continue. "The stuff he snagged from us could easily make him the richest man in the criminal underworld... Personally, though? I think he's working with a middleman..." He tucked his hands into his pockets.

"Aside from a certain book, there's little use Division Five could gather from what was stolen." Orcus gestured to the folder again, or rather Piercing's pocket. "That's why I think it's safe to assume that his being disavowed by the Ornithians is genuine." He took on a more serious expression. "Let me make this clear to you, Piercing." Orcus stated firmly, placing a hand on Piercing's shoulder in a manner not unlike that of a protective brother. "No solo cave exploration, no running off to the catch the bad guy on your own, or any of that other stuff we used to do when we were young and stupid. We have Cerberus Teams to handle retrieval and containment, don't go thinking you've got to use that gun now that you got it."

"Never fear, my dear! I shall be the very picture of caution!" Piercing pledged, crossing over his heart. "I don't suppose there's anyone I should work with on this, to keep up the illusion of the new procedures?" Orcus shook his head at that. "Thought not, bloody shame that... I rather like having someone to bounce ideas off of, you know?"

Piercing cast a brief glance at Canterlot Castle at the end of their current street, specifically the eastern wall of Canterlot Castle, including the Eastern Guard Tower. That was a building he knew with melancholic certainty would be empty. While he'd never dream of exposing Orzel to the frightful world of the occult, he couldn't help but wonder what she might have to say, were she properly initiated. The girl had briefly examined some light books on the subject whilst searching for a new faith, but those books in the Castle library were but a harmless tithe to the true scope. She still had a great amount of studying to complete before she'd be a Master Enchantress, but her analytical manner of viewing the arcane likely would garner better insight overall when it came to the search. Piercing actually caught himself missing the child, in a way he hadn't quite expected.

As much as he still didn't see himself as 'parent material', Piercing was growing attached to Orzel... As a professor might embrace a prodigy student, or as a Master might recognize a promising Apprentice. It was only natural, of course, considering he'd been working so frequently with her of late. Truth be told, he'd also been trying to make sure he was ready for the increased responsibility before he worked up his courage lately to ask Luna a very serious question. The timing just didn't seem right yet, and with her daughter so far away, he didn't think it appropriate to ask...

It would send the wrong message, both to Luna and to Orzel, if he proposed matrimony while the latter was in no position to say anything. Piercing doubted Orzel would object, of course, and even if she did protest he'd insist all the same, but still... Asking without her around would've felt like he was going behind the girl's back. On the other hand, he'd waited a thousand years or more already, and the urge to just 'get on with it' grew stronger every day. The only thing standing between him and that goal which had cost him so much of himself was... Himself. Hopefully Orcus and those agents privy to the knowledge would deal with the Changelings quickly, then all could go back to as it should be...

"I've cleared Princess Orzel to be brought up to speed on the true nature of the Agency, if you wish to consult with her." Orcus announced bluntly, likely misreading Piercing's fixation on the guard tower. Piercing, for his part, abruptly stopped in his tracks and grabbed the Director by the shoulder. Had he heard the man correctly? Certainly not, the Director wouldn't do something so outlandish without first consulting Luna at the very least... Right? The look on Orcus' face unfortunately confirmed it, Piercing had heard him correctly. Whirling him around, heart racing in his ears, Piercing gripped the man by both arms and shook him frantically.

"Have you taken leave of your senses!?" He practically yelled, face going pale as he released the Director and gripped both sides of his head. "By Celestia's beard, man! Do you realize what Luna is going to do to you when she finds out!?" Orcus shushed him, eyes shifting to either side of the street. There weren't any visible pedestrians at present, but that didn't mean they were alone.

"The girl's an asset, we need her help." The Director stated simply, and Piercing struggled greatly to keep himself from throttling the man, for ever good that would do. "She's in the middle of nowhere, there's no possible way she could potentially leak what she knows to the public, it's time we bring her into the fold." He added more certainly, clasping his hands behind his back. "When we started the Agency we had Luna as our dedicated enchantress, someone who could create artifacts to ward off evil and protect us. Given we're going after 'The Tome', I think it's time we had someone to fill that role again. You're blowing this out of proportion."

"No, Orcus, I'm not 'blowing this out of proportion'! This is the very picture of proper proportion! She's not an 'asset', she could very well be my step-daughter, not to mention the daughter of Luna! Y'know, your friend!?" Piercing stated more quietly as the two once again resumed their walk to the Castle. "Orzel nearly lost control when she learned about the Changelings. How the bloody tartarus do you think she'll react when, surprise surprise, they aren't even the worst of our problems!?" The man rubbed at his temples, groaning inwardly as he pictured what dinner would be like that night.

"You already have her working on guns, uniforms, bullet proof vests, grenades, and Faust know's what else, now you want to add magical artifacts that ward off evil to the list?!" Piercing continued, biting his lower lip, already imagining the utter calamity that was bound to unfold when Luna found out. "Wait, is this what you were planning to do all along? Get your foot in the door with standard equipment and then cram this through?" Orcus shook his head. "To use an idiom of the modern age, your ass will be grass, and Luna will be the bloody mower!" The Director paused, outwardly unconcerned, which told Piercing he'd already taken Luna's reaction into account. He took a slow drag on his cigarette, slower than was normal...

"I am not counting on her to actually make the artifacts, Piercing, merely to consult in their runic construction." Orcus explained evenly as the two of them continued down the street. "Luna was only a few years older than her when we began our operations, and Orzel has seen far worse things than Luna did at the time." He put his hand on Piercing's shoulder, not in a comforting manner, more as if he was leaning on him for support.

"You have to understand, Piercing... I cannot see as I used to. I can't predict what to prepare for. The Agency is flying almost completely blind!" Orcus coughed loudly, actually stumbling. "I know you said that we can trust that the outcome will be positive because that's how it's been in the past, but the game has changed! We need as much help as we can get! The country is-!" The man stopped, his eyes going wide as he brought a hand to his chest, the lit cigarette tumbling to sizzle on the wet concrete sidewalk. "Counting on... Us..." He wheezed before doubling over, Piercing caught him, then eased him to the sidewalk. "H-Hospital..."

Piercing wasn't really sure what he felt in that moment, only that his mind focused on that singular word. Much as he'd been furious with the man, it remained that he still cared about Orcus, and the country still needed him. It took him a few seconds to conjure the picture of the destination in his head. With that image burned into his mind, the Sub-Director grabbed his friend's shoulder with one hand, then snapped his fingers with the other.

In a instant flash of light, they were transported from the cold snowy sidewalk of the Old Ward to a pristine white waiting room. Numerous rows of chairs sat back to back, almost all of which were occupied by people... Some held bandages to bloody wounds, others looked as if they were in great pain, but each and every one of them appeared stunned at the sudden arrival. There was a large desk at the far side of the room, behind which sat a plump woman in a white nurse's uniform. A sign mounted on the wall read 'Canterlot General Hospital Emergency Room'... The nurse rose from her seat, walking around the desk and approaching with a mix of surprise and annoyance on her features. Obviously his arrival had violated some sort of hospital policy or whatever... There was no time to deal with the lecture about whatever rule he'd broken getting there, as far as he knew his friend was dying.

"I'm Sub-Director Gaze of the Nocturne Agency, this is Director Orcus of the same. I don't know what's wrong with him, only that he needs help." Piercing announced briskly, reaching into his coat and withdrawing his credentials to present to the Nurse. "His continued health is a matter of national security, so don't give me any 'wait in line' static and just get him a bloody Doctor!" The woman looked at the badge, then examined Orcus before quickly rushing over to her desk... Wait or no wait, Piercing could already tell that tonight was going to be a long one.

Never in all his living days had Spike encountered such exhaustion as he felt when he returned home from his second day of training... He'd known being a fire fighter would be a physically taxing job, he just hadn't thought of all the things that he'd need to learn on his way to becoming one. The first day they'd learned to march in formation, much as he might've expected he'd learn in the military, then it'd been a run through 'The Gauntlet'. A grueling obstacle course, in which the prospective recruit had to complete it while wearing a full set of 'bunker gear'.

While every member of his unit had been issued one of Orzel's prototype 'fire protection patches', they nonetheless were required to wear their standard kit as well. The patch, after all, was only intended to allow the wearer to survive long enough to be rescued if he or she became trapped under burning rubble. When taken together, including jacket, trousers, boots, gloves, hood, helmet, respirator, and air tank, the gear weighed in at nearly eighty pounds. Spike had relied on his draconic abilities to get him through the first few times, but by the third or fourth he was finding it difficult to keep up with his fitter peers...

The second and current day hadn't been nearly as intensive as far as running obstacle courses or learning marching drills, but it had nonetheless drained him of a good deal of his energy. For seven hours he and his compatriots had practiced getting in and out of their bunker gear, a task far easier said than done. They'd be in the middle of a lecture about the different types of combustion, when suddenly the instructor would shout for them to get ready. Those that couldn't complete the task within ninety seconds had to run five laps around the fire house... Needless to say, just about everyone had figured out how to get ready in the allotted time window by the end of the day, Spike included.

Now he was finally passing through the front door of Golden Oak library, muscles aching and stomach growling. If nothing else, his experiences thus far added another reason for him to get into better shape, aside from a desire to impress Orzel... Looking around the dimly lit reading room, the young man tiredly rubbed at his sore neck and closed the door behind him, then set his duffel bag beside it. Sniffing at the air, he started towards the kitchen, intent on getting something to fill his belly... Between the training and everything else, he'd not had an opportunity to eat since breakfast. As a result he was feeling just a little... Edgy.

The young man practically dragged his feet across the floor, passing into the kitchen... There he found a metal soup pot resting on the table, covered by a see through glass lid. A note was taped to the cover, obviously from Twilight... Apparently something had come up, and the woman needed to aid Fluttershy and Mayor Mare in dealing with some sort of 'nature problem'. Something to do with an old factory that was supposed to be closed had re-opened or some other nonsense...

Spike's thoughts honestly surprised himself, because, quite frankly, he really didn't care all that much. He might've worried if he had more free time, but now he had his own problems to deal with. That wasn't to say he didn't care at all, he just failed to see what the big emergency was, unless the aforementioned factory had something to do with burning down a forest or something... Spike was reasonably certain he'd know if that was actually the case, given his recently chosen profession.

More importantly, he failed to see how a factory re-opening was a bad thing to begin with... He hadn't realized it before, but it was nice having a steady source of income... Instead of just asking Twilight for money when he needed it, he was actually getting a paycheck of his own, and a hefty one at that. His first check hadn't come in yet, but between national and local taxes, he'd be lucky if he got to keep sixty percent of what he made. Spike was starting to realize why so many people in Ponyville complained so much about taxes. Orzel had explained taxes as necessary to fund public works such as roads, schools, and even the salaries of Civil Servants like Spike was training to become. Still, the people of Ponyville were some of the hardest working people Spike knew, why shouldn't they get to keep their money?

Taxes aside, the young man honestly had to wonder why Fluttershy or the Mayor would make such an issue about people getting a chance to work. The young man shook his head tiredly, maybe he was just too hungry to see the picture clearly... He uncovered the pot, from which he could already smell something tasty. A ghost of a smile played across his bearded face, as Twilight had left him a great big pot of beef stew. Clearing his throat, Spike picked up the pot and carried it to the stove to warm it up. For a few moments he considered turning on the gas, but heating it with the stove would take time, and he was hungry now. So, he double checked that the kitchen's fire extinguisher was close at hand, then crouched and exhaled a long, steady, controlled burst of vibrant green flame at the pot of stew.

It took him all of forty seconds of repeatedly blowing flames before the pot was hot enough that the stew commenced to steaming and boiling. Only then did he light the stove, turning the heat down to its lowest setting, just enough to keep it hot as he filled his bowl, only the first of many. Grabbing a slightly stale loaf of bread from the counter top, he returned to the kitchen table and finally got to take a load off. The young man dispensed with any sort of table manners he might've otherwise observed in the company of others, it was only him here after all. Tearing off a large chunk of the bread, he dipped it into the stew, then wolfed it down.

His eyes lingered on the empty seat across from him, a faint sigh escaping his lips between his continued scarfing. Spike couldn't help missing the presence of the Princess, doubly so now, given the events of Hearth's Warming Eve... Even if it was far past whatever time she normally would've arrived, there was some part of him that expected she'd just come walking through the door to join him. Maybe she'd be able to explain what the big deal was with his Mom, the Mayor, and that factory issue. At the very least, she'd afford him interesting company while he ate... Absently he rubbed at his cheek, then rose from his seat to turn on the radio...

"...though both sides have agreed to a mediated truce, many experts believe the Treaty of Canterlot is only a temporary solution to the Empire's political and financial woes-" The radio announced in a stoic man's voice, at least until Spike turned the tuning dial. "...contact the Civil Defense Agency to see if your family qualifies for a survival shelter! Installed at no cost to yo-" Again, Spike turned the dial. "...Listen here, Marshal Turner! You best back off, unless your fixin' to die of lead poisonin'!" He'd already heard that particular radio play... Next. "...sporadic fighting continues along the southern border, with Lone Star militia units managing to blunt the latest dragon raid-"

Spike was just about to give up when, finally, he found a channel playing music. It was a slow modal jazz song, heavy on the trumpet and saxophone. The song itself was overwhelmingly melancholic, and it was for that reason that the young man chose to continue listening as he resumed his dinner. Every now and then he'd close his eyes, and in his mind he'd be transported back to the the Castle ballroom on the eve of Hearth's Warming... He recalled his nervousness, and how Orzel's eyes sparkled like gemstones... The dinner, the talks, the dancing... Then he'd find himself seated next to her, and for a few brief moments she'd actually kissed his cheek. All the memories would wash over him in a wave of contentment, at least until he opened his eyes again.

"Get ahold of yourself, man..." Spike muttered tiredly, rubbing at his eyes as he leaned on the table. "The hardest part's over." He tried to affirm to himself, even if he didn't really believe it. It was one thing to tell a girl he liked her, it was another to move it past that point... As of three days ago he'd stepped into entirely uncharted territory, as not even the heroic stories he'd read of knights and their great deeds every really went beyond 'they lived happily ever after'...

Realizing that this was probably a skill he'd just have to make up as he went along, Spike tried to think critically about the issue. He'd gotten to this point just by being Orzel's friend, so it stood to reason that he should not only continue to do what he'd been doing, but to do so with more... Affection. How he would actually manage to do that, however, still alluded his grasp. At the very least, the young man resolved to at least write the Orzel a letter... As with so many times he'd written her, however, the subject of the letter was yet another thing that remained difficult to conceive. Maybe he'd just tell her how he felt about not knowing what to do...? Who better to ask for advice than his best friend... Girlfriend? Close friend who was a girl? He didn't even know what word was appropriate.

Spike ate his way through the pot of stew over the course of the next hour or so, all the while pondering what he should write, and when he should write it. Those thoughts aside, he was fairly certain that this particular batch was some of the best stew he'd ever eaten... Then again, maybe he just thought that because he'd been so hungry that he could almost literally eat a horse. Between the rich meaty flavor of the stew and the absorptive power of the bread, Spike was pleased to finally declare himself full after consuming only three quarters of the pot he'd been left. With his hunger satiated for the moment, he picked up the note from Twilight again... No longer moody on account of his empty stomach, Spike still had trouble discerning what the issue was... Then again, he hadn't been left much to work with, only that the factory opening was apparently a bad thing.

The young man quietly tidied up his place at the table, washing the bowl, pot, and silverware while storing the remnant stew in the refrigerator. With the kitchen spotless, Spike eyed the odd cat clock on the wall, then made his way out into the reading room. The radio was faintly muffled from the kitchen, not that it mattered all that much to Spike. After so many hours of hard work and training, he just wanted to relax in one of the great big recliners and read a book... Then he'd go upstairs and get some much needed sleep. Perusing a selection of light reading, Spike picked up an issue of 'Technology Today', a slightly lighter version of that engineering magazine that Orzel always went on about... The young man was working his way up to the heavier sort of stuff.

Sitting in one of the big leather recliners, Spike examined the glossy cover of the magazine. It depicted a rather pretty pegasus woman in a lab coat and safety goggles, peering intently at a beaker of glowing rainbow liquid. There were also little blurbs revealing what a reader might find inside, including instructions on how to create things at home. This particular issue's key article was apparently entitled 'Rainbow Factory: An In-Depth Tour of the Hothoof Industries'. Spike narrowed his eyes at that, Orzel had mentioned something about 'Hothoof Industries' a couple times, but... They were supposedly a weapons manufacturer... Then again, Orzel also worked on safety equipment, and it wasn't as if one company couldn't do two things.

Curious to learn more, Spike spent the next forty minutes perusing the pages of Technology Today, including the article about the Rainbow Factory. Apparently there was some sort of urban myth in Cloudsdale that the factory actually ground up children to produce rainbows, something to do with magic and 'childhood joy'... In actuality, it was a highly complicated process of mixing various arcane elements, pigments, and alchemical ingredients. Anyone could conceivably make 'Liquid Rainbow' at home, provided they had the proper ingredients, though it wouldn't be nearly as refined as one produced by the factory. They even included a list and instructions...

Either they really cared about informing the public of their work, or the rumors had become so pervasive that this was the only way to dispel them. Spike had absorbed enough about alchemy and science from Orzel's various ramblings to know the article was probably true... Whether that would do any good as far as getting rid of the urban legend was debatable, seeing as most pegasi he knew lacked a background in science. From there they discussed the process of cloud production, and why Hothoof clouds were some of the most popular in the private atmospheric construction sector. Spike had actually forgotten for a moment that Cloudsdale was made from actual clouds... Overall, the young man found the article to be a fascinating read, and he'd see about including his thoughts on it in his letter.

There were other articles with more practical or easy to assemble projects, which Spike also considered making for himself. Model engines, water pumps, even the blueprints and instructions for an entire fishing boat. Gradually his eyes grew heavy, his head slowly leaned forward. Every now and then he'd catch himself dozing off, shaking himself awake to try and struggling to take in the details on the page. Finally the young man could fight sleep's embrace no longer, his head lolling off to the side as he closed his eyes. The realm of dreams that awaited him was a fragmented mess of bizarre imagery, just one of the many reasons he had so much trouble sleeping in the past, before he'd become so exhausted that it didn't really matter.

Giant chickens, burning houses, a lake filled with chocolate milk. Every now and then he'd find himself standing on a dance floor, holding a beating heart in his hand, waiting for... Something. Staring at the pulsating organ, Spike's eyes went wide, for a great explosion of color suddenly erupted from his palm. Blinking the spots from his vision, he found himself wearing his bunker gear, flying through some great field of stars. In another blink of the eye he was standing in a featureless white hallway, stretching on and on into infinity, each wall lined with countless doors of differing size and shape. Looking back to his now gloved hand, Spike realized he was now holding a fire axe. As soon as he glanced upwards he came face to face with a giant cigar smoking tiger... Then, just as suddenly as the dream began, Spike was roused from his fitful slumber by something loud.

"Huh?! What? Where?" The young man cried as he bolted upright in the armchair, his heart racing in his chest. That wasn't the first such bizarre dream he'd had, though the bunker gear was a new addition.

Usually it ended with the tiger trying to eat him, or him trying to eat the tiger, or the tiger would disappear and Spike would have to go looking through all the doors to find him. He had no idea what any of it meant, of course... He'd yet to actually start seeing a counselor, or anyone who might have some idea as to why they were so vivid... It was still on his to-do list. Glancing around the library, his eyes quickly settled on the front door, which Twilight had just finished closing.

"Oh... Hi, Mom." Spike greeted blearily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he searched the room for a clock... Apparently he'd been asleep for a couple hours. It certainly felt like he'd been asleep for that long, as he'd given himself quite the crick in his neck.

"Hey, honey... Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." Twilight responded, hanging her winter jacket up beside the door, then removing her boots... They appeared disproportionally covered in mud, which struck Spike as slightly peculiar, given much of the route to Fluttershy's house was paved in some fashion. "Did you get to eat enough? I'm still getting used to just how much more you need to eat of late." The young man shook his head reassuringly, then rubbed at his forehead and picked up the magazine resting in his lap. "How was training today? You look exhausted." Spike chuckled faintly.

"Well, it's a set... I feel exhausted. Thank you for dinner, by the way..." He responded, rising from the seat and placing the magazine on a nearby table. With an audible groan, and several loud popping sounds, he stretched his arms above his head. "Exhaustion aside, training was intense, but nothing I couldn't handle..." He rolled his shoulders, further trying to work the discomfort of sleeping in the chair. "How about you, the Mayor, and Fluttershy? What was the big emergency? You mentioned something about a factory, but not much else." Twilight paused for a moment, visibly pondering, then rolled her own shoulders.

"Oh, that..." The woman hummed awkwardly. "They both just found out that the old weapon's factory at Prado Dorado is opening again, which has them upset for a bunch of different reasons." Twilight explained, making her way over to the table and examining the magazine Spike had just been reading, meanwhile the man himself took several steps to further wake himself up.

"Mayor Mare is planning to campaign on the issue of closing it down and having the site turned into a park." Twilight sighed tiredly, deciding to take the seat Spike had just been occupying. "The problem is that it's not a government property anymore, some private company owns it now... I just spent the past couple hours checking the area out with Fluttershy, but it wasn't easy. They're some sort of defense contractor, and they've got tanks guarding the front gate! Actual tanks! I've never seen anything like it." The woman rubbed at her temples. "I thought maybe I could convince the owners to shut it back down and move their operation elsewhere, but because its a private company it's impossible to know who to talk to about this, not unless we file a lawsuit." Spike pursed his lips, recognizing both the location and the company pretty much immediately.

"I think you already know who you need to talk to." The young man said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's Basilisk Defense Technologies, right?" Twilight raised an eyebrow, doubtlessly surprised that he knew the name. Evidently she didn't see the significance. "The same Basilisk Defense Technologies that just sold my department a bunch of fire fighting equipment." Twilight's eyes went wide with realization. "Yup..." Spike confirmed simply, crossing his arms across his chest. "I mean, did you really think she was flying all the way here from Canterlot every day?"

"No, she always said she was coming from her workshop, but I always thought it was like... An actual workshop, not an ex-military base." Twilight asked, her voice rising while she became visibly annoyed. Spike merely nodded in response to her question, then leaned against the reading table. "It certainly explains why I saw so much security there if that's where she's been working, but Orzel left the country, so...?" She trailed off again. "Did she ever tell you what she makes there?" Spike looked at the floor, pondering how best to approach the question. She'd never outright told him what she was working, but he'd been able to deduce that it probably had something to do with firearms...

"I don't feel comfortable answering that question." Spike finally settled cautiously, as he wasn't sure what side, if any, he should take on the issue. The topic of what Orzel worked on in her workshop was something that she'd likely ask for his confidence on, and that was a confidence that he intended to keep. Twilight looked at him with a good deal of befuddlement and just the faintest look of surprise. "She never told me directly, but I have some suspicions... Still, she was very adamant that her work was a matter of national security and had to remain a secret. I feel like I'd be betraying her confidence if I told you what I thought." Spike tucked his hands into his pockets. "What's the big deal anyway? She's giving people jobs, that sounds like a good thing in my book. I can't imagine Orzel doing anything illegal, unless she's breaking some sort of 'labor law'?" Twilight raised a finger, then lowered it.

"No... In fact, from what I gathered, the employees there are paid quite well." The woman stated, folding her hands into her lap. "The big deal is that it's a big noisy, dirty, factory. They closed Prado Dorado because all that smoke and industrial run off had a detrimental effect on the environment surrounding it." She stated matter-of-factly, and indeed that was the story that most people in Ponyville tended to believe. The topic of how Orzel had acquired the facility was one that she and Spike had discussed openly many times over lunch, as Spike was honestly just curious about possibly owning his own private army base one day.

"Actually, from what Orzel said, the Army Air Corps closed it because their budget got slashed, and they got tired of dealing with all the nuisance lawsuits. The environmental thing got a lot of coverage in the press because that was one of Mayor Mare's campaign promises." The young man countered calmly, once more taking Twilight off guard. "The army would've bulldozed it, but that was also too expensive, so they sold it instead." He shrugged. "Look, I don't know enough about this place to really make an argument one way or another, I'm just telling you what I've heard." Twilight sighed tiredly, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"I guess I'll need to talk to Celestia then, see if we can get this sorted out..." The woman mumbled tiredly, out of instinct Spike grabbed a nearby pen and paper. "Dear Princess Celestia... I'm writing to inform you about a problem being posed by the Prado Dorado Arsenal. Regardless of whatever reason it was closed, its re-opening has had an immediate detrimental effect on local wildlife. I know this facility is owned by your niece, Princess Orzel, and would ask that you contact her to secure its closure as quickly as possible. Best regards, your faithful student, Twilight Sparkle..."

While he still didn't see what the big deal was, he wasn't about to shirk his duties as Twilight's assistant either. If she wanted a letter sent, even if he didn't really agree with its contents, he'd send it... Spike finished scribbling Twilight's message after a couple seconds, then paused briefly to add an additional 'P.S. Please tell Orzel I said hello! - Spike'. Hopefully Celestia would either respond immediately or in the morning, after he was already awake... The last thing he needed was to be woken up in the middle of the night by a blast of fire that could, potentially, incinerate his entire house. His colleagues would never let him live it down. Folding the letter, Spike took a small inhale, then exhaled a gout of green flames on the message, sending it off into the aether.

"Wait..." The young man mumbled curiously, stroking at his beard as the last of the paper's ashes flitted out of sight. "So, you're not mad at me for not telling you what I think I figured out?" He asked cautiously, Twilight merely shook her head, and though she wasn't smiling, she didn't look upset either. That wasn't an altogether new expression, but Spike had to admit he wasn't used to seeing it all that often either.

"I'll admit, I'm not thrilled about that, but..." The woman began, sighing faintly. "Trust is important in a relationship, and I wouldn't ask you to betray Orzel's trust over something like this." Spike sighed with relief, his Mom being upset with him was the last thing he needed at the moment. She had to know by now there was more going on between him and Orzel than just a friendship, she'd practically said as much when she referred to it as a 'relationship' rather than a 'friendship'...

Hopefully that wouldn't put a jinx on the whole thing, though... Spike didn't really know why it would, though. Maybe because he'd never seen Twilight in a relationship either, so... It just seemed weird taking advice from her? Once again looking at the clock, he was reminded of the late hour, and just how tired he actually was. While Spike would've preferred to stay up a little later and talk with his Mom, he had to be up again in less than nine hours, and he still had a letter to write in the morning. With that in mind, he bid Twilight a goodnight and made his way upstairs to his room.

The young man still wasn't quite sure what he'd write his letter about yet... Obviously how his day had been, and that article he'd read about, but... The matter regarding Twilight and Fluttershy's umbrage with Orzel's factory remained a tricky spot. On the one hand he wanted to be supportive of Orzel's endeavors into the field of business, especially seeing as that business had something to do with national security. On the other, he was generally inclined to be supportive of Twilight and her friends no matter what they did, and this was the first time he wasn't entirely certain they were in the right.

This was just the sort of conundrum that Spike had feared might happen when he'd said as much to Orzel, the potential for split loyalties that could only be expected when pursuing a relationship with a powerful person. He knew that she'd never ask him to compromise his ethics for her, but this was only the first in what was sure to be many political hand grenades he might end up having to juggle. Still... Spike cared deeply for his Princess, and to that end he would gladly juggle whatever hand grenades, or walk whatever tight rope, if it meant being with her... Maybe he was just being too idealistic, but he'd rather aspire to big ideals than settle for little ones.

"I should definitely include that in the letter..." Spike mumbled as he pulled the blankets up over himself and rolled onto his side. "Alright, tiger guy... Let's do this."

Celestia silently examined the letter from Twilight Sparkle, and Spike, then sighed and set it on the table. Much as she would've liked to respond immediately, the situation room was neither the time or place at present. Luna and Piercing were present as well, seated on either side of Celestia, joined by Shining Armor and a small contingent of S-COM officials, their faces concealed by the dark shadows that prevailed in most of the room... One seat remained unfilled, and it was the fate of its typical occupant that had called to order this impromptu meeting of the committee.

At present, Director Orcus was unconscious in 'Guarded Condition' at the Canterlot General Intensive Care Unit. The Doctors had originally feared some sort of massive coronary, or maybe even a stroke, but these were both discounted after a number of intensive tests. The ultimate diagnosis was the inhalation of an organic poison, delivered via a specially made cigarette which had been recovered from the scene of the Director's initial collapse. At that very moment, the device was being examined and scrutinized by the best minds in the Agency, though there were already some findings as to its origins. Suffice to say, the dense pall of smoke that typically accompanied any meeting in the situation room had failed to materialize that night.

Luna for her part seemed remarkably conflicted, perfectly understandable considering the news Piercing had offered. The woman wasn't particularly happy to learn her daughter was made aware of the Agency's true purpose, and at the same time she was far calmer than either Celestia or Piercing had expected. That issue was unfortunately of a parental matter, and therefore not pertinent to the proceedings currently underway in that darkly lit chamber. What'd happened to the Director was no accident. Were it not for the fact that Piercing had been right beside him, odds were he very well could've died before receiving emergency treatment.

"I don't need to tell you all the dire importance of this incident." Celestia began with deadly seriousness, steepling her fingers one the table as her eyes moved from one shadowy face to another. "We can't rule out the possibility that this is related to the Changeling threat, but the Director's been doing this job for a very long time, and there are bound to be many people that would gladly see him dead." The woman turned her eyes to Piercing, who sat now with a pile of folders in front of him. "Acting Director Gaze, does the Agency have any leads as to who might be responsible?" The man stiffened slightly at the title of 'Acting Director', then adjusted his tie and flipped open the first folder.

"We're still canvasing our informants, but we were getting some low level chatter that pointed to something going down in the area. At the time we thought it was related to drug activities, I've put people to work going over the old intercepts to look for something we might've missed." The man explained, adjusting his glasses and picking up a sheet of paper. "That being said, we do have a preliminary estimate as to the origin of the poison and its delivery method." Piercing snapped his fingers, sparking to life a glowing orb of light which projected an image onto the wall screen.

"Our analysis suggests the poison was derived from the sap of hippomane mancinella, a tree native to the Amazonas continent." The man continued as the screen displayed an image of an otherwise unassuming tree, adorned with what looked like very small apples. "Locals refer to it as 'Manzanilla de la Muerte', or 'The Little Apple of Death'."

The image displayed an autopsy photograph of someone apparently exposed to the tree's sap... Celestia nearly had to look away, as their skin had been horrible disfigured and burned by what Celestia at first would've thought to be hydrochloric acid. The poor man's face was hardly recognizable, covered in horrendously swollen blisters and burst pustular boils. To think that Orcus had actually inhaled a caustic substance made her skin crawl. Thankfully she wasn't alone, as many of the others present shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

"The method of delivery has been utilized three times according to our records, all of which took place in Ornithia." Piercing further explained, swapping quickly through three separate images, all of which were men Celestia recognized. General Búho, Mariscal del Aire Cacatúa, and Almirante Loro... All of whom had at one time or another been in line to head up Ornithia's secretive Division Five. "Given these men's ties to Division Five, our current working theory is that this is the man responsible..." Piercing brought up an image of a bearded tanned man, who glared at the camera with cold intensity. He wore a red beret, which displayed a brass skull emblem. "Coronel Carmesí Trepatroncos. As of this morning, he became our prime suspect in the One-Two-Seven Raid. Take a couple minutes to familiarize yourself with his file."

There was quiet murmuring among the group as Piercing handed copies of the file out to everyone, Celestia and Luna included. Celestia picked her up and read through the provided papers, and it didn't take long for her to see why the Coronel was the most likely suspect. He was wanted for a host of crimes, the list of of which required five separate pages to completely list. Then again, they divided the charges according to the territories where he committed the crimes. The Griffon Empire, Ornithia, Equestria, Prance, Stivale, Griffon East Zebrica, the Minotaur Republic, Noordelike, Abyssinia, just to name a few...

"Remember, this guy is ex-Division Five, he's seen more of the world than your typical merc. Taking him down will not be easy." Piercing stated firmly, as if reading Celestia's mind. "His men are extremely loyal to him, it took us nearly a month to get so much as a name out of them." The man folded his hands in his lap, his eyes scanning the room as one by one the assembled members of S-COM set their files back on the table. "Remember, there's a good evidence to suggest Trepatroncos is involved with one or more Changeling hives, that makes this an Agency matter. I want those of you in civil law enforcement to make sure we're all on the same page. You guys hear anything you think's related, it goes to my office. Understood?" There were muffled sounds of agreement. "Alright, Captain Armor, what can we expect regarding Castle security from the CRG?" Shining cleared his throat, then conjured a ball of maroon energy in his palm, altering the glowing projection orb.

"We've stepped up patrols in External Sectors One through Seven. Starting tomorrow, there'll be an increased presence of plain clothes officers in public areas." The man explained, displaying an overhead map of the Castle grounds, with the effected areas highlighted in in orange. "We'll be relying on the Agency to secure the private areas and the Royal Residence." Piercing nodded in acceptance, at which point Shining turned his attention to Celestia. "I'd really like to get the city wide defense shield up and running." The woman paused momentarily, pondering the request, then shook her head.

"That would raise too many questions, and this obviously intended to be a discrete act, not the prelude to an attack. We're bound to be inundated with calls when people see more men with guns moving along the walls, a giant glowing bubble shield is a lot harder to explain away." Celestia explained calmly, Shining looked about to protest, but ultimately remained silent. "You should also remember that if whoever did this can get to the Director, they can get to virtually anyone." There were nods throughout the room. "Now, I think we've covered everything we needed to cover. You're dismissed."

One by one the various members of S-COM departed the situation room, meanwhile Celestia, Luna, and Piercing remained behind. The last to leave was Shining Armor, who only did so after minor coaxing on Celestia's part. Now with the room to themselves, the woman turned her attention to her sister, who as of yet hadn't said a single word... That still struck Celestia as unusual, this was just the sort of situation Celestia had come to rely on her sister's advice for. Instead, she sat quietly observing the table, not even having opened the file on Coronel Trepatroncos. Then, as if a switch had just been flipped, the woman sat up straighter in her chair.

"I agree that Coronel Trepatroncos could be to blame..." Luna abruptly blurted out, sighing heavily through her nose as she once more glanced throughout the room. "However, is no one going to address the issue of how the cigarette got into his jacket in the first place?" The woman asked with quiet cautiousness, glaring at the now closed door to the outer hall. "Someone had to put it there when no one was looking, including the Director himself..." Her eyes returned to Celestia, and in them the woman could see all the paranoia and vigilance she would've at one time attributed to Orzel.

"Are you suggesting the Director planted the cigarette himself?" Celestia asked, confused, but her sister quickly shook her head. She turned her eyes to Piercing, taking a deep breath and visibly calming herself. There was a serious pit forming in the older woman's stomach, and wherever Luna was going with this, Celestia didn't like it...

"You and the Director were alone at the firing range today, correct? No on else was in the building?" Luna asked coldly, Piercing merely nodded. "Were your jackets in sight the entire time you were there?" The man shook his head. "So someone could have slipped in while you were occupied with the firearms qualification test, placed the cigarette into his jacket, and gotten out without you ever knowing?" Piercing narrowed his eyes, only for them to suddenly widen as he went pale.

"They would have to know we would be there, but..." The man began, only to trail off as he rubbed his forehead. "The only people with access to the Director's itinerary would be high ranking members of the Agency, S-COM, the CRG, or the DAC." Celestia now understood just why both he and Luna were so suddenly unsettled, she could feel that pit in her stomach rapidly transforming itself into a series of uncomfortable knots. "We thought we'd isolated all the suspected changeling infiltrators, so either we missed one, or..." The man bit his lower lip, then slowly removed his glasses, his tone becoming as scathing as white hot steel. "We may have a traitor in our midst."